Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Dwayne Carlisle: Ajar

We all kind of panicked when the Box was open a little way. It was like the outside flaps were three inches apart. I didn't understand why it upset us so much. Probably just because when we'd first been introduced to the thing, the most important instruction on the list had been 'don't open it'. When we started out we were trying to prevent anyone opening the Box, and now we were worried about our safety while we tried to protect it, keeping it closed still seemed to be a part of the whole deal.

Ferrari tried to force it closed. We kind of knew that wouldn't work, we'd already seen Walker try the same thing after he jostled it getting it off Marco's truck. I pulled out the key and slipped it into the mechanism. It was kind of hard to do, because the lock didn't seem to have a keyway. It went between those metal plates into a space too shadowy to see clearly, and then the razor-sharp points of the key locked onto some part of the clockwork mechanism inside. Maybe that was why it was such a strange shape, so that all the protruding pins would catch metal rails or other gears inside to guide it to where it was supposed to be. After thinking back to the first time I'd watched the Box partially open, and the key actually moving, I found the right place. From the feel of the mechanism beneath, I think it was actually engaging with the centre of a mainspring that travelled as it unwound.

I certainly wasn't a watchmaker, I didn't know that much about clockwork, but I could imagine how a simple gear worked well enough to tell when the key was connecting with the mechanism, and to turn it until the system latched. The Box was closed again.

"I think we should keep the key separate from the Box," I said, carefully extracting it from the mechanism again, "That way even if those goons get the Box, they won't be able to open it, and we have a second chance to get it back." I didn't bother stating that in the event that happened, I would probably fall right back into blind panic and be no use to anybody. It kind of went without saying.

"Seems fair," Ferrari nodded, and it was pretty much decided. I looked around at the others, wondering who would be best to give the key to. I'd been intending to check out the Box and extract Cassie's DVD – if it was really there – before handing the key to someone more competent. But having to close the Box had forced me to tip my hand, and everybody knew I had the key now, so I probably couldn't get away with hanging on to it.

"I think Kris is the best choice," I said in the end. In a way, that was through a process of elimination. He wasn't an athlete, but our president was pretty fit. I remember once he got into a fight with a drunk guy who was causing trouble outside Brassic, so he could handle himself at least a little. I'd panicked before, and Marco had seemed similarly overwhelmed when the CIA showed up. Just goes to show, skill with kendo doesn't mean you'd be good in a real fight. Now, Monty had shown that she could keep calm in a crisis, and that she was a lot more quick thinking than either of us. But she had her head in the clouds, and I wasn't sure if she might just open the Box to see what was in it. Her curiosity seemed almost catlike at times, if you know what I mean. And Ferrari, she would be the best of all of us at defending something. But that meant she had to keep an eye on the Box, just in case this safe wasn't up to the job on its own.

Of course, once the safe crossed my mind, I had to ask: "Should we put the Box in the safe now? Then once it's safely stowed, Kris can take the key back to campus, and we know there's no chance of anybody getting their hands on both at the same time."

We all agreed that would be a good thing, and we were all looking around for the safe as well. Monty had said it was in the basement when we decided to come here, but I didn't see any sign.

"Oh, we've got to clean all this mud off first," Monty was insistent, "She'll be so uncomfortable." That was my other reason for not wanting her to be the key holder: anthropomorphising the Box didn't give me confidence in her judgement. We could respect her opinions, though, and we all chipped in wiping the mud off and using paper towels to dry as much water as we could from between the layers of shining red metal. Eventually, we were happy, and then Monty grinned, gave a twirl as she stood and said she'd show us the safe now.

She walked over to a painting on the wall, an oriental style piece that looked like it was on silk. Framed in much the same style as the paintings upstairs, so there was a distinct mismatch of cultures there. Monty lifted one corner of the frame slightly with a single finger, and then opened it outwards to reveal a metal panel recessed in the wall. It had a number of electronic components standing proud of the surface: a keypad, a couple of handles, a capacitive inductance palm scanner, and an eyepiece for the retina scanner, just like she'd said. Whatever her dad was protecting in here, he'd gone for overkill in the safe design. He also trusted his daughter absolutely, and I wondered if that was some kind of strange inherited trait. Installing one of the most advanced safes money could buy, and then giving his daughter access when she didn't have any reason to go in there; it sounded like just the kind of thing Monty herself would have done.

"A wall safe behind a painting?" Kris chuckled, "That is so old-school!" Everybody had a little laugh there, probably the first time we'd laughed properly since this business started.