Hi lifted the heavy cream envelope penned with my name. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that.” Could anything matter less right now? “You guys are gonna love it.”
I passed along our invitation to Claybourne Manor.
Their groans drew every eye in the room.
CHAPTER 37
3:27 P.M. TUESDAY afternoon.
Sewee bounced across the surf, her bow rising and falling with loud smacking sounds. I rode in the passenger seat as Ben steered toward Loggerhead.
Hi and Shelton had bailed, claiming family obligations. I’d had to endure thirty minutes of instructions before Shelton was satisfied I could handle Spotter.
“Sneaking around will be trickier,” I said. “Today’s a workday.”
“We’ll just blend in with the staff,” Ben answered. “Plus, I doubt anyone uses that upstairs terminal.”
“True, but we have to avoid Hudson this time. I don’t need Kit finding out.”
“You could practice catwalk turns in the courtyard.” Ben’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Or waltz your way upstairs.”
“Are you done?” It was his third crack since we’d left the Morris dock.
He didn’t reply, but suddenly I’d had enough.
“Ben, stop the boat.”
He looked at me funny. “We’re in the middle of the ocean, Victoria.”
“Stop the damn boat!”
Ben rolled eyes, but eased off the throttle. Sewee decelerated until we just bobbed along with the current.
“Did you want to jump in?” Ben asked dryly. “Water’s pretty cold in October.”
“I want to know why you’ve been such a jerk lately.”
My anger caught him off guard. “I have not.”
“Ben, enough! We never used to fight. But now it’s like a storm cloud follows you twenty-four/seven.” My voice softened. “What is it? Tell me.”
I saw a flicker of something in his brown-black eyes. For a moment he seemed almost … stricken. Panicked, even. Then he looked away.
Seconds ticked by. Ben seemed about to speak. Instead, his features hardened.
“I hate that douchebag Jason, all right?” With a jerk of his wrist, Ben restarted the engine. “He’s a classic silver-spoon asshat, yet you can’t get enough of him. It’s pathetic.”
Sudden flashback. Ben’s drunken rant after the pool party. I knew that lately his problem with Jason had reached a boiling point.
But for some reason, I was certain Ben had been about to say something else. I didn’t know what, exactly, but I felt it in my bones.
One last effort.
“Jason’s my friend,” I said quietly, “but he’s not a Viral. He’s not part of my pack. He’ll never mean as much to me as you do.”
Ben’s eyes snapped to meet mine. He stared intently. I felt my cheeks burn.
“And Hi and Shelton, of course,” I added quickly.
“Of course.” Ben goosed the throttle and we lurched forward.
Whatever opening might’ve existed was gone. The stone mask was back in place.
The trip proceeded in silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Uncomfortable ones.
How did I feel about what Ben said that night? His slurred declarations about Jason and me. I’d never answered that question. Like I was hiding the issue from myself.
Am I any less confused than he is?
“I’m in.” I searched for Spotter on the LIRI network. “Shelton said the program was buried in a subfolder.”
“There.” Ben tapped an icon halfway down the list of applications. “Capital S.”
There’d been no more talk of feelings. Thankfully, focusing on our task dispelled the lingering tension. We had a job to do. We needed to work together.
Our entrance had been trouble free. We’d strolled through the gate and over to Building Six. Finding the lobby empty, we’d scurried upstairs. Alone in the stripped-down lab, we’d exchanged an awkward high five.
Best buds, right?
I opened Spotter and clicked “prior searches.” A sparrow with giant binoculars informed us that our query was complete.
“Here we go.” I tapped the link.
A stop sign flashed on-screen. The cartoon sparrow frowned: No Matches.
“Damn!” My disappointment was incalculable.
“Told you.” Ben shook his head. “These programs never work.”
I clicked “More Information.” A text box stated that the sample image was of insufficient quality to find a match.
“My pic was bad?” I slammed a fist on the desktop. “Why didn’t the program say that before running a three-day search!?”
Ben straightened. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” My attention was fixed on hating the developers of Spotter.
“Something rattled, or fell, when you … I think you knocked something loose.”
“Whatever.” Sulky. Couldn’t help it.
Muttering four-letter words, I moved to my second task—tracking the permit Marchant had mentioned. There had to be a record somewhere.
Ben was opening and closing desk drawers. Loudly.
“What are you doing?” I snapped, still irked by our failure.
“I swear I heard something. These drawers were empty when I checked three days ago.” Ben paused. “Why not ask your dad about the guns?”
“My interest might be a little hard to explain, don’t you think?”
“True.”
My second query was another dead end. I checked dozens of LIRI folders. Procurement. Supplies. Acquisitions. Inventory. Even a subfolder entitled “Weaponry,” which listed several animal control devices but no snare guns.
I tried to open the security subfolder. Access was denied.
Hudson. Registered weapons must fall under his jurisdiction.
Ben interrupted my thoughts. “Check it out!”
The lining of the left-hand drawer had dislodged, revealing empty space beneath.
“A false bottom.” Ben wedged a key into the newly exposed gap. “I knew I heard something.”
Ben levered upward, then used his fingers to remove the panel. A single object lay in the shallow compartment beneath. A red flash drive.
Tiny words were printed on its side: “Property of Dr. Marcus Karsten. Private and Confidential.” The drive was stamped with a bright yellow C.
“Oh my God.” I could hardly breathe. “This belonged to Karsten.”
“Concealed in a hidden compartment, in his private desk, in his secret lab.” Ben’s eyes were Frisbees. “What did we just find, Tor?”
My pulse thumped. I’d thought all hope of learning more about our affliction had died with Karsten. Yet because I’d pounded a stupid desk, we might’ve stumbled onto … everything.
Another realization struck. “The logo! That C is a trademark of Candela Pharmaceuticals!”
Ben whistled. “The company that underwrote Karsten’s secret parvo experiments. Chance Claybourne’s company,” he added unnecessarily.
“This is huge.” All thoughts of the Gamemaster had been blasted from my mind. “This drive might hold the key to understanding our condition. Our prognosis. If there’s any chance of cure!”
“Plug it in!” For once, Ben sounded as wired as I was.
Hands shaking, I inserted the drive into a USB port and clicked it open. A single folder appeared: MK.
A text box demanded a password.
“Frick.” I chewed my thumb in agitation. “Any ideas?”
Ben gave me a flat look. “How would I know Karsten’s private password?”
Footfalls sounded in the hall. My heart went hummingbird. I yanked and pocketed the drive an instant before the door banged open.
“What are you two doing in here?” Mike Iglehart wore an eye-blistering white lab coat and a surly expression. “This isn’t some teenage make-out room.”
My face flushed scarlet. “Excuse me?”
“We were using the computer!” Ben bar
ked. “That’s it.”
Iglehart smirked. “I’m sure. Which reminds me this terminal needs to be removed. We can’t waste bandwidth so you kids can play Angry Birds.”
I rose, furious, intending to storm out.
“Does your father know you’re here?” Iglehart’s brows formed a V above his nose.
“He said we could use a lab.”
Half true. Kit’s prior approval hadn’t been date specific.
“Yes, I heard you were grubbing up my workspace a few days ago.” Iglehart spread his arms to encompass the room. “But this is clearly not a lab. I’ll be sure to inform Kit you’ve been sneaking into empty spaces unchaperoned. I’ll brief Hudson as well.”
My cheeks burned, but I kept my mouth shut. There was nothing to be gained by arguing. Ben just stared at the floor.
We weren’t doing anything wrong, Ben. Not like he’s implying.
Yet Ben looked like a kid caught stealing.
Iglehart escorted us down to the lobby, where Dr. Sundberg was waiting impatiently.
“We need to hurry, Mike.” Anders nodded my way. “Hi, Tory. Hope the project is going well.”
“I doubt these two were studying.” Iglehart’s expression was close to a sneer. “They were locked away in that … room we found. It was awfully quiet before I opened the door.”
That did it. I’d stomach Iglehart’s private taunts, but no way was he going to defame me to others. “We needed to use a computer. That’s it.”
“Whatever you say. It’s your father’s problem, not mine. Thank God I don’t have a teenage daughter.”
“Leave off, Mike,” Sundberg said wearily. “We’ve got work to do. I’m sure Tory and her friend can look after themselves.”
Sundberg tossed me a sympathetic glance as he and Iglehart exited the building.
“Who the hell was that jerk?” Ben asked. “Will he really tell your dad?”
“And Hudson,” I confirmed. “Mike Iglehart doesn’t seem to like me much.”
“Then let’s jet before anyone finds us.” Ben said. “We need to get that drive to the bunker.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
CHAPTER 38
“LET’S SEE WHAT we’ve got.”
Shelton double-clicked the flash drive icon.
“Is there any way around the password?” I was watching over Shelton’s shoulder. Hi was beside me. Ben was slouching in his usual spot on the bunker’s window bench.
“Doubtful.” Shelton glanced at me. “You don’t happen to know it, do you?”
“Oh sure.” I leaned back against the table behind me. “Karsten emailed it to me right after we stole Cooper. I have his ATM code too, if that’d be helpful.”
“Just asking.” Shelton popped the collar of his navy polo. “Because this is gonna be a tough nut to crack.”
“Ideas?” Hi rubbed his chin. “We’re incredibly smart. Maybe we know enough to figure it out.”
I thought back to the day we discovered Karsten’s secret lab. The pouring rain. Shelton picking locks. The shock of finding Karsten’s ghastly experiment.
So much security. So much effort to keep the project hidden.
Could we crack his password?
“Try ‘Candela,’” Hi suggested. “Or ‘3-3-3-3.’ That was the door code.” Shelton did. “Nope. And … nope.”
“What about ‘parvovirus’?” Ben offered. “Or maybe Karsten used his name.”
Shelton entered the possibilities. None worked. “This is getting old, fast.”
“Wait.” I was thinking out loud. “It wasn’t regular parvovirus. Karsten mixed canine parvo with the harmless form that’s contagious to humans.”
“That’s right!” Hi said excitedly. “The human strain is Parvovirus B19. Try that.”
“No.” Suddenly I had it. “Karsten created an experimental strain. That was the point.”
“Shoot!” Shelton pressed his fists to his temples. “I can’t remember. And Karsten said he destroyed all the records.”
“Except this drive,” Ben said. “We have to access it somehow.”
I tried to visualize the lab as it had been that day. Desk. Computer. Quarantine chamber. Clipboard hanging next to Coop’s cage.
What had I read? What had Karsten told us that night in the bunker?
I smiled as it came to me. “Parvovirus XPB-19. The experimental form of B19.”
Shelton was already typing. His fists rose in triumph. “We’re in!”
Then his hands found his cranium once more. “Oh no!”
The words on-screen were pure gibberish.
“What is it?” I said.
“The individual files are encrypted.” Shelton clicked one at random. A new password box appeared. “And this level uses a code key. Meaning it’s synced to a device that changes the password every few minutes.”
“So the answer won’t be Karsten’s favorite color.” Hi shook his head. “Bummer.”
“To get past this mother, we’ll need professional help,” Shelton said. “Even then we might strike out.”
“Blargh.” Computers were conspiring to thwart me. “We’re nowhere on identifying the body either. Spotter won’t work without a better pic of the victim’s face.”
“Oh no.” Shelton’s chin dropped to his chest. “No no no.”
“What’s your problem?” Ben said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“You think she doesn’t already have a plan? Can’t you guess what it is?”
Hi paled. Ben looked from face to face, clearly still confused.
Shelton groaned. “I’m not going at night. Period.”
“Tomorrow afternoon.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Broad daylight.”
“Okay, people.” Ben crossed his arms. “Care to share?”
“No big deal.” Shelton’s tone was nonchalant. “Just a quick stop at Mepkin Abbey to get a new headshot of Mr. Dead Guy.”
“Oh.” Ben’s expression soured. “That.”
Shelton turned from Ben to look at me. “Did I guess right, Tor?”
“We have to give Spotter another try.” Firm, to hide my own misgivings. “We need to know who’s inside that crypt.”
I glanced at the items lined up on the table. We’d examined every scrap connected to the Gamemaster. Gotten nowhere.
“We have no other cards to play.”
The guest lot was nearly empty. We entered the abbey’s welcome center in silence. Though our cover story was solid, the mood was grim. No one wanted to revisit the crypt.
Brother Patterson was behind the gift shop register. His face lit up. “Welcome back!” His black-and-white robes swished as he swept around the counter. “What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”
“We really enjoyed our visit.” I conspicuously hitched the backpack on my shoulders. “So much, in fact, that we decided to make Mepkin Abbey the subject of our local cultural report.”
“Wonderful! The store offers several volumes of Mepkin Abbey history, or you can review our texts and original documents in the conference facility at no cost.”
Perfect.
“We’ll visit the library, if that’s okay. We’re supposed to use primary sources.”
“Be our guest.” Patterson gestured to the rear door. “Do you remember the way, or shall I escort you?”
“We remember,” I said quickly. “Thanks so much.”
Ben was last over the cemetery wall.
Hi stood on tiptoes, peering back the way we’d come. “The path is clear. No one followed.”
Our luck was good. We hadn’t encountered a soul as we snuck past the library, through the gardens, and over the wooden bridge leading to the graveyard. I was feeling confident we’d pull off this mission.
But I didn’t want to think about what came next.
Shelton worked the lock on the iron grate, then proceeded to the crypt door. Finally, “God help us, but we’re in.” Despite the mild temperature, beads of sweat dotted his brow.
I ma
de a decision. “There’s no need for everyone to go inside. Shelton, you keep watch out here.”
Relieved, he hurried to the fence.
“You’ll need me to move the lid,” Ben said. “Doughboy, too.”
Hi grimaced. “Let’s just get this done, then get the hell out of here.” “Agreed.” I handed out flashlights, drew a calming breath, then started down the steps.
Ben snagged my elbow and squeezed past. “Me first.”
Fine by me, snake bait.
I followed Ben down the narrow flight, with Hi right on my heels. I nearly jarred a tooth loose when the staircase ended sooner than expected. A reminder that we hadn’t unleashed our inner wolves.
“Guys,” I whispered. “Should we flare? It’s hard to see down here.”
“Don’t bother.” Ben’s response echoed in the crypt, conveying anger and shock. “No one’s home.”
“What?” I rushed to the sarcophagus and added my light to Ben’s.
The coffin was open. The corpse was gone.
I leaned inside the sarcophagus and shined my beam down its length. The only thing present was a withered set of bones.
The original tenant.
I pounded the lid in frustration. “The Gamemaster covered his tracks. He’s toying with us!”
Ben moved to the other side of the coffin. “Hi, help me push this back into place.”
“Why bother?” Hi whined. “Skeletor won’t care.”
“This is still a grave. Show some respect.”
Hi huffed, but joined Ben. Together they muscled the stone slab back into place.
“That wasn’t worth it,” Hi wheezed.
“Yeah, it was.” Ben was barely breathing hard. “Your good deed for today.”
Hi arched a brow. “Does it cancel out tomb raiding in the first place?”
Without bothering to answer, Ben picked up his flashlight and headed for the staircase. Hi hurried after.
I made no move to follow.
“Tory?” Hi had one foot on the steps, anxious to be gone. “What’s wrong?”
At first I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But then my fury bubbled out.
“We’re always one step behind. Running straight in whatever direction the Gamemaster points. He’s owning us right now. Scripting our every freaking move!”