Free to wander and filled with Joker, he wandered where he wanted, seeking only his next footstep. Around a corner could be heard a clattering of feet and a raucous laugh, quickly followed by a large ball of a man adorned in spots of purple and orange.
‘Paul?’ asked Hackle. ‘Paul Malthorpe?’
‘Sorry!’ cried the figure. Tumbler’s the name, tumbling’s the game. Must dash. Got a bone to catch.’ And the strangeness passed, tumbling over and over in a swirl of colours, laughing as he bounced along merrily.
‘The Tumbler just passed Hackle,’ said Joe.
‘Good,’ said Jimmy. ‘Where’s Jazir?’
‘He’s in there, doing well I think, but well hidden inside the blurbs.’
‘That’s what we want. They’ll have trouble spotting him on security.’
‘He’s moving towards the centre of the maze… Shit! It’s happening again. The maze just shifted, and the time… it’s moving backwards now.’
‘Play, Daisy!’
‘I’m trying to. But look at them… how can I…’
The dominoes on the table were shifting so quickly now, the dots were blurs of movement, like a time-lapse of the stars against the still night.
‘This time’s for real, Daisy. You got me?’
‘No. I…’
‘Play!’
‘Six-zero,’ she said, out of nowhere. And was amazed as the bone in her hand changed and stopped on that very pair of numbers. ‘How did I… how did I do that?’
‘You’re a natural, Daisy. Didn’t I ever say so?’
‘What do you mean?’
To the world, all was the same, time was the usual inevitable tread towards death and taxes and no further prizes. Whereas, to the maze and its various players, whether inside or controlling, time was just another choice of branching pathways, one that led forward, the other back, and all the twisted routes in between. Joe had to watch both screens at once, for while the game show’s clock was turning normally (8.49), the maze clock was a spikier beast (8.22, 8.59, 7.39, 8.17, 7.56, 8.37…).
‘OK punters!’ cried Tommy Tumbler. ‘Clack those bones together. Here she comes, the Queen of All Fortune! Cookie Luck!’
Cookie Luck! Cookie Luck! This is what they played for.
‘Cookie’s on, Jimmy,’ said Joe. ‘Eight fifty-two. Is it time?’
‘Not yet!’
‘But which clock, which clock do I follow?’
‘The maze clock. The game can’t be won until they coincide.’
‘What did you mean?’ asked Daisy then. ‘I was a natural? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Let’s play,’ replied her father, banging down a piece. ‘Six-two!’ But getting it wrong. ‘Shit! Sorry, I can’t…’
‘Max is meeting Cookie!’ cried Celia, feeling her domino tingle.
Hackle had fallen exhausted against a looking-glass wall that contained no reflections, only shadows that moved beyond its silver. A woman was standing over him, gently swaying in tight black, her body sliding with sexy dots that teased the eyes of the city, no less those of the professor.
‘Max, darling…’ she breathed. ‘So long since we last kissed.’
‘I’ve never kissed you, Susan. Malthorpe wouldn’t let me.’
‘Don’t you be cruel to your favourite Cookie. Who’s this Susan, Max? Are you making me jealous again? You know you can love only me, Max, as I can only love you. Will you kiss me, Max?’
‘No! Keep away from me!’
Hackle was trying to scramble up the wall, which was suddenly slippy and soft, with a perfume of flesh that his fingers sank into.
‘Ahhhh!’
‘Must go, Max. Got a date at nine. Remember me to Paul…’
‘Paul? Paul Malthorpe?’
‘Darling, he’s simply dying to meet you.’
Hackle felt something wet and warm touch his lips, then it was gone. He fell back and the wall gave way under his weight, allowing him to sink down slowly through another tunnel that finally landed him…
‘I’m losing him!’ shouted Joe.
‘What?’
‘Max… he’s slipping away. The time…’
Max woke with a start. The door to his cell opened, and Executive Crawl stepped in. ‘Good evening, Professor. I trust you slept well.’
Hackle smiled weakly. ‘What time is it?’
‘The time? Certainly, old chap. Twenty past.’
‘Eight?’
‘Of course. Friday evening. Nearly time for the draw. Mister Million wants you to watch the choice being made. A rare privilege.’
‘Don’t put me back in there.’