The Winning Element (9 page)
One side of TL’s mouth lifted. “Very good. As soon as you remove your hand, immediately step back from the door.”
Beaker slid her hand free, took a quick step back, and the door dropped straight down into the floor.
I jerked. Sheesh, that was quick.
TL stepped through the opening, and we all followed. He showed Beaker a flat, silver disk on the wall next to the opening. “This operates the door from the inside.” He pressed it, and the door whooshed back up, making my hair fly sideways.
Turning, I surveyed the room. Of course, I knew next to nothing about chemistry, but this looked pretty darn cool. And if Beaker’s wide-eyed expression held any indication, she thought so, too.
As she began slowly wandering around the room, I took in the details.
Tall, see-through glass-front wood cabinets bordered the right side, with all sorts of jars, bottles, tubes, and flasks. It seemed like hundreds of them lined the cabinet shelves. A variety of substances filled them: liquids, powders, roots, stems, moss, granules . . . so many different colors and things it was impossible to take it all in.
Matching see-through cabinets bordered the left side of the lab, with dozens of different tools: burners, scales, thermometers, scissors, bowls . . . again, so much it was impossible to take it all in.
A closed metal cabinet labeled SAFETY GEAR sat along the back wall with a few sinks and even a shower beside it. I supposed a chemist would need a shower in case something went wrong with all the dangerous chemicals.
A contemporary stainless steel refrigerator occupied each corner of the room. Four long, black, granite-topped tables lined the center, with tall stools underneath. Equipment dotted the back two tables. I recognized the microscopes, but I was clueless about the rest.
I’d never seen anything like this room. The labs in high school and college certainly didn’t compare.
Across the space, Beaker leaned over a machine with spindles. Slowly, she turned a knob, studying it.
“What do you think?” asked TL.
Beaker looked up. “Are you kidding me?” She grinned. Actually grinned. “This place rocks!”
We all laughed.
She pointed to the cabinet with all the liquids. “This is like something straight out of my dreams. A fantasy come true. This is unbelievable.”
My mind jumped back to the mission I’d done with Wirenut and Beaker’s involvement in it. “How did you help out Wirenut and me without this lab?”
Beaker didn’t respond. I doubted she even heard me, too involved in exploring her new room. I’d been the same way when TL first showed me the computer lab.
“She didn’t need all this,” he answered for her. “She already had a lot of the knowledge. Plus her notes and books and, of course, the Internet.” Crossing his arms, TL turned to me. “Do you know what makes Beaker such an extraordinary chemist?”
I glanced across the room to where she stood bent over a microscope. I didn’t.
Sad to say, I didn’t know anything about her. And I hadn’t really had a desire to find out. I’d made no effort with her. Nor had she with me. From the first moment we met, we’d clashed, and it had never gotten any better.
“What makes Beaker so unique,” TL continued, “are her methods. She can walk outside and gather grass, rocks, and a bird feather, break them down, and combine them in an infinite number of ways.” TL pressed the silver disk on the wall, and the lab door whooshed down. “You’re privileged to have such a talented young woman on your team. As she is to have you.”
I trailed behind everyone as we exited the lab and made our way back to the conference room.
Mulling over everything TL had said about Beaker, I began to see another side to her. A side that didn’t surprise me. Every one of us was gifted in our own special way. But I’d been so caught up in disliking her, I hadn’t taken the time to comprehend fully her intelligence.
I glanced at her as we entered the conference room and wondered what her life had been like before the Specialists. What had happened to make her the person she’d become?
TL closed the conference room door, and we resumed our spots around the table. He looked at me expectantly, and David handed me the remote control. “All yours.”
Taking the remote, I rolled my chair back and stood. Not a single nerve danced in my belly. Only confidence flowed through me. “I’ll begin by recapping Eduardo Villanueva’s case file.”
I detailed every single thing about him, tracing his life from childhood to adulthood. From what school he went to, to the women he married, to his children and grandchildren. I described every man and woman he’d ever worked with. I defined every drug, gun, and crime deal he’d been involved with, and, of course, the chemical smuggling ring.
You name it, I gave the information.
The entire time I spoke, I used the remote control to flash pictures up on the flat screen. I showed images of where he lived, of his kids, of his business partners.
I displayed images of all the men, women, and children he’d murdered. As my parents’ picture flashed onto the screen, I tried to keep my emotions in check, but took pause for a second to breathe. Just to breathe.
When I felt ready, I continued, and for thirty minutes I dumped even more information. When I finished, I paused. “Questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“This brings us to the here and now. Mr. Villanueva will be in Barracuda Key, Florida, in four weeks. According to intel, this will be his largest chemical shipment yet.” I pointed my remote at the screen. “These are the chemicals that we know are coming in. There are five or six unknown ones, too.”
Slowly, I scrolled through the list of chemicals. “We’re unsure of how they’re being smuggled in, where they’re being stored, and where his buyers are going to be making the bombs. But we do know where he’s staying.” I looked at Beaker. “How familiar are you with these chemicals?”
“I’ve studied them all. Some I’ve actually worked with. I’ll tell you a combination of many of those can blow up a whole city. They can be tweaked, though, and some of those can be used to defuse the others.” She scooted up in her chair. “Most of those substances are on timers. In other words, they have to be used in a certain amount of time to be effective. Or they have to be defused in a space of time or they will self-combust.”
“Beaker,” TL addressed her, “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you will be going on this mission.”
She smiled a little. “Yeah, I sort of guessed that.”
TL held up his hand. “Let’s pause here for a second and go down a different avenue. I want to know who’s on the team and what the cover is.”
“The team will consist of myself, Beaker, David, Nalani, and you, TL. We’ll be staying at the same hotel as Eduardo.” I clicked the remote control. “Here at the Hotel Marquess. We’ll be able to monitor his moves and track him through that venue. David will be staying at a different location as backup. Nalani will obtain a job at the Hotel Marquess and act as our insider. Here at home base, we’ll have Chapling and Parrot on standby. We’ll need Parrot on call for translations, because Eduardo operates his transactions in a variety of different languages. And our cover . . .” I swallowed, inwardly groaning over what I was about to say.
I took in Beaker’s black-and-white-striped hair, her nose chain, green lipstick, dog collar, black baggy clothes, and black nail polish.
I cleared my throat. “Our cover will be cheerleading.”
Thirty minutes later, I was back in my room, and Bruiser was laughing hysterically. “Beaker’s going to be a cheerleader? You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s so funny.”
I sat on my bed with Cat, both of us trying not to laugh along with her.
“Wait.” Bruiser sniffed and held out her hand. “Can’t you just see it? Beaker’s nose chain in exchange for a
pretty little daisy
.” Ha, ha, ha, ha.
pretty little daisy
.” Ha, ha, ha, ha.
“Oh
my
God,” Bruiser made her voice airheady, pulling an imaginary piece of gum from her mouth. “This Bubba Jubba is
so
chewed.”
my
God,” Bruiser made her voice airheady, pulling an imaginary piece of gum from her mouth. “This Bubba Jubba is
so
chewed.”
This time I smiled. I couldn’t help myself.
“And you”—Bruiser pointed to me—“a cheerleader, too?” She grabbed her stomach. “This is too good.”
"Hi,” Bruiser did the airhead thing again. “My name’s GiGi. That stands for Girl Genius.” She flipped a red braid over her shoulder. “I can factor, square, and quadruple any of your cheers.”
I rolled my eyes. Bruiser could be such a dork.
She fell back onto her bed laughing and rolling around. “Ohhh . . . ohh . . . oh . . .” She wiped her eyes. “Okay.” Sniff. “I’m done now.”
Good thing Beaker was still down in the conference room with TL. Or rather, TL requested she stay when she started getting irate about the cheerleading thing. She’d probably have busted Bruiser’s lip by now.
Cat chuckled. “Now that Bruiser’s done being Bruiser, are you and Beaker joining a squad or what? And what’s TL’s role in this?”
“Beaker and I are going as a pair. Cheerleaders from all over the nation are meeting in Barracuda Key to try out for America’s Cheer. It’s a national team. TL’s going to act the role of our coach, our choregographer.”
Bruiser flopped over onto her back. “Beaker actually agreed to this?”
“Not exactly.” I wasn’t too thrilled with it either. “That’s why she’s still down there with TL.”
Our bedroom door slammed open, and Beaker stomped in. She railroaded right past me, down the length of our bedroom, and stopped at the bathroom door.
She spun and jabbed her finger in my direction. “I’ll
never
forgive you for this.” She wrenched open the bathroom door and banged it closed behind her.
never
forgive you for this.” She wrenched open the bathroom door and banged it closed behind her.
Cat and I exchanged a glance.
“Does this mean you’re going?” Bruiser sweetly called after her.
The toilet flushed.
[5]
A couple of days later, Beaker and I shuffled into the ranch’s barn, which would double as our cheer training facility.
“Okay, girls,” a short blond woman shouted and clapped her hands. “Front and center.”
We crossed the cement floor to where she and TL stood on a large square of mats.
Dressed in a tight warm-up suit, she spread her legs wide and planted her hands on her boyish hips. “My name is Coach Melanie Capri. My purpose here is to get you ready for cheer tryouts in Barracuda Key. You don’t have to be experts, but you do have to look like you know what you’re doing.”
I knew all about this woman. TL had arranged for her to come and train us, and David had briefed me on her background. Melanie Capri. Five feet tall. Exactly 105 pounds. Thirty-five years old, although she looked a lot younger. Cheerleader all throughout middle school, high school, and college. After graduating, she coached high school cheerleading for two years and then joined the CIA. One year later, she transferred to the IPNC, where she’d been ever since.
But the best part? She’d actually traveled with America’s Cheer, the same team Beaker and I would be trying out for. As far as the cheerleading part of this mission, it didn’t get any better than Coach Melanie Capri.
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