The Challenge

by Ridley Pearson

  But where was everybody? There wasn’t a person on this street besides him, in either direction. There were a few old cars parked, but most of them weren’t going anywhere—not if you needed tires, doors, or windshields. Of the cars that actually drove past him, most had dark, opaque windows and pulsed from the music that blared from within. They drove slow, like patrol cars, and reminded him of Cairo when she was out hunting. He felt like the prey. He felt a hundred eyes were trained on him, and yet he couldn’t see a soul; he imagined people hiding behind the dark windows of the burned-out buildings and abandoned playgrounds.

  What choice did he have but to follow the sound of barking? What other clues were there? He felt so angry at Kaileigh. Then his anger changed to concern, and from concern to fear. What if Kaileigh had caught up to Cairo? What if Cairo had led Kaileigh straight to the man from the train? What if she was now captured and Cairo along with her? What then?

  The barking stopped. Silence sat atop the groan and grind of traffic and a distant city. All at once, Steel realized what a comfort the barking had been. Without it, this place seemed twice as dangerous, and he felt twice as desperate. His feet slowed; he wasn’t so eager to go any deeper into this place. It felt like his science teacher’s description of a black hole in space: matter went in but never came out. He didn’t want any part of that.

  Then he saw a distant brick building riddled with broken windows. It triggered something powerful in him, a vivid memory trapped in his mind. What’s it from? He felt it was something important—critically important—if only he could understand…could place it…. He fought against his fear of this place, the terror that had taken over his mind. Pushed it away…back…back…trying to clear his thoughts. “Don’t get in your own way,” his father had once told him, when coaching him for a science quest. “Don’t be your own worst enemy.”

  He took a deep breath now, as he had then. He closed his eyes and pictured something peaceful: snow falling outside the window on a winter’s day. Slowly the snow melted, and there was the image he was searching for: the preacher’s wife tied to a chair; behind her and over her left shoulder, a row of windows—broken windows.

  He saw each of the shapes distinctly, his memory locked on to the image: their ragged breaks and missing pieces. Five of them in a row, fairly high up the wall.

  He opened his eyes. There, several blocks ahead, a brick building with all sorts of broken windows—the top rows of which were in groups of five.

  He started running. He wanted to be closer, to reverse the image so clear in his mind and try to match windows to windows. He ran a block, crossed the street, and started down the next.

  “Steel!” Kaileigh’s voice called out.

  Startled, he jumped fully off the ground, lost his balance, and crashed to the sidewalk. He quickly got up, scampered to his left, where Kaileigh, holding tightly to Cairo’s collar, was hunkered down behind a leafless shrub. She was frantically waving at him.

  “Where…How…?” He couldn’t catch his breath.

  “I almost didn’t catch her,” Kaileigh explained in a forced whisper. “She was on the scent, and running so fast. But there were these dogs…and she slowed each time…and when I finally caught her leash, she nearly dragged me off my feet. I wasn’t sure what to do—how to find you. And then you just showed up.”

  “It’s the brick building,” Steel said. “The guy from the train. Has to be.” He told her about his memory of the windows in the photo.

  “You can remember the shapes of the broken windows in the photo?” She sounded either impressed or doubtful; he couldn’t tell which.

  “I need to get closer,” he said. “To check out every side of the building.”

  “I don’t exactly love it here.”

  “No,” he agreed. “What happened to you back in the station? You spaced out.”

  Her eyes went wide as if she’d forgotten about it until just now. “Oh, yeah! You wouldn’t believe it! It was this lottery poster. Huge. Up on the wall of the station. You remember the billboard we saw from the balcony of your hotel room? It was sort of like that. You know the balls they use to spell out lottery: L-O-T-T-E-R-Y? Well, this poster had the same balls spelling it out the same way—only they were in this machine, this plastic cube, with a whole bunch of numbered balls. And I just saw it. You know? You know like when you’re working on a math equation, or trying to think through a science assignment? You know that moment when you just get it? I know you do.”

  “Sure.”

  “It was like that!” She was excited, her face red, her eyes even wider. She spoke so quickly, Steel could barely stay with her. “All those Ping-Pong balls in that plastic box—and near the top of the box this tube—an opening that sucks out the winning numbers. It just took a minute for me, you know, to see it, to see the way it works: all the balls being blown around this box and then the tube sucking one of them up. It’s my science challenge, Steel: the Ping-Pong balls are just little balloons. Right? Just floating around in that box. Only the thing is, whichever balloon floats the highest is the one that gets sucked up—the one that gets counted. My project wasn’t stolen by a competitor. It was stolen by these people. That guy from the train.” She looked up at Steel with anger in her eyes. “They stole my project to rig the lottery.”

  For a moment, Steel couldn’t breathe. It was if she’d sucked all the oxygen out of the air. He hadn’t seen the poster, so he wasn’t exactly sure what this box looked like. But he pieced it together from what she’d said: a box of Ping-Pong balls; an open tube near the top; the balls bouncing around.

  “Could it be used for that?” he asked.

  “What do you think I’m telling you? Of course it could! Remember, my project makes it possible to control which balloon floats the highest and for the longest. In the lottery, the highest Ping-Pong ball is the one that gets collected—gets counted as the winning number. You tweak my project a little, and instead of balloons, it’s Ping-Pong balls, and instead of winning the science challenge, you win forty-five million dollars.”

  Steel processed this. “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “I promise you it’s possible. Yes. Absolutely. The train left from Chicago. That’s where I live: just outside Chicago. That briefcase…for all we know it had something more than just that photo—like my notes, for instance. Like the whole thing laid out for them.”

  “How’s it work?” Steel asked.

  “You think I’m telling you? No way!”

  “Kaileigh!”

  She puckered her face in obstinacy and finally relented. “It’s so ridiculously simple. All I did was take a computer chip—I salvaged my first one from one of my dad’s old cell phones—and I use it to warm the gas—I used neon—inside the balloon. The chip is activated by any phone that has the walkie-talkie function. The chip picks up the transmission, turns itself on, and immediately warms. The gas warms with it. The balloon rises. Simple enough, but it works like magic.”

  “Forty-five million dollars’ worth,” Steel said.

  “I’m thinking this gang, or whatever, read about my project in the newspaper and realized it could be used to rig the lottery. Stealing it from school was easy enough. They’d have to modify it some, and obviously they’d need someone to switch out their Ping-Pong balls with the ones usually used. So it’s complicated, but they could do it.”

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” Steel said. “I’ve got to get a look at the windows of all four sides of that building.”

  “But what about Cairo? Isn’t she enough?”

  “She can help. If she scents that building, then we know we’re there.” Cairo wagged her tail as if she’d understood what he’d said. “But if I can identify the floor for them, then they’ll know exactly where to look.”

  Cairo suddenly jerked to the left. It all happened too fast for Steel, whose mind was engaged with everything Kaileigh had been telling him.

  “Are you crazy? He’ll kill you.” A woman’s voice. Angry or frightened, Stee
l wasn’t sure which.

  Steel turned and looked up into the face of the woman from the train.

  69.

  Larson and Hampton were met at the Navy Yard Metro station by an overweight D.C. transit cop with tired eyes and two silver teeth. His name was Coleman, and he accompanied the two marshals to the bottom of the escalators.

  “This is where I was when I first seen the dog. He come out of there like someone fired a starter’s pistol—low to the ground and moving like a greyhound. Hit the escalator ’fore I could grab him.”

  “Just the dog?” Hampton said, clarifying.

  “Then a girl, fast as greased lightning.”

  “And the boy?” Larson asked.

  “Dead last,” the man said. “Between him and the girl, I gotta say that he looked the most frightened—the most upset. Like maybe the dog belonged to him.”

  “It does,” said Hampton.

  “They went up to street level,” Larson said, verifying what he’d been told a few minutes earlier.

  “Yes, sir. Up top, and they ain’t come back down since.”

  Larson thanked the man. He and Hampton joined the escalator and climbed as quickly as they could, finally reaching street level.

  “What now?” Hampton asked, looking around and seeing no sign of the kids. “They could be anywhere.”

  “If you’d kidnapped a woman,” Larson said, “and you had her somewhere in this neighborhood, where would it be?”

  “Where the fewest people lived,” Hampton answered automatically. “Somewhere that gave me options for escape if people like us showed up.”

  “A remote location that’s difficult to contain.”

  “You could put it that way,” Hampton said.

  Larson got his bearings and pointed north. “That direction, the neighborhoods steadily improve.”

  “But that way,” Hampton said, indicating the opposite direction, “is Buzzard Point. A cousin of mine grew up there with his grandma. Not the most scenic part of our nation’s capital.”

  “Navy Yard abuts the river. FBI used to have its field office down here in Buzzard Point. Tough neighborhood.”

  “What do you want to do?” Hampton asked.

  “I want to find those kids before they find Grym,” Larson said.

  “Amen to that.”

  “We’ll go on foot, but I think it’s time to call in backup. Let’s ask for a couple Metro Police patrols to drive these streets looking for two kids and a dog.”

  “I’m on it,” Hampton said, flipping open his phone.

  Larson spun once, slowly in full circle. There was little traffic and almost no pedestrians: few people, if any, to begin questioning. This was going to come down to footwork and luck.

  Where are you? he wondered.

  70.

  Steel’s first instinct was to run, but the woman had Cairo.

  “Give her back,” Steel said, on his feet and facing the woman.

  “Not until you agree to go back to the hotel. I warned your mother…”

  “And if we agree?” Kaileigh asked.

  Steel shot her a look; he felt betrayed.

  “This is dangerous for all of us,” the woman said. “The farther away from here, the better.”

  “We know about the lottery,” Steel said. “We know what you’re up to.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” the woman said. She sounded sincere, and Steel didn’t know what to think. “I’m in trouble, too, you know? I stuck my neck out to protect you. And now—”

  “Protect me?” Steel said harshly. “I don’t think so.”

  She looked scared. He wasn’t sure if someone could fake that. Her eyes jumped around in her head like she was trying to look a hundred directions at once.

  “I’m here because I believe there are people—bad people—after you,” she told him. “That may be my fault, and there’s nothing I can do about it now, except get you away from here. I tried to tell your mother to get you out of here. It’s not my fault that she didn’t listen. But I’m warning you…” She looked Steel and then Kaileigh right in the eye. “You do not want to get anywhere near this guy. This guy is the worst of the worst. Totally bad news.”

  “He has a lady. A hostage. A preacher’s wife. We’re going to find out where he is and call the police. It’s that brick building, isn’t it?” He pointed.

  “Listen, Sherlock, this is not a game. It’s not a video game,” the woman said. “This guy is bad news, and he’ll hurt you and your friend and your dog if he finds you. That’s if you’re lucky. You messed things up for him. And he is not the kind of person to forgive. He’ll make an example of you.” She whispered, “I think they mean to kill you, kid. Why do you think I stuck around?”

  “Steel.” Kaileigh had gone as white as Wonder Bread. “Let’s just do as she says.”

  “How do we know it isn’t a trap?” Steel said. He meant this for Kaileigh, but he never took his eyes off the woman, and more specifically, her hand holding Cairo’s leash.

  “How’d you get here?” the woman asked.

  “The subway,” Kaileigh answered.

  “Shut up!” Steel told her.

  “I’ll walk you back to the subway,” the woman said. “I’ll give the dog back to you there.” She apparently hadn’t missed Steel’s attention on his dog.

  “I don’t believe you,” Steel said. “You lied to me in Chicago—said the briefcase wasn’t yours. If you hadn’t done that…If you’d just taken the stupid briefcase…But you lied. And that’s the reason all this happened, so don’t go blaming me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “The briefcase wasn’t mine,” the woman said, angry with him now. “I was delivering it, is all. You stupid idiot. If you’d just left things alone…”

  “He’s going to kill the preacher’s wife. If I’d left things alone, no one would know any of this.”

  “Listen, you know more than I do,” the woman said, somewhat ashamed. “I was a mule.”

  “A mule?” Kaileigh said.

  “A courier. I delivered the briefcase. That’s all I was in for until you came along. But then…You want to save the world, kiddo, that’s your business. You want your dog back?” She passed Steel the leash. “Okay. You’ve got the dog back. But you go into that brick building, and you’re never coming out. Not alive, you aren’t.”

  “Steel?” Kaileigh said. “I think we should listen to her.”

  “It’s a trick,” Steel said. He passed the leash to Kaileigh. “Don’t let go.”

  “I’m outta here,” the woman said. She turned and walked away. Away, not only from them, but from the brick high-rise as well.

  “Wait!” shouted Steel, trying to stop her. “What floor are they are on?”

  “No clue,” she said without looking back. “And I do not care.” Then she stopped and turned. “You’re making a big mistake. I’m getting out of here. That’s where I’m starting: staying alive. I’m not going to stay here debating with you. But trust me, you’re crazy if you go into that building. And you,” she said to Kaileigh, “have the right idea. Get the heck out of here. The guy in there is nothing but trouble.”

  “I need to circle the building,” Steel said, pleading with Kaileigh. “Not get inside, only circle around it. We’ll leave here after that.”

  “No,” the woman said. “That’s a stupid idea. What if he sees you? No way.”

  “Steel, I think she’s right,” Kaileigh said.

  “If I leave, there’s no way that marshal is going to let me come back here. And they won’t know what floor she’s on. What room she’s in. That means there’ll be no way to sneak up on that guy. And if he hears them going room to room, or sees them or something, who knows what he’ll do to the woman in the chair?” He spoke to the stranger. “It’s like you said: he’s a bad person. He could do anything to her. Are we supposed to just let that happen?” He paused. “I can’t do that.”

  He looked at Kaileigh. “If you have to leave, I
totally get it. No problem. Do what you’ve got to do. But I’ve got to take a lap around that building whether that’s risky or not. Take Cairo to the station. I’ll meet you there, if you wait for me.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Kaileigh said. She glanced over at the woman with a worried expression.

  “The more of us, the worse it is,” Steel said. “I get that much. He knows about Cairo. Maybe not about you. But if he sees a couple of kids and a dog, he’s going to know it’s us. One kid walking alone is a lot less likely to draw attention.” Steel looked to the woman for support.

  “You’re crazy,” the woman said.

  “Maybe. Yeah, you’re probably right,” Steel said. “But you and that briefcase started this, not me.” Excited and scared at the same time, he had to get moving. Standing in one place was not happening. “Give me twenty minutes,” he told Kaileigh. “If I’m not at the station in twenty minutes, get back and find my mother, and tell Larson everything.”

  Cairo pulled at the leash, trying to follow the scent that still drew her. Kaileigh looked as if she might cry. She tugged at the dog, and finally Cairo followed her off in the direction of the station.

  71.

  Steel was no hero. He wasn’t doing this to prove something. He just couldn’t leave without gathering all the information available. It was like the lady tied in the chair was a science project he had to complete.

  The sidewalk had decayed into fragments of concrete and trapezoids of bare dirt—a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing. The curb looked as if some kind of bacteria had eaten it away. Still a block and a half from the brick high-rise, Steel kept his left shoulder nearly touching the decayed storefronts—a former Laundromat, its windows missing; what had once been a corner store now looked like a bombed-out bunker. The closer he drew to the building, the more it dominated the sky, its rows of broken windows like unrelenting eyes looking down on him.