Page 42 of Holiday Cheese and Capers
“I’m not sure I can unhear them.” Exandra stuck her fingers in her ears as the screaming goat bleated for a fourth time.
The telephone on the desk rang. Exandra grabbed it.
“This is Agent Thorne?—”
A recorded message played, the voice tinny and artificial:
“This is a recorded message. The Emergency Response Protocol has been activated. Temperatures are rising in the storage sector due to the unaddressed buildup of pressure in the neighboring hot springs. The cheese cultures are in danger of catastrophic contamination. Sixty minutes till meltdown.”
The line went dead.
“I hear footsteps!” Bayard exclaimed, his ear pressed against the door. He rapped against it with his cane. “Hello? Geraldo! Can you please let us out? There seems to be some kind of emergency happening and we’ve been locked in!”
“Try your wand?” Exandra suggested.
“Excellent idea!” Bayard reached into his pocket and pulled out his trusty wand. He waved it at the locked door.
Nothing happened.
“Sera solvo!” He tried again, this time using the Latin spell for unlocking doors.
Still nothing.
“Desbloquear!” He tried a third time in Latin. But the lock would not budge. “The door must be warded.” He sighed.
Suddenly, a folded piece of paper shot under the door and skittered across the smooth stone floor.
Exandra bent to retrieve it and unfolded it. She read the message aloud.
“Solve the puzzles to access the emergency controls.” Her eyes widened. “It’s signed, ‘The Culture Vulture’ and there’s a P.S. It says, ‘good luck.”
Bayard sat down at the desk. He picked up the phone and held the receiver to his ear. Then he pressed the receiver back down and picked it up again. He checked the cord. “There’s no dial tone. I don’t think this line is working.”
Exandra continued to stare down at the note. “Bayard, you don’t think this is really?—”
The screeching interrupted them again, causing them both to jump.
“I don’t know what to think. I can hardly think at all, what with that stupid screaming goat!” Bayard snapped. “Silencio!” He pointed his wand at the speaker.
With a crackle, the alarm went silent. A moment later, the sounds of the screaming goats were replaced with elevator music.
“Are you kidding me?” Exandra groused at the speakers. Then the overhead lights buzzed for an instant and a digital clock on the wall flickered to life, beginning a countdown sequence: 60:00. Then 59:59. 59:58.
“Oh, good gracious gods,” Bayard breathed. “I’m not sure how or why this is happening, but it would appear that the threat to the facility is real. Someone must have targeted the facility for sabotage before we arrived. That’s why the telegram—to get us out of the way.”
“While they trap us here in some sick kind of game of cat and mouse,” Exandra finished.
“Don’t you mean cheese and mouse?” Bayard laughed bitterly.
“Bayard, that isn’t funny!” Exandra pursed her lips.
“Do you think we might have manifested this, Exxie? He glanced down worriedly at his wand. “What if all of our crazy machinations summoned a real-life Culture Vulture?”
“You know as well as I do that’s not likely, Bay. Neither of us has ever wished any real harm on the Yule cheeses.”
“Yet here we are.” Bayard gestured to the clock.
57:17 remaining.
