Trapped in the Mayan Tattoo (30 page)

“Password?” Louise
asked.

“In the packet,”
Abbi said, and then turned to Lowell. “Is the interpreter still coming?”

“I believe so,
yes,” he said.

She sighed, trying
not to be jealous, and touched his trumpet.

“Hey, thanks! That
was fun!” she said.

By now it was
obvious that Big Sam had lost his patience. He cleared his throat.

“Stay here for ten
minutes. Then you’re free to leave. Better still, take a nap,” Big Sam said.
“Stay out of trouble.”

Big Sam left the
room.

“Just stay
together, ladies,” GK said. “Now that you’re here, I have other matters to tend.
Enjoy the museum.”

“Big Sam has to
keep following us?” Louise whispered.

“You will not
always see him, but he’ll see you. I promise,” GK said. “He’s highly trained
and this place is amazing. Try not to upset him again, Miss Kowalski.”

“Why do I upset
him?” Abbi asked.

Lowell shrugged.

Louise looked at
Abbi and then hastily searched the tiny apartment. When she found that the pint-sized
refrigerator held fresh sandwiches, salads and drinks, she ate heartily. Abbi
munched on a sandwich and spent a few minutes speed-reading the reports in her
briefcase for anything she may have overlooked. Some of what she read was very
disturbing. She was happy to leave their suite when Louise was ready.

Abbi imagined that
she and Mademoiselle Soufflé had two hours of relative freedom while Big Sam would
spend his time tracking their every move. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hightower would be
reading over her copy of Miss Shoe’s draft, the unofficial and unsubmitted
report of her joint NM/ NM2 investigation, especially the detailed explanation
of NM2, which had grown into a more insidious group, one that no longer
answered to NM.

There was nothing more
that Abbi could do right this moment to rescue her mother and there was a spy
museum to explore downstairs. She decided to relax and have fun. Besides, Abbi’s
curiosity was peaking when she heard shuffling noises and voices under their floor
while she was reading. She wanted to know why she could hear it and how to get
there.

“This building is
busy today,” Abbi said. “Let’s go find out what’s here.”

Louise came out
with some of the snacks she stowed in her suitcase. Abbi wondered how she could
still be hungry.

            The girls closed the
door to their apartment and, huddling near the door in the hallway, listened
intently until they heard more shuffling noises. Then Big Sam entered the
hallway from another room that Abbi hadn’t noticed earlier.

            Abbi whispered, “I’m so
glad we have a little free time. Think we can lose him?”  

“Yeah, maybe!” Louise
said.

Backtracking the
way they came, through the hallway and toward what they thought would be the
stairs, the girls searched various wall panels to find the panel Lowell had
unlocked for them. The panels appeared different, not in color or form, but in
location. The hallway twisted and came to an abrupt dead end. That explained
some of the noise. Abbi tried inserting her keycard into cracks in the textured
wall.

Confused, Abbi
looked back where Big Sam had been.

            “Where’d he go? There’s
got to be a way out. They wouldn’t just leave us trapped!” Abbi said.

            “Wouldn’t they?” Louise
asked. “I think they want us trapped so they know where we are.”

            “Let’s go where Sam
went!”

Abbi looked for
cameras.

“You know they’re
watching us!”

“And laughing at
us. Let’s just go back and take a nap like Big Sam said,” Louise said.

            “That’s too easy,” Abbi
said, pushing on the wall, trying to find a place to insert her card or put her
thumb. “They may watch our every move and listen to every word we say but, if
so, they’ll know we’re not quitters!”

            “You think there’s a
hidden panel?” Louise said.

            “There’s probably a
place to insert my keycard. Ssh! Listen,” Abbi said, pressing her ear against
the lower part of the wall.

            “It sounds like
shuffling feet!” Louise said.

            “But softer. Maybe
crawling. And laughing. It’s kids!”

            “But where?” Louise
asked.

            “In tunnels or in the
ductwork!” Abbi said. “Somewhere, there’s ductwork big enough to get into. Let’s
find it!”

            “But we’re stuck here,”
Louise said. “Remember?”

            “There’s got to be a
way out,” said Abbi.

            “You girls looking for
something?” a distorted voice called.

            “Where are you?” Abbi
called, spinning around, recognizing the unmistakably mocking tone, if not the
voice. She couldn’t see anyone.

            “These are actually two-way
mirrors. We changed the hallway panels around to form new angles. We dimmed the
lighting. Just playing with the system. You like the effect?”

            “GK, quit,” said Abbi.
She kept trying to make something move so she could leave.

            Now that she looked
more closely she could faintly see tracks on the floor and ceiling, similar to
railroad tracks at a busy terminal, only small and thin. The tracks allowed
wall panels to be moved in different positions.

            “You’re persistent. We
need that quality in you,” said a different, deeper voice, sounding more
serious.

Slowly the lights in
the hallway dimmed more and Abbi saw the two-way mirrors. On the other side of
the panel, Lowell and Big Sam came into focus. Both were laughing.

            “Had your fun? It’s
been a long day for us. Let us go!” Abbi protested. “We want to see the
museum.”

            The lights brightened slowly.

            “You’re kind of in the
museum, in a display! Only this part isn’t open to the public,” GK said. “Tell
me your name. Maybe I’ll let you out.”

            “You KNOW who I am, Lowell!”
Abbi protested.

            “First lesson, girls.” Big
Sam’s voice cut through the confusion like a knife through butter. “Use only
assumed names during this entire operation. It’s very important so that no one
will know your true identity. Or ours. Don’t mess this up. Lives depend on it.
Your lives.” Big Sam’s patience had worn thin.

            “But I want out now,”
Abbi said in protest. She knew if she was tired, Big Sam had to be exhausted,
but that was no excuse for being so grumpy.

“I brought you
here. I can send you home. This is training. We must work as a team. What is
your name, please?” he said.

            “Miss Kowalski,” Abbi
said, hoping that if she cooperated, he’d lighten up.

            “And yours,
mademoiselle?”

            “I’m Mademoiselle Soufflé,”
Louise said. “Can you please let us out, Big Sam?”

            Big Sam hesitated, then
turned to GK.

            “Gate Keeper, you know
what to do.”

            GK dimmed the lights
again so that Abbi could see him. He looked at Abbi sternly.

            “Give me your hand,” he
said with authority. Abbi wondered at this strange new role for her friend. He
settled into it the same way he did everything else. With ease.

“How can I give
you my hand? We’re on opposite sides.”

GK reached toward
her. She reached toward him and touched his hand where he indicated, through a
part of the panel that looked solid. GK grabbed her thumb and twisted.

            “OW!” Abbi yelled. “How
did…? What…?”

            “Press here with just
your thumb!” he said, manipulating her thumb.

            Mounted on the wall
beside the strange panel was a barely-noticeable pad. Abbi pressed her thumb on
it and watched the panel rotate, activated not by push-button but by a fingerprint-reading
device.

            “Amazing!” Louise
whispered. “Can I try?”

            Abbi wondered how they
had her thumbprint.

            “You can try!” GK said.

            Louise tried but
nothing happened.

            “Miss Kowalski, your
thumbprint has not changed in all the time it’s been on file,” Big Sam said.

            “And that is
how
long
?” Abbi demanded.

            “I couldn’t say.”        

Abbi was starting
to bristle.

            “When I say ‘I couldn’t
say’, it doesn’t mean ‘I don’t know’. Never confuse the two,” Big Sam said
quietly. “What’s important is it works well with our biometric fingerprint
locks. Oh, and never ever use that tone with me again, Miss Kowalski. I know
where you live and I can see that you get back there safely. Or not.”

            Abbi was tired of Big
Sam’s annoying attitude. She lowered her voice but said intently, “Is that a
threat? My mother’s life is at stake. Stop toying with me. This is not a game
for me, and I’m not here to amuse you. Just show me how to get around while
we’re here and I’ll try to do as you say when the time comes.”

            “As you wish, Miss
Kowalski. We’ll begin with how to find headquarters, how to enter, how to
exit.”

After Abbi and Louise
finished what Abbi called “Entry Access 101”, which took about twenty minutes
of training to learn where and how the multiple forms of keyless entry worked,
the girls successfully walked into the museum via secret passage.

Big Sam said they
could go casual. In shorts and tank tops that they had used for sleeping, and without
their name badges and suits, they looked like regular teenage summertime tourists.
Following orders, Abbi promised to wear the bugging device Big Sam gave her. She
tried to keep in mind that the surveillance people at headquarters would be
able to hear every word she said.

Louise tried not
to speak and kept busy texting her mother and getting no response.

The girls went
downstairs, once the panel was rearranged so that they could, and played spy
games like other kids who were assuming different identities. For Abbi and Louise
the real-life stakes were higher. They avoided using names except their assumed
ones and spoke very little.

 This bugging
device would work not only for surveillance of Abbi but also would remind her to
watch her tongue. That became increasingly difficult for her to do. Abbi didn’t
want anything but her parents. Anxiety, fatigue and disappointment had caused her
to get rude with Louise. She hoped playing around and having some fun with
Louise would snap her out of it.

The games were
fun, but Abbi liked the gadgets more and there were several to examine. An
explosive lump of coal, an assassin’s umbrella, and a lipstick pistol, all
actual tools created for spies. These things intrigued her. She wondered what
tools her mother may have used in her arsenal. Abbi stored up a thousand questions
to ask her.

Another thing that
intrigued Abbi was overhead--she could hear children crawling through the
ductwork that wound through the various rooms of the museum. She was determined
to get into it. If she heard children in these ducts from her apartment, then
she reasoned that she might be able to hear other sounds from inside the ductwork--maybe
staff in headquarters discussing their plans, plans that would involve her. She
looked for the entrance, half expecting it to be hidden.

Finally she saw a
sign with a hand pointing to a concealed stairway that would lead them to the
ducts. Abbi coaxed Louise to wait in line with other kids about to enter the
stairway. A worker checked the height and weight limits. Louise barely made it past
screening and then found it difficult to get into the ductwork. Abbi’s smaller
frame passed easily. Some bigger teenagers were turned away, including one very
chubby boy who was short enough but too wide. Abbi felt sad for him.

Louise bolted.

“I’m not sure I
want to. It’s grubby in there.”

“Louise, just give
me a few minutes,” she said, aware of the listening device and trying not to
say what they were up to. “It’s really OK if you don’t go. I just want you to
have a good time. I’ve been a little grumpy lately.”

“Understandably. I’m
with you to the end,” Louise said as she followed.

The girls climbed
up a few steps. Abbi checked the design and was glad when they entered a
strongly supported duct system. It shouldn’t fall under their weight, and it
seemed well-vented so that they were breathing relatively fresh air. Abbi
couldn’t help it. These things were important to her.

They dropped down
onto their knees on the shiny aluminum sheeting that was, admittedly, a little
grubby and began shuffling along on all fours with the other kids. Abbi crawled
along easily in her shorts, happy to be out of her suit. Louise grunted and
groaned constantly and it echoed along with noise from other children through
the long, winding chamber. Just passing through the ducts created a loud
squeaking sound. The more people who crawled through, the louder the squeaking.
The bugging device Abbi wore had to be picking up these extraneous sounds--the
grunting, the squeaking. Abbi laughed.

Since only kids in
a certain size range were allowed into the overhead ducts, getting up there
offered the girls some privacy. Besides, Abbi wanted a break from Big Sam’s
edginess and the unapproving way he watched their every move.

At one point in
the rambling ductwork, which wound through the museum’s rooms just under the
ceiling, Abbi got her bearings and figured the Bureau’s temporary headquarters
for Operation Missing Shoe had to be overhead. She discovered a way to listen
in on conversations that were going on in headquarters. When Abbi recognized a
couple of the voices, she stopped and reached back in the ductwork to brush Louise’s
cheek with her hand. Louise appeared to understand the delay when Abbi pointed
up and cupped her ear with her hand. She let a group pass them so that she and
Louise could listen.