FINALLY. Yes, it's long. There's a ton of dialogue. Let me know if it's confusing. I rewrote it like….5 times. I actually had most of it wrote out a year ago. DERP.

Hunched over like an old-timer,

Kelsey

CHAPTER 40: SPIDER TACTICS

The pride was ephemeral. Generally she'd be delighting in how well and how quickly she could rig a contraption as comical as a makeshift window fan-powered airboat, but the situation was a bit too dire to welcome such a reaction. Salty spray to the face didn't incite thankfulness for mechanical genius. Instead she spat. And spat. And spat again.

Laura zipped through the forcibly created London canals in her newly-made vessel, her expression grizzly and stony as she dodged floating debris and whatever else could remain buoyant after the wave settled. The waterways were treacherous to navigate as she risked capsizing on several large objects that she failed to avoid; she swore she sped past a few bodies, but she didn't want the thought in her mind that the mound she'd just accidentally rammed into was actually the arched, water-sodden back of a recently drowned person. It wasn't that, became a temporary mantra.

The lane became narrower and narrower as she began speeding between houses, trying to listen for voices, attain a visual of those she sought.

She searched like a predator for prey, for the top hat.

"They didn't die," she recited, teeth barred. "No one else dies by my hand. No one."

She cursed as more water sloshed over the boat's side and into her sandals. It'd already happened once, twice, three times, but she still hadn't become accustomed to it. Just as she was going to make a sudden turn to get out of the neighborhood, a group of (alive!) people on a fire escape platform caught her eye. They screamed and waved their arms frantically, a mess of flailing blue, brown, salmon-pink limbs vying for attention.

'Them! It's them!'

Laura pulled the boat up to the side of the house and shouted upward. "Get down here, we don't have all day!"

"Nice to see you too, Laura…" the Professor grumbled; truthfully he wanted to squeeze her in an embrace that would keep her safe forever, but… As they climbed cautiously into the boat, careful to keep the thing balanced, he was slammed back into reality. The vessel rocked back and forth as they settled into their seats.

"This thing is touchy, rocky, and all around awful," the self-proclaimed captain barked, giving each a stern look. "Don't move a muscle."

"This thing runs on a window fan?!" Layton wondered aloud. "But—"

"It didn't come with it; I installed it, Hershel. I had no other choice. The thing's motorless, what can I say. I was lucky I had what I had, and the wits to do anything about my lot. You're being rescued, aren't you?" Again, the wind whipped at her face and the salt water stuck to her skin as she took off. "We're making towards the coast. That rotten waste of life no doubt began his escape back to his throne at the drill site. If we hurry, we might have a chance at killing—I mean—stopping him before he does any more damage."

"If you can find the Laytonmobile instead, we can travel in a more…trustworthy ride…"

"You don't trust my skills?"

"It's not that…"

She shook her head. "Nevermind. We'll go look for the car, assuming it's not as functional as all the other vehicles I've passed. I just…I never imagined this would happen…"

There was silence for a bit.

"I don't think anyone could have, Laura, so don't beat yourself up over it," the Professor assured her, breaking the silence.

She didn't respond.

The children marveled at the oddity that was Professor Layton's car (Laura simply raised her eyebrows in approval). Somehow—more like miraculously—they managed to find it in a mound of cars that had been shoved against a dilapidated conference hall at the university (now an oddly constructed pond). In the mountain of metal the Professor alone spotted it, pulled out a key fob, pressed a single button, and whooped softly as the vehicle came to life as…not a car.

"That's…a hovercraft," Laura remarked, stating the obvious in amusement. "The thing morphs?"

"Indeed. It's the best investment I've made, I must say." The man proudly climbed into the purring 'car' after Laura parked against the hill. The rest followed, their wet clothes slopping against the seats as they buckled up.

"And now," Layton said, turning the key in the ignition, "let's find our man."

As they raced towards the North Sea, the water receded considerably, revealing a hashy marshland with misplaced property. Cars rested atop one-story houses while various bric-a-brac littered lawns, parks, everywhere that they passed by. With still a half an hour left until arriving at their destination, the Layton-boat was rendered immobile. This was discovered as the underside of the thing began scraping against the unforgiving ground, sending Luke sprawling into the front of the car and leaving Flora with a bruised nose as she smashed into the back of the seat in front of her.

"Sorry, back there," the Professor apologized sheepishly while pressing another button. The boat slowly changed back into its regular form, and the four wheels touched ground.

It wasn't long before the twin towers appeared as a misty mirage in the distance. They used the Laytonmobile's hover transformation once more to make it across the water ("Why didn't you tell me before that the stupid thing does this?! Laura snarled) and in a whirlwind of rising anger and emotions, they were inside the office tower.

Keycode, security release: Laura raced ahead of the others. The same hallway that she'd walked down so many times in the past—the decorated walls, the dull glow of the ceiling lights—now made her ill as everything blurred into one color, one emotion as she flew down the corridor.

'Dead bastard. That's what you are, a dead—'

She wrenched open the door to his office. Sure as sin, there he stood, riffling through a folder. He looked up in shock, then switched to mock surprise.

"Ah, what a coincidence, Miss Haris," Leopold Chancey crooned, this voice dripping with venom.

"Coincidence? There's nothing coincidental about finding you where you're the most destructive. Not that you haven't already been destructive. What are you searching for? Program passwords? Realized there are a few barriers, did you?" She tried to match his malice but wasn't very effective. His arrogance only seemed to grow.

"Hmm, all very valid points!" he giggled, evading her questions. "But, poor child, you're a bit too late, don't you think?" At that moment the children and the Professor rushed into the room. "Oh, and you brought along company! And none other than the man in the iconic top hat himself!"

"You're a murdering dog!" Luke bellowed, clenched fists held up as if challenging the lean man in the white suit to a brawl. "Don't you realize what you've just done?! You drowned half of London, and who knows how the rest of the country is faring!"

"Luke!" Layton admonished, attempting to pull the boy back before his testosterone got the better of him. "Please stay back with Flora."

Timidly, Flora grabbed Luke's arm, and with the Professor's gentle demand was able to keep him from throwing a well-deserved punch at the villain. The boy huffed a few times and stayed put, but glared daggers, swords, and anything else pointy towards Leopold's slick-head. He smiled ruefully towards the group, but directed his comment towards Luke.

"Oh, dear boy, half of London? I do believe the news reports are saying an eighth confirmed dead, and a fourth missing. That's hardly a half. As for towns along the coast, they are in shambles. Not much to say there." He shrugged as if giving up a petty argument. "Misplaced, dead, missing…that's what happens during something like this."

"Stop behaving like it's a natural disaster when you are the cause!" Laura screamed, a psychotic look in her eyes. "Leopold, you're a rotten, lying dirty—"

"Don't address him as 'Leopold'," the Professor interjected. "Let's not degrade Mr. Leopold Chancey by labeling this villain as such. That's not who he is."

All in the room looked at him incredulously, perhaps as if he had just grown two heads, or dyed his hat neon pink. What came out of his mouth just now? Leopold laughed boyishly, but Laura merely gawked.

"What?" she snapped. "We don't have time to nit-pick at this sort of thing, he just slaughtered an entire coastline and even more inland, and you're quibbling over names."

"But I believe an explanation will make things clearer before anything else comes to pass."

"W…What do you mean, Professor?" Luke whispered.

Layton cleared his throat. "What I mean is, the Leopold Chancey in this room, here before us, is not Leopold Chancey. Plain and simple. Upon my visit to Italy last year, I happened to have a chat with a few acquaintances of the Chancey family. Seems that Leopold lived in Italy for quite some time with his mother and father, who owned and ran a lucrative petrol business."

"Of course they did!" Leopold spat, sneering malevolently at the Professor, tearing him to pieces with his eyes. "Until it was handed off to my uncle, Edward senior, who lived in London. It became too much for my father, so he had my uncle take over, as well as myself as co-owner. As if that was news…"

"Is that so?" Layton paced the room several times, circling about until finally stopping five feet in front of Leopold.

"In typical Professor Layton fashion…" Luke said softly with a smile. Flora grinned too.

"And where is your uncle at this moment, Leopold?" the Professor questioned mordantly, the corners of his lips twitching. "Don't you find it odd that your Uncle Edward is hardly ever mentioned by anybody? By the media? By the public? By…yourself? As co-owner of a prestigious oil company, I would think that he would have more to say about the reasoning for Britain's petrol reserves being monopolized and, as the public sees it, tyrannically managed."

Laura cringed in disgust as their culprit let out another shrill laugh, making her spine tingle.

"Tyrannically managed? That's a matter of opinion, you lout," Leopold shot back caustically, his eyes smoldering coals. "And as for the lack of words from my uncle, he wishes to remain out of the public eye. His demeanor as of late is more suited for working behind the scenes, whereas I desire to work in public relations, be known as the company spokesperson. I am the face, the hands for the company, whereas my uncle is the brain. I have no trouble admitting that. When the world thinks Petrolite, they will see the face of Leopold Chancey. And they will forever know my visage, I am seeing to it."

Layton nodded lazily, affirming Leopold's comments as true. Luke looked at Laura, then at the Professor again, waiting for some sort of turn to the information being given, some sort of purpose for the Professor's statements. Everything that he had mentioned was refuted by the gasoline tycoon, making the situation seem fruitless.

"Professor…" Luke whined softly. Layton held up his hand, signaling for the boy to be silent.

"True, your uncle is indeed out of the spotlight, and has been for quite some time. 'Dad' hasn't even been around to care for his pets." He turned his gaze affectionately towards the window, overlooking the ocean. A flock of gliding gulls circled the air slowly. "Your uncle's birds, Leopold? The creatures imprisoned at the almost-abandoned aviary back at your headquarters? Surely, you know about them."

"I know about my showcase of exotic birds, yes. Why you say they are my uncle's is completely beyond me." He shrugged again as if the accusations could spill off his shoulders like rain on a windshield. "Are you a complete lunatic? Where are you even going with this?"

Laura looked intently at the Professor, ever so slightly shaking her head. "What are you talking about…?" she whispered to herself. She was hoping Leopold would somehow slip up and admit to something, make the Professor's words make sense, but his responses were flawless. Indeed, because he had nothing to hide.

'…or…does he?'

"You really should refrain from playing dumb, especially when you are already found out," Layton said with a knowing smile, one that made Leopold feel sick…not that he'd admit to it. "Edward Chancey senior was a bird enthusiast, not merely a watcher for sport, but an avid caretaker for his feathered friends. Edward notably was involved in the rescue of exotic species; I know this as his friend. This fact, paired with the information that I found while touring your grand facility—that there was a large collection of exotic and striking birds in an under-kept aviary—intrigued me."

"So what?!" Leopold sputtered, snorting and grinning in contempt. "Can't another man take on a collection of rare birds? Or does it only have to be his 'notable' uncle?"

"But of course," Layton continued, nodding. "However, I find it odd that those birds would label things so…comparatively. They labeled me as 'Not Dad', and Laura as 'Mama'. Now bear with me, as this could get confusing.

"For the birds to label me as 'Not Dad', this would mean that another person would have had to have been called 'Dad' in the first place. Since the birds were able to differentiate between one who is most definitely not their 'Dad', there must be a 'Dad' somewhere. That is the conclusion I've come to."

"That is true…" Luke said with a small nod of his head. "I didn't think of that. I merely thought they were all just so taken with Laura, and had somehow learned a few phrases. I suppose to know 'Not Dad', though, they'd need to know a 'Dad' first!"

"I thought the same," Laura spoke up, looking carefully at the Professor. "However, I told you before, Hershel, social birds like macaws will bond with a caretaker, and can be aggressive and even bitter towards anyone else. Perhaps they just…didn't like you, and used whatever vocabulary they knew. I'll tell you now, those birds in particular are not stupid."

Professor Layton nodded, cracking his thumbs at the joints before crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "Yes, and their intelligence makes me believe in my theory all the more. You also told me that the birds never took to Leopold at all; this tells me that he was not their initial owner, or 'Dad' as they affectionately would have called him. I highly suspect that they never bonded with him in the slightest because it was Edward senior who was their caretaker, the one who loved them dearly. They ended up bonding to you, Laura, because they had been abandoned and latched to the one person who paid them any attention at all. Plus, you have a warm heart deep down. To be honest, your quirky personality quite resembles that of your feathered comrades."

"Oh, very good, Professor, a heartwarming tale of human and fowl camaraderie!" the business mogul scoffed, throwing his head back in a hearty laugh. "Please. I don't pay attention to those tropical runts because they are decorations. They can amuse themselves. I had them flown in for amusement, and others can fool around with them as they see fit. What they squawk—'Dad', 'Not Dad', 'Mom', 'Brother', 'Sister'—I don't care! You have no solid proof of anything you're going on about! And who's to say my uncle isn't involved with them? You have no proof of that, now do you?! I'm sure he goes on and on with their care when Laura isn't piddling around with them."

With a small sigh that sounded more like a revolted grunt, Layton held up his hands as if in offering. "Actually, I do have proof. Your uncle can't possibly be involved with them, or with the company, for that matter.

"After all, he's dead."

Flora gasped, covering her mouth as the truth was revealed to her once more.

"That's right, I forgot," Luke whispered alongside her.

Laura only stared at the Professor, mouth agape, her eyebrows stitched together in disbelief.

"Hershel, what are you going on about—" She caught Leopold take in a sharp yet almost inaudible breath, as if preparing for explanation. His breathing seemed taxed, labored…

'…or guilty. No hung jury here,' she chortled internally. 'He must know that the Professor is telling the truth… That means Mr. Chancey is actually dead!'

With a snort, Leopold grinned maniacally, his perfectly bleached-white teeth glittering nervously in the fluorescent light. "You do enjoy stories, don't you, Mr. Layton. If you weren't so dark, you could write children's fiction and get paid for it, you know. But I don't think they'd get much out of dead uncles and sad parrots."

"A good story here and there is quite enjoyable, yes. But at this moment? Not at all, Leopold. I merely enjoy the truth, and after finding your half decayed uncle in an abandoned elevator shaft, it's hardly necessary for you to continue this portion of your charade any further."

Leopold clapped his hands together, amused. "A charade, he says! What a character you are, Professor! A real joker, this one! You want to produce your evidence, your proof? Where's my uncle now?, he says!" The man slapped his knee and laughed joyously, purely elated. "You should consider comedy, you know that?"

The Professor, becoming irritated with Leopold's blatant disregard for the fact that fate was zeroing in on him, sighed. "This is hardly comedic. Truly, you're the one raving like a madman."

"A madman? Then why are you throwing this information out there about me being a fake? As if another can mimic me!" Leopold scoffed confidently. "Stark mad, I think that fits your bill. So my uncle's dead in this very building, and you did nothing about it? And now I'm not me? Ludicrous!"

Luke cleared his throat. "Professor, how are you going to prove that Leopold isn't really….himself?"

"Oh, that's quite simple. Let me sum it up quickly. I mentioned before he lived on the coast with his parents. That is, until he suffered a fatal boating accident."

The room felt heavy, a silence blanketing the entire room. Laura glared at Professor Layton, impatient with his slow progress.

"Elaborate, Hershel…quickly."

"Yes, indeed! Please elaborate for us!" Leopold concurred, clapping his hands. "You're blooming mad, you know that, Layton? A very touching story, all of this. Family and birds and your little opinions of my company… Oh, but I can assure you: I'm very much not dead, so quit saying things that will frighten the rest of my company and start a business rumor throughout the city!" he spat. His face slowly contorted with nervous rage, the fake ferocity of a rat against a lion.

The Professor continued undeterred. "As if there'd be a city to spread rumors… I suppose in reality, I have no way to successfully prove that you are not Leopold Chancey, as I've attempted to locate documents from hospitals, funeral homes, doctors, and even the media regarding your death, and there are no forms of proof. I've only had those closest to you attest to your death, but word of mouth could essentially be lies. As there are no formal documents confirming that you're dead, I suppose one would conclude you are indeed still alive. However, there is one thing that tells me 100% that Leopold is dead, and you are indeed someone else—the Book of Memory."

He looked at Leopold carefully, internally congratulating himself that he had finally, successfully, made the man squirm; it was incredibly obvious from Leopold's sudden restlessness and want to shift his weight onto different legs. He had stood with a prideful stance for the entire conversation, and now moved nervously.

The signs of defeat bleeding into his expression, Leopold sucked his teeth and looked about the room, a slight grin on his face.

"You are really liking that book, aren't you?" he asked, a slight quiver in his voice. "I figured you'd enjoy it, being the little archaeologist that you are. Any ancient relic to an archaeologist is like bait. Too bad you won't prove anything, given your thin and brittle knowledge of the thing! All you know about it is whatever rumors they are still publishing in the textbooks! Looks as if you've been usurped, my friend. Yes, I will admit one thing: the Book of Memory is indeed in my possession, but no one has access to it." He smiled broadly, but a false sense of triumph flooded his brain as the truth picked incessantly at his conscience: He knows….. he knows….. "Guess I'm the better archaeologist after all. Everyone knows the quickest man gets the glory, at least in the archaeological world."

Smiling warmly, Layton merely rubbed his knuckles, finally folding his hands as his arms hung in front of him. "Yes, you did start out with goals in archaeology, didn't you? I must admit, the powers of the Book are a bit over the top, and are not my typical fare as far as mystical relics go. But after seeing firsthand what it can do, my mind has changed on the matter. And I have more than enough knowledge about it, thanks to a little leak that you have," Layton chortled. "And I don't mean a gasoline pipe leak. Merely, an informational one." He motioned to Laura, surprising her a bit for his blatant admission.

"I, but I—"

"Be quiet for the moment, Laurie," the Professor said calmly. "The truth would have come out sooner or later."

Leopold froze, his breathing becoming dry and ragged. He had failed to recognize her as an equal, continuously passing her off as a gifted adversary that was still beneath him in all aspects…and that failure could be the end of him. He wondered silently, thinking at thousands of meters per second, trying to recall how she could have gotten information about the Book. It was kept under lock and key, its basic characteristics known to the world, but its pages kept closely guarded within his safe.

There was only one possible way the Professor could have firsthand access.

'SHE HAS A PAGE.'

His rings clinking against each other, Leopold grunted, sneering in Laura's direction. She looked at him briefly, feeling her resolve shake unexpectedly as she looked into his strained gaze. He was breaking pitifully, and it was rather ugly. His expression made her shiver.

'Is that how all guilty people look? Is that…fear?'

"Information leak?" Leopold spluttered, still grinning madly. "Laura's good for constructing machines, not relaying information about archaeological pursuits and treasures. Whatever rumor you heard, you know nothing still!"

"But the page…never lies." Layton pulled out the same paper that Laura had sent the Professor months ago, still pearly white, but slightly more wrinkled than it had been when it had arrived in the post. "No matter how many times it's used."

And Leopold never moved a muscle, but his aura changed completely. He stared, his midnight eyes as menacing as the depths of the ocean, as fierce as the panther in the brush. He said nothing, but his silence gave Laura an uncomfortable sensation in her gut. It was as if he'd come at them with something terrible at any moment, meaning to injure, intending to kill. All they could do was wait…

"Let's have an explanation, shall we?" the Professor chimed in, breaking everyone's concentration.

Leopold sneered. "Oh yes, pray tell. Continue providing such solid entertainment, now with your little scrap paper."

"So we have your shift in goals, the dead Edward Chancey II, the parrots, conflicting information about your very existence…all strange information. As for the page, I started out using it nonchalantly, testing out its powers. I must say I didn't quite believe in them. I'm still curious as to how it works, but I tried it nonetheless. I began with connecting you, Leopold Chancey, to Laura. Now, since you're her employer, and you've had quite a few interactions, this page," he rattled it in the air, "should have shown at least one event, correct? Well, there were none."

Arching her eyebrows, Laura looked from Leopold to Layton. The former never removed his sight from the Professor, instead boring his glare into him. She was sure he wished the man in the top hat dead.

"Then," Layton continued emphatically, "I connected you to your uncle, Edward Chancey the second. Surely you'd have a connection to your own uncle, is that not a fair hypothesis? Again, nothing within recent years. The last one was when you were around 5 years old."

"Hogwash…"

"It was enough to tell me that the chances were high that you are not Leopold Chancey. And since I had the info that you were supposedly dead, it confirmed it to me even more. So, I thought, why not guess at random who you could actually be? Perhaps Edward the second, creating a ruse for some odd reason… No connections to Laura. Or, perhaps his son, who supposedly dropped from the face of the earth?"

"No…" Laura wheezed, her breath gravely and ragged. Realization hit her harder than the wave had mere hours ago. "No way."

"Edward Chancey the Third. You had five and a half pages worth of entries when I connected you to Laura's name, the start of which was an event around ten years ago, at Grissom's College for Women. Do you recall running into her on your way out of the building? I must say I remember it happening. I have yet to check, but now that I'm revealing this aloud, I question whether or not you were involved in the murder of Headmaster Ginlade. I'll find out later, I assure you. What's another charge for murder when you're responsible for several thousand, right?"

The man's face was like a cat, crafty with an aloof smirk. "Oh really."

"Really. The Headmaster might have been the first, but definitely was not the last. You picked off anyone who stood in your way or bested you at anything during this entire game you've been playing. The string of archaeologists who were found dead? The maids that came up missing? Your uncle, his good friend Arthur Thackman? The decreasing workforce behind your petrol façade? You killed your geological engineers after they gave you rejections to drill. Anyone that Laura and I had encountered who had background information about your family…you murdered. I mapped everything, traced their names to you. After figuring out what your agenda was, I predicted that I would be the next victim after—"

Fierce tears glazed Leopold's eyes. He smiled wolfishly, his pointed, pearly teeth flashing as he broke into a full-blown screech. "Heh heh. Heh heh ha ha ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I think he's lost it," Luke said matter of factly.

"Oh my, what a show. Only you, Professor. Only the grand Layton. Don't flatter yourself. 'The next victim'?Oh goodness. Oh good God, you're a riot…

"Yes, let me introduce myself. And indulge that ego of yours…"

He removed the rings and peeled off the wig: the slick hair had been fake all along, hiding a less gelled scalp full of mousey brown hair that fell into his eyes dramatically. Apparently, his face was fake too. With a wrapped moist towelette from his pocket he mopped around his cheeks, his eyes… Behind the make-up mask was a younger countenance, handsomely chiseled yet shadowy, his eyes full of wrath and vengeance. Those never changed; he couldn't hide those even if he tried.

The children gasped and Laura stared, stupefied. She felt her stomach flip, and wondered if she could hold down any of its contents. Her gut felt hollowed and vacant, a nauseating heat rising up her throat.

The young man leered condescendingly as he gave a dramatic bow. "I am Edward Chancey the Third. My father—not my uncle—was of the same name, Edward the Second, and indeed, you found him half digested by the trash chute in this very building. His blood is on my hands; I won't deny you that. As you love placing blame, and are quite adept at it, I'll let you have your win before I have mine. Layton 1, Edward 0."

"W…Why…?" Laura mouthed airily, shaking her head as if dazed. "Why would you…any of this…"

"Why? Well, the short answer is that I don't like being disrespected. The long winded version: I had a throne laid out for me by my father, and it was stolen right from under my nose. Denied the most coveted scholarship that all the universities in Britain had to offer—the very one that my own father set in place—and months later, my own expertise rejected by this beady-eyed git." He stabbed a spindly finger towards the Professor. "And whose know-how was trusted in the end? Why, yours little Laura. They chose your machines for their archaeological digs, not mine. And from then on out, it was denial after denial, rejection after rejection.

"I decided early on that both fields—archeology and engineering sciences—needed a thorough cleansing. And would you look at that? 'Archaeology' includes you, Layton! My main goal was to make you pay, but not immediately; it would have been too obvious right after you'd denied my bid machines. I knew I would have to wait, and I needed an outlet to execute my plans. That's when I made the decision to take on my cousin's persona. I would become Leopold, and destroy all evidence to his death…including those that knew about it.

"When the Book of Memory conveniently ended up in my lap, I became obsessed with it. What fun to have such a mystical artifact in your hands… Do you understand the information that thing holds? Regardless, I started small. The Book became a sort of hobby. I'd mix and match the names, see who knew who, what was what. Found out quite a bit of juicy news for some of those archaeologists, especially that carousing idiot Thackman. And it was fun to hang some of those blokes' dirty laundry for all to see… I had outlets where I could reveal their nasty little habits. Some would commit suicide. Others weren't so easy to off, so I'd…find ways to go about it. Death is messy though, so I can't say I was the one causing the final blow.

"But I never lost focus: you were my target the entire time. I merely realized I didn't need any of these big shots thinking they could ever sneer down on me, so they all became my targets. The Chancey name is written into the very fabric of engineering and archaeological findings, and without my name added to the books, well…what a travesty.

"But don't blame me alone, Professor," he chortled thickly, clapping his hands before crossing cream-sleeved arms. "Blame yourselves, my lab rats. Feel privileged I let you be a test subject. Those drills worked marvelously, didn't they?"

"You sick little shit—" Laura growled under her breath as she stepped forward, just before getting cut off.

"Oh, I'm not only blaming you, and I'm not finished, despite your confession," the Professor said softly, holding his hand to his chin. He continued to pace the room, on the brink of becoming lost in thought. He acted as calm and collected as if he were back at the University, trying to solve some petty conundrum rather than unravel a sinister plot. His face was expressionless, his breathing even. "There is one thing that has been bothering me, and if my hunch is correct, then I would say we have an accomplice on our hands. In this very room."

"What?!" Luke gasped, stepping back a bit. "This isn't done yet?!"

Laura looked at the Professor with an odd sort of curiosity, wondering with bated breath about what he was going to reveal next.

"Indeed. You see, in order to secure my demise, Mr. Chancey here would have needed to keep tabs on my comings and goings, any information on my whereabouts, who I was talking to, et cetera. And, while it's perfectly reasonable to assume that he acquired this knowledge himself, I'm sure he was much too busy with his oil refineries, as well as plotting this entire scheme. I have uncovered a little secret; another individual was responsible for retrieving such info. Someone else did the dirty work, and reported to Mr. Chancey in confidence. I'm sure Edward here didn't imagine I would end up narrowing in on him, before he had the chance to surprise me with the Grim Reaper.

"And the person that was working alongside Edward Chancey, although they did not know it was him at the time, is you."

He turned around in a sort of lazy pirouette—a slow, lethargic spin—as if he were reluctant to reveal what he knew, but knew that he had to. Withholding information would cause guilt, a festering truth that wanted release. It was his way. He raised his arm and pointed in front of him with great difficulty as he stared ahead, half in disbelief, half in disappointment, although none knew these feelings as closely as the person whose eyes he was looking into.

Laura blinked, the rest of her face motionless. All eyes turned to her and held her in an invisible web woven by their incessant gazing. Edward continued to gape, the rest of his face like stone, while Luke shook his head slowly, perhaps for the first time untrusting of the Professor's logic.

"No…no, you're wrong," the boy whispered. "Laura wouldn't, she—she couldn't do it. She won't admit to this, she can't! It's not true!"

"Professor, you're wrong!" Flora cried, shaking her head violently. "You're just wrong!"

"Stop. I have no reason to hide it," Laura said clearly, appearing to be calm. She kept her hands folded neatly in front of her as her eyes started first on the ceiling, then moved to look at her accuser."I've never been a liar, and I don't intend to be one now. I'm quite unlike this demon." She cast her eyes towards Edward. "Without fail, Hershel. I expected as much. You are truly something else, you know that?" She smiled gravely as she spoke, the first change of expression she'd made in the past quarter hour. "I expect a thorough explanation of how you found out. Spare no detail. I thought I was in the clear."

Luke kept shaking his head in disbelief, ears begging to un-hear what he'd just heard. "L…Laura? You knew about all this?! You wanted to harm the Professor, to kill him?! But—but why?! How could you!"

"Keep silent for a moment, Luke," she admonished him, a finger to her lips. "In my defense, I didn't know about all of this. Leopold's –Edward's—interests were primarily focused on making the Professor pay for what he had 'done' to him; that much I knew. I merely knew him as Leopold Chancey, a man with archaeological interests who saw the Professor as a threat. He wanted to make a name for himself in the fields of engineering and archaeology, but Layton destroyed that dream almost single-handedly by rejecting his technology, declining his research. And we all know the list of successes and achievements the Professor has, concerning archaeological pursuits. In regard to dethroning him, I was all for it. I had my own reasons for tarnishing his reputation.

"But now, I see it was deeper than all of that," she said, swallowing hard. She flashed a wry smile, sighing. Layton remained motionless, intently listening as she continued. "And that's all the background I knew. I didn't realize it would turn into this. Initially, I assumed that his 'grand scheme' he kept mentioning was something along the lines of forcing the Professor into obscurity, making some great discovery that would shatter the archaeological world. I will admit, the notion of putting some pressure on you, Hershel, was tempting, tempting enough to make me work harder on the project set out before me. So I did. I built a machine the likes of which no one has ever seen. I would wager it could drill through the earth's crust entirely, if given some minor modifications… The possibilities archaeologically are limitless.

"But the reality of Edward's plan…" She shook her head slowly, her eyes glazing over. "No. I never knew. I didn't know about the real reason behind the drilling, I knew nothing about the earthquakes, the ocean waves. I knew about the hopes of excavating, then the switch to oil. But all this…no. I would never do something to truly harm you, or anyone for that matter. It was my job to build, not survey the area, the geological implications." Her voice warbled as her breath hitched in her throat. She grunted as she cleared it, pretending that her emotions weren't exposed. "I wanted you taken down a notch, yes, but only competitively so. I never would wish someone dead. Especially at the expense of a great many others being hurt and killed in the process. That's just not me. It's not my place."

Then she regained her typical snark and gave the Professor a sharp glare, smiling craftily. "I'm not that egotistical."

Edward chuckled haughtily, rolling his eyes. "Wow. You both are truly a match, aren't you? A beautiful confession, Laura! A real saint, you are! Doesn't matter. You still built a death machine, one that I'm going to use for my bidding! I don't care what lousy philosophy you hold: I'm going all out with my plans." He continued to laugh, a disturbing cackle. Laura tried to ignore him, looking upward, her gaze held in the Professor's. She silently pleaded with him to believe her, small tears forming at the corners of her eyes. After several moments, Edward capped the mirth and wiped his eyes, his own tears overflowing joyfully.

"Hershel, you have to believe me," the girl whispered sadly.

Layton broke his gaze. "I know you wouldn't kill anyone, Laura. I know you too well. You know what it's like to die emotionally, and to come back again."

"It doesn't matter! That's enough chatter," Edward spat, throwing his arms into the air in frustration. "Keep your metaphors for someone who cares. Laura's had just as much a part in this as anyone, even more so as she's the brain behind it all. You said it yourself! Literally, it's all her machine. Her machine is going to drown a large portion of the world, including you! Don't try sugar coating it, Layton! She wanted to kill you, see you suffer, see you beg for your life as much as I did. As much as I still do. She didn't know it was me, but it didn't matter! She's too scared to dig down deep, deep in herself, and admit that she wants you to be pained. Now how's that for a metaphor!"

"No, that's not true!" Laura cried out, turning towards Edward. The look in her eyes was manic. "I never wanted—"

"Laura, don't bother with him," the Professor warned quietly. "Don't waste your energy. He's goading you."

"Yes, don't bother going against my truths, right, Laura?" Edward leered at her, grounding his words into her mind with every cackle and screeching laugh that came out. "Don't go against facts! You love those, don't you? Well, here's a big one: you're a monster. A menace to society. Oh wait. They won't know any better, because they'll all be dead. Don't worry, I'll write it in the history books for those that manage to live.

"But before you die, Layton, why don't you tell us how you figured out your little treat was a little traitor? I'm curious at how much you uncovered about my Book."

Trying to ignore his whiny and equally nerve-wracking comments, Laura directed her attention back at Layton. "Yeah, how did you know…?"

"Do you remember, Laura, back in my office when you first sought my help, when you mentioned the possibility of me being killed if I wouldn't listen to you? I found that terribly odd and dramatic of you." Laura stared at him stupidly for a moment, then nodded. "This told me that you knew of something dire, more dire than what you were leading me to initially believe about who was then Leopold. You might not have known that Edward's plans were so villainous, but you did know that he had some sort of revenge planned, and you were expressing guilt by seeking me out for help.

"Finally, and more conclusively, once I knew the basic function of the Book of Memory, I decided to go back to the page you originally sent me in the post. I looked more closely at the entries between you and I. What I noticed were several instances over the years where we had supposedly 'met', yet perhaps did not notice. I found this curious, as you said you made a conscious effort to steer clear of me for a decade. Yet according to the page, there you were following me. It was too often and too perfect to be coincidental.

"After I suspected that Leopold was Edward and decided to test his name with yours, what do I find but meetings between you two. Meetings that closely coincide with my mysterious run-in's with you, Laura. To me, this means you would conduct some sort of reconnaissance on myself, then meet up with your superior. This happened for about three years, when all of a sudden, the meetings stopped. Assuming you're telling the truth, this is when you realized your employer was up to something more dastardly than trying to compete with me for fame, or drilling for oil.

"And now, here we are."

Laura shook her head, smiling, yet wholly disappointed in herself. "It seems I don't have the Book all figured out after all. I never thought that my spying on you would have shown on the page's entries. I thought that two people had to consciously witness one another to have a memory occur on the list. As you had no clue that I would follow you, I thought such information wouldn't show up."

"That does make sense somewhat, but I learned differently after we discussed our 'unknown' meeting back in your elementary school days."

"You knew each other when Laura was in grade school?!" Luke exclaimed. "This is getting weirder and weirder!"

Professor Layton laughed. "Indeed, we met on one occasion, and one occasion only. You see, Laura, the reason that meeting did not register was because we did not fully know one another. I had heard of your name, but you did not know mine. When two people introduce themselves and learn one another's names, you form a sort of bond; you have a sort of 'power' over them: the power to bend them to your call when you utter their own personal title. This creates a meaningful memory, one that the Book somehow picks up on. How it does it, is another question. Regardless, this is how our minds work.

"So, since we know each other, even if one person isn't aware of the other's presence, it will show on the page as a connection. It is how I was able to read where we had 'met' over time, although I never physically saw you."

Amazed, Laura kept shaking her head. "I suppose I underestimated it. That page was dangerous in your hands."

He smiled kindly, and cleared his throat. His eyes were darkened by the brim of his hat, but Luke and Laura could tell he was eyeing Edward with malice uncharacteristic of him. "Not as dangerous as in the hands of this criminal. Edward, you've been using the Book as a tool to frighten others, to play with the emotions of those whose names you chose to send to the page. Those people you wanted dead, you knew every action of their pasts, and you preyed on the weaker of them, making them turn on themselves. Those who didn't take their own lives…you took it upon yourself to end them. Anyone that knew anything about you and your family, you took their lives away! That's not the purpose of that book, and you have no right to the information it possesses."

All of a sudden, he turned his entire body sharply to face Edward, his expression hardening, his movements more direct and confident. Arm outstretched, he pointed at the man responsible, verdict made. "Now then, enough's enough! You've been found out, Edward Chancey, and your plan revealed! So let's put this to an end. Even more lives are at stake, and—"

"Your confidence means nothing to me."

Edward no longer quaked or stood with his jaw dropped. His eyes weren't flooded with furious tears; they burned passionately. He looked almost lost, but not the kind of lost where one is unaware of his surroundings. He was lost mentally. Something had snapped. "When my plans are in motion," he said in a low tone, scoffing as he gazed off to the side, "they don't stop being in motion. I don't follow Newtonian physics, if you knew anything of what I am speaking about, you silly, farcical little man." He let out a rocky laugh, as sharp and gravely as forks on plates.

"For every action there's a reaction, Edward," Laura said with an air of warning, the only one in the room fit to challenge him in scientific puns. "This needs to end, or else it will destroy you as well as everyone else! You never took into account the—"

The ground shook suddenly, a deep, slow grumble. The earth was yawning, waking from rest. The windows rattled. The ocean rippled and broke with each thunder of force. Laura stared around with eyes wide as if expecting the place to collapse, fear shaking her to the core. Luke looked at his hands and limbs, shaking uncontrollably without his consent, then over at the Professor. Layton's brows were knit, and the boy followed suit, forming two tight fists, angry yet afraid, trying to hide a dread that he didn't quite understand. A gentleman wouldn't be scared, he thought, even if he was lying to himself.

"It's already being done," Edward chirped softly, daintily as if speaking about flower arranging or travel planning. His voice rose and fell, his intonation mocking. "Allllllll this tiiiiime we're wasting? My drills, here, and around the world, are sparking, starting... All responding to my call. Don't you love long-distance relationships?"

"Then turn them off, Edward!" Luke shouted. "You can still save everyone! You can have a second chance!"

"Innocence… It's almost charming," the villain crooned. "Innocence doesn't save you when you've already hit the bottom, brat. There's no life preserver for the damned. Sorry."

"Edward, it doesn't have to be this way," Layton tried reasoning, honest care in his voice. He knew he had to be careful. The man standing in front of him was unpredictable, and was absolutely amoral, which was more dangerous than immoral. It would be close to impossible to get him to see sense. "We're running out of time, and so are you. You can't think you'll get away with this, with your life intact, do you?"

"I got this far."

He walked towards the desk, grabbing what looked like a ratty and tattered book. Its spine was broken, with loose pages sticking out here and there. The only curious thing was that the pages showed no signs of aging, much unlike the roughly handled book. The pages were a ghostly white and they seemed to glow with a hidden power.

Layton looked at the book with interest, then at its holder.

"Is that the—"

"The Book of Memory? Indeed, it is. Do you like it? Your first time seeing the real deal?" He lifted it up, its spine against his palm, turning it around. The loose pages flapped limply like the corners of napkins. His wrist cracked as he twisted the tome in all angles. "I wouldn't want it getting anymore damaged than it is, honestly…"

"Then give it to me," Layton said sternly, reaching out to him. It was obvious to Luke and Laura that the archaeologist was wincing internally at the thought of bare human hands contaminating the relic with their oils. "I can preserve it, I can ensure its safe keeping."

The young man snorted loudly, his mouth curdled in a gross smile. "To you? Why would I give it to you? So you might have a chance at another accomplishment? Another title? More fame? Why, but you'll be swimming soon, Professor. Hopefully drowning, but definitely swimming. We wouldn't want this lovely artifact getting wet, now would we?"

"Edward, just stop it, there's emergency routes for the drill," Laura begged, a feeble attempt to avoid the inevitable. "We can end its path without extensive consequences. Please, just—"

"Quite enough, Miss Haris. Look, it's been great fun, but the show must go on, so without further ado, I wish you well. Get ready to tread water."

"Edward Chancey, your parents would be completely disappointed in you for this, more than you realize!" Layton shouted in earnest. "If you never felt adequate before… You most certainly wouldn't be well thought of for this!"

The expression on Edward Chancey's face was frighteningly serene as he spoke his last to them, his eyes blank, devoid of feeling. He gave a finalizing smile, closing the lid of the casket. "I proved my mother clinically insane, stuck her in an asylum, and I murdered my father. Do you think I really care what disappoints them?"

As another blow struck the earth, in a split second, Edward made a dash for the door behind the desk, leading into the auxiliary room. Layton jumped forward, meaning to intercept him, but was too late. The door slammed and locked with a loud click. Luke ran to his side as he attempted to force the door to open. It appeared more as if he had a grudge against the doorknob, strangling it with all his might.

"You won't get in," Laura said, her tone rising over the Professor's angry grunts and shouts towards Edward beyond the door. "The vase key is missing. Must have planned this out. Come, we need to get to the control deck and shut these things down manually before another burst!"

"Good thinking!" Luke punched the air and rushed to the other door, the way they'd come in. Layton followed, grabbing the boy by the shoulder.

"No, Luke, you won't be following," he said, trying to remove the urgency in his voice. He knelt down to Luke's level. "This is much too dangerous, do not try talking me out of it. I need you and Flora to get back to the coast and try to sound the alarm with the police. Surely Inspector Chelmey will have wised up by now and—"

"But—!"

"As a future gentleman in the making, the most crucial training starts now. Do I make myself absolutely clear?!"

For once, the child didn't protest, merely nodding to show his understanding. "Of course, Professor… But…please be safe. And keep Laura safe too."

"I will, you can be sure of it."

Leaving the office behind them, they ran down the hall and through the metal screen doors into the elevator lobby.

"You'll be safe, Luke," Laura promised. "The Professor has a fool-proof car…er, hovercraft." She hugged the boy close, unsure of whether or not she'd see him again. Fighting tears, she released him and did the same to Flora. She felt the girl clasp her hands tightly behind her neck. "Be Luke's support, okay? I know it's scary, but you'll be fine."

"Okay…" she whispered, sniffing heavily. "We'll do our best."

They hugged the Professor as well, hoping their tears wouldn't stain the man's jacket. It really didn't matter, but it was the first thing on their mind. Anything to take away the visceral burning inside.

"You'll return to the coast as soon as you're done with the computer?"

"As soon as we can, Luke."

They hurried to the boat, and Layton assisted them safely inside. He ignited the machine and initiated the autopilot.

"Be safe, my boy. Flora dear, you provide more confidence in Luke than you realize. Be strong."

Laura heard him sniff, and she wasn't sure whether to feel worse for him or for the children. Their separation seemed odd and wrong at best. She refused to acknowledge it as a true 'goodbye' and didn't wave or even watch them leave. Within seconds, the Laytonmobile skidded off like a giant rock thrown across the surface, and it shrunk to a marble size before more vibrations shook the metal stairs.

"Let's go, Hershel."

Laura turned and headed back the way they came, listening for the Professor to follow. They returned to the hallway leading to Edward's office, but stood instead to enter a locked room on the opposite side, a few doors down from the office. After the code was entered, the door opened into a completely white, sterile room with walls lined with computers, monitors buzzing and blinking with current feedback from all of the drills in Laura's care. The lights were dim, making the charts and pressure readings all the more ominous. The place looked important even without the given state of affairs.

The Professor gawked around in disbelief, any possibility of understanding fleeing from his mind. Some of the screens flickered from one graph to another, the acid green lines and bars rapidly changing in succession as differences among the machines' drilling output occurred. Pressure gauges rose and fell as the machines drilled different layers of the earth's crust. A few screens flashed the word 'TERMINATED'.

Already busied, Laura clicked and typed away at one of the largest mainframes, lines of code flashing on the monitor angled above her. Her skin was a sickly green from the screen's glow.

"If I can rearrange the path of the drills, we may have a chance to stop them from doing the worst possible damage," she muttered sloppily, trying to focus as she explained. "I already put in some safety measures to slow them down; that's what delayed them. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been able to get here or have the conversations we just had. However…they will keep going, no matter how I rearrange them."

"Rearrange the paths? Just stop them!" Layton urged her.

"You're going to stop a 6,000-tonne machine, dead in its tracks?" she snappishly retorted, as if he couldn't have been any dumber. "You arts and letters types aren't very keen on these sorts of things, are you?"

"Not every day I'm fighting for the world's future because of a gigantic monster drill, Laurie… And I'm not mathematically inclined beyond algebra and basic Euclidian geometry."

"Fair enough. Well, for the scientifically-challenged, I'm basically guiding it in such a way to slow it down, and make it avoid fault lines. I can attempt to make it stop immediately all I want, but it's going to do what it's going to do before it finally stops. Therefore, by making it at least go on an angled path first, it won't dip as deep as it would going straight down, and it'll buy us more time by possibly avoiding the fault." She stopped clicking the keyboard keys and looked over briefly. "I'm concerned about where Edward went. I'm sure he didn't stay in there. I don't trust him to do anything good, so maybe you should check on him." She pulled up a set of images from camera footage on her screen. "Nothing. All frozen frames. He rigged it. Asswipe."

The Professor took the hint and rushed to the door. "As much as it kills me to leave you alone, I suppose—"

"When that door shuts, it's impossible for anybody to get in. It'll lock. Don't worry."

"I'll go and search nearby. Shout if you are in need of help."

She nodded, all he needed to be off. He flew to Edward's office again and gasped. The door that was locked, the one Edward barricaded himself in, was wide open. Excited yet wary, he tread carefully to the doorway, peering inside. No one seemed to be present. Now was his chance.

Knowing the place would soon be rubble anyway, should the plan fail, he ripped through the room's contents, tossing drawers and books from their shelves, silently apologizing as small artifacts and random bric-a-brac were tossed unceremoniously to the carpeted floor. The more brittle of the bunch shattered and cracked.

"It's got to be around here somewhere," he growled, furious. "He couldn't have left carrying it around, could he? It'd slow him down keeping that thing intact, where'd he lock it away?"

As much as he tried, the Book of Memory was nowhere to be found. His breathing was erratic, his system thoroughly wore out after searching so vigorously. He couldn't help but be crushed.

"Finding that relic would be a huge feat to the archaeological community," he whispered harshly to himself. "And it's in the hands of that scoundrel, no, that felon. I'll never live it down if—"

Another earthquake. Giving up the chase, Professor Layton abandoned the office and took again to the hallway, looking for a sign of Edward. The place was empty. Only the echoes of the quaking earth were heard along the tunnel.

His spine shivered as someone let out a series of blood curdling screams, like a banshee in the tunnels. They echoed louder than the vibrations all around him, and then whatever it was shrieked his name. The color drained from his face as he recognized the voice.

"Laura."

'How long was I gone…?!'

In a second he was at the computer lab, banging on the door, looking through the metal-enforced pane-glass window. Without the password code, he had no access, but it didn't take long for him to realize Laura wasn't in there. He did not know the way, but he instinctively relied on his intuition, navigating along the hallway until he emerged into the drill chamber several meters inward.

Layton traced the circumference of the chamber, following the narrow metal pathways. He gripped the railings, suddenly afraid of the endless drop in the middle of the cavity. It smelled differently than the last time he was there, and the sounds emanating from the pit were eerie.

His head spun, vertigo gripping his conscious.

"Good Heavens, this is enormous…"

With a shake of the head, he rearranged his top hat and kept his eyes forward, intent on finding the source of the screaming. Whatever the cause, he vowed to make it scream and squirm as much as Laura, if not more.

END.

Haha, how many recalled Edward Chancey the 3rd even EXISTING? He alludes to this in chapter 12... :3 Which is actually longer than this chapter, believe it or not.