The Winning Element

by Shannon Greenland

  “Beaker doesn’t like anyone,” I defended myself. “It’s not about me not liking her. I like her all right.” Who was I kidding?

  “Mmm-hmm. Right.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Back on track.” David pointed to the screen. “What else?”

  Click, click, click . . . “Elderly lawn bowling tournament?”

  “No. Let me see.” He took my mouse and scrolled through Barracuda Key’s Web site and upcoming events.

  “Heeeyyy,” Chapling yawned, stumbling out from behind the metal cabinets.

  I smiled, seeing his red, Brillo pad hair lying in clumps, some flat to his head, others sticking straight out. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

  He yawned again on a stretch, reaching his stubby arms toward the ceiling. His T-shirt rode up over his pale, pudgy stomach. He blinked a few times and yawned once more. “One of you two kids made coffee.” He inhaled loudly. “I smell it.”

  While David continued clicking through the Web site, Chapling poured a cup and wandered over.

  He took a sip. “Little weak.”

  I gave him a sympathetic look. “David made it.”

  “Ah, that explains it.”

  David shot him a playful glare.

  Chapling took another sip. “TL says we’ll be hacking into Eduardo Villanueva’s computer today.”

  “I already did.”

  He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Let me get a little more java in me and we’ll— Wait . . . what’d you say?”

  I lifted my brows. “Already did it.”

  He sighed. “Why do I come to work anymore?”

  I didn’t bother reminding him he never left work.

  He circled around me and climbed up onto his chair. “Smartgirlsmartgirl. Course, with a little bit of time,” Chapling muttered, “I would’ve figured out how to hack in, too.”

  “Of course,” I agreed. Chapling was, hands down, the most intelligent person I knew. I’d learned a lot from him.

  “Got it.” David stood up. He pointed to my computer. “I found yours and Beaker’s cover.”

  I narrowed in on the screen, and my eyes widened. “Uh-uh. Forget it. There’s no way I’m doing that. There’s no way Beaker would do that. You’ve got to be crazy. No.” I shook my head. “No. No. No. No. No.”

  [4]

  After an hour of David’s trying to convince me this cover would work, reluctantly—let me repeat that—reluctantly, I went with his idea. But I was seriously dreading presenting it to Beaker tomorrow morning.

  Putting that aside, David and I spent the rest of the day designing the Barracuda Key mission. He taught me how to view everything omnisciently and then step into the mission and go through the different scenarios we might encounter.

  The entire process was incredibly involved, detailed, and organized. It amazed me that TL went through this every single time. But that was his job as the strategist, in charge of planning and implementing the missions, as well as keeping all of us Specialists in line. A lot of pressure came with designing a mission. If something went wrong, then all the blame fell on the strategist’s shoulders. In this case, that would be me.

  Frankly, the whole process wore me out. And made me admire TL even more.

  It was late when we finally finished putting together the mission. Then I practiced presenting it over and over again while David watched and gave input.

  Now it was early morning, and here I sat in the conference room. David was across from me, calmly waiting on TL’s arrival.

  Beside me, Beaker slumped in her chair, chomping on yet another piece of gum. “Don’t know why you can’t just tell me why I’m here.”

  I studied her ever-present sour profile while she scowled at the wall behind David. She was going to be so PO’ed when she found out our cover.

  “What are you”—chew, snap, chew—“staring at?”

  How beautiful you are, I wanted to snide, but instead asked, “Why do you chew so much gum? It’s not good for your jaws, you know.”

  She slid me a sideways smirk. “Anything else, O Gifted One?”

  My nostrils flared. I couldn’t recall ever having that reaction to anyone before. Then again, Beaker brought out the worst in me.

  The door opened, and we turned to see TL step in.

  He nodded. “Good morning. Glad to see everyone’s prompt.” He took his seat at the head of the table and placed a small, thin box in front of him.

  I recognized it. It held the monitoring patches we were each given months ago when we first arrived. The patches allowed TL to track us, to know where we were at all times, and to monitor our conversations. But when he felt confident we’d settled into our new lives, he took them away.

  He’d taken mine right before the Ushbanian mission, and he’d taken Wirenut’s before Rissala. Which meant TL was probably about to take Beaker’s.

  “Beaker, you have proved adept at your cover. You’ve learned how to go throughout your day-to-day activities smoothly, naturally, and without a second thought. You’ve seamlessly merged into this new world.”

  TL had said the same thing to Wirenut and me, too.

  “It’s time for you to take off your patch.” TL removed the lid and slid the box toward Beaker. “Place it in here, please.”

  For a few seconds, Beaker stared at TL and didn’t move. Didn’t even chomp her gum.

  She moved her eyes off TL to me and then over to David. I’d never seen her so vulnerable, so full of disbelief, so . . . stunned. I had the unnerving urge to hug her or something.

  Gradually, she resumed her gum chomping and pushed away from the table. She leaned over, pulled her baggy pant leg up, and, from the underside of her knee, peeled away the bandage looking device.

  She dropped it in the box and slid it back toward TL.

  He nodded. “Congratulations.”

  Beaker lips curved. “Thanks.”

  He got up and opened the door. “You three come with me.”

  Filing out behind him, we followed TL around the glass-paneled, high-tech workroom and down the hall with all the locked doors.

  I’d bet my next lollipop TL was about to show Beaker her personalized workroom. He’d given me access to the computer lab after taking my patch, and he’d given Wirenut access to the electronics warehouse after taking his.

  If history repeated itself, Beaker was about to get the surprise of her life.

  At the end of the long hall, we stopped at a steel door that had a large hole in the center.

  TL turned to Beaker. “This is your room. You can come and go anytime you want, unless you’re expected to be somewhere else. No one has access to this room but myself, you, Chapling, and David.”

  “Why Chapling?” I asked.

  “Chapling has access to everything. He monitors the whole ranch.” TL pointed to the hole. “Beaker, insert your hand as a fist. When you’re inside, spread your fingers as wide as they’ll go. You’ll feel a flash of ice and then immediate warmth. It will not hurt. Make sure you don’t flinch.”

  “Ice and then warmth? That’s blumeth and parabendichlor.” Beaker put her fist in the hole. “You’re chemically reading all five of my prints.”

  One side of TL’s mouth lifted. “Very good. As soon as you remove your hand, immediately step back from the door.”

  Beaker slid her hand free, took a quick step back, and the door dropped straight down into the floor.

  I jerked. Sheesh, that was quick.

  TL stepped through the opening, and we all followed. He showed Beaker a flat, silver disk on the wall next to the opening. “This operates the door from the inside.” He pressed it, and the door whooshed back up, making my hair fly sideways.

  Turning, I surveyed the room. Of course, I knew next to nothing about chemistry, but this looked pretty darn cool. And if Beaker’s wide-eyed expression held any indication, she thought so, too.

  As she began slowly wandering around the room, I took in the details.

  Tall, see-through glass-f
ront wood cabinets bordered the right side, with all sorts of jars, bottles, tubes, and flasks. It seemed like hundreds of them lined the cabinet shelves. A variety of substances filled them: liquids, powders, roots, stems, moss, granules . . . so many different colors and things it was impossible to take it all in.

  Matching see-through cabinets bordered the left side of the lab, with dozens of different tools: burners, scales, thermometers, scissors, bowls . . . again, so much it was impossible to take it all in.

  A closed metal cabinet labeled SAFETY GEAR sat along the back wall with a few sinks and even a shower beside it. I supposed a chemist would need a shower in case something went wrong with all the dangerous chemicals.

  A contemporary stainless steel refrigerator occupied each corner of the room. Four long, black, granite-topped tables lined the center, with tall stools underneath. Equipment dotted the back two tables. I recognized the microscopes, but I was clueless about the rest.

  I’d never seen anything like this room. The labs in high school and college certainly didn’t compare.

  Across the space, Beaker leaned over a machine with spindles. Slowly, she turned a knob, studying it.

  “What do you think?” asked TL.

  Beaker looked up. “Are you kidding me?” She grinned. Actually grinned. “This place rocks!”

  We all laughed.

  She pointed to the cabinet with all the liquids. “This is like something straight out of my dreams. A fantasy come true. This is unbelievable.”

  My mind jumped back to the mission I’d done with Wirenut and Beaker’s involvement in it. “How did you help out Wirenut and me without this lab?”

  Beaker didn’t respond. I doubted she even heard me, too involved in exploring her new room. I’d been the same way when TL first showed me the computer lab.

  “She didn’t need all this,” he answered for her. “She already had a lot of the knowledge. Plus her notes and books and, of course, the Internet.” Crossing his arms, TL turned to me. “Do you know what makes Beaker such an extraordinary chemist?”

  I glanced across the room to where she stood bent over a microscope. I didn’t.

  Sad to say, I didn’t know anything about her. And I hadn’t really had a desire to find out. I’d made no effort with her. Nor had she with me. From the first moment we met, we’d clashed, and it had never gotten any better.

  “What makes Beaker so unique,” TL continued, “are her methods. She can walk outside and gather grass, rocks, and a bird feather, break them down, and combine them in an infinite number of ways.” TL pressed the silver disk on the wall, and the lab door whooshed down. “You’re privileged to have such a talented young woman on your team. As she is to have you.”

  I trailed behind everyone as we exited the lab and made our way back to the conference room.

  Mulling over everything TL had said about Beaker, I began to see another side to her. A side that didn’t surprise me. Every one of us was gifted in our own special way. But I’d been so caught up in disliking her, I hadn’t taken the time to comprehend fully her intelligence.

  I glanced at her as we entered the conference room and wondered what her life had been like before the Specialists. What had happened to make her the person she’d become?

  TL closed the conference room door, and we resumed our spots around the table. He looked at me expectantly, and David handed me the remote control. “All yours.”

  Taking the remote, I rolled my chair back and stood. Not a single nerve danced in my belly. Only confidence flowed through me. “I’ll begin by recapping Eduardo Villanueva’s case file.”

  I detailed every single thing about him, tracing his life from childhood to adulthood. From what school he went to, to the women he married, to his children and grandchildren. I described every man and woman he’d ever worked with. I defined every drug, gun, and crime deal he’d been involved with, and, of course, the chemical smuggling ring.

  You name it, I gave the information.

  The entire time I spoke, I used the remote control to flash pictures up on the flat screen. I showed images of where he lived, of his kids, of his business partners.

  I displayed images of all the men, women, and children he’d murdered. As my parents’ picture flashed onto the screen, I tried to keep my emotions in check, but took pause for a second to breathe. Just to breathe.

  When I felt ready, I continued, and for thirty minutes I dumped even more information. When I finished, I paused. “Questions?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “This brings us to the here and now. Mr. Villanueva will be in Barracuda Key, Florida, in four weeks. According to intel, this will be his largest chemical shipment yet.” I pointed my remote at the screen. “These are the chemicals that we know are coming in. There are five or six unknown ones, too.”

  Slowly, I scrolled through the list of chemicals. “We’re unsure of how they’re being smuggled in, where they’re being stored, and where his buyers are going to be making the bombs. But we do know where he’s staying.” I looked at Beaker. “How familiar are you with these chemicals?”

  “I’ve studied them all. Some I’ve actually worked with. I’ll tell you a combination of many of those can blow up a whole city. They can be tweaked, though, and some of those can be used to defuse the others.” She scooted up in her chair. “Most of those substances are on timers. In other words, they have to be used in a certain amount of time to be effective. Or they have to be defused in a space of time or they will self-combust.”

  “Beaker,” TL addressed her, “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you will be going on this mission.”

  She smiled a little. “Yeah, I sort of guessed that.”

  TL held up his hand. “Let’s pause here for a second and go down a different avenue. I want to know who’s on the team and what the cover is.”

  “The team will consist of myself, Beaker, David, Nalani, and you, TL. We’ll be staying at the same hotel as Eduardo.” I clicked the remote control. “Here at the Hotel Marquess. We’ll be able to monitor his moves and track him through that venue. David will be staying at a different location as backup. Nalani will obtain a job at the Hotel Marquess and act as our insider. Here at home base, we’ll have Chapling and Parrot on standby. We’ll need Parrot on call for translations, because Eduardo operates his transactions in a variety of different languages. And our cover . . .” I swallowed, inwardly groaning over what I was about to say.

  I took in Beaker’s black-and-white-striped hair, her nose chain, green lipstick, dog collar, black baggy clothes, and black nail polish.

  I cleared my throat. “Our cover will be cheerleading.”

  Thirty minutes later, I was back in my room, and Bruiser was laughing hysterically. “Beaker’s going to be a cheerleader? You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s so funny.”

  I sat on my bed with Cat, both of us trying not to laugh along with her.

  “Wait.” Bruiser sniffed and held out her hand. “Can’t you just see it? Beaker’s nose chain in exchange for a pretty little daisy.” Ha, ha, ha, ha.