Authors: Michael W. Sherer
Images tumbled through her head as rapidly and fleetingly as snowflakes. Visions of both her parents in happy times. Her mother in the garden with Yoshi, a smile on her face as wide as the lake at the sight of one of his blooms. Her father on a skateboard in the park, his grin bigger than any kid’s there, or hunched in front of his computer, fingers licking at the keys like hummingbirds. The memories swirled and melded with others—uglier recollections that refused to dissipate in strength over time. Things she’d said in the heat of a moment. Things she’d done in fits of rebellion or plain pique. Things she now wished she could take back, undo.
“Um, this is cool and all,” Matt said from the backseat, “but I’ve got homework. Unless you need me. You know, to, like, break the code.”
“I think I’ve got that,” Tess said.
“Well, then, like, if you have any computers you need hacked.”
“We’re good, Matt. Thanks. I owe you. But don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Matt fell silent. Tess figured she’d hurt his feelings, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like
his
dad was trying to communicate from the grave. She shivered.
Several minutes later, Oliver asked Matt where he lived so they could drop him off. She only half listened to their conversation, her mind still filled with questions. The next thing she knew, they were home and Oliver was opening her door for her.
No sooner had they gotten inside the house than Alice’s voice stopped them cold.
“Oliver, a word!”
“I know what you’re going to say, Alice,” Tess said. “It’s my fault. I asked Oliver to drive me and Matt to the library.”
“We have a perfectly good library here,” Alice said.
“Not with the reference books we needed.”
“What’s this about?” Oliver said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make myself clear, Oliver,” Alice responded quickly. “You’re not to take Tess anywhere without letting me know first.”
“Is that really necessary? I mean, she’ll be with me.”
“Trust me, Oliver, it’s necessary. I’m sure you’ll make a fine assistant for Tess, and an excellent chaperone in most instances. But since I’m responsible for her safety, I have to know where she is and who she’s with at all times. Do you understand?”
“Stop treating me like a baby, Alice,” Tess said. “You’re not my mother.”
“No,” Alice said, her voice barely audible, “I’m not. I have an even harder job.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.” Her tone was brisk now. “I assume you still have homework. And since you didn’t eat lunch, I imagine you’re hungry.”
Tess realized, to her surprise, that her stomach was growling.
“You and Oliver can work in the library,” Alice went on. “I’ll send Rosa in with a snack. Oliver, do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” Alice’s footsteps retreated down the hall toward the kitchen.
Tess hand-walked her way along the wall to the library door. She felt Oliver move beside her, smelled his scent, heard his breathing.
“Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she said when they were inside.
“Why did you lie about where we were?” Oliver asked.
“Because Alice wouldn’t approve. She can be such a bitch sometimes. So, what? You’re worried about losing your job?”
“Yes, frankly. So is she.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s why her job is harder than your mother’s,” he said. “She can lose it if she doesn’t look after you. Be prosecuted, even, if something happened to you. She could lose everything. A parent is still a parent, even if they do a crappy job. They can’t get fired—at least not easily.”
“So you’re on her side?”
“If it means keeping you safe.”
She turned away from his voice and felt her way to the table, swearing under her breath when she barked her shin on a chair. She pulled it out and sat down heavily.
“What was that about a code?” Oliver said.
Tess sighed. “I think you were right. Someone’s playing a joke on me—my dad. ‘Tick-tock, watch the clocks,’ is from one of my favorite books when I was a kid—
The Eleventh Hour
.”
“I don’t know it.”
“It’s on the shelf in the children’s section. Look under
B
for Base, Graeme Base.”
She heard Oliver move to the bookshelves.
“Got it,” he called. His footsteps returned. “What’s the code?”
“It’s in the book. It’s a puzzle book. Part of the solution is based on the time. In most of the pictures, there’s a clock that tells what time it is. Look for a clock that says 10:05.”
Pages rustled as Oliver thumbed through the book. Tess remembered bits and pieces of the beautiful illustrations. She was sorry she couldn’t see and enjoy them all over again.
“Here it is,” Oliver said. “The zebra and mouse are playing billiards. There’s a grandfather clock by the door that says 10:05.”
“Billiards? Wait, are there bookshelves in the room?”
“Yes. I guess it’s sort of a library, like this.”
“He’s telling me there’s something here, in this room,” Tess said. A shiver of excitement ran through her. She pictured the room in her mind, trying to recall every detail. “Oliver, there should be a mantel clock above the fireplace. It’s been broken forever. Is it still there?”
“I see it.” His footsteps moved across the room. “I’ll be . . . It’s set at 10:05.”
“That’s it? Is there anything there?”
“Hang on,” he called. “There’s something taped to the bottom.”
He crossed the room, pulled out the chair next to hers, sat down, and smoothed a piece of paper out on the table.
“Oh, boy,” he said. “More code. Two letters, followed by a series of numbers separated by dashes. Looks like five numbers in each series.”
“Give me an example.”
“
U
,
A
, four, twenty-two, one-thirty-seven, sixteen, four. Wait, each line begins with either a
U
or an
L
.”
Tess racked her brain.
What could the code have to do with the library?
“What else, Oliver? There has to be something else—some other common elements. Something that will tell us how to read the code.”
“Give me a minute.” He paused. “Okay, here’s something. Second letters only run through K. First numbers run from one to eight. Second numbers don’t run any higher than forty or so.”
Tess rubbed her forehead. “They’re locations, like a seating chart.”
“How do you know?”
“My dad and I used to do this all the time, devise codes and ciphers for each other.”
“So what’s the key?”
Tess pictured the room.
He couldn’t have known I’d end up blind, but he knew this was my favorite room in the house.
Silently, she counted her way around the room to test her theory. She nodded to herself.
“U is for ‘upper’; L for ‘lower,’ she said without hesitation. “Second set of letters is the bookshelf section. First set of numbers is the shelf. Then comes the book on the shelf, page number, line, and letter or word. Make sense?”
“That’s brilliant,” Oliver said.
“No, I told you—I’ve done this before.”
Oliver pushed his chair back and walked way. Tess put her hand on the table. Her fingers brushed the sheet of paper.
“Oliver, you forgot the codes.”
“Got ’em memorized,” he called from the catwalk.
“The whole sheet? How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
“¡Ay, caramba!”
Rosa’s voice came from the doorway behind Tess. “Whatchu doing up there?”
“On a treasure hunt, Rosa,” Oliver said.
“You come down and have some
sopaipillas
that Rosa make.”
“In a minute, Rosa. Thanks.”
A tray clattered on the table in front of Tess, and Rosa’s voice sang in her ear.
“
Comer algo, señorita
. Eat. There is hot chocolate, too.”
Rosa wrapped Tess’s hands around a warm mug.
“Thank you, Rosa.”
“¿Qué es eso?”
Rosa said. The sheet of paper crinkled. “What is this?”
Tess put her hand out quickly and laid it on top of the paper. “Just a game Dad used to play with me.”
“You are supposed to be doing the homeworks. You no work, I tell Alice.”
“All right, all right, Rosa. Don’t get all hot and bothered.”
Rosa grumbled something in Spanish and left.
“How’s it going, Oliver?” Tess called.
“Just fine. Think your dad could have come up with an easier way to send you a message?”
“Not his style. So, what’s it say?”
“Patience, Tess. There’s a lot of code to decipher. At least each series stands for a word, not a letter. That would have taken forever.”
Oliver’s voice moved from one part of the library to another as he spoke. Tess remembered the treasure hunts her father had devised when she’d been a little girl. They’d taken her through the entire house and lasted for hours. Her mother had been in on the planning for many of them, often lending her artistic ability to the cause, rendering beautiful sketches of where clues might be hidden, just like the Graeme Base book. Sometimes the sketches themselves were clues.
“Getting closer,” Oliver said. “Almost done.”
Tess sipped her hot chocolate. She realized she was gripping the mug so hard her fingers ached. She put it down, drew in a slow breath, and counted out five minutes before Oliver joined her.
“Well?” she said.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“Just give me the message, Oliver.”
“Okay, here goes. ‘Tess, if you’re reading this, I’m not there. It’s up to you to save the world. Danger is everywhere. To help, focus first. Get the picture? We love you.’”
Tess’s lower lip quivered. She fought to keep the tears at bay.
Travis presented his “Visitor—No Escort Required” badge to the Metro entrance security personnel, along with his driver’s license. He emptied his pockets and walked through the metal detector while a conveyor took his briefcase through the x-ray machine. A Pentagon Force Protection Agency guard waved him through. He collected his belongings on the other side and set off briskly down the corridor.
The Pentagon was a small city unto itself, with more than seventeen miles of corridors, restaurants, shops, and an athletic club—in addition to nearly four million square feet of office space. Travis knew it was at least a five-minute walk to his destination, a conference room on the third floor of the D Ring. He knew he had plenty of time, but he didn’t waste any. The sooner he got in and out of this meeting, the better. He didn’t like meetings, but this one had been unavoidable.
As he expected, General Turnbull was already seated at the table when Travis arrived.
“Ah, Travis,” he said as Travis walked in. “There you are. Good to see you.”
“You, too, Jack.” Travis gripped the general’s extended hand. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me, too, son. I don’t think I can do much more to keep this train on track.”
Travis shrugged. “It’s not your fault, sir. I’m head of the company now; it’s my responsibility.”
Turnbull shook his head slowly, his mouth a grim line. “I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t suggested—”
“That’s not your fault, either.” The words came out as sharp as the stabbing pain in his chest. “I executed the plan. Wishful thinking won’t bring them back.”
“You’re right. We both knew the risks.”
“It was the only way to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”
“But now it’s not in our hands, either.”
“Not yet, no.”
The general was silent for a moment. “Do you want coffee? I can have some brought in.”
“No, thanks. Had too much already this morning.”
“Ah, gentlemen,” said a voice from the doorway. “You’re both here. Good.”
A tall, lanky man with a silver mane stepped into the conference room, his piercing gray eyes taking them both in.
Turnbull stood. “Good morning, Senator.”
“Jack, how are you? Travis, glad you could come.”
Travis and the general shook hands with Senator Jeremy Latham, a member of the US Senate Appropriations Committee and chairman of the subcommittee on defense.
“So, Travis, what’s the latest?” Latham said when they’d seated themselves. He smiled genially. “Good news, I hope?”
“No, I’m sorry to say. I spent the morning with one of our suppliers, trying to work out our differences. They’re convinced it’s a software problem on our side, and we’re convinced their servos aren’t designed to the same specs as those on the original prototype.”
The senator’s smile faded, his features taking on a vulpine cast. “It’s been more than a year since you tested the prototype. I’d have thought you’d be able to reconstruct it by now and get the project back on track.”
“Obviously I thought the same thing, sir, or I wouldn’t have taken on the position.”
“It seems a simple engineering problem to me.”
“I wish it was that simple, sir,” Travis said, “but my brother never made anything easy. No one knew he kept most of the design details in his head.”
“Yes. Unfortunate that he’s no longer with us.”
The senator’s eyes narrowed as though watching Travis for a reaction. Travis kept his face a bland mask.
“I miss him every day, senator.”
“I’m sure you do. With or without James, we want to see this project succeed. The problem, Travis, is that we can’t wait indefinitely. Time is money, and both are hard to come by these days on Capitol Hill. The subcommittee wants results. That’s what we’re paying for.”
“What are you saying, Jeremy?” Turnbull said.
Latham faced the general. “You have until the end of May. If there’s no working prototype by then, we’re pulling the plug. No more funding.”
“You can’t do that, senator,” Turnbull said.
“I can, and I will.”
“We’re getting closer, sir,” Travis said. “We think we’ve got the stabilization problem licked. It’s just a matter of time before we figure out how to reduce the weight enough to extend battery life within acceptable ranges.”
“I’m glad, but that’s not good enough,” Latham said. “A working prototype, equal to the first one, or we shut it down.”