Trapped!: The 2031 Journal of Otis Fitzmorgan (5 page)

Crockett cocked an eyebrow at this but stayed focused on Mr. Noonan. “I'm going to go get your daughter,” Crockett told him.
“I'll be right back.” And he rushed out of the room.

But it didn't look as though Mr. Noonan would be able to wait. I had to do something. I took Crockett's spot, crouching down
next to the man. “Hi,” I said. “Remember me?”

He nodded but looked too panicked to speak. To make things worse, Teddy chose that moment to pop his head out of my jacket
pocket. He greeted Mr. Noonan with a little yap.

“Get that thing away from me!” he shrieked, startling Teddy and sending him skittering to the floor.

“Teddy, go see her.” I pointed to Lysa, who was sitting curled up on a couch. “Do you mind watching him for a second?”

TEDDY YAPPING AT MR. NOONAN

Lysa shook her head and gave me a little smile. Teddy clicked and hopped over to her.

I put my hand on Mr. Noonan's shoulder. “You're a writer, so you must have heard the phrase 'a little knowledge is a dangerous
thing,' right?”

“I think a little ribbon is even more dangerous. And that's what this Climber is hanging from! A teeny-tiny ribbon!”

Good, I thought, at least he's able to make a joke. I had an uncle who was afraid to fly. When he found out that it was safer
than driving a car, he changed his mind. “How would you like some background on the Elevator?” I asked him. “It might make
you feel better.”

Mr. Noonan nodded. “Okay, fine. Anything to take my mind off where we are!”

I quickly searched my memory for facts. “To build this Elevator, a spacecraft was launched into geosynchronous orbit over
Earth. That's 22,300 miles over the equator.”

“You're losing me!” Mr. Noonan cried.

He was right. I was being too technical. I had to keep things simple and positive. “The spacecraft lowered a ribbon made of
superstrong material down to Earth as it kept moving outward into space. When the ribbon reached Earth's surface, it was attached
to a base station in the middle of the ocean near the equator. Because hurricanes don't pass over the equator, it reduced
the number of violent storms—”

“Hurricanes?” Mr. Noonan squealed.

Darn! I thought. I could tell he had been starting to relax. And then I had to go and talk about hurricanes!

I smiled and switched gears. “Two hundred and fifty small mechanical climbers stitched on additional ribbons to widen and
strengthen the original one. That took three years. The ribbon we're riding on—”

THE SPACE ELEVATOR ON THE RIBBON TO EARTH

“The ribbon that's holding us up is thinner than paper, right?” Mr. Noonan asked, but the panic was gone from his eyes, and
he seemed more interested than worried.

“That's true, and it's only about three feet wide. But it's strong enough to support a Climber carrying about 30 tons of supplies
and equipment.”

“And people?” he said, and I could see he was making another little joke.

“Yes,” I nodded, chuckling. “And people.”

I kept talking about the technical aspects of the Elevator. Slowly he relaxed, and at last, the color returned to his face.
He put a now-steady hand on my shoulder. “Thank you,” he said as he started to get up. “I do feel much—”

“Get away from him!” Charlotte stormed in, followed by Crockett. “What are you doing to my dad?” she demanded as she strode
over to us.

“Otis was calming him down until you came bursting in here like a bully,” Lysa said.

“And he was doing a very good job of it,” Mr. Noonan added. “I think I'm ready to join the other adults now.”

Charlotte looked confused. “Dad…” She reached out to him.

“I'm fine, dear,” he said, taking her hand and patting it. “Why don't you just stay here and make friends?”

With that, he walked out and left Charlotte standing in the middle of the room. She appeared embarrassed.

Crockett glanced away. Lysa gave her a long look. Gazing at Charlotte and Lysa, I noticed how much alike they looked. They
could have been sisters—twins even—except for their hair color and style of clothing. Where Lysa had straight, jet-black hair
almost to her waist, Charlotte had a mass of curly shoulder-length blonde hair.

And now she was on the verge of blushing under those curls.

“Okay,” she said to me. “Maybe you made me think something different was going on.”

“Is that an apology?” Lysa asked.

Charlotte shrugged defiantly then cracked a smile. “My dad did say I should make friends. Guess I'm not following orders,
as usual,” she said, her smile becoming a grin.

Her change of mood seemed to take the last of the tension out of the air.

Crockett, Lysa, Charlotte, and I chatted for a while. It turned out Crockett and Lysa are both from New York City and Charlotte
is from Seattle, Washington. When the conversation started to lag, a flash suddenly erupted at our feet.

Startled, I looked down to see Teddy winking up at me mischievously. Teddy was equipped with a digital camera and had just
snapped our photo.

I was about to apologize for Teddy's behavior when Charlotte struck a pose like a fashion model. Lysa gave him a few silly
poses, and Teddy's metal tail whacked back and forth in glee. Soon, Teddy was bouncing around us and snapping photos like
a full-blown paparazzo.

LYSA AND CHARLOTTE POSING FOR TEDDY

At one point Charlotte leaned over and said in a soft voice, “Don't think this gets you off the hook for nearly having us
arrested for carrying a piece of fruit. I still can't figure out how you knew my dad had that kiwi.”

I shrugged. “Lucky guess,” I said, not completely truthfully. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I'd like to see the art collection,” she said as if she were asking for a glass of water. “I want to see the art that was
sold at the auction.”

The words, “No can do,” were on my lips. After all, the artworks from the auction were on two different levels, one inaccessible
and the other strictly off-limits to the passengers.

But instead I said, “Sure. Why not?”

LEVEL 2 WAS DARK EXCEPT FOR THE SECURITY LIGHTS.

Day 2 of 6
  
  
6:45
PM

Charlotte's eyes went wide, and she
whispered, “Oh …”

I held my finger up to my lips. “We have to keep quiet. We're not supposed to be here.”

We'd just exited the elevator onto Level 2. Only people with security clearance could get here. I'd had to press my thumbprint
against the elevator's control pad to gain access to the level, which was like a warehouse. The dull hum and clank of the
powerful magnets that controlled our descent toward Earth echoed through the huge room. A 'bot or two whizzed around, but
otherwise, we were alone.

“It's awfully dark,” Charlotte said, peering into the gloom.

There were no windows, only the large door through which the 'bots had loaded the art sold at the auction. Not wanting to
attract attention, I left the main overhead lights off. We'd have to do with the security lights that cast pools of illumination
over each work of art. Most of the artworks had been packed carefully into crates and stored on Level 5. But I'd asked the
worker 'bots to put the larger objects—like the plane and the statue—on Level 2—. Even though I was off duty, I wanted to
be able to keep an eye on them.

“Come on,” I told Charlotte, and led her over to the, biplane. Fleas of the original green paint still clung here and there
to the body of the plant, which was shaped like a sleek bird of prey. Charlotte's reaction was what I had expected. “Incredible!”
she exclaimed. “This is really fantastic! And you get to be around artwork like this all the time?”

“When I take a job like this, I do,” I replied, putting one hand carefully on the wing of the plane. “Honestly, though, I'm
not always surrounded by master works of art. I go to classes, like other art students, and go hiking and camping with my
friends.” I didn't add that I also spend a lot of time organizing my family's detective journals.

“So…,” Charlotte said, her gaze still drinking in the aircraft. “Tell me how you work, Otis.”

I guess that's when I started to show off. “Better yet, I'll show you,” I said, taking out the pocket watch that my dad had
given me on my fourteenth birthday.

“Nice watch,” Charlotte said, glancing at me.

“Thanks. It's been passed down through our family for generations.” I detached the microprobe from my belt loop. I placed
the thick end of the probe against the watch and proclaimed, “Watch this!”