Ordeal by Terror. Lloyd Biggle jr.
a couple of states away if they can make it run that far.” He drained his beer can and slammed it down. “Whatever they’re planning for us, I hope it includes restocking the refrigerator. I wonder if they’ll give us steak every day.” He took a deep breath and patted his stomach. “It was a good dinner. The dehydrated potatoes tasted like dehydrated potatoes, but that wasn’t Adelle’s fault. Who does dishes?”
“The cooks,” Adelle said firmly.
“Sounds unfair. I thought they’d included you just for the dishes.”
But Dolan cleared the table with surprising docility and dried the dishes while Adelle washed them. He even cleaned the tray he had used to broil the steaks. Then, while Adelle seated herself again, he went to the refrigerator for another can of beer, cocked his head inquiringly at Mondor—who nodded—and tossed a can of pop past Adelle’s ear. He returned to the table, opened his beer, and announced, “I have the feeling we should try to do something.”
“What?” Mondor asked, sipping pop.
“My feelings don’t convey that kind of message. But I definitely have the feeling we should try to do something. I’d feel exactly the same way if we were sitting on the edge of a volcano that was trying to erupt.”
When the two men resumed their argument about mazes, Adelle decided to acquire some practical experience. She asked Mondor if he had any suggestions.
“A maze is just what the word implies,” he said. “It can be awfully confusing. An animal is much better equipped than a human because it has a keen sense of smell and usually knows where it’s been. For example, if you walk past a number of openings and don’t count them or count your steps, you won’t know which one to take when you return. An animal’s sense of smell probably would tell it.”
“Adelle won’t have any trouble,” Dolan said pleasantly. “She’s an alley cat.”
Adelle chose to ignore him. “Which way did you go?” she asked Mondor.
“Left.”
“Then I’ll go right.”
Feeling like an intrepid explorer venturing into terra incognita, she went to the opening at the other end of the kitchen and turned right. It would be hilarious, she thought, if she found a way out when the men had merely got themselves lost. She walked confidently along the alley until she came to an opening on her left. It led into an alley that looked exactly like the one she stood in except for its shorter length: smooth cement floor, walls of gray metal containing grooves that had black strips of rubber or plastic crossing the floor between them, and a luminescent ceiling.
“Well, here goes,” she told herself. “I’ll soon find out whether I’m as smart as a rat.”
She started off, carefully memorizing each alley she passed through. She made alternate left and right turns, always taking the last opening before the alley came to an end. In that way, she reasoned, she could tell at a glance whether she was making the correct turn on her way back. She walked for five minutes, for ten minutes, moving slowly, carefully plotting her route on a mental map so she could remember it as she passed through one identical-looking alley after another. When she decided she had inflicted enough strain on her memory, she turned back, and she was pleased to negotiate the first intersection with no trouble.
At the second, she knew at once that something had gone wrong. The end of the alley should have been on her immediate right when she turned into it, but it was twenty feet away. She cast about and checked two more turnings before she returned to her original choice. She knew it was correct. Could the maze have changed? How could anyone move a floor-to-ceiling partition twenty feet along the alley and bolt it into place that quickly and without making a sound?
She decided to ignore the shifted wall and trust her memory. At the next intersection, instead of the expected opening on her left, she found one on her right. Either she had made a fatal error, or the way back was blocked.
She told herself, “Don’t panic! The important thing is to keep going in the right direction.” And of course she couldn’t call for help. She wouldn’t give those two clods the satisfaction of knowing she was unable to walk around in a maze for a few minutes without getting lost. She continued along the alley until she found an intersection that led in the direction she thought she should be going.
But now all of the turnings were wrong, and though she tried to keep herself oriented, she became less and less certain of where she was.
“Keep calm!” she told herself. “It’s only a maze in a lousy basement.”
Suddenly she heard Dolan calling. “Adelle?”
His voice came from behind her. She didn’t answer, but she turned and walked toward him.
“Adelle?” he called again, louder. “Hey! Where are you?”
He called a third time before she found the correct alley. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen looking in the direction she had gone. She was returning from the opposite direction. She had almost reached him when he turned and saw her.
“I thought you went the other way,” he said with a scowl.
“I did,” she told him.
“You mean you found your way all around this place and came back from the other side?”
She decided to be honest. They were in serious trouble, and they wouldn’t get out of it by treating it like a parlor game. “Yes,” she said, “but not intentionally. When I started back, nothing was the way I remembered it. I just kept walking in what I hoped was the right direction.”
“The same thing happened to us.”
“What’s going on?” Mondor called from the kitchen.
“Adelle has learned how easy it is to get lost in a maze,” Dolan said.
Mondor was still hunched over a can of pop. “It’s damned easy,” he said. “I told you—Dolan and I managed it in nothing flat. We didn’t go far, and we thought we were keeping careful track of all the turns, but we almost didn’t make it back here. Sit down. We need to talk about something.”
Adelle seated herself, and Dolan dropped onto the other chair and leaned back to balance nonchalantly on its rear legs. “Our mathematical wizard has made a deduction,” Dolan said. “From now on, we’ll refer to him as the Voice of Doom. But he has a point, and I think you should hear it.”
“Have you figured out why we’re here?” Adelle asked.
“I’d rather not know,” Mondor said. “That room with the numbers game—that was a psychological test. Mazes have something to do with psychology. Obviously we’re being treated like psychological specimens, but I have no idea why. What I’ve been thinking about is how to get out.”
“There’s nothing gloomy about that,” Adelle said. “It’s a commendable exercise, and I’ll even second it. How do we get out?”
“I’m afraid we don’t.”
Adelle turned to Dolan. “Have you two been cooking up jokes?”
Dolan shook his head. “He’s serious. Let him finish.”
Mondor squared around and brushed his hair away from his glasses. “It isn’t just serious, it’s deadly serious. Tell me—what’s the first thing you’d do if you did get out? What’s the first thing any of us would do?”
“Report this to the police,” Adelle said promptly.
“Right. All three of us would relish the thought of seeing Madam and her goons in the dock with a judge about to pronounce sentence.”
“What does that have to do with our finding a way out?” Adelle asked. Both Mondor and Dolan looked at her silently. “I see,” she said finally. “If we do find a way out, it means big trouble for Madam and her goons.”
“Right,” Mondor