"Does it matter?" John asked.

"I guess not."

"And I think we need to form a corporation," John said. "For our own protection. Like you said."

"Can I work for you guys?" Steve said. "I have some ideas. I can help too. I'm good with a soldering gun."

"The corporation is not yet ready to hire employees, Steve," John said. "But we'll keep your resume on file."

"Thanks!"

"Should we pull the pinball machine out?" Henry asked. "It would hurt us to lose it. The stuff we did could be reverse engineered. Any electrical engineer could figure it out."

"But it doesn't matter if we have a patent, I think," John said. "If we pull it, we lose the revenue. We may need to pay an attorney."

"We could put it somewhere else," Henry said. "At seventy-thirty like we should have in the first place."

"Ray will not be a happy man," John said.

"He can't stop us," Henry said. "We didn't sign a contract. We own the machine. By word of mouth we can fill up any place we put the device around campus."

"You guys should open your own arcade," Steve said. "Right next to the high school."

John said, "Here's the plan. Tomorrow, I'll find a lawyer who can help us. Henry, you scout out some of the other bars around campus and see if we can get another place to put the machine. Steve, can you watch the bar to see if anyone tries to mess with the machine?"

"Sure. I've got a fake ID."

"Steve, you're five foot one," John said.

"Lou'll let me in. And I won't drink." He looked suddenly queasy. "Never again."

John called Grace's dorm room, but no one picked up. He would have gone over to see her, but Casey's room was on the same floor and he didn't want to chance running into her. Grace wasn't in the lab, since he had just come from there. He tried the library, and found her reading a paperback at a study desk.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey." She didn't look up from the book. John pulled a chair over and sat beside her.

"Grace, you've turned into my best friend," he said.

"Don't say it," she said. "I don't want to hear it."

"Grace, you're my best friend," he said again, taking her hand. "There was a reason I should never have gotten involved with Casey, and that same reason applies to you."

"Oh, please."

"I'll tell you why someday, but till then we've got to stay just friends."

Grace wiped a tear from behind her gla.s.ses. "I was just drunk, John. It didn't mean anything."

John let the lie slide.

"We've got a crisis, by the way."

She sat up, her eyes bright and wet. "Oh, I love a good crisis. Do tell."

Henry found a bar on Secor Avenue called Adam's All-Star Cavalcade that would take the pinball machine for seventy-thirty. The manager had heard about it and one of his bartenders had played in the last tournament, losing to Steve in the first round.

They met on the next Monday in the lab bay to plan the extraction.

"Ray leaves by ten each night. Lou or someone else closes up. We can be there late, then take it out the door," Grace said.

"Will Lou help us?" Grace asked.

"What do we do with the machine then?" Henry asked.

"Bring it back here," John said.

"Take it to Adam's right away," Grace said.

"All the bars close at the same time," John pointed out.

"So we leave it in a pickup truck until the next day."

"In the open?" Grace said. "No way."

"Here," Henry said. "No one will bother it."

"Sounds good," John said. "So here's the revised plan: Tonight we close Woodman's and we take the machine with us. We drive it to the lab. Then tomorrow we drop it off at Adam's All-Star Cavalcade."

"It's a plan," said Grace.

They were yawning by twelve but managed to stay awake until closing time, drinking c.o.kes and eating tortilla chips. Lou wasn't working that night; another bartender, Chip, was closing the place. But Ray left by ten as usual.

"Cha-ching!" he cried as he pa.s.sed them on the way out.

"Yeah," Henry said. "You said it."

At ten to one, the bartender yelled, "Last call." But the place was empty except for a couple career drunks. No one was playing pinball.

"Let's go," John said.

They went in back, unplugged the machine, and lifted it.

"G.o.d, it's heavy."

They maneuvered it down the steps and past the bar.

"What the f.u.c.k you doing?" Chip yelled. "Put that back."

"We need to make some repairs," John gasped. "We'll have it back tomorrow."

"No way!" Chip stepped around the bar to block their way. Grace, on a front corner, set her side down and kicked him in the shin. As he bounced away holding his leg, they pushed the machine through the door.

It took them five minutes to load it, but it took Ray four to run down the block from his house, dressed in a robe that flapped behind him.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

"Taking our machine," Henry said.

"Put it back, now."

"No," John said.

"I've called the police."

"Why? It's our machine."

"Listen, we had a deal, you stupid f.u.c.ks," he said, trying to climb up onto the truck bed.

John grabbed his shoulder and set him back down on the sidewalk gently. "We know you tried to sell us out, Ray."

His mouth slapped shut. "I was trying to make you guys a deal. Do you know how much money this thing is worth?"

"Make us a deal?" Henry cried. "That's a load of bull."

"Sorry, Ray. Our deal is finished," John said.

Grace climbed into the front, while John steadied himself and the machine in back. Henry started the truck and drove away.

CHAPTER 26

John Prime watched the late November snow fall from his corner office in the McClintock Building in downtown Toledo. The production reports were on his desk, above the sales projections, and he needed to review them before he went home to Casey. To their new house in Sandburr. In his new Unic XK.

Prime grinned at the partial reflection in the mirror. Everything he'd ever wanted he had now. Not exactly according to plan, but here he was, president of a corporation, marketing one of his "inventions." In just two months, he'd gone from murder suspect to corporate wheeler-dealer.

He should have been going over the reports, but he was still flying from the marketing meeting. They'd managed to get the kid on Late Night with Garofalo. Late Night with Garofalo. That's all they'd need. Just sixty seconds of the kid solving the Cube, a "wow" from Garofalo and her sidekick, Nealon, and every kid in the world would want a Cube. It was selling, sure, but it wasn't the sure-fire hit he'd hoped. There were a dozen other toys kids in America were asking for instead of the Cube. But with a month until Christmas, they could still have the stores stocked nationwide. He hoped. That's all they'd need. Just sixty seconds of the kid solving the Cube, a "wow" from Garofalo and her sidekick, Nealon, and every kid in the world would want a Cube. It was selling, sure, but it wasn't the sure-fire hit he'd hoped. There were a dozen other toys kids in America were asking for instead of the Cube. But with a month until Christmas, they could still have the stores stocked nationwide. He hoped.

He turned back to the production reports.

Prime opened the first folder and his phone buzzed.

"Mr. Rayburn, a Mr. Ismail Corrundrum on line one," Julie said.

"Who?"

"Mr. Corrundrum, sir. Says he knew you when you were a kid. Says it's important."

Prime rolled the name around on his tongue. It didn't ring any bells, but who knew who Johnny Farm Boy had in his past? Prime glanced from the reports to the blinking light. He didn't really want to go over the reports.

"h.e.l.lo?" he said. "This is John Rayburn."

"It's not 1980," a voice said.

"What?"

"It's not 1980. The Cube is usually out by 1980. You are late by twenty-five years."

"Who is this?"

"A fellow traveler," the voice said. "Apparently."

"What are you talking about?" Prime said, pretending to be as confused as possible. But inside he was cold. The man on the line was implying he knew the Cube was the result of cross-universe movement. He knew about traveling across universes.

"You're going to attract a lot of attention," the voice said. "Good thing I found you first."

"I'm hanging up, you crackpot," Prime said. He slammed down the phone. "Julie!" His a.s.sistant stuck her head in. "No more calls from Corrundrum!"

"Sure thing, boss."

He glanced at the reports again. Now he was definitely in no mood for them. He pulled on his coat and gloves. It was late enough that the roads would be clear. The snow wasn't sticking; it was still too warm, but Prime guessed that the thought of snow alone was enough to snarl all of rush hour.

He took the elevator down to the parking garage. The Unic beeped to life, its engine starting from afar as he stepped off the elevator.

A man leaned against the car. He hadn't even bothered to move when Prime had unlocked it with the remote. For a moment Prime thought it was Corrundrum, but then he realized who it was: Vic Carson.

"I have a restraining order against you," Prime said. He reached for his cell phone. "I'm calling security."

"Sure, if you can get a signal down here."

Carson pushed off heavily from the car with his b.u.t.tocks. Prime saw he carried a crowbar in his left hand. It swung loosely from his ham fist.