A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Penultimate Peril (9 page)

Chapter Nine

'Ha!" Count Olaf shrieked, pointing at the Baudelaire orphans with a bony finger, and the children were thankful for small mercies. A small mercy is simply a tiny thing that has gone right in a world gone wrong, like a sprig of delicious parsley next to a spoiled tuna sandwich, or a lovely dandelion in a garden that is being devoured by vicious goats. A small mercy, like a small flyswatter, is unlikely to be of any real help, but nevertheless the three siblings, even in their horror and disgust at seeing Olaf again, were thankful for the small mercy that the villain had apparently lost interest in his new laugh. The last time the Baudelaires had seen the villain, he'd been aboard a strange submarine shaped like an octopus, and he'd developed a laugh that was equally strange, full of snorts and squeaks and words that happened to begin with the letter H. But as the villain strode toward the children and the adults who were clutching their hands, it was clear he had since adopted a style of laughter that was succinct, a word which here means "only the word 'ha.'" "Ha!" he cried. "I knew I'd find you orphans again! Ha! And now you're in my clutches! Ha!" "We're not in your clutches," Violet said. "We just happen to be standing in the same room." "That's what you think, orphan," Olaf sneered. "I'm afraid the man who's holding your hand is one of my associates. Hand her over, Ernest. Ha!" "Ha yourself, Olaf," said Dewey Denouement. His voice was firm and confident, but Violet felt his hand trembling in hers. "I'm not Ernest, and I'm not handing her over!" "Well, then hand her over, Frank!" Olaf said. "You might consider doing your hair differently so I can tell you apart." "I'm not Frank, either," Dewey said. "You can't fool me!" Count Olaf growled. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know! You're one of those idiotic twins! I should know! Thanks to me, you two are the only survivors of the entire family!" "Triplets run in my family," Dewey said, "not twins. I'm Dewey Denouement." At this, Count Olaf's one eyebrow raised in astonishment. "Dewey Denouement," he murmured. "So you're a real person! I always thought you were a legendary figure, like unicorns or Giuseppe Verdi." "Giuseppe Verdi is not a legendary figure," Klaus said indignantly. "He's an operatic composer!" "Silence, bookworm!" Olaf ordered. "Children should not speak while adults are arguing! Hand over the orphans, adults!" "Nobody's handing over the Baudelaires!" Justice Strauss said, clutching Klaus's hand. "You have no legal right to them or their fortune!" "You can't just grab children as if they were pieces of fruit in a bowl!" Jerome Squalor cried. "It's injustice, and we won't have it!" "You'd better watch yourselves," Count Olaf said, narrowing his shiny eyes. "I have associates lurking everywhere in this hotel." "So do we," Dewey said. "Many volunteers have arrived early, and within hours the streets will be flooded with taxis carrying noble people here to this hotel." "How can you be sure they're noble people?" Count Olaf asked. "A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one." "These people are associates of ours," Dewey said fiercely. "They won't fail us." "Ha!" Count Olaf said. "You can't rely on associates. More comrades have failed me than I can count. Why, Hooky and Fiona double-crossed me just yesterday, and let you brats escape! Then they double-crossed me again and stole my submarine!" "We can rely on our friends," Violet said quietly, "more than you can rely on yours." "Is that so?" Count Olaf asked, and leaned toward the children with a ravenous smile. "Have you learned nothing after all your adventures?" he asked. "Every noble person has failed you, Baudelaires. Why, look at the idiots standing next to you! A judge who let me marry you, a man who gave up on you altogether, and a sub-sub-librarian who spends his life sneaking around taking notes. They're hardly a noble bunch." "Charles is here, from Lucky Smells Lumbermill," Klaus said. "He cares about us." "Sir is here," Olaf retorted. "He doesn't. Ha!" "Hal," Sunny said. "Vice Principal Nero and Mr. Remora," Olaf replied, counting each nasty person on his filthy fingers. "And that pesky little reporter from The Daily Punctilio, who's here to write silly articles praising my cocktail party. And ridiculous Mr. Poe, who arrived just hours ago to investigate a bank robbery. Ha!" "Those people don't count," Klaus said. "They're not associates of yours." "They might as well be," Count Olaf replied. "They've been an enormous help. And every second, more associates of mine get closer and closer." "So do our friends," Violet said. "They're flying across the sea as we speak, and by tomorrow, their self-sustaining hot air mobile home will land on the roof." "Only if they've managed to survive my eagles," Count Olaf said with a growl. "They will," Klaus said. "Just like we've survived you." "And how did you survive me?" Olaf asked. "The Daily Punctilio is full of your crimes. You lied to people. You stole. You abandoned people in danger. You set fires. Time after time you've relied on treachery to survive, just like everyone else. There are no truly noble people in this world." "Our parents," Sunny said fiercely. Count Olaf looked surprised that Sunny had spoken, and then gave all three Baudelaires a smile that made them shudder. "I guess the sub-sub-librarian hasn't told you the story about your parents," he said, "and a box of poison darts. Why don't you ask him, orphans? Why don't you ask this legendary librarian about that fateful evening at the opera?" The Baudelaires turned to look at Dewey, who had begun to blush. But before they could ask him anything, they were interrupted by a voice coming from a pair of sliding doors that had quietly opened. "Don't ask him that," Esme Squalor said. "I have a much more important question." With a mocking laugh, the treacherous girlfriend emerged from the elevator, her silver sandals clumping on the floor and her lettuce leaves rustling against her skin. Behind her was Carmelita Spats, who was still wearing her ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate outfit and carrying the harpoon gun Violet had delivered, and behind her three more people emerged from the elevator. First came the attendant from the rooftop sunbathing salon, still wearing green sunglasses and a long, baggy robe. Following the attendant was the mysterious chemist from outside the sauna, dressed in a long, white coat and a surgical mask, and last out of the elevator was the washerwoman from the laundry room, with long, blond hair and rumpled clothing. The Baudelaires recognized these people from their observations as flaneurs, but then the attendant removed his robe to reveal his back, which had a small hump on the shoulder, and the chemist removed her surgical mask, not with one of her hands but with one of her feet, and the washerwoman removed a long, blond wig with both hands at the exact same time, and the three siblings recognized the three henchfolk all over again. "Hugo!" cried Violet. "Colette!" cried Klaus. "Kevin!" cried Sunny. "Esme!" cried Jerome. "Why isn't anybody calling out my name?" demanded Carmelita, stomping one of her bright blue boots. She pranced toward Violet, who observed that two of the four long, sharp hooks were missing from the weapon. This sort of observation may be important for a flaneur, but it is dreadful for any reader of this book, who probably does not want to know where the remaining harpoons will end up. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate," she crowed to the oldest Baudelaire, "and you're nothing but a cakesniffer. Call my name or I'll shoot you with this harpoon gun!" "Carmelita!" Esme said, her silver mouth twisting into an expression of shock. "Don't point that gun at Violet!" "Esme's right," Count Olaf said. "Don't waste the harpoons. We may need them." "Yes!" Esme cried. "There's always important work to do before a cocktail party, particularly if you want it to be the innest in the world! We need to put slipcovers on the couches, and hide our associates beneath them! We need to put vases of flowers on the piano and electric eels in the fountain! We need to hang streamers and volunteers from the ceiling! We need to play music, so people can dance, and block the exits, so they can't leave! And most of all, we have to cook in food and prepare in cocktails! Food and drink are the most important aspect of every social occasion, and our in recipes..." "The most important aspect of every social occasion isn't food and drink!" Dewey interrupted indignantly. "It's conversation!" "You're the one who should flee!" Justice Strauss said. "Your cocktail party will be canceled, due to the host and hostess being brought to justice by the High Court!" "You're as foolish as you were when we were neighbors," Count Olaf said. "The High Court can't stop us. V.F.D. can't stop us. Hidden somewhere in this hotel is one of the most deadly fungi in the entire world. When Thursday comes, the fungus will come out of hiding and destroy everyone it touches! At last I'll be free to steal the Baudelaire fortune and perform any other act of treachery that springs to mind!" "You won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium," Dewey said. "Not while I have the sugar bowl." "Funny you should mention the sugar bowl," Esme Squalor said, although the Baudelaires could see she didn't think it was funny at all. "That's just what we want to ask you about." "The sugar bowl?" Count Olaf asked, his eyes shining bright. "Where is it?" "The freaks will tell you," Esme said. "It's true, boss," said Hugo. "I may be a mere hunchback, but I saw Carmelita shoot down the crows using the harpoon gun Violet brought her." Justice Strauss turned to Violet in astonishment. "You gave Carmelita the harpoon gun?" she gasped. "Well, yes," Violet said. "I had to perform concierge errands as part of my disguise." "The harpoon gun was supposed to be kept away from villains," the judge said, "not given to them. Why didn't Frank stop you?" Violet thought back to her unfathomable conversation with Frank. "I think he tried," she said quietly, "but I had to take the harpoon gun up to the roof. What else could I do?" "I hit two crows!" bragged Carmelita Spats. "That means Countie has to teach me how to spit like a real ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!" "Don't worry, darling," Esme said. "He'll teach you. Won't you, Olaf?" Count Olaf sighed, as if he had better things to do than teach a little girl how to propel saliva out of her mouth. "Yes, Carmelita," he said, "I'll teach you how to spit." Colette took center stage, a phrase which here means "stepped forward, and twisted her body into an unusual shape." "Even a contortionist like me," she said, her mouth moving beneath her elbow, "could see what happened after Carmelita shot the crows. They fell right onto the birdpaper that Klaus dangled out the window." "You dangled the birdpaper out the window?" Jerome asked the middle Baudelaire. "Ernest told me to," Klaus said, finally realizing which manager had spoken to him in the sauna. "I had to obey him as part of my disguise." "You can't just do what everyone tells you to do," Jerome said. "What else could I do?" Klaus said. "When the crows hit the birdpaper," Kevin said, gesturing with one hand and then the other, "they dropped the sugar bowl. I didn't see where it went with either my right eye or my left one, which I'm sad to say are equally strong. But I did see Sunny turn the door of the laundry room into a Vernacularly Fastened Door." "Aha!" Count Olaf cried. "The sugar bowl must have fallen down the funnel!" "I still don't see why I had to disguise myself as a washerwoman," Kevin said timidly. "I could have just been a washerperson, and not worn this humiliating wig." "Or you could have been a noble person," Violet could not help adding, "instead of spying on a brave volunteer." "What else could I do?" Kevin asked, shrugging both shoulders equally high. "You could be a volunteer yourself," Klaus said, looking at all of his former carnival coworkers. "All of you could stand with us now, instead of helping Count Olaf with his schemes." "I could never be a noble person," Hugo said sadly. "I have a hump on my back." "And I'm a contortionist," Colette said. "Someone who can bend their body into unusual shapes could never be a volunteer." "V.F.D. would never accept an ambidextrous person," Kevin said. "It's my destiny to be a treacherous person." "Galimatias!" Sunny cried. "Nonsense!" Dewey said, who understood at once what Sunny had said. "I'm ambidextrous myself, and I've managed to do something worthwhile with my life. Being treacherous isn't your destiny! It's your choice!" "I'm glad you feel that way," Esme Squalor said. "You have a choice this very moment, Frank. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or else!" "That's not a choice," Dewey said, "and I'm not Frank." Esme frowned. "Then you have a choice this very moment, Ernest. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or..." "Dewey," Sunny said. Esme blinked at the youngest Baudelaire, who noticed that the villainous woman's eyelashes had also been painted silver. "What?" she asked. "It's true," Olaf said. "He's the real sub-sub. It turns out he's not legendary, like Verdi." "Is that so?" Esme Squalor said. "So someone has really been cataloging everything that has happened between us?" "It's been my life's work," Dewey said. "Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog." "Then you know all about the sugar bowl," Esme said, "and what's inside. You know how important that thing was, and how many lives were lost in the quest to find it. You know how difficult it was to find a container that could hold it safely, securely, and attractively. You know what it means to the Baudelaires and what it means to the Snickets." She took one sandaled step closer to Dewey, and stretched out one silver fingernail, the one shaped like an S, until it was almost poking him in the eye. "And you know," she said in a terrible voice, "that it is mine." "Not anymore," Dewey said. "Beatrice stole it from me!" Esme cried. "There are worse things," Dewey said, "than theft." At this, the girlfriend gave the sub-sublibrarian a chuckle that made the Baudelaires' blood run cold. "There certainly are," she said, and strode toward Carmelita Spats. With one spiky fingernail, the one shaped like an M, she moved the harpoon gun so it was pointing at the triplet. "Tell me how to open that door," she said, "or this little girl will harpoon you." "I'm not a little girl!" Carmelita reminded Esme nastily. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate! And I'm not going to shoot any more harpoons until Countie teaches me how to spit." "You'll do what we say, Carmelita," Olaf growled. "I already purchased that ridiculous outfit for you, and that boat for you to prowl the swimming pool. Point
that weapon at Dewey this instant!" "Teach me to spit!" Carmelita said. "Point the weapon!" "Teach me to spit!" "Point the weapon!" "Teach me to spit!" "Weapon!" "Spit!" "Weapon!" "Spit!" With a raspy roar, Count Olaf roughly yanked the harpoon gun out of Carmelita's hands, knocking her to the floor. "I'll never teach you how to spit as long as I live!" he shouted. "Ha!" "Darling!" Esme gasped. "You can't break your promise to our darling little girl!" "I'm not a darling little girl!" Carmelita screamed. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!" "You're a spoiled baby!" Olaf corrected. "I never wanted a brat like you around anyway! It's about time you were shown some discipline!" "But discipline is out!" Esme said. "I don't care what's out and what's in!" Count Olaf cried. "I'm tired of having a girlfriend obsessed with fashion! All you do is sit around rooftop sunbathing salons while I run around doing all the work!" "If I hadn't been on the roof," Esme retorted, "the sugar bowl would have been delivered to V.F.D.! Besides, I was guarding..." "Never mind what you were doing," Olaf said. "You're fired!" "You can't fire me!" Esme growled. "I quit!" "Well, you can leave by mutual agreement," Olaf grumbled, and then, with another succinct "Ha!" he lifted the harpoon gun and pointed it at Dewey Denouement. "Tell us the three phrases we need to type into the lock in order to open the Vernacularly Fastened Door and search the laundry room!" "You won't find anything in the laundry room," Dewey said, "except piles of dirty sheets, a few washing and drying machines, and some extremely flammable chemicals." "I may have a handsome, youthful glow," Olaf snarled, "but I wasn't born yesterday! Ha! If there's nothing in the laundry room, why did you put a V.F.D. lock on the door?" "Perhaps it's just a decoy," Dewey said, his hand still trembling in Violet's. "Decoy?" Olaf said. "'Decoy' is a word with several meanings," the triplet explained. "It can refer to a corner of a pond where ducks can be captured, or to an imitation of a duck or other animal used to attract a real specimen. Or, it can mean something used to distract people, such as a lock on a door that does not contain a certain sugar bowl." "If the lock is a decoy, sub-sub," Count Olaf sneered, "then you won't mind telling me how to open it." "Very well," Dewey said, still struggling to sound calm. "The first phrase is a description of a medical condition that all three Baudelaire children share." The Baudelaires shared a smile. "The second phrase is the weapon that left you an orphan, Olaf," Dewey said. The Baudelaires shared a frown. "And the third," Dewey said, "is the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard Wright." The Baudelaire sisters shared a look of confusion, and then looked hopefully at Klaus, who slowly shook his head. "I don't have time to medically examine the Baudelaires," Olaf said, "or shove my face into any best-known novels!" "Wicked people never have time for reading," Dewey said. "It's one of the reasons for their wickedness." "I've had enough of your games!" Count Olaf roared. "Ha! If I don't hear the exact phrases used to open the lock by the time Esme counts to ten, I'll fire the harpoon gun and tear you to shreds! Esme, count to ten!" "I'm not counting to ten," Esme pouted. "I'm not going to do anything for you ever again!" "I knew it!" Jerome said. "I knew you could be a noble person again, Esme! You don't have to parade around in an indecent bikini in the middle of the night threatening sub-sub-librarians! You can stand with us, in the name of justice." "Let's not go overboard," Esme said. "Just because I'm dumping my boyfriend doesn't mean I'm going to be a goody-goody like you. Justice is out. Injustice is in. That's why it's called injustice." "You should do what's right in this world," Justice Strauss said, "not just what's fashionable. I understand your situation, Esme. When I was your age, I spent years as a horse thief before realizing..." "I don't want to hear your boring stories," Count Olaf snarled. "The only thing I want to hear are three exact phrases from Dewey's mouth, or his destiny will be death by harpoon, as soon as I say the number ten. One!" "Stop!" Justice Strauss cried. "In the name of the law!" "Two!" "Stop!" Jerome Squalor pleaded. "In the name of injustice!" "Three!" "Stop!" Violet ordered, and her siblings nodded in fierce agreement. The Baudelaires realized, as I'm sure you have realized, that the adults standing with them were going to do nothing that would stop Count Olaf from reaching ten and pulling the trigger of the harpoon gun, and that Justice Strauss and Jerome Squalor would fail them, as so many noble people had failed them before. But the siblings also knew that this failure would not hurt them, at least, not right away. It would hurt Dewey Denouement, and without another word the three children dropped the hands of the adults and stood in front of the sub-sub-librarian, shielding him from harm. "You can't harpoon this man," Klaus said to Count Olaf, scarcely believing what he was saying. "You'll have to harpoon us first." "Or," Sunny said, "put down gun." Dewey Denoument looked too amazed to speak, but Count Olaf merely turned his disdainful gaze from the sub-sub-librarian to the three children. "I wouldn't mind harpooning you either, orphans," he said, his eyes shining bright. "When it comes to slaughtering people, I'm very flexible! Ha! Four!'" Violet took a step toward the count, who was holding the harpoon gun so it pointed at her chest. "Lay down your weapon, Olaf," the eldest Baudelaire said. "You don't want to do this wicked thing." Count Olaf blinked, but did not move the gun. "Of course I do," he said. "If the sub-sub doesn't tell me how to get the sugar bowl, I'll pull the trigger no matter who's standing in front of me! Ha! Five!" Klaus took a step forward, joining his sister. "You have a choice," he said. "You can choose not to pull that trigger!" "And you can choose death by harpoon!" Count Olaf cried. "Six!" "Please," Sunny said, joining her sisters. The villain did not move, but standing together, the three Baudelaires walked closer and closer to the harpoon gun, shielding Dewey all the while. "Seven!" "Please," the youngest Baudelaire said again. The Baudelaires walked slowly but steadily toward the harpoon gun, their echoing footsteps the only sound in the silent lobby except for Olaf's shrieking of higher and higher numbers. "Eight!" They walked closer. "Nine!" The children took one last step, and silently put their hands on the harpoon gun, which felt ice cold, even through their white gloves. They tried to pull the weapon out of Olaf's hands, but their first guardian did not let go, and for a long moment the youngsters and the adult were gathered around the terrible weapon in silence. Violet stared at the hooked tip of one harpoon that was pressed against her chest. Klaus stared straight ahead at the bright red trigger that could press at any moment, and Sunny stared into Olaf's shiny, shiny eyes for even the smallest sign of nobility. "What else can I do?" the villain asked, so quietly the children could not be sure they had heard him correctly. "Give us the gun," Violet said. "It's not your destiny to do this treacherous deed." "Give us the gun," Klaus said. "It's not your destiny to be a wicked person." "La Forza del Destino," Sunny said, and then nobody said anything more. It was so quiet in the lobby that the Baudelaires could hear Olaf draw breath as he got ready to shout the word "ten." But then, in an instant, they heard another sound, specifically a very loud cough, and in an instant everything changed, which is the wicked way of the world. In an instant, you can light a match and start a fire that can destroy the lives of countless people. In an instant, you can remove a cake from the oven and provide dessert for countless others, assuming that the cake is very large, and the others are not very hungry. In an instant, you can change a few words in a poem by Robert Frost and communicate with your associates through a code known as Verse Fluctuation Declaration, and in an instant, you can realize where something is hidden and decide whether you are going to retrieve it or let it stay hidden, where it might never be found and eventually be forgotten by all but a few very well-read and very distraught figures, who are themselves forgotten by all but a few very well-read and very distraught figures, who in turn are forgotten, and so on, and so on, and so on, and a few more so ons besides. All this can happen in an instant, as if a single instant is an enormous container, capable of holding countless secrets safely, securely, and attractively, such as the countless secrets held in the Hotel Denouement, or in the hidden underwater catalog in its rippling reflection. But in this instant, in the hotel's enormous lobby, the Baudelaire orphans heard a cough, as loud as it was familiar, and in this instant Count Olaf turned to see who was walking into the lobby, and hurriedly pushed the harpoon gun into the Baudelaires' hands when he saw a figure wearing pajamas with drawings of money all over them and a bewildered expression on his face. In this instant, the three siblings grasped the weapon, feeling its heavy, dark weight in their hands, and in this instant the gun slipped from their hands and clattered to the green wooden floor, and in this instant they heard the red trigger click!, and in this instant the penultimate harpoon was fired with a swoosh! and sailed through the enormous, domed room and struck someone a fatal blow, a phrase which here means "killed one of the people in the room." "What's going on?" Mr. Poe demanded, for it was not his destiny to be slain by a harpoon, at least not on this particular evening. "I could hear people arguing all the way from Room 174. What in the world..." and in that instant he stopped, and gazed in horror at the three siblings. "Baudelaires!" he gasped, but he was not the only person gasping. Violet gasped, and Klaus gasped, and Sunny gasped, and Justice Strauss and Jerome Squalor gasped, and Hugo, Colette, and Kevin, who were accustomed to violence from their days as carnival employees and as henchmen to a villain, gasped, and Carmelita Spats gasped, and Esme Squalor gasped, and even Count Olaf gasped, although it is unusual for a villain to gasp unless he is discovering a crucial secret, or suffering very great pain. But it was Dewey Denouement who gasped loudest of all, louder even than the Wrong!s that thundered through the hotel as the clock struck two. Wrong! Wrong! the clock thundered, but all the Baudelaires heard was Dewey's pained, choking gasp, as he stumbled backward through the lobby, one hand on his chest, and the other clutching the tail end of the harpoon, which stuck out from his body at an odd angle, like a drinking straw, or a reflection of one of Dewey's skinny arms. "Dewey!" Violet cried. "Dewey!" Klaus cried. "Denouement!" Sunny cried, but the sub-sub-librarian did not answer, and stumbled backward out of the hotel in silence. For a moment, the children were too shocked to move as they watched him disappear into the cloud of steam rising from the laundry room funnel, but then they ran after him, hurrying down the stairs as they heard a splash! from the edge of the pond. By the time the Baudelaires reached him, he was already beginning to sink, his trembling body making ripples in the water. There are those who say that the world is like a calm pond, and that anytime a person does even the smallest thing, it is as if a stone has dropped into the pond, spreading circles of ripples further and further out, until the entire world has been changed by one tiny action, but the Baudelaires could not bear to think of the tiny action of the trigger of the harpoon gun, or how the world had changed in just one instant. Instead, they frantically rushed to the edge of the pond as the sub-sub-librarian began to sink. Klaus grabbed one hand, and Sunny grabbed the other, and Violet reached for his face, as if she were comforting someone who had begun to cry. "You'll be O.K.," Violet cried. "Let us get you out of the water." Dewey shook his head, and then gave the children a terrible frown, as if he were trying to speak but unable to find the words. "You'll survive," Klaus said, although he knew, both from reading about dreadful events and from dreadful events in his own life, that this simply was not true. Dewey shook his head again. By now, only his head was above the surface of the water, and his two trembling hands. The children could not see his body, or the harpoon, which was a small mercy. "We failed you," Sunny said. Dewey shook his head one more time, this time very wildly in violent disagreement. He opened his mouth, and reached one hand out of the water, pointing past the Baudelaires toward the dark, dark sky as he struggled to utter the word he most wanted to say. "Kit," he whispered finally, and then, slipping from the grasp of the children, he disappeared into the dark water, and the Baudelaire orphans wept alone for the mercies denied them, and for the wicked, wicked way of the world.