Secret Society (20 page)

F
or Nick, the Christmas season passed in a haze. He escorted Phoebe to a few parties in the days leading up to the holiday, but it all felt phony. They had experienced so much together, real things, that to take her to a formal dance seemed fake. They would dance together, kiss at all the appropriate moments, do everything expected of a couple, but privately, they could only think of the upcoming retreat and whether attending it was the right thing to do. Nick wanted her to have a good time, but he couldn't tell if she was happy.

He told Phoebe about everything that had happened with Patch in greater detail, how he felt complicit in the breakup of their friendship. It was like the Society had the power to disband friendships and form new alliances.

Out at the beach house and missing Phoebe terribly, Nick
spent a strained Christmas with his family. Every time he saw his father, he kept his head low. How could he have trusted his parents for so long, only to find out they were tied up in all this?

On Christmas Eve, his father asked to speak with him in the library. His grandfather was already waiting there, and his mother came in with a glass of hot cider. The room was always warm and cozy, though at this time of year, it seemed even more so. The fireplace mantel had been festively decked out with garlands and poinsettias. Henry and Ben stood to one side of the library, ostensibly examining a portrait of their great-grandfather, though Nick knew that wasn't what the sheepish duo was doing there. A day earlier, Nick had asked Ben, who was a sophomore, if he knew anything about the Society. With his pot-smoking buddies from his singing group and a never-ending parade of girlfriends, he had always struck Nick as more of a free spirit, so Nick had thought his brother would be honest with him. Ben hadn't denied any knowledge, but he had said that all questions had to go through their father, which really wasn't helpful at all.

Nick's mother and father sat on the tweed settee that flanked the fireplace, and they motioned for Nick to sit across from them. Nick's grandfather, Palmer, stood on the other side of the library next to a Chippendale chair. He put the volume he was reading back in its place on the walnut bookshelf.

Nick felt like he was surrounded.

He feared that they all wanted him to deal with the Patch issue, which he had been ignoring. He had done enough to hurt Patch already.

“I think you know why you're here,” Parker Bell said, as he put his martini on the glass and wrought-iron coffee table.

“No, Dad, actually I'm not sure,” Nick said.

“What you need to comprehend, Nick, is that your entire family is part of this,” Parker said. “Your mother is an Elder. Your grandfather, as you know, is Chairman Emeritus. Both of your brothers are Elders. We hope that your children will be members, too. Nick, this is part of our life, part of our heritage.”

Nick started at the realization that his suspicions were now confirmed about his family. “Dad, I can't—I don't understand what it is you want me to do.”

“You need to get in touch with Patch and tell him to destroy those videos. We have seen parts of them, and they have the potential to be very damaging. We know he has more. The disc the Guardians asked him for—it's very clear that they were cut from some master tapes.”

“Wait—the Guardians? What are the Guardians?”

“The Guardians are a private security force that works only for the Society.”

The words
private security
put Nick on alert—like the security guards who had dragged Alejandro off six nights ago.

“And they did what—you said they asked him for the footage?”

“Nick, it's easy for all this to escalate. And we don't want that to happen. There are some extremely important people and interests at risk here. All he would have to do is to leak that material onto the Internet or send it to a major news source. You can imagine the pandemonium that would take place.”

Nick stared at the five of them. “I can't believe—how could all of you have been part of this for so long and not told me about it?”

Parker Bell spoke. “I had hoped that my hints were enough. I thought I made it clear that we were part of something very special.”

“And you, Mom?”

“Darling.” She reached forward as if to hug him, but he pulled away. “Your father is in charge of all this. It wasn't my place to say anything.”

Nick looked at his two brothers, Henry and Ben. Nick guessed in their eyes he was the traitor. But maybe he had to play along.

“I'll get in touch with Patch when I'm back in the city,” Nick said. “I'm sure I can talk some sense into him.”

“This must happen before the retreat,” Parker Bell said. “The Council of Regents is extremely concerned. We need to have those tapes, as well as Patchfield's sworn affidavit that there are no other copies.”

“And what's in it for him?” Nick asked. “Why would he want to give you everything?”

“He will be compensated accordingly. We'll work something out with him,” Parker said.

“Compensation! That little cretin should have been gotten rid of a long time ago,” Palmer Bell said.

“Father!” Parker said.

“I'm sorry, Parker. I know the boy has been in your lives for some time now. And Nick, I know he's a friend of yours. But certain things must come before friendship.”

“Can I ask something?” Nick said. “What is the point of all this? Everyone wants to know.”

“That always happens in the Folly,” Parker said. “It's normal for your fellow Initiates to have questions.”

“What is the Folly?” Nick asked.

“The Folly is the period from the Night of Rebirth to Conscription. It's when you get to enjoy the fruits of Society membership, and you don't need to worry too much about your responsibilities.”

“I'm not sure that's really been the case,” Nick said.

“Are you referring to Ms. Dowling's little debacle at the art gallery?” Parker asked.

“Among other things.”

Gigi spoke up. “What happened to Phoebe never should have taken place. She was tricked. She's a good girl. We know she would never betray the Society willingly. She wants too
badly to succeed. I'm happy for you two, about, you know—”

“Gigi, I think Nick can manage his own affairs,” Parker said.

“I know, I'm sorry, dear. I'm just saying I'm pleased. Isn't a mother allowed to do that?”

Nick wondered whether his mother, or any of his family, really knew Phoebe at all. And how did they know they were dating? Maybe it was obvious.

“Everything will become clear during the retreat,” Parker said. “You are all bound together, in a bond that's tighter than blood. These bonds will follow you throughout your entire life. If you use them wisely, you will benefit beyond your wildest expectations.”

Nick wanted badly to ask about Alejandro, but he didn't feel it was a good idea.

His family was in deeper than he had ever imagined.

 

The next afternoon, after an early Christmas dinner with Genie, Patch slipped out the door while she was napping. He took the subway downtown and then a PATH train to Jersey City. He found the nearest truck stop and started approaching drivers. Finally, one of them, a paunchy guy with a goatee driving a truck labeled Northeastern Lines, seemed receptive.

“Where you headed, kid?” he asked.

“Maine,” Patch said. “I'm headed to Maine.”

T
he day after Christmas, Nick returned to the city. He wanted desperately to see Phoebe, to fill her in on everything he had been told. The revelations about his family were surprising, but what had he really expected? He knew his father and grandfather were involved, and he should have guessed that his brothers and mother were part of it, too. Why had they kept this from him for so long? It made him feel betrayed.

He shared what he knew with Phoebe over coffee at a brasserie on Lexington. She was incredulous at first, but soon understood what was going on.

“So basically you're saying your family is in tight with all this. But where does that leave you?”

“I don't know,” Nick said. “It almost feels like I couldn't
leave if I wanted to.”

“You have choices,” Phoebe said. “You have to remember that.”

“Yeah, but at the cost of what? Getting thrown out? Getting cut off financially? They essentially said that Society ties were even stronger than family.”

“Until you screw up, right?”

“Exactly,” Nick said. “It's, like, one wrong move and they show you who's in charge.”

“We need to hang in there. We need to see what's going on, to go on this stupid retreat.”

They went back to Nick's apartment, where no one would be home but the housekeeper. In the lobby, they ran into Genie, Patch's grandmother.

“Nicholas,” she said. “It's been so long.” She gave him a hug and a kiss. She smelled like tuberose perfume. “Who's your pretty friend?”

He introduced Phoebe.

“Do you know if Patch is home?” he asked.

A worried look crossed her face. “Oh dear, I thought you would have known. I think you'd better come upstairs.”

Nick and Phoebe followed her into the elevator.

He hadn't been in Patch's apartment since the end of the summer; being back now made their rift seem even deeper. He had forgotten the smells of the two-bedroom co-op, and he had missed its coziness, the small entryway with its cracked
marble transom, the living room in need of a paint job, the fact that Patch was allowed to put stickers on his door, something Nick's own mother had declared off limits, as the decorator had said it would ruin the “continuity” of the Bells' hallway.

“I've missed being here,” Nick said, although he didn't pursue the topic.

“Patch left this note for me yesterday,” Genie said.

Nick looked at the note, scrawled on a piece of binder paper. “Has he sent any messages yet?”

“I believe so. The thing keeps beeping.” She went to the bedroom and came back with her cell phone. “Can you see what it means?”

Nick took the phone from her and went to the messages screen. There were three:

The phone beeped in Nick's hand. A fourth message came through. When he read it, he felt chills.

“His timing is uncanny.” Nick laughed grimly.

“Is he nearby?” Phoebe said, looking at the message. “Does he somehow know we're here?”

“No, I think it's exactly the opposite,” Nick said. He realized he would have to explain that part later, when they weren't around Genie. “Look at how the messages themselves mostly don't make sense. Patch and I used to play this game in class, where we would pass notes. They're acrostics: The sentences aren't always logical, but the first letters taken together make a word.”

The three of them looked closely at the string of texts.

“I-S-I-S,” Phoebe said.

“Exactly,” Nick said, looking at Genie. “He knows.”

 

Genie prepared a pot of tea as they sat in the living room. The old woman seemed relatively calm, considering that her grandson might currently be trying to infiltrate the bastion of the Society. Phoebe feared she would be sick.

“I assume you know what's going on,” Nick said to Genie.

“Well, I suspected. I'm not really sure how much I should say about all this. I want to make sure Patch is okay. If you're part of it all, can I be assured of that?”

“Genie, Patch's safety is the most important thing to me. Especially after everything that's happened. But I need to know—you don't think we're horrible for staying in it, do you?”

“You know,” she said, as she fiddled with a locket she was wearing around her neck, “sometimes the best way to rebel against something is from the inside.”

“Are we safe to talk here?” Nick said.

“I don't know. Two very threatening gentlemen came to visit us last month, so that Patch could give them some kind of recording. He wasn't here, so I had to deal with them.”

“They came to your
apartment?
” Nick said. He seemed truly shocked. Phoebe had no idea it had gone this far. Secret meetings were one thing, but threatening old women?

“Nick, you act so surprised. I would have thought you
would know a bit more about all this, given your…” Her voice trailed off.

“You mean my family?”

“That's right. I suppose there's no need to beat around the bush.”

“You know about all that?”

Genie chuckled. “Oh, Nicholas, there's so little that you and Patch know about our families' early history together.”

“What do you mean ‘together'?”

“Your grandfather, Palmer Bell, and I were once engaged to be married.”

“I had no idea.”

Genie put down her teacup. “You see, Nick, in a sense, I could have been your grandmother.”

 

Nick stood silently with Phoebe in the elevator as they made their way up to his apartment. “I can't believe this,” he finally said. “I knew my grandparents traveled in the same social circle as Patch's, but I didn't know—”

“Do you think he's okay?” Phoebe interrupted him.

“Sometimes Patch does these things. Two summers ago, he met these fishermen in Sag Harbor and followed them all the way to Montauk. He was gone for three days. Slept on their boat. I guess you could say he has more of a sense of adventure than most people.”

“So he can fend for himself?”

“I think so. Here's the thing, though—did you see when those messages were sent? Right on each hour.”

“What does that mean?”

“He's not sending them himself. He's using a computer to send them.”

“How would he do that?”

“He wrote them beforehand and uploaded them with a time delay. He could be anywhere.”

“Why don't you just call him?”

When they reached the apartment's vestibule, Nick took out his phone and dialed. It went directly to voice mail. Patch was either out of range or his phone had died.

Or, even worse, he no longer had his phone with him.

“Great,” Nick said. “As if this retreat wasn't already giving us enough to worry about.”

The instructions for the retreat had said they would each be picked up at their homes at eight
A.M.
on December 28. There had been a packing list and some general guidelines: no cameras, no computers, no cell phones. Nick imagined everyone would be ignoring this last instruction. It was creepy, somehow, how solitary the Society wanted them to be. But maybe it was to prevent people from taking photographs.

They entered Nick's apartment. It was quiet as everyone was still at the beach house and the housekeeper was working upstairs.

Nick and Phoebe flopped down on the couches in the
living room, something they would never be able to do if his parents were around. Nick hadn't seen the apartment so still in recent memory.

“It's so freaky, somehow,” he said. “To think I was raised for all this.”

“At least you have an idea of what to expect,” Phoebe said. “From your family, I mean.” Phoebe looked worried as she sat back on the couch, biting her lower lip.

“It's so convoluted, though. Is this like my destiny or something?” He laughed. “Sorry, I know that sounds stupid.”

“Maybe it is your destiny,” Phoebe said. “Or maybe your destiny is to get away from it all.”