“But I’m too young for this,” Plath pleaded.

“So was Alexander the Great.” To everyone’s surprise, this came from Anya, who had walked Vincent over to join them. Vincent was calm and quiet, but he was still not with them. “So was Joan of Arc.”

“David killed Goliath and cut off his head when he was just a kid,” Wilkes said. “What? Why the looks? I’ve read the Bible. It’s mostly slaying and screwing.”

Plath felt like someone was squeezing her heart inside her chest.

Nijinsky breathed in like he was taking his first breath in five minutes. “Huh,” he said. And then, a smile spread across his face, showing perfect teeth, and he laughed. “Lear was right. I’m the wrong person.”

“What’s your vote, Burnofsky?” Wilkes asked him. “Who worries you more? Handsome Jin or Freckles McMoneybags here?”

Burnofsky said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Sadie, but you’re it,” Keats said.

Was there a part of Plath that was flattered? Yes. Was there a larger part that was horrified? That, too.

“Okay,” Plath said. “Until Vincent is back. Only until then. And I hope that’s soon.”

“Yes,” Nijinsky said, but not in a resentful way. He looked too relieved. He was having a hard time not jumping up and down. He was like a condemned man who just got the right telephone call from the governor.

“Okay, then, two things,” Plath said. “First, Anya, are you with us? Not as a prisoner or whatever, but as one of us?”

“I’m with Vincent,” she said. “Which means I am with you, too.”

Plath nodded. “Billy? We can get you away from all this to somewhere safe. I can arrange that.”

Billy shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m good. I can help.”

“Okay then,” Plath said. “We’re going to hold on to Burnofsky, and we’re going to turn him. We’re going to take Bug Man and do the same. And then we’re going to unwire the president and stop the Twins and . . .” She stopped herself there.

Wilkes laughed her heh-heh-heh laugh. “She was going to say, ‘and save the world.’”

TWENTY-FOUR

The sun was up, and Bug Man was scared.

He had tried seven times to call Burnofsky.

Then he had called Jindal. He hadn’t told Jindal anything, just

that he had to talk to the Twins. Jindal said they were traveling and unreachable. He insisted on knowing what was going on.

“Burnofsky never showed up,” Bug Man said. No other detail, just that. That was enough. Jindal told him to hold while he tried to call Burnofsky, and then texted Burnofsky when he got no answer. Then Jindal tried to use the phone locator app. It showed Burnofsky’s GPS had been turned off.

“Where are you?” Jindal asked Bug Man. He was sounding desperate, and part of Bug Man thought, Welcome to my world.

“I’m at the office,” Bug Man said.

“Then you have to …I . . .” Jindal said. “Okay, keep working on the president. Just, you know, keep working.”

Bug Man tried not to reveal his relief. “Are you ordering me to keep working on POTUS, because it looks like you’re in charge, Jindal.” “Yes. Yes, just keep doing that.”

Bug Man hung up the phone, his mind racing. Okay, so, he was doing what Jindal ordered him to do. That was his defense: Burnofsky had gone off on some epic drunk or whatever, so Bug Man had called Jindal, and at that point, it was all on Jindal.

Maybe Burnofsky was dead. That would leave the Twins even more dependent on Bug Man. That was a happy thought.

Out in the hallway he heard something. He strained to hear, then relaxed. A vacuum cleaner. Just the cleaning crew. He made sure the door lock was set.

Okay. Back to the game. That would get his mind straight.

He settled into the twitcher chair.

The vacuum cleaner was closer. Someone was slipping a key into the lock! Bug Man bolted from the chair and raced to the door just as it opened.

He pushed against the door but the damned vacuum cleaner blocked it. Behind the vacuum cleaner was a girl who looked too young to be working a cleaning crew. She had a weird tattoo under her eye. She also had headphones in and was obviously listening to loud music as she vacuumed and didn’t even notice Bug Man as he blocked the door until her vacuum cleaner banged into his foot.

Then she looked up and seemed puzzled.

“Go away,” Bug Man said, not quite yelling but speaking loudly enough for her to hear over her music.

The cleaning woman sighed and removed one earbud. “Qué?” “Don’t come in here,” Bug Man said.

The cleaning woman turned off her vacuum cleaner. It was suddenly quiet. “Tengo que limpiar aquí. I am …I am must cleaning.”

“No, you don’t,” Bug Man said. “No, um, no necessitatay. Whatever. No.”

“Is my tío, my, in English my sister? No, no, my uncle! Is my uncle his job. He be anger me.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your uncle being anger you!” Bug Man yelled. He reached through the gap and tried to push her vacuum away. Her hand shot out and caught him around the wrist.

“Please no break el aspiradora!” Wilkes said, and was incredibly pleased with herself for dredging up the Spanish word for vacuum cleaner. Who knew ninth-grade Spanish would be useful someday?

“I’m not going to break anything,” Bug Man said heatedly. “Unless you keep from closing this damn door.”