The Winning Element (The Specialists)

by Shannon Greenland

  Amazingly enough, these handstands came easy for me. Probably because of all the PT conditioning I’d been through since joining the Specialists.

  No wonder TL insisted on PT. It made the physical part of training for a mission go much easier.

  Now back handsprings on the other hand—I’d yet to nail one.

  Beaker and I brought our arms straight over our heads, slid our right toes out, came toward the floor with our hands, and lifted our legs straight up.

  Behind me, David lightly grasped my hips.

  “Perfect,” Coach Capri complimented us. “In sync. Nice job. Now hold for twenty seconds.”

  I fixed my gaze to a spot on the other side of the barn, concentrating on keeping my body tight, locked, and steady. Trying not to focus on the fact that David’s eyes were in line with my butt.

  "GiGi, you’re not squeezing a penny.”

  Closing my eyes, I pretended not to hear Coach Capri.

  "GiGi, squeeze a penny.”

  Through my nose I exhaled a sharp breath. Why me?

  "GiGi, you squeeze a penny now or you’re going to hold that handstand for twenty minutes instead of twenty seconds.”

  Opening my eyes, I glared at that same spot across the barn . . . and then I squeezed my butt cheeks together as if I had a penny between them.

  I tried hard to block out what David must be looking at right now. I tried hard . . . and failed.

  “Okay, down for ten,” Coach instructed.

  Beaker and I lowered our right feet and came back to a standing position, our arms stretched above our heads.

  I kept my eyes focused on the floor as I waited for the ten-second break. I knew if I looked at David, I’d die of embarrassment.

  “And up,” Coach Capri said.

  We executed perfect handstands again, squeezed a penny, held for twenty, down for ten.

  Again and again we repeated it until I didn’t think I could hold a penny anywhere.

  We brought our feet to the floor, and Coach Capri stood. “Let’s take a short bathroom break, and then we’re on to back handsprings.” She jogged across the barn and out the door.

  Beaker grabbed her towel and wiped her face. “I’d better have a good ass after all this is over with.”

  David laughed.

  “I’m going to get some water.” Beaker trotted across the barn and out into the night.

  Still avoiding eye contact with David, I picked up my towel and folded it. Maybe I should go get some water, too. Or go to the bathroom. Anything to get out of here.

  In my peripheral, I saw David.

  “Nice pinched penny,” he said, looking at my butt and chuck-ling as he walked past.

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

  After Three weeks of Training and preparing, we were ready for the mission. David and I got to the conference room early for the team briefing. I placed a stack of folders neatly in front of my seat, waiting on Parrot, Beaker, TL, Chapling, and Nalani to arrive.

  TL had requested that David conduct this meeting as part of his overall training in becoming a strategist. It felt good knowing David would be in charge. I felt like I was getting a little bit of a break. A lot of pressure came with being the leader. Put that together with training for the mission and going to school, and my life remained beyond busy.

  Give me a computer and solitary research any day.

  I sat down at my place and let out a long breath, my gaze drifting to the folders stacked in front of me. A folder for every person involved. Every individual who would help me bring my parents’ killer to justice.

  Slowly, I lifted my finger and trailed it along the spine of the top folder. What if things didn’t work out? What if Eduardo got away again? What if, after my hard work, my team’s hard work, things still didn’t come to fruition? I’d let David down, TL. I’d let my team down. I’d dishonor the memory of my parents.

  My parents . . . I closed my eyes as their faces drifted through my head. That time my dad caught a green garden snake and teased my mom with it. She’d giggled and ran around the yard like a crazy woman. And that time they found me hidden behind the couch, waiting for Santa. The tent my dad made out of a sheet. We’d all slept under it in their bedroom. And that ridiculous hat my mom always wore when she cleaned house.

  “Shhh.” David massaged my shoulders. “It’s okay.”

  Sniffing, I wiped the wetness from my cheek. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.

  I took a couple of deep breaths to clear my head just as the door opened. Beaker and Parrot came in first, taking seats on the other side of the table. Beaker carried a black satchel and set it on the floor at her feet.

  “You okay?” Parrot asked me, and I nodded.

  Minutes later, TL entered with Nalani right behind him.

  Nalani was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Polynesian, sleek black hair, olive skin, dark eyes. The last time I’d seen her had been during the Rissala mission with Wirenut. She’d driven our getaway boat. In her disguise, she’d had no teeth, greasy hair, and stained overalls.

  Now she looked much like she had when I first met her in Ushbania. Very put together and professional. If she and TL ever decided to have children, they would be gorgeous.

  Smiling, I got up and gave her a huge hug. “How are you?”

  She squeezed me back. “I’m fine.”

  “How’s your job at the Hotel Marquess?” She’d obtained employment weeks ago after David and I had put together the mission.

  Nalani nodded. “So far so good.”

  Chapling waddled in behind her. "I’mhereI’mhere.” He glanced up. “Nalani!”

  She smiled and leaned down to give him a hug and kiss.

  His pale, freckly face turned red. “Oh my. Ohmyohmy.”

  David closed the door. “Okay, let’s get started.”

  Everyone took seats around the table, and I started handing out folders.

  “Beaker, Parrot,” David began, “I’d like you to meet Nalani. She’s working pre-op on this mission. She’s been at the hotel getting things set up.”

  Beaker, Parrot, and Nalani smiled and nodded to each other.

  David began walking around the room. “In two days, myself, TL, Beaker, and GiGi will leave for Barracuda Key, Florida. Eduardo Villanueva, our focus on this mission, will be arriving shortly after us. He’s staying in the presidential suite, which is located directly above the room Nalani has reserved for GiGi and Beaker to stay in.”

  Pointing a remote at the wall-mounted screen, David brought up the hotel’s schematics. “These are the blueprints for the Marquess.” He zoomed in on a portion. “This is the presidential suite, with GiGi and Beaker’s room below. The first objective is to inject his room with DNA dust, which Beaker will describe in a few minutes. This will be done by drilling a small hole into the floor of his room with a silencer.”

  David zoomed back out. “The second objective is to get an electronic tracker on him. We’re taking six different types of trackers, so we’ll be ready in any situation. Whether we manage to get close enough in person or are only able to get at him from afar, one way or another we’ll get an electronic tracker on him.”

  He clicked the remote, and different schematics popped up on the screen. “Third objective is to get his room on video surveillance. Notice the presidential suite and the room below share the same ductwork. We’ll be using a device Wirenut created called The Fly. It’s a mobile camera that can move through the ductwork and into Eduardo’s suite through a vent. GiGi will program The Fly to land in an inconspicuous location. And from there, we wait and see where he goes.”

  David brought up an aerial view of the island. “Barracuda Key is surrounded by the ocean and bordered on the north and south sides by other smaller islands. We don’t know how Eduardo is smuggling in the chemicals or how he’s shipping out the bombs that will be made. Chapling hasn’t been able to decipher that through intel.”

  Chapling nodded in agreement, as David continue
d his lecture. “Once we know where and how Eduardo is smuggling the chemicals in, we’ll better understand the scope of this operation. He could have three people with him or twenty. Again, something else we’ve been unable to decipher with our intel. We’ll notify IPNC officials once we’ve organized concrete details, and they’ll work in conjunction with us for the takedown. By the time Eduardo has been apprehended, there could be only one chemical bomb to defuse or there may be multiple ones.”

  David paused and looked around the table. “Are there any questions so far?”

  Everyone, including TL, shook their heads no.

  David indicated the folders. “Inside you will find complete details of this operation. New identities for me, Beaker, GiGi, and TL; an equipment list; chemical details; miscellaneous logistics; the island layout; travel documents; hotel blueprints and technology; the Marquess’s security design . . .” On and on he went, listing things. He pulled the equipment list from his folder and looked at Nalani. “Do you think they’ll be any problems getting these things put in place?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve already acquired the audio/video monitoring devices. TCVC cable for manually transmitting video from any camera in-house. Socarmi recorders, bugs to plant where we want. Lome cameras to install where we feel necessary, et cetera . . . And I’ve arranged for a hidden compartment under one of the beds in the girls’ room.”

  She pulled a picture from her jacket pocket and handed it to me. “This is a picture of the bed and headboard. I’ve had an opening device installed in the headboard’s design. You’ll notice that there’s a shark etched into the headboard. When you bang on its fin, it opens the hidden compartment within the bed.”

  I studied the picture of the bed. It seemed easy enough.

  David turned to Parrot. “You’ll need to be on call twenty-four/ seven. Intel reports Eduardo operates most often in Spanish and Portuguese, so we may be sending you e-mails or digital recordings of conversations.”

  Parrot nodded. “I know both those languages very well.”

  “We won’t know the exact combination of substances Eduardo is using until we’re there and begin to track him.” David pulled a chemical list from his folder. “Beaker has put together a list of all the possible scenarios and how to defuse them. Any changes to this list, Beaker?”

  She shook her head. “It’s comprehensive.”

  David switched his attention to Chapling. “Okay. You’re up.”

  Chapling’s eyes brightened as he wiggled up a little straighter in his chair. I recognized that look. He couldn’t wait to tell everybody about his new software.

  “Okay. Okayokayokay. This is way cool.” He unclipped his cell phone from his pants. “Now this hasn’t been field-tested yet, but I’ll get that done before you all leave.” Chapling held up his phone. “I’ve coded in audio software on each of your cell phones that can record anything within a five-mile radius.” He giggled. “You can eavesdrop to your devious heart’s content as long as you have open air. In other words, you can’t record through a wall.”

  “Tell everybody what you used,” I encouraged him.

  Chapling bounced his bushy red brows. “A little syntactical code mixed with high-level source data. Then I sprinkled in SPLI mnemonics for good measure.” He wiggled his chubby fingers. “Of course, it all has my personal spin on it.”

  I looked around the table. “Isn’t he brilliant?!”

  Everybody nodded with one of those confused, yep-sure-I-UNDERSTOOD-HIM smiles.

  Chapling pulled on the collar of his shirt, all playfully full of himself. “Well, you know, I do get paid the big bucks.”

  David nodded to Beaker, indicating it was her turn.

  She placed the satchel on top of the table. “I’ve been working on this for a couple of weeks now. I’ve run the standard trials and proved it successful.” She opened the satchel and pulled out a sealed bottle of red powder. “It’s a tracking device that works off a person’s DNA. It only lasts for seven days, though.” She unscrewed the bottle, took an empty syringe from her satchel, and extracted a full vial of the red substance.

  Holding the syringe up, she slowly depressed it. I watched as the red dust turned invisible immediately upon meeting air.

  “You don’t realize it, but right now this is absorbing through everyone’s skin and into their bloodstream.” She pulled rose-tinted glasses from her satchel and passed them down the table to TL. “Put those on and tell me what you see.”

  While he put on the glasses, Beaker pushed back from her chair and began walking around the room.

  “Everywhere you move you’re leaving a trail of red.” TL said, pulling down the glasses. “It’s invisible to the naked eye.”

  Beaker nodded. “No matter where I go over the next seven days, you can track me as long as you’re wearing those glasses.”

  “But if everybody leaves a red trail,” I asked, “how do you know who is who?”

  From her satchel, she pulled out a small yellow envelope. From the envelope she took what looked like a black toothpick. “Swipe this through the red trail and it’ll hold on to the DNA. You can run it through any standard DNA program to see who the trail belongs to. I’ll have a DNA kit with us on the mission.”

  Wow. Neat.

  “So what do you think?” she asked, resuming her seat.

  David smiled. “Great work, Beaker.”

  Chapling bounced in his chair. “Oooh, oooh, I wanna try.” Everyone laughed as TL took the glasses off and passed them down the table.

  later that evening, with both hands, I grabbed the barn door and slid it open. Stepping inside, I flipped on the dimmer lights. In two days we would leave for Barracuda Key, Florida, and I still couldn’t do a successful back handspring. Call me crazy, but I had an issue with blindly flipping backward and falling on my head.

  Striding over to the blue mats, I recalled Coach Capri’s repeated warning.

  You absolutely have to do a back handspring. It’s expected of you. You’ll be kicked out of the tryouts if you can’t. And then your cover will be blown.

  Taking mats from the stack in the corner, I spread them down the length of the barn.

  I warmed up with a few handstands and then executed perfect cartwheels and roundoffs. I did four front walkovers in a row and repeated going back. All things I couldn’t do weeks ago when I’d started this cheerleading training. Not bad for a girl who repeatedly tripped over her own two feet.

  Coach Capri should be applauding me for how far I’d come. Taking off my sweatshirt, I tossed it aside, adjusted my tank top, and went to stand in the center of the mats. I locked my arms straight above my head and took a couple of deep breaths.

  I can do this.

  Bending my knees, I sprang up and dove backward. I caught a glimpse of ceiling braces, the stalls in the back of the barn, and then splatted face-first onto the mats.

  I slammed my fist down. “Oh!”

  I laid there, staring at the mat, frustrated beyond belief. Thoughts of my mom and dad began to flood my mind. Did they ever get frustrated at training or had they been naturally good, gifted, at it? Were either of them as klutzy as me? Was klutziness genetic? I shook my head to clear my focus.