But it felt strange, me apologizing to him. Ever since I came here he’d been the one in the wrong. Lying to me, tricking me. I hated to admit it but I liked having the upper hand.
And how immature was that?
Ashamed at my shallow thoughts, I changed back into my jeans and T-shirt. If I left right now, I could catch David alone before our next training. Apologize, clear my conscience.
I ran for the door and zipped down the hall to David’s room.
Adam, one of his roommates, answered my knock. “Sorry, not here. Check below.”
“Thanks.” I bolted to the elevator, rode four levels down, and ran to the conference room. Empty. I spun around and sprinted to the hall with all the locked doors. My gaze fell on the one I had seen David go through two weeks ago. No use knocking. No one would answer if I did.
I darted to the computer lab, keyed my code, and stuck my head in. “Chapling?”
Crash. Bang. “Ow! What?”
“Seen David?”
“No.”
I peeked at my watch. Shoot. Only five minutes until my next training. It wasn’t enough time to check the common area. I’d have to apologize to David later.
Chapling waddled out from behind the patch panel rubbing his head. “Come in a little quieter next time. I’m an old man. My heart can’t handle your youth.”
“You’re not that old. You’re only thirty-five.”
“Old enough to be your father. Fifteen years away from half a century. Factor in pollution, hormones in meat, artificial sweeteners, preservatives, fertilizer, and thermal pulsations emitted from this equipment.” He swept his pudgy arm around the room. “And I might die tomorrow.”
“How much caffeine have you had?”
“A pot of coffee and some soda.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How many sodas?”
He coughed a mumbled answer.
“How many?”
Guilty as ever, he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Six.”
“Chaaapliiing . . .” Much like TL and David, I had taken on a guardian role with Chapling. Go figure, me a parent. But he just couldn’t take care of himself. If it weren’t for TL, David, and me, Chapling would probably never eat anything remotely healthy or see the outdoors.
I tapped my watch. “Don’t be late.” The only person with a worse time problem than me was Chapling. Funny how I, queen of forgetfulness, reminded somebody else to watch the clock.
He waved me off. “Yeahyeahyeah. See ya there.”
I strode toward the barn with two minutes to spare, sure I’d be the first one. Or at least the second. Maybe I’d have a chance to talk to David after all. I slid open the metal door, and everyone turned to stare. I double-checked my watch, then cast a quick glance to the clock hanging on the wall. Same time.
TL shaded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun shining in behind me. “Come on in, GiGi.”
Gathered around a tall, wooden table stood Jonathan, TL, David, and Wirenut.
TL tapped his finger to the blueprints spread across the table. “These are the plans for the modeling school. Chapling hacked into Romanov’s computer system and retrieved them. Wirenut has analyzed them, comparing them to similar buildings and security systems throughout Europe. He’s come up with various scenarios GiGi may encounter while inside.”
I slipped on my glasses and stepped up next to Wirenut.
He scooted over. “Want me to wait for Chapling?”
“I just saw him. He should be on his way.”
Shaking his head, TL unclipped his cell phone from his belt. “I’ll page him.”
Page him? Oooh, Chapling’s in trouble now.
Wirenut swept his hand over the plans. “Okay, here goes. Romanov’s modeling school is three stories. Bottom’s for shows, middle’s where the girls get prepped, top’s the offices.”
“How ’bout rooms?” I readjusted my glasses. “Where do the models stay?”
TL replaced his cell phone. “It isn’t a school in the literal sense. It’s for finishing. Where models make their debut. You, Jonathan, David, and I will have a suite at a nearby hotel.”
A suite at a nearby hotel? With TL and Jonathan? And David? I’d be the only girl on this trip. I glanced at each of them. They were studying the blueprints, obviously unfazed by the revelation that we would all be living together in very close quarters. Wirenut drew penciled Xs on various spots over the plans. “My preliminary projections show standard video monitoring throughout. These will include optical sensors, so don’t look directly into the cameras. You’ll be scanned, ID’d, and entered in their computer system.”
“I can extract the info if that mistakenly happens,” I said. Probably the easiest thing I would do on this mission.
“Two weeks from now you’ll be so well trained it won’t”—TL accentuated the t in won’t—“mistakenly happen.”
O-kay. Nothing like the pressure of perfection to make me feel comfortable.
“Sorrysorrysorry.” Chapling suddenly appeared, shuffling in from the back where the horses were corralled. “I’m here. Only a few minutes late. Only a few.”
I peered around the barn wondering where he’d come from. Not through the main door like me. Maybe a secret passage? Hidden tunnel? Concealed cave? Or maybe a plain old simple back door. All this spy stuff made my imagination run wild.
David reached under the table and pulled out a stool. Chapling climbed up with a grunt.
TL cupped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get down to business.” He quickly repeated all the earlier information.
Wirenut penciled tick marks on the third floor of the plans. “Let’s focus on the offices first. They have the most advanced security. Each door has one of three locking devices—either a kemot semiconductor, spoar OAK, or Bearn pamp. They’ll work off various configurations of optonet modes, integrated wireless, and IC sock tubes.”
Excitement kicked my heart a beat. I’d never actually seen this stuff, only heard about it. “In addition to optonet modes, doesn’t the spoar OAK have a series of automated levilon strobes? They’re nonspecified nel fuses working in conjunction with a row of thermal ferrit coders.”
“Oooh, oooh.” Chapling bounced on his stool. “What if instead of the ferrit coders they had unction sizers and oscilloscope meters? Then we’d get a sort of ENAM closure with ruptible del pipes and voltage suppression istors.”
I laughed. “Yeah, but if they had micro murotos, it’d be a xican with vashiy fuses.”
Chapling laughed so hard that he snorted. “Oh . . .” He grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his eyes behind his glasses. “That is . . .” Snort, snort, laugh, laugh. “So funny.” He slapped his knee. “You kill me. You come up with the funniest stuff.”
Until meeting Chapling, I’d never considered myself humorous. But in the weeks I’d known him, I cracked more jokes than I had in probably my whole life. We understood each other on a geeky level.
He took a deep breath. “Oh, goodness. Okay. I’m done now.”
We smiled at each other, and I realized TL, David, Jonathan, and Wirenut were all wide-eyed, staring at us.
Welcome to Geek 101.
TL cleared his throat. “Wirenut, please continue.”
Ignoring my nerdy embarrassment, I pushed my glasses up and refocused on the modeling school’s blueprints.
Wirenut expertly outlined the entire school, including every room, hallway, bathroom, and office. He detailed the latest technology and the different scenarios I might encounter in each room. Everything from motion detectors and infrared video to microphoto recorders and gallium probes.
As I listened to him, it became clear why he’d been recruited by the IPNC. Wirenut, literally, was an electronic genius.
He paused to spread a transparent film over the blueprints. “Now bombs.”
Bombs? No one had said anything about bombs.
“It’s my opinion,” Wirenut forged on, apparently unfazed by my sudden jerk-to-attentio
n, “the microsnipet GiGi will extract will be rigged with explosives.”
He went on to describe diode arrays and spectro components. But I barely heard a word, as focused on bombs and explosives as I was.
“That’ll do it.” Wirenut unwrapped a candy bar and took a bite. “Whaddaya think?”
TL nodded. “Very well done.”
“Thanks.”
TL looked across the table at me, and I got this nauseating feeling he was going to put me on the spot. “Repeat back everything Wirenut said.”
I swallowed. Why me? Why not David or Jonathan? They were going on the trip, too. And oh, jeez, I totally missed the whole last part.
Taking off my glasses, I cleaned them as my brain clicked everything into order. If I blew my nose, it’d buy me some time, but I didn’t have a tissue. I replaced my glasses and looked at everyone. They were all silently watching me. Beside me, Wirenut shifted, putting his shoulder right against mine.
It’s silly, but the slight, warm contact brought me such comfort. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and spoke. Successfully. I reiterated everything, even the part I thought I’d missed. I only forgot one thing and considered throwing in a DTG module to cover my gap in memory, but chose honesty instead. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember the type of discharge tubes used in the last bomb.”
“Wow.” Chapling rapid-fire clapped. “Is she smart or what?”
Smart? I didn’t feel so smart. I should’ve remembered the discharge tubes.
One corner of TL’s mouth lifted in a sort of half smile. “Nice job. You’re the first person I’ve ever worked with who has recalled their technology briefing in such detail.”
“Oh.” And to think I’d been sweating over the identity of a couple of tubes.
“That’s a wrap.” TL rolled the plans and tucked them beneath his arm. “Dinner in ten.”
He strode from the barn, leaving me alone with the rest of the guys.
“I’m impressed,” Jonathan rasped, “with you two teenagers. It’s comforting to know you’re on my side of the law.”
Wirenut and I looked at each other with matching cheesy grins. “Thanks,” we answered in unison.
Chapling hopped down from his stool. “Gotta get back to work. Gotta get back.” He and Jonathan headed toward the door, and right before they exited, Chapling turned back. “You go, girl.”
I laughed at his use of slang.
Wirenut put his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry about anything. You’ve got this mission in the bag.” He gave me a quick squeeze. “Coming to dinner?”
“Be there in a few. And Wirenut?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really wowed by your knowledge. I wanted you to know.”
He waved me off. “It’s no big deal.”
I doubted that. His shy, evasive expression said my compliment made him proud. My heart got all fuzzy. I suddenly wanted to praise someone else.
Another quick squeeze and he was gone, leaving David and me alone.
“You’ve made quite an impression on everyone.”
His words were flattering, but the tone of his voice didn’t match. I missed his warm smile and easy bantering.
“I’m sorry, David, for laughing about your father’s situation. I don’t know why I laughed. I know you probably think I’m inconsiderate and insensitive, but I don’t find anything funny about his kidnapping. And I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through right now. I have a few wonderful memories of my parents, but that’s it. At least I know they’re dead.” I should. I was right beside them when the plane crashed.
I took off my reading glasses to clear his image. “I’ve always had closure. But you? You’ve been in limbo for years. Not knowing if your dad is dead or alive, being tortured or treated nicely. And now you know he’s alive, but there’s no guarantee we’ll bring him home. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through those emotions. I promise you I will decode his whereabouts from the microsnipet. I won’t fail you or the IPNC. And I am so, so sorry I laughed at the situation.”
I fell silent. I’d never spoken so much in my life.
David stared at me, expressionless. The more he stared, the slower and deeper my heart thudded. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t forgive me. Now I wondered.
He cleared his throat, then swallowed. “Apology accepted.” He crossed the cement floor and kept right on going out the open barn door, leaving me standing there alone.
Time heals all wounds. A social worker told me that once. I sure hoped it held true in all situations. Because I couldn’t picture my life without David’s friendship.
One week later I strode into the barn wearing my brand-new gray yoga pants and white sport tank top. I felt a little like Bruiser all decked out in my athletic wear.
The teeny shorts still sat in their bag right where I’d left them almost a month ago.
Adam and Erin from Team One sat on the mats with Beaker and Wirenut, stretching and talking. I went over and joined them.
Jonathan, TL, and David were busy hanging punching bags from the roof beams.
Mystic, Parrot, and Bruiser wandered in a minute or so later. I caught their eyes and tapped my watch. Ha ha, I’m here before you. They all made faces at me.
The three of them joined us on the mats, and we continued stretching. I had to admit, this stretching thing felt pretty darn good. It was my favorite part of PT.
“Okay,” Jonathan rasped. “Everyone up and over here.”
We all filed across the barn to where six punching bags now hung.
“We’re going to pair you up two to a bag. We’re practicing punches today.” Jonathan lined up with a bag and delivered a slow-motion punch. “Notice my left foot is slightly in front of my right. Notice my thumb is tucked down. Watch how my arm rotates slowly halfway there so my fist makes contact with the bag straight on.”
In slow motion, he demonstrated a few more times and then sped up as he side-shuffled around the bag.
Okay, I could probably do the slow-motion punch thing. But the lightning-quick, side-shuffle thing? No way.
Jonathan paired me with Erin from Team One.
“You first,” I insisted.
She did three slow-motion punches and immediately went into the speedy side-shuffle maneuver, making her way around the bag.
I enviously watched her, hoping, hoping, I would do half as well. Of course, she’d been doing this a lot longer than me.
“Switch,” Jonathan shouted.
With a sigh, I lined up with the bag. Here went nothing. I positioned my left foot slightly in front of the right. Concentrating on my thumb position, I made a fist. In extra-extra-slow motion, I brought it back and then moved it forward, rotating halfway as Jonathan had demonstrated.
My fist barely grazed the bag.
I inched forward a little bit and did the whole thing again, attentive to my form, focusing on the instructions Jonathan had given.
In my peripheral vision, the others were already shuffling around their bags, throwing punches.
I blocked out the fact they were all ahead of me and refocused on my technique.
TL came up beside me. “You’re thinking too hard. Just try one. Let your body take over.”
Purposefully blanking my brain, I threw a punch. It was a little awkward, but I had to admit, it felt better than the slow-motion ones.
I tried again. Better.
And again. Better.
With each one, my confidence was boosted.
“Good,” TL encouraged. “Now shuffle. Don’t think. Shuffle.”
I side-shuffled around the bag, throwing uncoordinated punches. As the minutes ticked by, my feet and arms developed an in-sync rhythm.
My vision zeroed in on the bag as I continued throwing punches. Sweat trickled down my neck. Adrenaline surged through my veins. I had the unnerving urge to growl or grunt or something equally aggressive.
“Stop,” Jonathan commanded.
Breathing heavily, I stepped bac
k and glanced over to David. He gave me a nod of approval, and I smiled.
I felt tougher right now than I had in my whole life. I was ready to kick some bad-guy booty!
Four days later, I stepped up onto an actual runway.
My modeling instructor, Audrey, handed up an umbrella to me. “One of the designers you’ll be working with always accessorizes with umbrellas. There’re only three days left before you leave. You can do this. I know you can.”
Down the center of the barn ran a long, gleaming wood runway, about four feet off the ground. On both sides sat all the members of Teams One and Two, including TL, Jonathan, and Chapling. Everyone held a camera.
Audrey tapped beside my high heels. “This is an exact replica of the runways you’ll be walking down. And they”—she nodded at everyone—“are here to mimic the reporters and photographers. It’s important that you don’t get distracted by all the flashes that will be going off.”
I glanced down the length of the runway. It seemed to stretch for eternity. I ran my gaze over everyone sitting on both sides. They all silently stared back.
Swallowing, I fixed my focus on the barn doors and nodded. “Ready.”
Audrey squeezed my ankle. “Smile. Suck in stomach. Shoulders back. And don’t forget to pop your hip.” She stepped away. “Lights.”
The overhead lights went out, sending the barn into darkness. The runway was lit down both sides with a soft yellow glow. Everyone began flashing cameras.
Fighting the urge to squint against the flashes, I took my first step, and then the next, falling into the strut Audrey had taught me. Smile. Suck in stomach. Shoulders back. Pop hip. Smile. Suck in stomach. Shoulders back. Pop hip. My slinky blue dress swished against my upper thighs. I felt . . . sexy.
I got to the end and twirled my umbrella (Audrey didn’t even tell me to do that). I pivoted and strutted back down the runway. I got to the end, and everyone broke into applause.
And I leaped, literally, for joy. I did it!
“GiGi? GiGi, are you okay?”
Feeling as miserable as a worn-out hard drive, I shuffled past Bruiser and, with a groan, flopped face-first onto my comfy bed.
Model Spy Page 8
