Operation Sherlock (6 page)

The kids looked at each other and shrugged. They had all had computers of their own for years.

“These terminals will be linked to the island's mainframe,” continued Hwa. “The meaning of this should be clear: Each of you will have constant and instant access to what will soon be the most powerful and sophisticated computer in the world. Of course, a great deal of
our
programming will be classified. But for the most part you can use the computer as you please.”

The diminutive scientist laughed out loud at the look of astonished pleasure that appeared on the youngsters' faces.

“Now,” he said, “I think a few introductions are in order. We are a small community, and we will be working in close proximity for some time. Of course, many of you have already met at conferences or know each other through your work. And those of you who arrived early, like Dr. Clark and Dr. Fontana, have had a chance to meet many of the others. Even so, I should feel remiss if I did not formally introduce you all.”

Except for Rachel, who had studied several memory-training techniques and could plug names into her head quickly, there were just too many new people for the kids to learn all at once. They paid particular attention as each others' parents were introduced, of course. But there were seventeen adults in all—the twelve scientists plus Ray's mother, Trip's father, Dr. Hwa's assistant, and the two other men. So the names and faces inevitably become a blur to everyone save Rachel. With her help, the others were able to sort out the crowd later—though it took some time before they were always sure they were matching the right name to the right face.

In addition to their parents there was:

Dr. Celia Clark, whom they had met earlier that morning; tall and hawk-nosed, she was distinguished by her long chestnut braid…

Dr. Leonard Weiskopf, the funny little bald man with the huge hands and a shiny metal tube sticking out of his pocket…

Dr. Marion Fontana, a short, pipe-smoking woman who radiated strength and confidence…

Dr. Stanley Remov, a serious looking older man whose face had more freckles per square inch than any they had ever seen…

Dr. Armand Mercury, who matched the planet that was his namesake by being the smallest (and roundest) in the group…

And last but not least, Dr. Bai' Ling, whose striking beauty Ray would later describe as “indescribable!”

Besides the scientists there were three other staff people at the meeting. One was the formidable Bridget McGrory, Dr. Hwa's secretary/aide—she of the deadly eyes and the laughing voice. The second was Sergeant Artemus P. Brody, who was in charge of security for the project. The third—the muscular man in the sports coat—was Henry Swenson, head of maintenance for the facility.

Of the three, only Brody spoke, making a presentation that was so astonishingly dull Wendy nearly fell asleep on her feet even though it only lasted ten minutes. The one interesting item she gathered from Brody's comments was the surprising (to her, at least) statement that with maintenance, support and security staff, the total island population was close to 120—down from the nearly fifteen hundred that had been here when the base was at full strength, but still more than she had expected.

“Now for our tour of Anza-bora!” exclaimed Dr. Hwa when Brody was finally finished. He sounded relieved. Wendy guessed it was because most of the group was still awake.

Rachel Phillips found herself wedged between her father and Dr. Weiskopf in the backseat of a Jeep driven by Bridget McGrory. While they were waiting to start, the little scientist winked at her. Then he extracted the metal tube Rachel had noticed earlier from his pocket.

Rachel smiled. She had been speculating about what the tube was, and had finally decided it must be some sophisticated technical measuring device.

Her guess had been wrong. It was a pennywhistle.

“May I play you a tune?” asked Dr. Weiskopf. A sea breeze rustled through the fringe of graying hair that made a half circle around his mostly bald head.

“My brother's the classical music lover,” said Rachel. “I prefer robot rock.”

A wistful look crossed Dr. Weiskopfs face. With a shrug he said, “Perhaps some other time,” and began tucking the whistle back into his pocket.

“On the other hand,” said Rachel quickly, “being on an island like this puts me in the mood for a sea song.”

Dr. Weiskopf beamed as he whipped the whistle out of his pocket and raised it to his lips.

Rachel's father smiled at her gratefully.

Though she was skeptical that the old man's sausage-like fingers could manipulate the whistle at all, Rachel's tolerance turned to pleasant surprise when Dr. Weiskopf began to play. Starting with a soft, pure trill, he coaxed more music out of the simple instrument than she would have thought possible.

The song did indeed have the sound of the sea in it, and Rachel began to feel dreamy and far away. She was actually disappointed when the Jeep lurched forward and Dr. Weiskopf put the whistle away so they could concentrate on their tour.

As the tour circled the island, the kids felt a growing sense of excitement. Anza-bora was truly beautiful. Its low southern end was blessed with spectacular beaches. Its northern tip—barely five miles away—rose to a peak that stood nearly a thousand feet above the ocean. In between were the airfield, the marina, the base housing (mostly deserted now, of course) and a wonderful forest.

Later the kids would remember many things about that afternoon: their delight as they began to sense the possibilities inherent in the island's private coves and rocky shores; the way Trip Davis's father got so excited about a view he wanted to paint that he forgot to look where he was going and fell over a small cliff; Dr. Hwa smiling with pride as he pointed out a long three-story building with an odd central dome and explained that it housed the great computer which would soon be the center of their parents' lives.

But most of all they would remember finding the first of the clues that would eventually convince them one of the adults they had just met was a dangerous traitor.

 

Bugged!

It was Ray who found it. The gang had returned to the canteen after the official tour to compare notes (and to try another round of the new, improved Gamma Ball). Ray was rummaging through his pockets for coins when he pulled out a small metal square with several wires sticking out of it.

“Hmmm. I forgot about this,” he said, just before he tossed it onto the small mountain of stuff he had already piled on the table.

“What is it?” asked Wendy, extracting the square from the stack of paper clips, transistors, rubber bands, and marbles.

Ray looked up from his rummaging. “What's what? Oh, that. It's a current detector my father and I were working on.” He made a face. “I've got to give up fishing,” he said, dropping a dead worm onto the table.

“How does it work?” asked Wendy, ignoring Rachel's squeal of disgust. “The current detector, not the dead worm.”

“Got it!” cried Ray, pulling a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket. “I knew I had one in there.”

“Ray!” snapped Wendy. “Forget about the money and answer me!”

The blond boy who had cooked the Wonderchild's burger that morning appeared at the table with several bottles of soda and a cup of black coffee. Setting the coffee in front of Rachel, he looked at Wendy and said, “Patience is a virtue.”

“So is minding your own business! Not to mention answering questions,” she added, returning her attention to Ray.

“Wendy!” hissed Rachel. “That wasn't very nice.” She glanced over at the counter. The dark eyed boy had returned to his workstation. But he was staring at them in a way that made her nervous.

“Okay, okay,” said Ray, taking the current detector from Wendy. “There's a microbattery here, see? Now, these wires set up a small field that can be interrupted by any electrical activity in the area. That trips the beeper. Here, I'll turn it on.”

He fumbled with the device for a moment. “Darn lint,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Always gumming things up. Ah, there we go…” He looked up at the others. “Of course, there's not much point in turning it on,” he said. “It only has a range of a couple of feet, and—”

He was interrupted by a high, urgent beeping.

He furrowed his brow. “That's odd. Is one of you wearing an electric watch?”

Of course, none of them was. Their watches were all powered by heat transferred from their skin.

“I wonder what it is?” said Ray, slowly moving the device around the table.

“Probably a short circuit,” said Trip.

Ray snorted.

The beep was getting louder.

“Hey, Rachel, it's you!” said Wendy. “Maybe you're really a robot!”

“Yuk, yuk, I'm dying from laughter,” said Rachel. “Get that thing away from me, Ray. I don't like it.”

Ray's eyes lit up. “Would you prefer this?” he asked. Reaching out, he plucked a small chip of metal from the underside of her collar.

Rachel looked shocked. “What is it?”

“I'm not sure,” said Ray. “But my guess is that you've been bugged.”

Less than a mile from the canteen, the gang's words were being picked up by a small but sophisticated receiver. The person hunched next to it was frowning. Already unhappy at the turn the conversation had taken, the listener tensed when Ray Gammand said, “My guess is that you've been bugged.”

Instantly a black-gloved fist came crashing down on the receiver. The little device shattered into a thousand pieces—triggering a signal that simultaneously destroyed the transmitter being held by Ray Gammand.

The code name of this secret listener was Black Glove. It was a name known only to the handful of people in the world who were even aware of the agent's existence.

The spy looked down at the remnants of the receiver and made a sound of disgust. With the discovery of the transmitter so carefully placed on Rachel Phillips's collar, the device had instantly become worthless. That was why it had to be smashed. Black Glove had no tolerance for useless things.

Moreover, the spy did not underestimate enemies. It seemed unlikely,
but not unthinkable
, for one of those kids to have some device tucked away in his or her pocket that would have let them trace the bug's line of transmission.

A device that would, in effect, have led them straight to this secret room.

Of course, they could never get into it, but why take unnecessary chances? Planting the bug had been risky enough. Not that they would ever guess whose hand had slipped it onto the girl's collar. Even so…

Muttering softly, Black Glove swept the pieces of the receiver off the table and tossed them into a nearby disintegrator, where a bank of laser beams destroyed them.

Taking a deep breath, the spy eliminated any remaining anger just as efficiently.

Anger was a waste of time.

And it was one of the basic rules of espionage that there was
always
more than one way to skin a cat…

With a cry of pain “Gamma Ray” Gammand dropped the device he had plucked from Rachel's collar. It made a brief sizzling noise, then vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind nothing but an acrid smell.

The five young people stared at one another in shock. The moment of silence was followed by a small uproar as each of them began to talk at once.

“All right!” yelled Roger. “Can it!”

The group fell silent. Knowing the moment wouldn't last, Roger began speaking immediately. “To begin with,” he said softly, “let's get out of here and see if we can find some safe place to talk. If there was a microphone on Rachel, there could be more anywhere: tables, chairs, walls…”

“Us,” added Wendy.

“Exactly,” said Roger. “So no more talking until Ray has made a complete sweep with that little circuit detector of his.”

They left the canteen as a group, ignoring the strange look that the young attendant gave them as they went.

Because they didn't know the island well yet, it took them some time to find a place where they felt secure. Finally they settled on a rocky patch of land that thrust a little way into the ocean. Before they continued their discussion, Ray took out his current detector and swept it over each of them. He found no more bugs. Rachel had been the only one “infected.”

“Things are different on an island,” said Wendy, looking out across the water. Of the group, she had spent the most time at the beach. But in California she had had a continent behind her when she faced the ocean. Here there was only a few miles of sand and rock, and then more ocean. She stood, looked out at the water, and felt very small.

Though she hadn't expressed it in words, the others knew what she was thinking. Anza-bora Island was like a beautiful cage; a cage with lots of room and plenty to do, but with walls as real as if they had been made of brick and mortar. If they got in trouble, there was nowhere to run.

“Sit down, Wendy,” said Rachel. “You're making me nervous.”

“Afraid I'll fall off the island?” asked Wendy with a bitter laugh.

“I feel like we've fallen off the
world,”
said Ray. “What's going on here, anyway?”

“That's what we came out here to talk about,” said Trip. “But to tell you the truth, I haven't the slightest idea.”

“Well, let's start at the beginning,” said Roger.

“The first thing we need to know is who put that bug on Rachel's collar.”

His twin shivered. It made her nervous just to think of some unknown hand so close to her neck.

“Maybe it was put on before you got here,” suggested Ray. “Even though Dr. Hwa is trying to keep the whole thing quiet, I bet there's a lot of interest in this project. Someone might have found out you guys were coming here and figured it was easier to bug you than your father.”

A ripple of relief seemed to pass over the kids. It was like the moment when some pounding noise in the background finally stops and you suddenly realize how much it had been bothering you. In the same way the moment of relaxation that followed Ray's suggestion made it clear to each of the kids how worried they really had been.