Exposure (26 page)

“Let’s go back downstairs,” I suggested.

“Head for the Great Ocean tank.” Shelton pointed to the center of the building. “There’s a staircase beside it that spans both levels.”

The massive enclosure rose from the ground floor up through the second level—the aquarium’s central spoke—with viewing nooks at intervals around the glass.

“That’s one huge honking fishbowl,” Hi said as we descended. “Must be hell keeping the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once.”

“Once?” Shelton asked.

“It died. Almost immediately.”

“Nice work.”

“Guys.” Ben had reached the lower landing. He nodded to a black door in the corner. “First one I’ve seen.”

Shelton’s head whipped this way and that. “Coast’s clear.”

“The Coast is upstairs,” Hi quipped. “Where the octopus was.”

Ben smacked the back of his head. “Stop being funny.”

“You’ll regret that,” Hi hissed. “A Stolowitski always pays his debts.”

We scurried to the door, and, with a last scan for observers, barged through.

Thankfully, nothing began flashing or gonging. This portal wasn’t alarmed.

We found ourselves in a chilly hallway lined with doors on both sides. The walls were white cinder block, the concrete floor a dull hospital gray. Fifty feet ahead, the corridor ended with a flight of steps going upward.

“What now?” Shelton asked.

“Start trying doors,” Ben suggested.

Hiram and I took the left side, Shelton and Ben the right. Our first two rooms were locked. The third was a bathroom supply closet. I glanced at Shelton, who shook his head. They’d had no luck either.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Two pairs of shoes were descending the stairs at the end of the corridor.

“Hide!” I whispered.

“Where?” Shelton whined.

Without a better option, I flung open the supply closet and pointed inside. We jammed in like sardines, closing the door as voices drew near.

I held my breath. We’d barely made it twenty feet. So far, our mission was a joke.

“I don’t see the point,” one said irritably.

The footsteps halted right outside the supply closet door.

Come on. Keep moving, you two.

“I’m not paying you to think. I’m paying you to spy.”

“Of course,” the first speaker stammered. “I meant no disrespect. It’s just . . . the girl and her friends are hard to track. They came by yesterday, but apparently spent the whole time in the video editing suite. I have no idea—”

“Yesterday?” the second voice interrupted. “You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. I saw them myself.”

A bomb went off in my head.

Girl? Video editing? Were these strangers discussing
me
?

“What game is she playing?” the second speaker mused.

The bomb became a supernova.
I know that voice.

“I’ll keep watching.” The first voice became ingratiating. “Anything you need.”

“Just do as you’re told and you’ll get paid. But don’t get cute, or make a move without my permission. Are we clear?”

“Yessir. Very clear.”

The footsteps resumed, heading for the aquarium floor.

Before the boys could stop me, I cracked the door and stuck my head out.

I had to see if my ears were correct.

Twenty feet away, Chance Claybourne was striding down the corridor.

Mike Iglehart was hurrying at his side.

Someone tugged my shirt, pulling me back into the closet. The door snapped shut.

“Are you crazy?” Shelton had an earlobe in each hand.

“That was Chance!”

“Say what?” Hi carefully eased the door open a second time. “There’s no one out here.”

Shelton eyed me strangely. “Chance is working at the aquarium?”

“Of course not!” Then my eyes widened. “But he
is
working for Candela.”

Hi pushed the door wide and we stumbled out. As one, the boys scrutinized me.

“It
was
Chance!” I insisted. “And not alone, either. That creep Iglehart was with him. He must be Chance’s mole at LIRI.”

Things started falling into place. How Chance always knew things he shouldn’t. How Candela was connected to the institute. I wondered how long their slimy arrangement had been in place. I worried what Iglehart had been able to share.

“Chance has been suspicious of us for months,” Hi said. “Hiring a spy at LIRI
is
somewhat logical. If you’re a paranoid, whacked-out trust-fund baby with too much time on your hands.”

“He knows about Karsten.” I was suddenly sure. “The lab. The parvovirus experiment. The whole deal. Chance might even have access to Karsten’s records.”

“What? How would he know any of those things?” Ben demanded.

“Remember. Candela was bankrolling Karsten in the first place. The whole experiment was a pet project of Hollis Claybourne, Chance’s father. It stands to reason that Chance might’ve found out about it.”

“He’s on our trail then,” Shelton worried. “Chance could expose us!”

“Nothing in Karsten’s files leads to us.” I spoke for my own benefit as much as theirs. “At worst, Chance learns about Parvovirus XPB-19. But that won’t tell him squat about us.”

That was true, right?

Yet something nagged at me.

Karsten never wrote a word about the Virals—he never planned for us to exist. Therefore, logically, nothing in his records could connect to us. Our genetic transformation occurred completely off the grid.

So why did I feel so anxious?

“Hey, people! We’re still in the process of committing a crime,” Hi reminded everyone. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to debrief?”

“Right.” Ben pointed toward the staircase. “Keep moving.”

We tried the remaining doors, with no luck. So, hearts in our throats, we snuck up the steps Chance and Iglehart had descended.

At the top was another hallway. This time, the left-hand doors were labeled. Nutrition. Medical. Surgical. Chemical. The doors on the right had vertical window slits. Mounds of hoses, ropes, pipes, and clear plastic tubing were visible through each one.

“This must be a veterinary area,” I said. “And exhibit maintenance. Not what we want.”

Hi spotted a set of steel double doors. “That way, maybe?”

I nodded, gesturing for him to lead.

The hallway beyond was carpeted and wallpapered, with large square windows allowing view inside several offices, a conference center, and a copy room. Rounding a corner, the next door down contained what we sought.

“Jackpot,” Shelton whispered. “I see a dozen blade systems. This must be the place.”

The door was unlocked. Once inside we paused, uncertain what to do next.

“We’re looking for a Candela server, right?” I shrugged. “Start hunting for the logo.”

We fanned out to scan the rows of equipment. I found our target nestled in a corner.

“Bingo.” I tapped the trademarked cursive letter on the unit’s side. “
C
marks the spot.”

Fired up, I started barking orders. “Hi and Ben—guard the door. Shelton, find an access panel and get to work.”

Spotting a mobile interface, Shelton flipped down its keyboard to reveal a small monitor. “I
love
technology.” He inserted Karsten’s flash drive.

An icon appeared onscreen. Shelton double-clicked.

“I’m not sure how to . . .” Shelton trailed off as the file tree flashed onscreen. “Excellent. The program works automatically.”

Shelton cracked his knuckles. Then his fingers danced across the keys.

“I’ll try copying everything back to the data stick,” he said. “Hopefully, the files won’t disappear when we disconnect, but we can’t sit here and read them.”

“Sounds good.” In this realm, I had no advice to give.

“B-Series files,” Shelton mumbled. “Gotcha. And if I disable
this
setting . . . we should be able to actually store them on the drive . . .”

There was a series of whirrs and clicks.

“Damn,” Shelton murmured. “Come on, now.”

“What is it?”

“I got the B-Series files downloaded, but they’re
encrypted,
too. We’ll need Chang again.”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust that guy. We’ll figure something else out. Are you connected to the Internet?”

“Yeah. Got a strong wireless signal.”

“Mail everything to your dummy account, just to be safe. Then close up shop.”

“Roger that.” Shelton mashed a few more keys, then removed the drive from the server. He was folding up the keyboard when Hi pounded over.

“Someone’s at the door.” Eyes wide. “There’s no other way out.”

Ben looked my way, his expression a thunderhead. “Two security guards. They snuck up on us, because
you
didn’t think sonic hearing would be useful.”

I was about to respond when the door opened.

Bright halogens flashed to life.

My eyes darted left, then right. Then squeezed shut.

Cornered like rats.

There was no place to run.

“D
on’t move!”

I didn’t. There was no point.

A twitchy senior edged into the room, one hand clamped to his utility belt, a tan security uniform hanging loosely on his skinny frame.

Hi raised both hands in the air. “Don’t taze me, bro.”

The rest of us followed suit. The elderly guard was joined by a second, a muscular black man with a wispy mustache.

The younger guard barked into a shoulder radio. “HQ, this is Hines. Spencer and I have located the intruders. Just some punk kids. Over.”

Beside me, Ben seethed, furious we’d allowed ourselves to be trapped. I ignored him.

Flaring
might’ve
made a difference, but we’d never know.

And if we’d been caught with glowing irises? Yikes. No thanks.

“Anyone else in on this prank?” the guard named Hines demanded. His partner watched in silence, equal parts terrified and elated. No doubt this was usually a slow gig.

“No, sir.” I replied. “We got lost. Which way is the Madagascar Journey?”

Hines snorted. “About four plausible wrong turns back. Let’s go. And nobody even
think
about making a break for it. I
live
for the idea of running someone down.”

“Let me flare and try your chances,” Ben snapped.

“What was that?” Hines got right in Ben’s face. “We got a problem, Bono?”

Ben looked away. “No, sir.”

“All right, then.” Hines pointed to the door. “Single file down the hall. Follow my man, Spence. Don’t get cute, neither.”

We did as instructed. Spencer led us deeper into the bowels of the aquarium, passing three more sets of doors before arriving at some sort of holding area.

“In there.” Hines pointed to a small room with a table and four chairs.

We entered and sat. Hines locked the door from the outside.

“Well, we’re finally busted.” Shelton sighed. “Gonna look great on my college apps. Think they’ll knock it down to probation for first-time offenders?”

“Relax,” Hi said, but a tapping foot contradicted his own advice. “We know the district attorney. Harris owes us at least one get-out-of-jail-free card. Right?”

“We shouldn’t even
be
here.” Ben’s fist slammed the table. “Those clowns wouldn’t have gotten the drop on us if we’d been flaring. Not in this lifetime.”

“Done is done.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe Hi and Shelton are right. We might be able to duck any serious charges. After all, we didn’t actually
do
anything. No theft. No damage. Just some light trespassing.”

And computer fraud. But, hey, they didn’t know that.

“Tell that to my mother.” Hi laid his head on the table. “She’s gonna roast me alive. Then shoot me. Then kick me in the man parts.”

I patted his shoulder. “Whatever happens to you, I’ll get worse.”

Kit was
already
mad. I shuddered, thinking about how to explain this one.

The door swung open.

“Everybody up,” Hines barked. “Seems you’ve got a fan.”

A fan? What could that mean?

Hines marched us to a nearby elevator. When the car arrived, we ascended two floors. This section was nicer, with high ceilings and plush red carpeting. Spacious offices lined the hall, each with a window overlooking the harbor.

For some reason, I got a bad feeling.

And I
trust
those feelings.

“Move along,” Hines said. “Last room down.”

I spotted a fish tank halfway down the aisle. Dug into my pocket.

“Hi,” I whispered. “Distraction in five. Four. Three . . .”

I broke off as we neared the tank.

Hi spun. “Yo, warden. When do we eat around here? I’m hypoglycemic, plus I’ve got a hernia. And rabies simplex D. Basically, I need a ton of pills or my arms will fall off.”

“Boy, you’re on my last nerve.”

As Hines glared at Hiram, I palmed the flash drive and dumped it into the fish tank. The yellow-and-black rectangle tumbled to the bottom.

So long, friend. Let’s hope Shelton’s email went through.

“It’s a cultural thing,” Hi was saying. “I think you’re being very insensitive.”