| |
Deke and Duke stood outside the crates. Instruments in their hands, they monitored the area for spies. Data streamed like barbed wire through Claus’s vision until Dane ordered them to stop.
The fat man massaged his forehead.
The sharp edges of the triplets’ thoughts immediately dulled to a manageable ache. When he opened his eyes, Naren was building a crude map with snow. He’d already mounded something resembling the tower.
Dane stopped him.
With a wave, the snow levitated off the floor. Dane bounced a silver ball that hovered between Claus, Naren and Dane. It projected a three-dimensional map.
Naren didn’t flinch.
He was nonplussed by the triplets’ technology. On the island for almost a month, the biotech scientist had become numb to technological “magic” as he explained his clearly conceived plan to stop the miser.
To help her.
That was what he’d said when they were hiding beneath the crates; it was what drew Claus out. Naren didn’t just want to stop her, he wanted to help her.
Even if Claus could take Naren and Kandi with him, the miser was too powerful to leave behind. Something had to change. Everyone on this island needed to be safe, including her. It was true that he kept a naughty and a nice list, and it was clear which one she was on.
Naughty or nice, she needs our help.
The plan was complex and risky. Naren had been thinking of it for quite some time and had improvised after meeting Claus. The triplets offered an alternative. They had the technology to make it work better than what he was suggesting. Naren was suspicious.
A path led from the tower to a long resort where he and his daughter had been staying. Beyond that was a boat on the north shore. He would take it to a smaller island where a plane was waiting.
“And your daughter?” Claus asked.
“I know where she is.” Naren explained she was in the tower, safe from what the miser was doing. He didn’t say why she was there or how she got there. “She’ll come with me to the boat.”
Claus didn’t like the risk, but the alternatives weren’t any better. Ronin couldn’t carry them all, and multiple leaps to come back for anyone was even riskier.
“You’ll stay at the sleigh,” Naren said, “with her son. Stay alert. Anything can happen.”
He looked at Dane. The triplets could protect them from any disaster, including the miser’s wrath. But Naren and his daughter wouldn’t be with them. They had to be off the island before the miser knew what was happening.
Snow was falling through the map and piling on the floor. Naren stared at the buildings, quietly rubbing his chin. Snowflakes stuck to the glittering glove. His eyes jumped back and forth, replaying everything that could go wrong.
“You don’t have to do this,” Claus said. “We can finish this, the triplets and I. We’ll make sure of it. Leave now, Naren. Take your daughter and go home.”
“I have to stay. She can’t suspect anything for this to work. It’s her only chance.”
After everything that had happened, he was thinking of the miser. She was too smart to fool, too powerful to beat. Perhaps she had met her match when Naren had arrived.
Has he been planning this all along?
“Why are you doing this?” Claus asked.
His gaze stopped jumping around the map and emptied. He was remembering something. Claus was good at reading people. Their desires were often written on their expressions as clearly as handwritten words. Naren’s drive was fueled by compassion.
And something else.
“She has a good heart,” he said. “If she just turns around, she’ll remember that.”
Naughty and nice lists were not static. No one stayed on one list. The naughty were sometimes nice, and the nice slipped from time to time. The lists weren’t meant to judge people but rather to follow their growth. Failure was a part of being human, and the naughty list wasn’t always a bad thing. It was just a matter of how long someone stayed on it.
Whether or not the naughty received a gift from Claus, they would be loved. If he could help them, he did. He wanted to see everyone on the nice list.
Naren got up to leave but stopped, flexing his hand. Claus knew the glove he was wearing; he had one just like it. It was used to materialize gifts from his bag. Naren didn’t explain how he got it, but the miser trusted him. Why he had it seemed obvious.
The spies were still gone.
Snow gathered on his shoulders. Claus watched him struggle with his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said. “I don’t believe in flying reindeer, and it’s impossible to journey around the world in a single night or live on the North Pole without being discovered. I have secrets no one would believe, either.”
For the first time, he looked at Claus.
“So maybe you are Santa Claus.”
Claus knew the scientist’s secrets and his struggle to keep them from the world, especially his daughter. His mistakes occasionally landed him on the naughty list, but not for long.
Claus got up with a groan and stretched until his back cracked. It didn’t matter if Naren didn’t believe who he was. Very few adults did. Naren was a skeptic. Doubt was healthy. Whether they believed in Santa Claus or not had no bearing on Claus. He knew who he was.
He put his hand on Naren’s shoulder. “I believe in you.”
A joyless smile touched his lips. It was heavy with concern but relieved by the fat man’s support. He wouldn’t have to do this alone.
“Promise you’ll get on the boat with your daughter.”
“I will.”
Dane retrieved the floating ball and the map vanished. Naren slipped the glove into his tool bag. The spies were returning. Naren nodded to the triplets. They skated off to join the helpers. A few minutes later, they returned with the others to slide around him. They grabbed at his arms and pulled him away. Another redbeard was down. Naren held Claus’s gaze a moment longer.
Claus nodded.
The helpers swarmed the clearing. The triplets mingled among them, stoic and steady. The spies hovered over them like a dark cloud. There was no indication they had detected a gap in their surveillance.
Eventually, the helpers’ song faded in the machinery. The snow fell heavy and peaceful; it embraced him with frigid serenity. Despite the comfort, something niggled in his thoughts.
It wasn’t one of the triplets’ intervening thoughts or doubts about the risky plan or the delay of returning to the North Pole that bothered him. It wasn’t anything Naren had said but something he’d done when he promised to get on the boat. Claus didn’t know what it meant or why it bothered him.
Naren had rubbed his temple.