Brief synopsis: As the song goes, what a difference a day makes? Joe‘s existential crisis is utterly altered after a life-changing bathroom visit. Jack’s method acting goes a bit too far and he must be stopped before he assassinates his movie nemesis. Downright humiliated, Mary is bent on vengeance when she suspects her roommate has sabotaged her plan to ‘reform’ her less than amorous boyfriend. Charles, a super eccentric architect who’s commissioned to demolish ugly buildings finds his heartstrings tugged by his secretary, who is actually an in-the-closet transvestite. And this is only the beginning. It makes you wonder how many small things can add up in 24 hours.
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Chapter 2
They cruised steadily down the 101. Jonathan rested peacefully in the passenger’s seat with a now serene smile. He gazed at the sky and his mind thought of cherry-flavored bubble gum. That was his favorite.
Meanwhile, Joe’s mind was racing as he clung tightly to the steering wheel. He marveled over the amazing amount of cars that surrounded him and wondered where they all could be going. There were so many, all moving in the same direction; the same direction as himself. Then he thought, what if they were all going to the same place as he was too? How would Charles feed them? Where would they sleep? He then began to wonder what Charles must have done to make all these people show up at his office. He figured it must’ve been something pretty awful. Joe spent the rest of the drive over the hill deciphering what horrendous crime Charles must have committed.
Entering the doors of Charles’ oceanfront office building, both men were quite humbled by its blatantly overt ionic proportions. Lofty columns with perfectly chiseled volutes graced the walls, deluding the eye into believing that they actually held up the entire structure. The capitols themselves were of the highest order, each beautifully bracketed by modiglions under the corona of each protruding cornice. One could also see that special care was taken in graphing out the finger-blistering decorativeness of the frieze that circled the building. What was particularly striking (though only to the trained-eye) was that every column was designed in a perfect nine to one ratio.
(A toilet-lid! Damn, nearly forgot there, Tabitha! I’ll just be down to the plumbing supply and be right back to continue on).
Gleefully eyeing the life-size statues of Vitruvius and Palladio, Joseph and Jonathan climbed into the elevator. At the top floor the doors opened to reveal a jagged display of multiple hallways. A labyrinth, if you prefer.
Charles was ever so fond of mindplay. The aberrant man never wanted to make anything easy on his fellow human. In fact, the more confounding the conundrum he could inflict, the brighter his eyes would glow with playful delight. He was never fiendish, but even his best of friends could never be too sure of their safety around him.
Therefore, Joe and Jonathan, experienced of his deceptive ways, paused and perused each entrance cautiously.
As they stared on, a waif-like red-head emerged from the mouth of one of the passageways. She seductively suggested to them in a low, gruff voice, “Follow me, loves, I know the way.”
Joe launched out behind her, but Jonathan grabbed him and violently jerked him. “You fool, Charles would never make it that easy.”
“Okay, Sherlock, then which way do we go?” Mustered Joe after catching his breath.
“Elementary, my dear What’sit, elementary. We go the way she came out, she had to have taken a safe route.”
“Brilliant, but, what if Beaulieux had her set a trap for us knowing we’d do just that.”
“But, that’s just it, Joe. Charles would’ve figured on us figuring that out, so then he’d figured that we’d take another route, figuring full-well that this was the right one all along. So, I say that we should stick to that one.”
“Last time it was much easier when we came up to the office and found he’d removed the entire floor. It was only a matter of time ’til we found that he’d built an additional floor to the penthouse and designed the lift to take you right to it. But I’m not sure about this one.”
“Trust me, Joe. Charles has never got the better of us yet.”
“And he won’t today, okay, okay. I’ll trust you, Johnnie.”
Jonathan sneered at him and said, “Come on, then.”
They entered the passageway only to have it close-up behind them. Joe’s eyes darted about as he itched at the stubble on his chin. This was his normal expression of fear. Jonathan continued on, undaunted.
The corridor curved around and opened into a T-junction. Now where? Joe started one way, but Jonathan quickly pulled him back. The other way seemed much more promising. They walked right, then left, then left again. The bright white color of the walls made the corridors look endless. They continued on nonetheless. Jonathan smacked up against the wall. Dead end. Joe threw an I-told-you-so look over at Jonathan and they went back to the T-junction.
This way seemed to go straight forever. Not a single bend or curve. Now what’s his game here? They took their steps cautiously. Heads up. Eyes alert. Suddenly, bright colorful light flashed across the corridor, bouncing from wall to wall. They had to time it just right. They knew it had to be a trigger for one of Charles’ famous traps. Looking at one another they counted it off 1-2-3. Throwing their bodies down they rolled just out of the light’s reach. Now what? Charles would never let you off so easily.
Jonathan and Joe walked even more cautiously. Each step was delicate. Their heads moved about as if on a swivel. They weren’t about to be caught out. But then Jonathan thought of something. He pressed his hands against the wall next to him. As he suspected, it suddenly gave way as if it were made of paper-thin wood. Joe stared on as he torn a larger and larger hole out of wall. A light behind it got brighter and brighter and a strong breeze came in and filled the corridor.
To their horror and amusement, a smallish pigeon flew into the corridor. It stared at the two men for a few moments and then flew back out. Joseph wanted to follow, thinking it was a clue, but again he was held back by Jonathan. This time it was for a good reason. Joe saw, as he stuck his head out the hole, that were on the edge of the building several hundreds of feet in the air.
Jonathan knocked at the other wall and it also gave way. But this time, behind it, was another corridor. He gestured for Joseph to follow him through. He came reluctantly. They walked on, following twist after twist. Joe was starting to feel nauseous. The end had better come soon. It did, but not as they had hoped. It was another dead end. Joe ran to it joyfully. Perhaps it was another false wall? Unfortunately, it wasn’t and he collapsed in a heap upon impact. Jonathan went over to examine it closer, ignoring Joe’s muffled cries of pain.
“Now, there must be some way out of this”, said Jonathan in an expert fashion.
Joe recovered and moaned, “Oh great, now I’m to rot in some three by three dead-end hallway! This is what I get for trusting you!”
“Joe, if you could quit your dramatics for just a moment, I could think…”
“May I remind you that that’s the way we ended up here!”
“Well, excuse me for trying to make a decision of two!”
“Now, don’t be trying that! You know my mind’s not right.”
“Has it ever been, Joe?”
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m your friend.”
“All right, Einstein, what do you suggest we do, if my ideas are not good enough for you.”
“I say we go back and take another passageway.”
“Beautiful, and which one do you suggest we take?”
“I don’t know…”
“Just what I expected.”
“Now, listen, I…”
Before Joe could finish another fruitless rebuttal the floor leapt out from under them and they were sliding at a rather fast speed. Fortunately, a soft landing awaited them (in the form of two comfy chairs) and this brought an instant calm to their heated tempers.
“So, what brings you young men here?” This finely eloquented question came from none other than the man they sought, Sir Charles Beaulieux. The middle-aged gentleman (graying at the temples) sat behind a finely-honed mahogany desk. He was dressed in a Savile Row style suit while leaning on a walking stick. He was short of stature, but expressed an aire of grace and elegance found in much taller men.
“Hiyeh, Charles,” said Jonathan brightly and turned to Joe and added, “See, I told you, there was no reason to panic.”
Joe gave no reply, except a look of disgust.
“So, what brings you young men here?” This question is repeated just as eloquently.
Jonathan instantly responded with, “Joe’s got a problem with worms or something.”
Charles remained still and solemn; unmoved by Jonathan’s obvious jest.
“It’s not worms, Beaulieux, it’s actually more like words,” chimed in Joe, ending his sentence as though it had been cut short.
Charles even then did not reply nor did he move in the slightest.
Jonathan and Joe looked over at each other purely to check reality.
“So, what brings you young men here?” Charles asked this question yet again.
It was then they spotted a bright ray of light shining on him. Looking further, they saw that it came out of a slit in the wall. A projector was sure to be behind it. With that keen observation they were then able to spy four small-box speakers in each corner.
“Damn, he’s gotten us this time!” Jonathan shouted out crossly.
Tiny-chuckling laughter filled the room, followed by a short click and Charles’ voice.
“Come, come, my friends! The entablature is still solid! Don’t lose faith. Now, Mr. Doggett and Mr. MacCrae, please, join me.
A portion of the wall slid back to reveal an ascending, spiral staircase. Joe hesitated at first, but quickly followed after Jonathan who walked on smugly.
Inside Charles’ office they found him on the phone, looking identical to his projected image, speaking rather irately, “Sir, the bottom of the base IS to be the MODULE!…NO, NO, the BASE is to be ONLY one half of the CAPITOL! Of course it must all be in correct proportions, sir…Yes, naturally, yes…Right, divide the BASE into TEN TWELFTHS, nine of which WILL be the plinth…Well, OF COURSE NOT! You DIVIDE the remaining twelfth into thirty-six fifty-fourths, leaving TWO of those parts for the CAVETO molding…Yes, what about it?! That lip, as you refer to it, is the cathetto and should ONLY twirl inward to the volute eye…Yes, I said the VOLUTE EYE! Now, GET ON WITH IT!”
Charles slammed the phone down and muttered half to himself, “It’s like having to explain simple architecture to a herd of Tasmanian warthogs.” He looked up at Joe and Jonathan and added, “It’s shocking, just shocking I tell you! Nobody cares about interposing beauty and function anymore. We’ve all been diluted by some barbarous panache that only forces us to compromise! It’s shocking, I tell you! …Oh, sorry about that! You know I do tend to go on. So, what are you boys doing here, anyway?”
“Well, actually, Charles, I…” began Joe.
“Forgive me, can’t deviate from nature,” interrupted Charles and quickly went off into an adjoining room. The roaring of a toilet bowl was heard after a few minutes.
“Now, Joe, what can I help you with?” Asked Charles upon exiting as he wiped his hands with a thick towelette.
“Well, Charles, it’s like this,” answered Joe, “I’ve got a problem…”
“Tell him something he doesn’t know,” Jonathan shot in.
“Now, now, Jonathan, let the man build on that foundation,” countered Charles in a way that clearly demonstrated his age and authority.
“Charles, you’re a man of astounding knowledge and I was just wondering if, you know, if your thoughts, well, if you’ve ever been overwhelmed by an invasion or a plague?”
“It’s queer you should be inquiring this of me at this time. Why, just the other day, a ghastly horde of FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT followers descended on me with their frightening talk of such pathetic design that God himself would be ashamed of His own handiwork. The very nerve of them! It took me near an hour to shoo their damnable souls away…. One can only take so much, you know.”
“That’s quite understandable, but Charles, he’s referring to his own thought processes,” explained Jonathan in a most humbled tone.
“Oh, yes, of course, I was quite aware of that. Naturally, he was speaking of something of interior design. Yes, I was fully aware of that…” Charles stopped sputtering and smiled widely.
“Well?!” Joe asked sharply.
“Well, what?” This was Charles’ response.
“Well, am I doomed to a life of brutal, incessant cognition or is there a cure?! Has the jailer not only took away the key, but swallowed it as well? Am I lost to needless whirlpools of mindless melancholy? I need to escape, Charles! Can you help me?” This was Joe’s simple plea.
“Not really, no.”
“You mean you can’t offer me any vital words of heightened wisdom?!”
“No, not unless…”
“Not unless, what?”
“Unless you don’t mind me…”
“Mr. Beaulieux, there’s a Mr. Hariot on line one and he’s quite adamant,” interrupted a low, gruff voice over the intercom.
“Excuse me a moment,” said Charles as he turned his back to them and barked, “NO NO NO! How many times do I have to tell you THE CAPITAL has to be EXACTLY thirteen modules in thickness…NO! NOT TWELVE POINT EIGHT! I said THIRETEEN! Exactly… Of course, it must be in PERFECT PROPORTION to the abacus!…OH, PLEASE, let’s not be stupid about this, an ovolo NEVER has a cross section larger than ONE-QUARTER!…Yes, please! NO! WHAT? NO! YOU MUSTN’T! THAT’LL JUST CASUE…WHAT?! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! I FORBID IT! Just keep up with the work and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Charles turned back toward Joe and Jonathan, saying, “You just can’t imagine such incompetence, I must go down there at once. Forgive me, we’ll have to do this again real soon.” As he said this Charles frantically grabbed a stack of papers and drawings, stuffed them into his portfolio, and made his way toward the door. Before exiting he added, “All the best to you fellows. Cheers!” And off he went.
Joe watched him go and an engulfing silence crashed down on him, knocking him unconscious. After what could have been hours (though in reality it was only a few moments) a barrage of thoughts and voices brought him back to normality. Above him he saw the concerned eyes of Jonathan and the laughing mouth of Charles’ secretary, Janette. They hung there like two porcelain masks for neither one changed their expression for quite some time. Natural hallucinations happened to Joe on a daily basis so he thought nothing of it, until the one of Jonathan spoke.
In a ghost-like manner it said, “Despise not the small things.”
Confusion came down on Joe forcibly, not only because his hallucinations had never spoken to him before, but because he also thought that if they ever did that it would be something not as obvious. Yet, as he pondered this, it spoke again even louder.
“Despise not the small things!”
What? Again? Joe thought that he must be hopeless seeing that even his experiences with visions are just as monotonous and repetitious as real life. Yet, again, out of the plastic-like face of Jonathan, it echoed again.
“Despise not…”
“I know, I know, the small things! Jeez, give me a break!”
The spell was broken and the faces of Jonathan and Janette returned to their former sweetness.
“Are you okay, Joe? I almost thought we lost you this time,” said Jonathan as he searched Joe’s eyes for any response.
“Ah, it’s hopeless! What? Oh, yeah, I’m all right,” offers Joe as a reply.
“Yeah, honey, are you quite sure you are? I’ve never seen a man so afraid,” added Janette in a husky, brown voice.
“Afraid?! Me?! Never! I scoff at fear. How dare you accuse me of such a weakness!” snorted Joe in a Shakespearean tone.
“Believe me, sweetie, I know a man in fear when I see one and you, my little honey, were definitely a man afraid,” the secretary responded with a snotty brashness.
“Okay, all right, whatever you say, Janette, I was afraid,” Joe conceded sarcastically.
“But, Joe, your eyes were so wide when you looked at me,” inserted Jonathan.
“Not you too. Listen, I’m not prepared for the Spanish Inquisition and nor was I afraid of anything. So, can I get off the witness stand now?”
Jonathan leaned towards Janette and whispered in an attempted Spanish accent, “Our friend duzn’t wan theem to want to confess, so whatchew t’ink, thould we let him stip down or thould we geeve the rack another turn?”
“I t’ink he’s had eenough, senor.”
“Bueno. All right, up you go, Joseph,” said Jonathan, assisting him off the floor.
Chapter 26
“Now if I could just…” Charles began. He and Janette were shielding themselves under a ping-pong table which stood near the sliding-glass door. Charles decided, as a matter of principle, to put his relational issues aside until this kidnapping business was dealt with properly. He had also realized that his romantic gesture lacked the panache and expertise he knew he was capable of.
“This should do it.” Charles held in his hands a square block of some sort wrapped in a fine, linen cloth. He slunk up to the sliding-glass door eyeing his surroundings for any further traps. Janette stayed close behind.
Placing the block a few millimeters from the latch, Charles lifted it gently upward. In the dark silence the sound of latch unlocking echoed ominously. Charles turned to urge Janette to join him only to find himself unexpectedly face-to-face with her. This caused him to swallow hard.
“What’s that?” Janette’s question broke the momentary tension.
“Oh, this, it’s just something I acquired from one of the lads at the destruction lab. He calls it the omnipotent magnet. It’s the most powerful magnet in the world, you see.”
“Wow!”
Charles, oblivious to the apparent sarcasm in her voice, turned back to his work without comment. He, again, placed the block parallel with the latch and this time moved it to the side, sliding the door open silently with the ease of a professional thief.
(Oh, Tabitha, just to clarify this, Charles has not nor has he ever practiced the gentle art of burglary in any shape or fashion. His mother had taught him better than that.)
“Welcome to the home of Terence Thorne,” Charles and Janette looked at each other. “Yes, enter if you dare, but there is no way I can guarantee your safety.”
The metallic quality of the voice told them it must be part of Jack’s early warning system. One could only guess what kind of boobytraps he’d set up in his own house. Charles and Janette remained perfectly still and searched about the extremely dimly-lit room for strange blinking lights, trip wire, and misplaced patches of carpet. The only bizarre thing they noticed was the vicious yapping of some kind of dog coming from the other side of the wall. Then suddenly everything went silent.
One of those uneasy stillnesses descended on them, much like the moment before an amateur gunfighter reaches for his pistol at a high-noon duel. The exception here being that the gunfighter would more than likely know what he’s up against. Charles and Janette could only wait upon whatever evil Jack had conjured up. Their bodies tensed further as the silence ensued. It crept inside them like some rare disease and crippled any movement that came to mind. Yet, all they could focus on were the silhouettes and shadows that lined the walls. It now became something worse than just a fear of death. It trickled through every vein. It beat in every pulse. It was breathed in every breath. An imagination can be a terrible thing sometimes.
Exploding through a door just beside them came two dark shadows shifting back and forth violently. Charles and Janette stood stiff as those blackish figures crept towards them closer and closer, breathing erratically. Charles moved to shield Janette, in true chevalier fashion, even though he was experiencing his own sense of self-doubt having not been in a fistfight for nearly thirty years. Despite that he was, as they say, ready for anything. Yet, the slithering shapes were almost upon them.
Charles closed his eyes, let loose a cry of internal rage, and threw himself at them. Unfortunately his depth perception was off and he flopped down just before their approaching feet. Bursts of laughter spread through the room.
“So, you’re supposed to be our leader?!” Said one of the shadows also known as Jonathan.
“You lads didn’t have to scare the shite out of us!” Growled Charles. He normally wasn’t one to curse, but this has been a very emotional day for him.
“Sorray Charles, bu’ we almos’ loss our lives back dare and we weren’t ‘bout to risk it again,” added Lionel.
“What do you mean, we?” Jonathan snapped at Lionel.
“Listen you…” Lionel started.
“What are you both talking about?” Charles just had to ask.
“You see,” Lionel began, “Dare was dis dog, man, an’…”
“A West Highland Terrier,” Jonathan explained.
“Yuh, wha’ever. It was guardin’ duh entrance dare an’, well, it looked harmless…”
“I tried to warn him,” Jonathan added.
“Who yuh playin’? You were da one pushin’ me to go firss!”
“Yeah, but…”
“Anyway, Charles, dis sweet-lookin’ terrier viciously attacks me and Jonafin just stood dare…”
“But, I did knock it out, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, finally.”
“Are you both finished?!” Charles’ patience was nearly non-existent. “We still have a young lady to rescue, so let’s return to the task at hand, all right?!”
(speaking of that young lady)
“Jack, this is utterly ridiculous!” Clare cried out. “I know mom told us to freely pursue our goals! You chose acting! I chose journalism! But, Jack, listen to me, this is not acting, this is madness! Okay, when you first came home after a class or a rehearsal and were still in character, it was cute! But now you’ve gone too far! Jack, I love you, but you’re scaring me half to death and I don’t know what to do anymore! What do you think mom would say about all this! She definitely wouldn’t have approved of all of this, would she?! Now, you just…”
“Shhh, Goodmoney, I think I hear something.”
“Oh, thank God! Help! Help!” She shouted as loud as she could. “We’re in the basement! The basement! Come quick!”
“Goodmoney, I’m surprised at you! I guess the training at MQ is not what it used to be, or perhaps, you’re…Yes, of course, I should’ve known. I can see your little game. Bartova’s very cunning, but he will fool old Terence Thorne.”
With that, he tied a gag tightly over her mouth.