The Colour of The Night Sky

Eloise could see the small hairs radiating off the frayed string. They were being tossed about by the light breeze in the air. The string was tied around the brown paper box so neatly it seemed as if it was intended as a present. There was a white card tied amongst the bow on the top but it faced down so that you could only see the name and not the message.

She leaned back from the computer screen to wipe her brow, pushing her glasses up on her forehead and pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt the stress and tension in every inch of her body like her strings had all been pulled too tight. She should have become a violinist as her mother wanted. Then she wouldn’t be here now.

‘Sergeant Jennings, anything to report?’ Her commander's booming voice behind her did not surprise her. She turned to look at the austere man noting the dig of the metal chair into her thigh as she did. She was lucky to have a chair in this make-shift headquarters but she still resented how uncomfortable it was.

‘We’re jamming the phone towers, if he has a short wave radio trigger it would still get through but my gut tells me that’s not the case. The last three packages were all on a timer, each one twenty minutes shorter than the last. He’s testing us, Sir.’

‘What’s your recommendation?’

‘Evacuate the surrounding five blocks, and get search teams on the roofs of those that are outside the radius but would have a good view of the area. He wants to see our work.’

‘Done.’ The commander nodded at two waiting officers that took off to put her plan into action. ‘And you?’

‘The robot is already in place, and I have a clear path to the bomb. This is a part of his game sir. He’ll have made it possible to diffuse. I just have to be quick enough.’ He nodded his agreement at her, his expression somber. She felt the weight of the moment down to her toes.

‘Clear the room?’ He asked. She nodded. She would need absolute quiet to focus. It was time to play.

That was what each of the notes had said. There were slight variations each time, but the message was the same, he was playing with them. Each time raising the stakes, lowering the time, increasing the number of potential victims. His first package had been in an area so deserted even if they hadn’t successfully diffused it, it wouldn’t have done anything but some mild property damage. The second was an office building on a Sunday, it had barely taken them twenty minutes to evacuate the few people inside. The last was an open-air mall that was barely used. Today was a school, and that’s what worried her.

The children were all well and truly safe, either collected by parents or relocated to an evacuation point on the other side of town. What worried her was that it was a significant escalation. Which meant he was getting impatient. He wanted more risk. And that made him dangerous.

She sat back at her desk ignoring the slight flap of the plastic white walls of the tent. Taking a moment to sip the brown sludge that vaguely resembled coffee she took a breath to center herself. It was time to play his game. And only she could play it.

She remembered the confusion she felt when the commander first showed up on her doorstep four months ago. He was an aberration from her former life, and an unwelcome one. She was retired and very much enjoying teaching the new recruits. He told her about the package and how it was addressed to her and asked if she’d come and help.

She’d been shaking as her hands felt the smooth plastic of the robot controls again. She’d left this all behind for a reason. But when she’d turned over the note addressed to her and seen the words ‘Play with me?’, she’d suddenly felt calm and controlled. She grasped for some of that calmness now.

She slid her glasses into place and lightly rested her hand on the joystick. She closed her eyes and took one last steadying breath before she began. She propelled the robot closer, pulling back the zoom on the camera so she could better maneuver the path. She could hear her pulse in her ears and feel the sweat sliding down her back. She cursed the part of herself that had missed this. The part of her that was no better than this creep, threatening people’s lives for the thrill of it.

The robot arrived alongside the package and she carefully extended its arm, so that the pincers could grip and turn over the card. Hurry up. I’m getting bored. You’ve made the game too easy.

She could only imagine what the psychologists and behaviorists in the other room would make of that. She knew they would be watching her video feed and making their assessments. But it didn’t matter. They were no help to her. She knew this guy better than they ever would. All she had to do was play his game.

She returned to her maneuvers carefully untying the string and letting it fall away. Then she slid the robotic hand along the edge of the package, carefully extracting the lip and lifting the top of the box.

It was the same as the others. A frame of wood, the metal components on top, the ignition and explosives hidden beneath, along with what would be a significant amount of shrapnel. But something was different. She pulled back on the camera. The timer. The timer was wrong.

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until she heard her commander’s voice through the intercom. ‘What do you mean the timer’s wrong?’

‘It’s off sir. It’s counting down one second every one point two seconds.’

‘What does that mean?’ What did that mean? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that no one but her would have ever noticed. It was a game, she reminded herself. A game designed for her.

‘Sir it means that this timer is false. It may say we have twenty-five minutes but I’m pretty sure it’s less. Assuming he stuck with his pattern, we should have had two hours for this one.’ She could hear the murmurs of agreement in the background of the intercom. ‘Sir, if this timer has been counting down out of sync like this the whole time, we have less than five minutes.’

The noise over the intercom was practically deafening before the commander released his finger, plunging her back into silence. They were all upset but they didn’t understand the game. He’d just been trying to make it more fun by moving up the deadline. She just had to play.

Not waiting for permission, she turned her attention to the bomb. She extended the second arm and used it to spread the wires and then counted them. There was one too many. The second blue one shouldn’t exist.

This was the trick. This was the game. Either blue wire could be correct. She couldn’t see where they connected without turning over the bomb which she knew would trigger an early explosion. She shouldn’t have had to concern herself with the blue wires. He was following her old maps. It should have been green and white. So was this misdirection or a clue?

He’d upped the stakes more than she’d realized. It wasn’t just a more dangerous location. It wasn’t just a quicker time. He’d deviated from her structure for the first time. But he was a simple man. She knew that from the way he played. One move at a time, long gaps between each turn. He didn’t do distractions. He didn’t try and mislead. His game was simple.

She pushed a breath to the bottom of her lungs as she raised the robotic hands to separate out her wires. She could hear the commander’s voice demanding her to explain what choices she was making but she didn’t have the time. She would be in trouble later but somehow that made it even more thrilling. Only she could do this, not the commander. Not the room full of experts. Her.

She cut the green and the timer reset. Two minutes and eighteen seconds. She was right, he’d moved up his timeline. She cut the white and the timer began flashing. It shouldn’t flash. She could hear the commander’s voice as if from the other end of a tunnel. His question was the right one. What did it mean?

There was a pattern. Four flashes, pause. Two flashes, pause. Five flashes, pause. Four, two, five. She murmured the numbers to herself. The commander had clearly left his finger on the intercom because she could hear the raucous noise of the other room. They were shouting out ideas for what the numbers meant. Was it another countdown? No, she was sure of that. She still had the remainder of those two minutes and eighteen seconds, however long that was.

Four. Two. Five... Four. Two. Five. Four hundred and twenty-five. Four hundred and twenty-five, the color of the night sky. She recited the mnemonic device she’d taught her students. She’d been teaching them the wavelengths of the colors in case they ever used one of the older model robots that only had black and white cameras and they needed to use the spectrograph readings.

She considered the two blue wires again. She didn’t have time to question her choice. She clipped the darker of two wires. The timer flashed once more and then stopped. The blood rushed through her ears. It sounded like a wave crashing on the shore. She could hear the distant sounds of cheering. The relief was palpable. Her sadness was her secret.

She was right. The game was played. She’d won again. And a part of her already missed it. The adrenaline. The focus. A part of her was already looking forward to the next one, craving the danger, the tension, the chance to feel alive.

The game had changed. Was it a mistake? Or a clue? No, he didn’t make mistakes. It was all a part of the game. Now she knew, the mystery bomber was not someone who had read all her published work as everyone and concluded. The only people who would know the rhymes she used were those that attended her classes. The bomber was a student. And she knew exactly which one.