by Kathy Reichs
Would he be furious? What would he say? The encounter promised to be super-awkward.
Bolton’s hallways always hum with gossip. Normally I manage to avoid the limelight. Not likely this time. The story of the Pink Monster was sure to top the playlist.
I caught a break. Lecture in biology. Our lab group wouldn’t meet. Lucky. Given Chance’s flirtatious comments, I wanted to see Hannah even less than Jason.
And I still hadn’t completed my DNA comparisons. Due tomorrow.
Jason’s attention strayed to my desk several times. I kept my head down, eyes glued to my laptop. My lecture notes were detailed enough to sell to a publisher.
At the bell, I shot out the door. For the rest of the morning, I kept a low profile.
During lunch I hid in the computer lab, working on my part of the presentation. Comparing the sequences took most of the hour. When I’d finished, I emailed my results to Jason and Hannah.
You’ve got mail! See, I’m not avoiding you.
Passing through the halls, I picked up whispered comments. Noted hidden smiles. My flight from the dance hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Inevitably, my luck ran out. After the final bell Jason spotted me scooting out the main doors.
“Tory! Hold up.”
Run? Bad form.
I waited, trying to act natural.
“Where have you been all day?” Jason said. “I looked all over.”
“Sorry! I had to finish the DNA project. I sent the results to your Gmail account.”
“Oh? Great.” Jason ran a hand across the back of his neck. “But I wanted to talk about something else.”
Here it comes.
“Chance needs to see you, says it’s serious. He got a hit off that print you gave him.”
That’s it? I didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.
Jason seemed puzzled by my silence. “You still need the fingerprint, right?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Thanks.” Before I could stop myself. “I thought you wanted to talk about the dance.”
Cringe. What in the world was I thinking?
“Now that you mention it, you did split early.” Jason laughed. “Sorry I’m such a klutz.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” What was he talking about? “I’m sorry. I pushed you.”
“I didn’t know you got migraines,” Jason said. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you; those things can be a killer.”
“Mm.”
“I can’t believe I tripped. I have a knot on my head the size of a kiwi.” He snickered. “I’m telling everyone it’s a lacrosse injury to save myself the embarrassment.”
My breath caught. Jason didn’t realize what really happened. If no one else saw, I was in the clear.
“Anyway,” Jason said, “Chance wants to meet before practice tomorrow to give you the info. That work?”
“Definitely. Tell him I really appreciate his help. And thank him for the ride last night. Mr. Baravetto was a godsend.”
“No problem. And don’t worry about the gossip girls.”
Ahh. So I hadn’t escaped.
“Oh?” Feigned indifference. “What’s the word on the street?”
“It’s nothing.” Jason had assumed I already knew. “Those chicks just like to pick on people. Makes them feel better about themselves.”
“Tell me. I can take it.” Lie.
“It’s nonsense.” Jason sighed, clearly uncomfortable. “A few of them said you pulled a Cinderella. That you had to return your outfit before the stores closed.”
I felt my face flame. How humiliating. Worse, it was kind of true.
I wanted to crawl under a rock. To transfer. To die. But anger pushed aside the embarrassment.
“Who said that?”
“Forget it. You looked great. They were just jealous.”
“Jason, please. Who?”
“Madison and company. Courtney and Ashley.”
The Tripod again. No matter what I did, those three had it in for me.
I’m not letting this one slide. Game on.
“Whatever floats their boat, I guess. Thanks for telling me.” I forced a smile. “Tell Chance I’ll meet him right here, if that works.”
“Will do. Take care.” Jason walked a few paces, turned. “And don’t worry about Maddy’s BS. No one believes it.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Walking toward the marina, I vowed to take action against the Tripod. I was done being badmouthed.
But not today.
Today I had a crime to commit.
CHAPTER 47
Hi and Shelton hurried along Beaufain Street. They the passed crew teams rowing on Colonial Lake, a man-made oval stretching a full city block. Ducks paddled in noisy clusters of two and three. Intent on their task, the boys barely noticed.
Near the shopping district, single-family homes gave way to townhouses arranged in orderly rows. Window boxes overflowed with petunias, marigolds, and lantana. Honeybees worked overtime in the warm afternoon sun. The beauty of the day was lost on them.
Hanging a left on King, Hi and Shelton finally reached the CU campus, three square blocks of Gothic stone and ivy rubbing shoulders with modern brick and glass. Beneath ancient oaks and magnolias, dogs chased Frisbees hurled by college kids.
A sign directed the boys to a massive stone building on the eastern edge of the common.
“Any blackouts today?” Shelton asked as they hurried along the path.
“Nope, but I had a flare. For few moments I could read the answer key on Mr. Hallmark’s desk. I was in the back row.”
“Mine was auditory,” Shelton said. “In the bathroom I heard a ripping noise, like a power saw. It was Kelvin Grace, unzipping his fly. Ten feet away, outside the stall. Crazy, huh?”
“Barking mad.”
In the bio-med library, the boys asked and were directed to the veterinary wing. There, they divided topics and set to work. Two hours later, they compared findings.
“I scoured a billion medical journals,” said Shelton. “No disease matches our symptoms. I couldn’t even find some of them.”
“Here’s what I got on parvo,” Hi said, shuffling papers. “They’re tiny buggers, some of the smallest viruses in nature, with only a single strand of DNA. Parvus means small in Latin.”
“Fascinating,” Shelton deadpanned. “How does that help?”
“Different species have different strains. Dogs, cats, pigs, even minks. And listen to this.” Hi read from his notes. “Parvoviruses are specific to the life forms they infect, but this is a somewhat flexible characteristic.’”
“What does that mean, flexible?” Shelton asked.
“It means the viruses aren’t completely species-specific. Canine parvo usually affects only dogs, wolves, and foxes. But certain strains can infect other animals, like cats.”
“So if the dog version can jump to cats, why not to people?”
Hi shrugged. “Beats me. But Tory was right. Canine parvovirus isn’t supposed to affect humans.”
“Then that’s a dead end.” Shelton sighed. “We’d better keep looking.”
Shadows deepened, lengthened, eventually shot like dark arrows across the wooden tables centered in the room. Shelton had almost given up when he stumbled upon a new lead.
“Hi. Look at this.”
Hi leaned over to read the page under Shelton’s pointing finger.
“Humans can’t be infected by canine parvo, but they can catch viruses from the same family.” Shelton sounded excited.
“Really?”
“There are three types: dependoviruses, bocaviruses, and erythroviruses. The last type has a bug called Parvovirus B19.”
“Parvo B19.” Hi rubbed his forehead. “Why does that ring a bell?”
“B19 was discovered in 1975.” Shelton continued picking out facts. “It was the first parvovirus proven to infect people. There’s still no vaccine. The last epidemic was in 1998.” Shelton looked up. “Kids get it, mostly. Outbreaks are us
ually in nurseries or schools.”
“What does B19 do?”
Shelton returned to the journal, again skimmed. “It leads to something known as ‘fifth disease’ or ‘slapped cheek syndrome.’” Shelton’s eyebrow rose. “Those names sound made up. Anyway, it looks like all B19 does is cause a bad rash for a few weeks.”
“That’s definitely not what happened to us.”
Shelton continued reading. “B19 spreads via infected respiratory droplets. Coughs, I guess. Infected individuals can experience fever and fatigue.”
“Now that sounds familiar.”
Shelton nodded. “Once inside a host, B19 invades the red blood cell factories in the bone marrow. Symptoms begin a few days after exposure and last a week. Those infected are only contagious before showing symptoms.”
“We caught our virus from Coop,” Hi said. “Can dogs get B19?”
Shelton scanned the page. “No. B19 only infects humans.”
“Then this is another dead end.”
“I don’t know. This seems important. We must be missing something.”
“Let’s copy the article then check out the references cited.”
The shadows faded to gray, then black as Shelton and Hi pulled every source they could find. Loops led to loops and more loops. Nothing else jumped out at them.
At ten o’clock, the intercom clicked on and a prim voice informed patrons that the library was closing.
“I think we’re onto something,” Hi said. “I’m just not sure what. Let’s bounce this off the others.”
“Good idea.”
A second warning was broadcast, somewhat chillier than the first.
The boys headed for the exit.
CHAPTER 48
Ben and I stood outside the doors of LIRI. Deep breathing. Trying to calm our jangling nerves.
The last thing we needed was a flare.
Only a zillion things could go wrong. But I saw no alternative. Karsten had answers. We needed them.
“If the old goat’s still here, we’re toast.” Ben, always the optimist.
“He won’t be. Karsten’s due at the aquarium right now. And if he is here, we fall back on our excuse and leave.”
I sounded confident, but Ben had a point. Tossing Karsten’s office would be difficult with him sitting in it.
Hopefully we’d taken care of that.
“What if Karsten recognized my voice?” Ben hadn’t wanted to make the call.
“The caller had to sound like an adult. Could I have pulled that off? Besides, you speak so rarely he probably has no a clue what you sound like.”
I’d struggled with step one of the plan. To have any chance of success, we had to lure Karsten off the island.
My inspiration came from his online biography.
Dr. Marcus Karsten was director emeritus and veterinary consultant to the South Carolina Aquarium. Armed with that knowledge, tricking him had been a cakewalk.
Despite his nervousness, Ben smiled. “Karsten will be livid when he learns there was no penguin emergency.”
Oh yeah. We had to move quickly. Already paranoid, Karsten might guess he’d been lured away on purpose and hurry back to Loggerhead. By then we had to be long gone.
“Ready?” I shook out my arms, hopped on my toes.
“Ready,” Ben said.
We pushed into the main building and walked to the security office. Sam was manning the desk. Break there. Sam was less moody than Carl. And physically his polar opposite. Scarecrow thin and bald as a cue ball, he looked more like a cadaver than a guard.
Dragging reluctant eyes from his magazine, Sam acknowledged our presence. “Great. The troublemakers. Here to burn down the building?”
“Hello.” I hit him with my most engaging smile. “We need to give my father some documents.”
“Leave them in the box.” Sam’s eyes returned to his Guns & Ammo.
“I can’t. These have to be faxed in the next thirty minutes. If not, we can’t go.”
Sam sighed, extended a hand. I handed over the forms.
“Math camp?” Chuckle. “You need shots for math camp? Better question: Why go?”
“Ha ha. Can we please just do this? We’ll be out of your hair”—oops—“your way in no time.”
Sam hesitated, perhaps wary of Karsten’s recent foul temper. Finally, he nodded.
“Ya’ll are in luck. Dr. K’s out for the moment.” Handing the papers back, he waved us though. “Don’t sign in, and step on it. I don’t want to get chewed out because of this.”
“Thanks.” We scurried down the hall before he could reconsider.
“No log in,” Ben whispered. “Numb nuts just did us a favor.”
“Time for some larceny.”
We took the stairs to Karsten’s office, all four flights. Kit’s an elevator guy. Couldn’t risk running into dear old Dad.
On four, the stairwell opened onto a short hallway. At the opposite end, a pair of frosted-glass doors closed off the director’s suite.
Our last roadblock lay ahead: The Dragon.
Karsten’s intolerance for noise is legendary. His secretary, Cordelia Hoke, is the only employee who works inside the inner sanctum. If we could dodge the Dragon, we’d have a chance.
For the moment we needed a hiding place.
Ben nudged me and pointed to a supply closet. We ducked inside and peeked out through the tiny window.
One minute passed. Five. Ten. I started to sweat. Of course.
Finally, Hoke pushed through the doors and waddled to the elevator. So predictable. An incurable chain smoker, the Dragon slipped out at ten past every hour. Two cigs, plus a call to her trucker boyfriend. We’d have at least fifteen minutes.
Funny. The Dragon’s routine was known to everyone at LIRI but her boss.
As the elevator clicked shut, we dashed into the suite and entered Karsten’s office.
Countdown. Twelve minutes.
“Where do we start?” Ben whispered.
“Look for files, records, anything with a roster of projects.”
The office was positively Spartan. Corner bookcase, stacked with reference materials. Desk. File cabinet. Hat stand.
Karsten clearly stored most of his papers elsewhere. But we couldn’t gain access to the secret lab. We had to find something in here. And fast.
I sat at Karsten’s desk and started with the computer. When I right-clicked the mouse, a password screen filled the monitor. Of course.
I tried the file cabinet. Found it locked.
“Ten minutes left,” Ben warned.
I rifled the desk drawers. Three contained office supplies. Pens. Post-its. A three-hole punch. Another held power cords and computer cables.
Across the room, Ben was working the bookcase.
“Nothing so far,” he said. “Eight minutes.”
“We need the file cabinet key,” I said. “His papers must be in there.”
Ben spread his hands, a this is doomed look on his face.
Ignoring him, I inventoried Karsten’s desktop. Monitor. Mouse. Printer. Metal cup filled with pens and paperclips. Small clock.
Chimpanzee skull.
Huh?
I lifted and rotated the skull. Heard a rattle. I tilted Mr. Chimp, then shook him from side to side. A small key dropped from the hole at the cranial base.
“Booyah!”
I set down the skull, inserted and turned the key in the lock. The cylinder popped and the drawer opened.
Ben dropped to a knee beside me. Together we flipped through files as quickly as possible.
“Six minutes.” Ben’s voice was beyond tense.
I checked folder after folder.
Equipment. Expenses. Employee evaluations.
“Hello!” Ben held a file labeled Active Projects—LIRI. Inside was a spreadsheet, its latest entry dated this week.
I speed-read the contents. Lab Six had its own column. Within that section was printed: Closed—out of service. The closure stretched back to mid-Fe
bruary.
“I knew it,” I whispered. “Karsten’s project isn’t registered. The University doesn’t know about the parvo experiment.”
What was Karsten’s game?
Ben opened the bottom drawer. The files it contained were unlabeled. We tore through them, ears alert for signs of the Dragon.
“Three minutes,” Ben hissed. “We need to bail.”
“What’s this?” I held a folder containing bank deposit slips. The name on the account was Dr. Marcus E. Karsten.
“Wow. This one’s for fifty thousand dollars!” I flipped through the stack. Dozens. Each for the same amount. “Every check is from the same company, Candela Pharmaceuticals.”
“Look.” Ben lifted the bottom slip. “The first deposit took place six months ago.”
“The checks are made out to Karsten, not to the University,” I said. “They must tie in somehow.”
The outer door opened, clicked shut. The Dragon’s humming drifted from just outside Kartsten’s door.
I stuffed a slip into my pocket, then, moving as quietly as possible, locked the cabinet and slipped the key back into the skull.
Ben and I snuck to the door and peered out.
Hoke’s desk was directly between us and the outer doors. She sat behind it, unwrapping a box of Godiva chocolates.
We were trapped.
We couldn’t wait an hour. Karsten would return. Catch us. Call the cops. My pulse raced at the prospect.
Suddenly I felt heat. The sensation of falling through a long dark tunnel.
SNAP.
Bolts of light flashed in my brain.
I heard Hoke’s fingers thundering through candy papers. I smelled chocolate, walnuts, and caramel. Sweaty polyester. Chantilly cologne.
My eyes focused to laser points. I saw lacy dust particles riding the air. Mites clinging to the wooden desk. Tiny grooves embedded in the chimp’s skull.
Ben was beside me, flexing and un-flexing his hands. Our eyes met. His irises gleamed gold. Like mine.
Suddenly, I knew what to do. Ben nodded, right there with me.
I cracked the door. Crouched.
Ben coiled at my back, ready.
Finally, Hoke bent and reached for something beneath her desk.
Like desert wind, we shot from Karsten’s office. Blew past the Dragon. Slipped soundlessly into the hall.
