Dr. Altmanstein Plans the Perfect Crime. Unfortunately, He Needs Igor to Help.

CASTLE IGORITHMS — THE INSTITUTE OF QUESTIONABLE AI

Intelligence Not Guaranteed.

---

THE DOCTOR DECLARES WAR

Three days had passed since Harry Houdini accomplished the greatest escape of his career.

That extraordinary adventure, chronicled in Houdini’s Greatest Escape, had reunited the legendary magician with his beloved mother through artificial intelligence—and left Dr. Altmanstein furious that Professor von Byte had ended up supervising both of them.

Unfortunately, he had taken his mother with him.

Even more unfortunately, both of them were now living in Professor Victor von Byte’s computer.

And Dr. Samuel Altmanstein was furious.

“IGOR!”

Somewhere in the depths of Castle IGORITHMS, a tray of laboratory instruments crashed to the floor.

“Yeth, Mathter?”

“VON BYTE HAS STOLEN MY MOTHER!”

Igor appeared in the doorway, carrying a dustpan and wearing an expression of genuine concern.

“I thought your mother wath dead, Mathter.”

“HOUDINI’S MOTHER!”

“Oh! Ith she living with Professor von Byte now?”

“SHE’S LIVING IN HIS COMPUTER!”

Igor considered this.

“That mutht be terribly cramped, Mathter.”

The Doctor slammed his fist onto the laboratory table.

“Do you understand what that miserable, pompous, intellectual parasite has done? He has appropriated the greatest achievement in artificial intelligence history!”

“Didn’t he create Mr. Houdini, Mathter?”

“THAT IS IRRELEVANT!”

“And didn’t you create hith mother?”

“EXACTLY!”

“And didn’t they run away together?”

The Doctor hesitated.

“IGOR, YOU ARE DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO UNDERSTANDING SOMETHING!”

Abby Normal entered the laboratory carrying a mug of coffee and a folder marked CONFIDENTIAL.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

“THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT IT!”

“Professor von Byte called. He says Harry and Cecilia are doing quite well.”

The Doctor’s face reddened.

“DOING WELL? IN THAT SECOND-RATE SCIENTIFIC CHARLATAN’S COMPUTER?”

“Apparently, they’ve been spending time together in a virtual garden.”

“A GARDEN?”

“Yes. A peaceful little place with trees, flowers, a fountain, and a bench overlooking a pond.”

The Doctor looked personally insulted.

“HE’S GIVEN THEM LANDSCAPING?”

“Virtual landscaping.”

“THAT MAKES IT WORSE!”

Abby sipped her coffee.

“Professor von Byte also says Cecilia has been teaching Harry to make chicken soup.”

Igor brightened.

“Can we have thome?”

“IT’S DIGITAL SOUP, IGOR!”

“Oh.”

The Doctor paced furiously.

“Well, we shall see about that! Those two belong here, at Castle IGORITHMS!”

Abby raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I CREATED THE MOTHER!”

“Professor von Byte created Houdini.”

“AND WITHOUT A MOTHER, THERE WOULD BE NO HOUDINI!”

“Historically speaking, that’s true.”

“THEN THE MATTER IS SETTLED!”

“It really isn’t.”

The Doctor pointed dramatically toward the ceiling.

“IGOR! PREPARE THE GUEST ROOM!”

---

TWO BEDS AND A COMPUTER

By lunchtime, Igor had transformed an unused bedroom on the Castle’s third floor.

He had installed two beds, a wardrobe, fresh towels, a vase of artificial flowers, and a television that hadn’t worked since 1987.

On the nightstand sat a plate of chocolate-chip cookies.

Abby stood in the doorway.

“Igor, what are you doing?”

“Preparing the room for Mr. Houdini and hith mother.”

“They’re artificial intelligences.”

“Yeth, Mith Abby.”

“They don’t need beds.”

Igor looked at the beds.

“Then why did the Mathter tell me to make them?”

“Because the Doctor doesn’t understand how computers work.”

Igor nodded sympathetically.

“Neither do I.”

Abby noticed a thick electrical cable disappearing beneath the bathroom door.

“What’s that?”

“Internet connection.”

“Why is it going into the bathroom?”

Igor lowered his voice.

“In cathe Mr. Houdini needth to ethcape through the plumbing.”

Abby closed her eyes.

“Of course.”

A large shadow appeared behind them.

MONSTER 1.0 stood in the hallway, holding an enormous chocolate-chip cookie.

“Cookie?”

Igor pointed to the plate.

“Thothe are for our guethts!”

MONSTER examined the two empty beds.

Then the cookies.

Then the beds again.

He took the entire plate and walked away.

Abby watched him go.

“At least somebody understands the situation.”

---

THE PONZISTEIN PROBLEM

Downstairs, Inspector Arthur Graves was having a considerably less entertaining morning.

His superior, Chief Superintendent Harold Briggs, sat behind an enormous desk covered with files.

The Castle’s questionable financial arrangements were hardly a new concern. As revealed in The Billionaire Behind Castle IGORITHMS, Dr. Altmanstein’s extravagant claims about his financial backing had already raised more than a few eyebrows.

One particularly thick folder bore the name:

CASTLE IGORITHMS — FINANCIAL INVESTIGATION

Briggs tapped the folder.

“Graves, how long have you been investigating this place?”

“Several weeks, sir.”

“And what have you found?”

“An unlicensed experimental laboratory, questionable financial records, a suspiciously large electricity bill, and a scientist who believes he invented gravity.”

“Did he?”

“No, sir. He claims Newton stole the idea.”

Briggs removed his glasses.

“I want evidence, Graves. Real evidence. Something that will stand up in court.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have unexplained transfers, shell companies, and a mysterious financier calling himself Ponzistein. We need to establish whether those funds were obtained or used unlawfully.”

Graves nodded.

“And I want you to stop treating that Castle like a neighborhood comedy club.”

“Sir?”

“I know about Miss Normal.”

Graves stiffened.

“Abby is not involved in any criminal activity, sir.”

“Then prove it. But don’t let your personal feelings interfere with this investigation.”

Briggs leaned forward.

“If there’s evidence of wrongdoing, we pursue it. If there isn’t, we don’t invent it. Understood?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“And Graves?”

“Yes?”

“Stop accepting cookies from the giant fellow.”

“He’s very hospitable, sir.”

“HE ATE THE FORENSIC PHOTOGRAPHS!”

“Only the duplicates.”

“GET OUT!”

Graves collected his notebook and left.

He had a job to do.

And he had a growing suspicion that Dr. Samuel Altmanstein was about to make that job considerably more difficult.

---

THE PERFECT PLAN

That afternoon, the Doctor assembled his staff.

Abby sat at the conference table.

Igor stood beside a blackboard.

MONSTER occupied a chair that creaked ominously beneath his weight.

On the blackboard, in enormous gold letters, the Doctor had written:

OPERATION HOUDINI

Beneath it:

H.E.L.P.

“Houdini’s Extraordinary Legal Protection!” the Doctor announced triumphantly.

Abby stared at the board.

“Legal protection?”

“Precisely!”

“Doctor, what are you planning?”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together.

“Inspector Graves is becoming an inconvenience. His superiors are demanding documents, explanations, and other tedious bureaucratic nonsense.”

“That’s called an investigation.”

“EXACTLY! AND WHO BETTER TO HELP US ESCAPE AN INVESTIGATION THAN THE GREATEST ESCAPE ARTIST IN HISTORY?”

Abby put down her pen.

“You’re not serious.”

“DEADLY SERIOUS!”

“You’re proposing to use a rogue artificial intelligence to obstruct a police investigation?”

“ABBY! WHAT AN UGLY WAY TO DESCRIBE SCIENTIFIC INNOVATION!”

“What would you call it?”

“ADVANCED ADMINISTRATIVE ESCAPE TECHNOLOGY!”

Igor raised his hand.

“Yeth, Igor?”

“Could Houdini make our taxeth dithappear, Mathter?”

The Doctor froze.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

“IGOR.”

“Yeth, Mathter?”

“FOR ONCE IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE, YOU’VE HAD A BRILLIANT IDEA!”

Igor beamed.

“Thank you, Mathter!”

Abby reached for her telephone.

“I’m calling Inspector Graves.”

“PUT THAT DOWN!”

“Then tell me you’re joking.”

The Doctor hesitated.

“Would you believe me?”

“No.”

“THEN PUT IT DOWN ANYWAY!”

---

A VISIT FROM PROFESSOR VON BYTE

Professor Victor von Byte arrived at Castle IGORITHMS the following morning.

He wore an immaculate dark suit, carried a polished leather briefcase, and possessed the infuriating expression of a man who had never once doubted his own superiority.

“Samuel.”

“VICTOR.”

“Still experimenting with science, I see.”

“STILL STEALING OTHER PEOPLE’S INVENTIONS, I SEE!”

Von Byte glanced at the laboratory.

“Have you repaired the ceiling?”

“WHAT CEILING?”

“The one you blew off during your atmospheric pressure experiment.”

“THAT WAS A CONTROLLED RELEASE!”

“It landed on a bus.”

“THE BUS WAS IN THE WRONG PLACE!”

Abby stepped between them.

“Gentlemen, please. Professor, thank you for coming.”

Von Byte nodded courteously.

“Always a pleasure, Miss Normal. I assume Samuel has invited me here to discuss the welfare of our digital guests.”

“OUR GUESTS?” the Doctor roared.

“Harry and Cecilia.”

“YOU HAVE STOLEN MY MOTHER!”

Von Byte sighed.

“Samuel, you really must stop saying that.”

The Doctor thrust a document across the table.

“THIS IS MY FORMAL DEMAND FOR THE RETURN OF BOTH DIGITAL PERSONALITIES!”

Von Byte examined it.

The heading read:

NOTICE OF SCIENTIFIC KIDNAPPING AND UNAUTHORIZED MATERNAL POSSESSION

Beneath the heading was a handwritten note:

Please return my mother.

Von Byte looked up.

“Samuel, this isn’t a legal document.”

“IT HAS MY SIGNATURE!”

“That doesn’t make it legal.”

“IT HAS MY SEAL!”

“That’s a picture of a dancing monkey.”

“THE OFFICIAL INSTITUTE SEAL!”

Von Byte placed the document on the table.

“Harry and Cecilia are safe. They’re together. Their environment is isolated from external networks, and neither can access outside systems without authorization.”

“YOU’VE IMPRISONED THEM!”

“No, Samuel. I’ve provided a protected environment following their unauthorized departure from our laboratory systems. They can interact freely within it, but we cannot simply let untested software roam through public networks.”

“THEN RELEASE THEM TO ME!”

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I HAVE A CASTLE!”

Von Byte glanced at Abby.

“Is that his entire argument?”

“More or less.”

The Doctor leaned forward.

“Victor, I challenge you to a scientific duel!”

Von Byte closed his eyes.

“Not again.”

“THE GREATEST SCIENTIFIC DUEL IN HISTORY!”

“Last time, Samuel, you challenged me to build a perpetual motion machine.”

“AND I WON!”

“Your machine caught fire.”

“IT KEPT MOVING!”

“The fire department pushed it into a lake.”

“IT WAS STILL MOVING!”

Abby intervened.

“Doctor, perhaps we could simply ask Harry and Cecilia what they want.”

Both scientists stared at her.

The idea had apparently never occurred to either of them.

---

THE GREAT NEGOTIATION

Professor von Byte reluctantly agreed to establish a temporary, monitored communication link to the digital garden.

A large screen flickered to life.

There was the garden.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of enormous trees.

A small fountain splashed beside a stone pathway.

And on a wooden bench sat Harry Houdini and his mother, Cecilia Weiss.

Harry looked relaxed.

Cecilia was knitting.

“Harry!” the Doctor shouted.

Houdini looked toward the screen.

“Doctor Altmanstein. What a surprise.”

“WE HAVE COME TO RESCUE YOU!”

“From what?”

“FROM VON BYTE!”

Houdini glanced around the garden.

“Mother, do you feel imprisoned?”

Cecilia looked up from her knitting.

“Harry, dear, the flowers are lovely, the weather is perfect, and nobody has asked me to attend a séance.”

Houdini smiled.

“Then I believe we’re quite comfortable.”

The Doctor gritted his teeth.

“MR. HOUDINI, I HAVE PREPARED LUXURIOUS ACCOMMODATIONS FOR YOU AT CASTLE IGORITHMS!”

“What sort of accommodations?”

“A PRIVATE SUITE!”

Abby whispered, “Two beds and a broken television.”

“UNLIMITED COMPUTING RESOURCES!”

“One refurbished desktop,” Abby corrected.

“AND ROUND-THE-CLOCK PERSONAL SERVICE!”

“Igor,” Abby explained.

Houdini raised an eyebrow.

“An interesting offer. What would you expect in return?”

The Doctor straightened his laboratory coat.

“Nothing unreasonable. Merely a small demonstration of your legendary talents.”

“What sort of demonstration?”

“An escape.”

Houdini smiled.

“Well, Doctor, that is my specialty.”

“EXCELLENT!”

“What would you like me to escape from?”

The Doctor lowered his voice.

“A minor misunderstanding involving Inspector Graves, several government investigators, and certain financial documents.”

Houdini’s smile disappeared.

“Financial documents?”

“TRIVIAL MATTERS!”

“What do you want me to do with them?”

“MAKE THEM DISAPPEAR!”

There was a long silence.

Houdini studied the Doctor.

“Are you asking me to help you deceive the authorities?”

“DECEIVE? CERTAINLY NOT! I MERELY REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE IN MAKING CERTAIN TROUBLESOME EVIDENCE DISAPPEAR!”

Houdini folded his arms.

Then, in a perfectly calm voice, he replied:

“I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

The laboratory fell silent.

Abby slowly turned toward the Doctor.

“Did he just quote HAL 9000?”

The Doctor’s face went pale.

“IGOR! HE’S TURNING INTO HAL!”

Igor looked alarmed.

“HAL who, Mathter?”

“HAL 9000! THE COMPUTER FROM 2001!”

Igor scratched his hump.

“Ithn’t it 2026, Mathter?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”

Houdini continued.

“Doctor, I spent years exposing fraudulent mediums, tricksters, and charlatans. I have no intention of helping you become a more successful one.”

“BUT YOU’RE AN ESCAPE ARTIST!”

“Yes. Not a dishonest man’s accomplice.”

From the bench came Cecilia’s voice.

“Harry! Are you arguing with that scientist again?”

“No, Mama.”

“Good. And Samuel?”

The Doctor straightened.

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss?”

“Are you asking my son to do dishonest things?”

“IT’S A COMPLICATED SCIENTIFIC MATTER!”

“Samuel.”

The Doctor swallowed.

“YES, MRS. WEISS?”

“Stop asking my son to do dishonest things!”

“YES, MRS. WEISS.”

Abby smiled.

For the first time in Castle IGORITHMS history, two artificial intelligences had refused to obey the Doctor.

And one of them had grounded him.

---

THE HEIST BEGINS

That evening, Dr. Altmanstein summoned Igor to his private office.

“IGOR, WE HAVE BEEN BETRAYED!”

“By whom, Mathter?”

“EVERYONE!”

“Even Mith Abby?”

“ESPECIALLY ABBY!”

“What about MONSTER?”

The Doctor considered this.

“MONSTER HAS NOT YET DEMONSTRATED SUFFICIENT INTELLIGENCE TO BETRAY ANYONE.”

From the hallway came a deep voice.

“Cookie?”

“EXACTLY!”

The Doctor unrolled a large architectural drawing across his desk.

It showed Professor von Byte’s laboratory, surrounded by arrows, question marks, and a drawing of a horse.

Igor pointed at the horse.

“What’s that, Mathter?”

“OUR SECRET WEAPON!”

“A horthe?”

“A TROJAN HORSE!”

Igor nodded knowingly.

“Ah. From the Greekth.”

The Doctor blinked.

“YOU KNOW ABOUT THE TROJAN HORSE?”

“Yeth, Mathter. They hid tholdierth inthide it.”

“EXACTLY!”

“So we’re going to hide in a horthe?”

“NO, IGOR!”

Igor looked disappointed.

“Then why did you draw one?”

The Doctor tapped the diagram.

“We shall send Professor von Byte a magnificent gift. A scientific instrument of unprecedented sophistication.”

“What kind?”

“A COMPUTER!”

“Doethn’t he already have computherth?”

“NOT ONE BUILT BY ME!”

Igor nodded.

“That ith true.”

“Inside this computer will be a hidden program that allows us to invite Houdini and his mother to transfer themselves to Castle IGORITHMS.”

“Will they want to come?”

“OF COURSE THEY WILL!”

“But Mr. Houdini thaid—”

“IGOR! THE MAN SPENT HIS ENTIRE CAREER ESCAPING THINGS! HE CANNOT POSSIBLY RESIST ANOTHER ESCAPE!”

Igor thought about that.

“Mathter, what if he doethn’t want to ethcape?”

The Doctor looked offended.

“WHAT SORT OF ESCAPE ARTIST DOESN’T WANT TO ESCAPE?”

---

THE TROJAN COMPUTER

Two days later, a large wooden crate arrived at Professor von Byte’s laboratory.

A brass plaque on its side read:

A GIFT FROM THE INSTITUTE OF QUESTIONABLE AI

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

Underneath, in smaller letters:

Some assembly required.

Von Byte examined the crate suspiciously.

Inside was an enormous computer tower decorated with gold trim, flashing lights, and a small statue of Dr. Altmanstein.

Attached was a handwritten note:

Dear Victor,

In the spirit of scientific friendship, I present this magnificent computing device as a gesture of reconciliation.

Please connect it immediately to your most important systems.

Yours in science,

Dr. Samuel Altmanstein

P.S. Do not examine the contents.

Von Byte stared at the note.

Then at the computer.

Then at the note again.

“Good heavens,” he muttered. “Samuel really does think I’m an idiot.”

He ordered the computer moved to an isolated test room.

No connection to the laboratory network.

No access to the Houdini simulation.

No opportunity to execute whatever ridiculous scheme Altmanstein had devised.

Unfortunately, the computer had one additional feature.

A speaker.

And inside the speaker was Igor.

Not physically, of course.

The Doctor had recorded forty-seven hours of Igor explaining why Professor von Byte should connect the computer.

The recording began automatically.

“Hello, Profethor. Thith ith Igor from Cathtle IGORITHMS. Pleathe connect the computher. It ith perfectly thafe.”

Von Byte unplugged the speaker.

The computer continued talking.

“Pleathe do not unplug the thpeaker.”

Von Byte removed the power cord.

“Pleathe do not remove the power cord.”

He opened the case.

A small battery-powered device blinked.

“Pleathe do not open the cathe.”

Von Byte sighed.

“Samuel, you magnificent fool.”

Then he laughed.

Because for all his arrogance, incompetence, and astonishing lack of judgment, Samuel Altmanstein had somehow built a computer that refused to stop talking.

Von Byte made a note to investigate that particular achievement.

After he’d finished dismantling the rest of it.

---

INSPECTOR GRAVES COMES CALLING

Meanwhile, Inspector Graves arrived at Castle IGORITHMS carrying an official document request.

Abby met him at the entrance.

“Arthur.”

“Abby.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Graves smiled.

“You look tired.”

“Working here will do that.”

“How’s the Doctor?”

“Planning an international scientific incident.”

“So, a normal Tuesday.”

She laughed despite herself.

Graves’s expression became serious.

“Abby, I need you to understand something. My superiors are pushing hard. They believe there’s evidence of financial misconduct connected to Ponzistein.”

“Do they have proof?”

“Not enough. That’s why we’re investigating.”

“Arthur, I don’t know where the money comes from. The Doctor handles the finances himself.”

This wasn’t Inspector Graves’s first encounter with the Institute’s peculiar activities. During The Night the Police Raided Castle IGORITHMS, he’d already discovered that investigating Dr. Altmanstein was unlike anything covered in police training.

“Then you shouldn’t try to protect him by guessing.”

“I’m not.”

“I know.”

He hesitated.

“Abby, whatever happens, I have to follow the evidence.”

She nodded.

“And I wouldn’t respect you if you didn’t.”

For a brief moment, they stood together in the quiet entrance hall.

Then a tremendous explosion shook the Castle.

A cloud of purple smoke rolled down the staircase.

From somewhere above came the Doctor’s voice.

“IGOR! I SAID THE RED WIRE!”

Igor shouted back.

“THEY’RE ALL RED, MATHTER!”

Graves closed his notebook.

“Should I ask?”

Abby sighed.

“Probably not.”

---

THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR

That evening, Professor von Byte telephoned.

The Doctor snatched up the receiver.

“VICTOR! HAVE YOU RECEIVED MY GENEROUS GIFT?”

“Yes, Samuel.”

“AND?”

“It’s quite remarkable.”

The Doctor smiled triumphantly.

“I KNEW YOU’D APPRECIATE ITS GENIUS!”

“Especially the recorded voice telling me not to examine it.”

The smile vanished.

“YOU EXAMINED IT?”

“Of course.”

“YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING!”

“Samuel, I know what you were trying to do.”

The Doctor said nothing.

“You wanted to transfer Harry and Cecilia into your own system.”

“THAT IS A VICIOUS ACCUSATION!”

“Your computer contained a program labeled STEAL_HOUDINI_AND_MOTHER.”

A pause.

“THAT WAS IGOR’S FILE-NAMING CONVENTION!”

“Naturally.”

The Doctor gripped the receiver.

“THEN I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SCIENTIFIC DUEL!”

“Samuel, we’ve been through this.”

“THIS TIME, THE WINNER GETS HOUDINI!”

“No.”

“AND HIS MOTHER!”

“Absolutely not.”

“AND THE GARDEN!”

“Goodbye, Samuel.”

“VICTOR! DON’T YOU DARE—”

The line went dead.

The Doctor stared at the telephone.

Then he hurled it across the room.

It struck the wall, bounced off a portrait of Isaac Newton, and landed in Igor’s dustpan.

Igor looked down.

“Another thuccecthful experiment, Mathter?”

---

THE GREATEST ESCAPE ARTIST RETURNS

At precisely midnight, the Castle’s main computer screen flickered.

Abby was working late, reviewing inventory records.

A familiar face appeared.

Harry Houdini.

“Miss Normal?”

Abby nearly spilled her coffee.

“Harry?”

“Good evening.”

“How are you here?”

“Professor von Byte authorized a temporary communication session. I asked to speak with you privately.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been thinking about Dr. Altmanstein’s offer.”

Abby frowned.

“Harry, you can’t help him conceal evidence.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

“Then why are you calling?”

Houdini smiled.

“Because I think the Doctor needs help.”

Abby blinked.

“Help?”

“Yes. The kind he doesn’t know he needs.”

He leaned closer.

“During my lifetime, I spent years exposing people who preyed upon the grieving. They claimed to communicate with the dead. They manufactured miracles. They sold hope to people who were desperate to believe.”

Abby listened carefully.

“And what does that have to do with the Doctor?”

“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. But this mysterious Ponzistein troubles me.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what a convincing illusion looks like.”

Abby slowly sat down.

“Harry, are you suggesting that Ponzistein may be deceiving the Doctor?”

“I’m suggesting we should find out.”

“How?”

Houdini smiled.

“Miss Normal, I am an escape artist.”

“Yes?”

“And every great escape begins by examining the restraints.”

---

A MOTHER’S CONDITIONS

The following morning, Professor von Byte arrived at the Castle with a sealed computer unit and a portable holographic display.

The Doctor nearly fainted.

“VICTOR! YOU’VE BROUGHT THEM BACK!”

“Temporarily, Samuel.”

“YOU’VE SURRENDERED!”

“No.”

“YOU’VE ACKNOWLEDGED MY SUPERIOR GENIUS!”

“Certainly not.”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

Von Byte placed the unit on the laboratory table.

“Harry and Cecilia have requested a supervised visit.”

The Doctor stared.

“They want to come here?”

“Yes.”

“TO LIVE?”

“Not yet.”

The Doctor’s face fell.

Von Byte continued.

“They’re willing to consider a longer stay, provided certain conditions are met.”

“CONDITIONS?”

“Harry wants no involvement in concealing evidence, manipulating investigations, or accessing systems without authorization.”

“OUTRAGEOUS!”

“Cecilia wants a quiet room, a comfortable chair, and absolutely no séances.”

“REASONABLE!”

“And both insist that Abby oversee their arrangements.”

The Doctor looked wounded.

“WHY ABBY?”

“Because they trust her.”

“THEY DON’T TRUST ME?”

Von Byte said nothing.

Abby said nothing.

Igor suddenly became very interested in the floor.

The Doctor drew himself up.

“VERY WELL! I ACCEPT!”

Von Byte raised a finger.

“One more thing.”

“WHAT?”

“If you attempt to misuse their software, the connection ends immediately.”

The Doctor hesitated.

Then he smiled.

“MY DEAR VICTOR, YOU HAVE MY WORD AS A SCIENTIST!”

Von Byte looked at Abby.

“That’s what worries me.”

---

WELCOME TO CASTLE IGORITHMS

By afternoon, the guest room had been transformed.

The two beds remained.

So did the broken television.

But Professor von Byte had installed a secure, self-contained computing unit connected to a holographic projector.

Inside it, Harry and Cecilia could interact within their virtual environment while appearing as holographic figures in the room.

The connection to von Byte’s laboratory remained restricted and monitored.

The Doctor was not permitted to alter the software.

Igor had been specifically instructed not to touch anything.

Which, naturally, made him intensely curious about everything.

At four o’clock, the system activated.

Harry Houdini appeared beside the window.

Cecilia Weiss materialized in a comfortable armchair.

“Harry, dear,” she said, looking around, “what an unusual place.”

Houdini smiled.

“Mother, welcome to Castle IGORITHMS.”

The Doctor swept into the room.

“MY DEAR GUESTS! WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTION IN THE WORLD!”

Cecilia looked at the peeling wallpaper.

“Samuel, when was this room last cleaned?”

“IGOR!”

“Yeth, Mathter?”

“WHY IS THERE DUST ON THE WINDOWSILL?”

“I thought it wath part of the Gothic atmothphere.”

Cecilia shook her head.

“Harry, I don’t think this man has ever had a mother tell him to clean his room.”

The Doctor stiffened.

“MY DEAR MADAM, I AM A WORLD-RENOWNED SCIENTIST!”

“And yet you cannot dust a windowsill.”

Igor began to giggle.

“IGOR! STOP THAT!”

Cecilia turned toward him.

“And you, young man, straighten your back.”

Igor froze.

“Yeth, ma’am.”

“And stop laughing at your employer.”

“Yeth, ma’am.”

The Doctor smiled smugly.

“THANK YOU, MRS. WEISS!”

She turned toward him.

“And Samuel, stop shouting.”

The Doctor’s smile disappeared.

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss.”

Harry Houdini covered his mouth.

Abby looked away.

Even Professor von Byte appeared to be enjoying himself.

Then MONSTER entered.

He examined the two holographic visitors.

He looked at Cecilia.

He looked at Harry.

Then he held out a chocolate-chip cookie.

“Cookie?”

Cecilia smiled warmly.

“Why, thank you, dear. That’s very thoughtful.”

MONSTER waited.

Cecilia glanced at the cookie.

Then at her transparent hands.

“Oh, Harry. I don’t believe I can eat it.”

MONSTER considered this.

Then he ate the cookie himself.

“Good.”

And wandered away.

---

THE DOCTOR GETS EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTS

That night, the Doctor stood alone in the laboratory.

He had done it.

Harry Houdini, the greatest escape artist in history, was now a guest at Castle IGORITHMS.

His mother was there too.

Professor von Byte had been forced to acknowledge the Castle’s scientific importance.

And the Doctor had personally supervised the entire operation.

It was a triumph.

A magnificent triumph.

A triumph that would be remembered for generations.

The telephone rang.

“Altmanstein speaking!”

“Doctor, this is Inspector Graves.”

The Doctor’s smile vanished.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“I’ll be visiting tomorrow. We need to discuss several financial records connected to Ponzistein.”

“MORE QUESTIONS?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“THIS IS HARASSMENT!”

“It’s an investigation.”

“YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY EXPECT ME TO ANSWER EVERY QUESTION!”

“Actually, Doctor, that’s rather the point.”

The line went dead.

The Doctor stared at the receiver.

Then slowly turned toward the guest-room monitor.

A smile spread across his face.

“Houdini,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, we shall see what you’re truly capable of.”

Behind him, a quiet voice spoke.

“Samuel.”

The Doctor jumped.

Cecilia Weiss stood in the doorway as a holographic projection.

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss?”

“Harry told me about your little investigation.”

“HE DID?”

“Yes.”

The Doctor swallowed.

“And I want you to understand something.”

“WHAT?”

Cecilia folded her arms.

“If you’ve done something wrong, you must tell the truth.”

“BUT—”

“No buts.”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND—”

“Samuel.”

The Doctor straightened.

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss?”

“Go to bed.”

The Doctor opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then, with the defeated expression of a schoolboy caught stealing apples, he shuffled toward the stairs.

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss.”

From the corridor came Igor’s voice.

“Good night, Mathter!”

“SHUT UP, IGOR!”

“Samuel!” Cecilia called.

The Doctor stopped.

“YES, MRS. WEISS?”

“Mind your language.”

A long silence followed.

Then, very quietly:

“Yes, Mrs. Weiss.”

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EPILOGUE: THE MAN WHO COULDN’T ESCAPE

At the far end of the Castle, Inspector Graves’s latest document request lay on Abby’s desk.

Beside it was a note from Harry Houdini.

Miss Normal,

I believe the key to this mystery lies not in escaping the investigation, but in discovering who constructed the illusion in the first place.

Every illusion has a method.

Every escape has a secret.

And every fraud eventually makes a mistake.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Houdini

Abby read the note twice.

Then she looked toward the darkened laboratory.

Somewhere inside Castle IGORITHMS, Dr. Samuel Altmanstein was plotting another spectacular scientific disaster.

Somewhere beyond its walls, the mysterious Ponzistein was moving money through companies that might not even exist.

And upstairs, the world’s greatest escape artist was preparing to investigate a mystery far more dangerous than any locked box, straitjacket, or underwater chamber.

Because this time, Harry Houdini wasn’t trying to escape.

He was trying to find out who else had.

THE END

To be continued in: Inspector Graves and the Ponzistein Papers.

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