James Frey

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emblazoned on the front. There was a single man at the top of the stairs—a balding man in a suit and tie, who was giving his assurances in English and German to the guests that everything would be fine.

      He said it was likely a false alarm.

      “Wait to go in,” a voice behind me said.

      I startled and looked back. It was John.

      “How did you get here so fast?”

      “I was only down the street at the Staatlich hotel. Say good-bye to the La Tène.”

      “I thought that Agatha was going after the La Tène?”

      “Agatha talked to the La Tène last night. But he wouldn’t get on board.

      Agatha left him for us—he wouldn’t agree to stop Playing, and she said she wasn’t going to kill anyone.”

      “You had to kill?”

      He nodded, his lips forming a thin line. “I think we’re going to have to kill more today.”

      I sighed and shook my head. “The Minoan got Kat pretty good,” I said.

      “I had to kill her—” I laughed tiredly. “Kill the Minoan, not Kat.”

      “I knew what you meant. Where is she?”

      “In the park. I stitched her up, but she won’t be using her right hand anytime soon.”

      “Damn.”

      “Yeah. And I left evidence in the room. I’ve got to get in there.”

      “What did you leave?”

      “The Brotherhood of the Snake papers.”

      “Some good they did, right?”

      “Yeah,” I said, annoyed by how casual John was. He was always like this. Walter was the one who barked orders. John just talked like a normal person. He talked like a peacenik half the time, and I’d rarely seen someone get a rise out of him.

      “Who says you need to go back inside and get them?”

      “Our fingerprints are all over them.”

      “It’s a risk we have to take. You can’t go back in there.”

      “But they’re what’s supposed to convince them to join us,” I said, my panic rising. “We only have so many copies.”

      “Mike,” John said, “I think it’s time that you face the facts. Negotiation hasn’t worked. We need to just get in there, eliminate them, and get out.”

      “We can keep trying,” I said.

      “Mike,” John said, grabbing my arm. “You didn’t really ever expect that to work, did you? These Players are trained killers. Their whole lives have been built on the idea that Endgame is real and they’re saving their entire line—that everyone they know and love will be killed if they don’t win. Negotiation was idealistic, and it’s not working.”

      “They’re not that good,” I said. “You made them out to be half kung-fu master and half gunslinger. And so far we’ve killed the Minoan, the Koori, the La Tène, and the Cahokian. These Players aren’t what we expected them to be.”

      “We haven’t heard from Walter on the Cahokian yet. Barbara and Douglas haven’t called in yet from the Olmec, either. Tyson took a bullet. We haven’t heard from Larry, Lee, and Lin, either, or Molly, Henry, and Phyllis. Bakr too. Don’t make the mistake that this is going to be easy.”

      “Mary’s okay?” I asked.

      “She’s fine. Cuts and bruises.”

      “We need to rethink this. We’re not getting any of the results that we set out to get. This is going to turn into a bloodbath.”

      “Yes we are, and it already is,” John said, with a fierceness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “Tell me you never thought that this was going to end peacefully. We warned you: the Players are trained killers, not diplomats. They’re here to do one thing: kill everyone who stands in their way. We need to move to Plan Charlie.”

      “Plan Charlie? Go in guns blazing? What about Bravo? What about talking to them?”

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