Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan (17 page)

“Nice try,” she said, tossing back her jet-black hair and giving me a twisted grin.

She started advancing toward me slowly, and I tried desperately to Keep my eyes from watching S
HARP
T
EETH
.

THE BOXES CAME TUMBLING DOWN.

Just as her shadow fell over me and her body blocked out everything else, I heard a crunching sound. SHARP TEETH had torn
through the side of the box, and it caved in under the weight of the boxes above. The entire stack teetered and began to lean…

Ms. Jenkins turned just in time to see the boxes start to fall. She raised her arms to protect her head, as they came crashing
down all around her. She howled in rage as asteroid samples tumbled out of one of the boxes and fell on her, pinning her to
the ground.

“Let me go!” She screamed. Clearly, nothing was wrong with her lungs, and she looked uninjured. I decided it was safe to leave
her there for a second.

“I will,” I told her. “But first I have some questions for you.”

“Make that WE have some questions.” It was Charlotte, and she was coming around the side of a large crate.

“Hello, little sister,” Ms. Jenkins purred. “You're just in time to help me.”

Charlotte just glared at her. “You're not my sister. I may be your clone, but I don't know you.”

She walked toward me. I was glad to see her, and we exchanged relieved smiles. We had found the bad guy and subdued her. Now
if we could just get her to tell how us how to destroy the virus, everything would be fine.

“This was all your doing, wasn't it?” I asked her. “You e-mailed the tickets to your clones to come on board the Elevator.
You wanted to confuse any possible investigation into the stolen statue.”

Ms. Jenkins didn't respond, but I could see from her eyes that I was right.

Charlotte took a step toward her. “How could you invite your own flesh and blood onto this Climber and then infect them with
a deadly virus?”

Ms. Jenkins remained silent for a moment and then said, “I never wanted to use the virus. It was just my emergency plan, in
case something went wrong. And you, “ she added bitterly, pointing at me with her one free hand, “you went wrong.”

“How?” I asked. “By discovering that the statue on Level 2 was a fake?”

The guard laughed. “I was in the Control Room when you were on Level 2. I saw you on one of the cameras, and when I heard
you say that the statue was a fake, I triggered the attack. I thought my plan was ruined when the elevator stopped on Level
3 and that Yves Jackson spotted me. But everything kept running along smoothly. Until now.”

Charlotte shook her head. “How could you do this to anyone—especially to people you call 'sister?”

“Don't be so melodramatic!” Ms. Jenkins cried. “That virus has a built-in timer. It will die within the next twenty-four hours.
I just needed everyone out of the way for a while. Unfortunately, I forgot that children under eighteen wouldn't have 'quists
and wouldn't be infected. Besides, the hair inside that statue was worth all the risks. I needed to have time alone with it
so I could use a laser tool and extract the hair without noticeably harming the statue. I didn't want you or other art experts
to notice that the hair was gone. I thought I would be able to do it without getting caught.”

I was opening my mouth to ask her more about the hair when something moved in the corner of my vision. I turned just for a
split second. It was judge! What was she doing here?

Ms. Jenkins took advantage of the distraction and tried to push herself up out of the broken boxes and asteroid samples. She
freed her other arm, but that's as far as she got. Her movements disturbed another stack of boxes that had been leaning precariously,
and they tumbled down on top of her.

Only Ms. Jenkins's head was poking out of the pile, and she was unconscious. I could see now that she was wearing a prosthetic
nose. The fake son must have been a disguise to keep her from looking exactly like her clones, but it had been knocked loose
by the falling boxes. I rushed over and checked her pulse. It was strong. I turned to Judge. “Help me get her out of here.”

But Judge didn't move. Her small frame seemed filled with tension, like a coiled spring waiting to explode.

Charlotte noticed it, too. “Judge? What is it? Why are you here?”

“Shhh,” she whispered. Her eyes were darting around, looking into the shadows and dark corners. “Asyla is on this level.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I'm sorry,” Judge said. “She broke away from me and headed here. I couldn't stop her. Turns out she is much stronger than
either of us thought.”

Before this news could sink in, there was a sound like a battle cry
.
Asyla soared through the air above our heads and slammed into ESCAPE BY A HAIR at full force.

ASYLA SMASHED INTO THE STATUE!

“No!” I shouted, unable to stop myself. For a moment, I forgot about the danger to us and thought only about the statue. After
all, I had been hired to protect it.

Upon impact, the statue cracked in two, the halves falling away and smashing to the floor. Pieces of marble skittered in every
direction. A tin box about the size of a bar of soap clattered to the floor. It must have been hidden inside the statue.

Asyla spun in midair and landed in a crouched position. She gazed up at us like a cat with the good fortune of finding three
mice stuck on a glue trap.

“Hello,” she purred. Then, still crouching, she plucked up the tin box.

We just stared at her.

“Is it Justine Pinkerton and her little friends to the rescue again?” she asked. “Is that the way history will remember this
encounter?” Then to answer her own question, she added, “Not this time.”

I didn't say anything. Sometimes a detective just has to listen to get answers.

Asyla's fingers were working at the tiny lock on the tin box. “Aren't locks amazing inventions? No matter how advanced they
get, you still need a key in order to open them.”

ASYLA PICKED AT THE LOCK

“What are you talking about?” Charlotte said.

“Why, the key to this whole situation, of course.” Asyla turned her eyes on Judge and me. “In this case, it would be an anagram.
You people and your anagrams. Always so clever at solving them. Feverishly switching letters about here and there, and always
cracking the case at just the last second.”

There was a small click from the lock, but it still didn't open. Asyla continued, “You have no idea how I laughed every time
we met, and all of you would say my name: Notabe, Notabe, Notabe. I mean really! Notabe 's not even an anagram.”

NOTABE…

I gazed at Aslya in shock. The image of her standing in the ruins of the statue of Mary Todd Lincoln and John Wilkes 'Booth
seemed suddenly charged.

I could almost feel the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in my brain. The answer must have been in the journals all
along. For a moment, I was too surprised to speak. Aslya just grinned at me, clearly enjoying herself.

“NOT ABE,” Judge and I said at the same time.

“EUREKA! Asyla shouted, her voice echoing around the room. “Not Abe, indeed. As in 'not Abraham Lincoln.' And to think it
only took you 125 years to figure it out!”

“I don't get it,” Charlotte said.

Aslya made a face. “Then let me be the one to explain it to you, my dear. My great uncle was John Wilkes Booth. My mother
changed our name from Booth to Notabe, and we made it our life's mission to make the lives of the Pinkertons miserable. They
kept my mother from what's in this box so many years ago. Them and their good friends, the Fitzmorgans and Moories. The moment
I heard the title of this statue, I Knew why my clone wanted it It's something I tried desperately to get my hands on during
my life.” As if thinking out loud, she added, “All those years I spent developing cloning technology… and now, I don't really
need it.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlotte said.

“For being a copy of me, you really aren't very bright, are you?” Asyla said. “That night at the theater, Mrs. Lincoln nearly
caught my great uncle. You might say she missed him by a hair.”

With that, she gave one more twist and the tin box finally popped open. As Asyla gazed inside, her face filled with awe. “Look
at that!” she breathed. “Isn't it beautiful?” She turned the box slightly toward us, and I could make out a small lock of
…