The Double Helix (Book 3)

by Trudi Trueit

  “Cruz!” Fanchon was stalking toward him in her red flip-flops. She was wearing a purple apron over a white sparkly tee and pink jeans. The front of her apron read Forget Princess, Be a Scientist.

  Cruz pointed to the beaker. “Are those…?”

  “Eyeballs? Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly. “Part of our artificial intelligence line. What do ya think? Too green?”

  “Um, no…really lifelike.”

  “Optics has proved to be more of a challenge than I anticipated,” said Fanchon. “We’re making better progress on our olfactory receptors, so if you ever lose your sense of smell, stop on by and I can give it back to you in a snap.” She giggled. “Or a sniff.”

  “Good to know.”

  Fanchon tucked a stray curl under a white headscarf dotted with penguins. “What’s up?”

  “I…uh…was wondering if I could borrow a PANDA unit to…uh…analyze a cool fossil I found in Barcelona.”

  “Hmmm.” She swished her mouth from side to side as if it were filled with mouthwash. “I’m not supposed to check them out without faculty approval, but I guess it would be okay to let you use it in here.”

  “H-here?” Cruz felt his skin go prickly. He had planned to take the device back to his cabin, where he could analyze the cipher away from security cameras and prying eyes.

  Fanchon went along the wall of cabinets, stopping about halfway down the row. Bending, she unlocked a door, reached in, and took a PANDA device out of a box. “Come on. I’ll set you up where you won’t be disturbed.” Cruz followed her to one of the back cubicles. It was empty. She set the unit on the desk. “Will you be okay?”

  “I do have a question,” said Cruz. “I know I can upload the analytics to my tablet, but if I find any DNA on the…uh, fossil…can I upload the holo results, too? You know, to watch later.”

  “Absolutely. Once your analysis is complete, hit stop. Select ‘holo-video file,’ then find your name and hit send and it’ll upload everything to your tablet, including DNA recovery info, which will allow you to project the hologram anywhere, anytime.”

  “Great.”

  “Let me know if you have any more questions.”

  “Actually…uh…I do have one, but it doesn’t have anything to do with the PANDA.”

  “Shoot.”

  Cruz glanced down at her flip-flops and asked a question he had been dying to ask since he’d first met the tech lab chief. “Isn’t it kind of dangerous to wear those in here? What if you spill a chemical or something on your feet?”

  Fanchon let out a tiny snort. Reaching into a cubicle, she grabbed a pair of lab gloves and goggles. She tossed them to Cruz. While he put them on, she opened a nearby cabinet. Fanchon brought out a beaker of a ruby red liquid and held it out to him.

  “What is it?”

  “A combination of jalapeño pepper extract, fire ant venom, and a few other spicy chemicals.” She held out her foot. “Pour it on my toes.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Trust me. It’ll be okay.”

  Cruz was defiant. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.”

  “Oh, great globs of goat cheese.” She took the beaker and, as he watched in horror, tipped it. The bright red liquid streamed out, but instead of hitting her toes, it rolled off her foot, as if she were wearing a glass boot.

  Cruz’s jaw fell. “How did you—”

  “Force field.” She winked. “And that’s all I’m saying. Any more questions?”

  He rapidly shook his head.

  Fanchon reached for a container that read Chemical Spill Kit. She took a cloth from the kit, patted the floor to absorb the liquid, placed the cloth in a plastic bag, and sealed it. “If you need me, I’ll be on the other side of the lab in the cubicle with the micro food supplements. It’s the one right behind the dinosaur eggs.”

  “Okay.” Reaching for the PANDA, Cruz’s head snapped around. Dinosaur eggs?

  Too late to ask about it; the splick-splack sound of her flip-flops was fading away.

  Cruz took the cipher from his pocket and held it in his cupped hand. He didn’t want a security camera to get a look at it. Hunching over, he turned on the PANDA unit and pressed the blue ID button. When the screen read SCAN NOW, he slowly swept it across all three pieces of stone. A minute later, the results came up:

  Item: non-foliated metamorphic limestone

  Composition: calcium carbonate (CaCO3),

  quartz (SiO2), graphite (C),

  pyrite (FeS2)

  Common Name: black marble

  Origin: Mexico

  Age: 729 million years old

  Cruz’s finger hovered over the yellow button, the one that checked for DNA. His heart jumped. His mom’s DNA could still be on the cipher. He didn’t know why that scared him, but it did. It wouldn’t mean anything if it was. It wouldn’t change anything. So why was he so nervous to find out the truth? Cruz hesitated, then forced himself to push the yellow button. He waited for the “go” signal and slid the unit across the marble stones one more time. He heard a soft tone.

  It was there! The unit had found DNA on the cipher.

  What was he getting so excited about? Of course it had. Cruz had handled the stones. So had Lani, Sailor, Emmett, and Aunt Marisol. The device had probably identified all of their DNA. But what if there was more? Cruz knew he had 15 seconds before the unit began producing images of the life-forms the DNA belonged to. Actually, he was probably down to five seconds now. Four…three…two…

  Cruz punched STOP.

  If his mom’s DNA was on the stone, he wanted to know. He wanted to see her. But not here. Along with the security cameras, Fanchon, and Sidril, who knows who else might be lurking nearby? Cruz uploaded the PANDA results to his tablet. He had just dropped the cipher back into his pocket when the tech lab chief popped around the corner. “Any trouble?”

  “Nope.” Cruz tapped the CLEAR button on the device, erasing all the data the PANDA unit had collected from his mom’s cipher. He turned the unit off and handed it back to Fanchon. “Thanks.”

  “It’s strange seeing you use this,” she said, holding the unit in her palm as if it were a delicate flower. “Good strange, I mean. I used some of your mom’s research into genome sequencing to develop the DNA scan program.”

  “You did?”

  “Mmmm-hmmm. She was a brilliant geneticist. I think I’ve told you I’ve read everything she’s ever written.”

  Cruz hadn’t forgotten.

  “I met her once, you know,” said Fanchon.

  “You…met my mom?”

  “Well, I didn’t meet her so much as hear her speak. She came to give a guest lecture at my college, sophomore year.” Fanchon’s eyes brightened. “She was incredible. She talked about advancements in genetics and said that as young scientists we had to keep asking questions and pushing boundaries because that’s how you make the impossible possible. I confess I didn’t quite understand what she meant at the time, but I think I do now.”

  Glancing around the lab, Cruz laughed. “Yes, you definitely push a lot of boundaries around here. Maybe someday I will, too.”

  “Someday?” She blew a raspberry. “How many other twelve-year-olds do you know who have talked to whales?”

  He grinned. She had him there.

  “Cliché to say this, I know, but your mom would have been proud of you.”

  Although he knew it was meant as a compliment, Cruz felt his stomach tighten. Would his mom be proud of him? He wasn’t so sure. Is this what she would have done—made a copy of the cipher and given the real thing to the kidnappers? Or was there another way out of this mess, a better way that he hadn’t thought of? Even though he was handing over her cipher to Nebula to save his dad, somehow it still felt like a betrayal. His mom had broken boundaries he had yet to see. She had stood up to Nebula, while he was giving in.

  Cruz waited while Fanchon locked up the PANDA unit. The tech lab chief turned off the lights, and they left the lab. At the steps, Cruz started up as Fanchon headed down.r />
  “Going up to see the Leonids?” she asked. When he nodded, she said, “Enjoy. Good night, Cruz.”

  “Good night, Fanchon.” He trudged up one deck, his footsteps and his heart heavy.

  Cruz could hear Professor Modi’s soothing, singsong voice long before he entered the observatory. All the lights in the domed compartment were off, even those in the greenhouse. The explorers were clustered around their teacher, who was standing next to the door leading to the outer deck. “The Leonid meteor shower occurs every year in November, when Earth’s orbit crosses through the trail of Comet Tempel-Tuttle…” he was saying.

  In the darkness, Cruz found Emmett and Sailor.

  “How’d it go?” whispered Emmett.

  Cruz gave him a thumbs-up.

  “The Leonids have produced some of the most intense meteor storms Earth has ever seen,” said Professor Modi. “At peak times, the meteors will fall at a thousand an hour or more. About every thirty-three years, there is a major storm with tens of thousands of meteors per hour. We’re in luck. This is a peak year, so we should see—”

  “There’s one!” called Bryndis, pointing up.

  “And another!” yelled Tao.

  They watched a pair of bluish white streaks of light rocket across a starry sky.

  Zipping up his jacket, Dr. Modi opened the door. Cruz felt a blast of cool wind. All the explorers filed onto the aft deck. No one stayed in. Cruz went, too, though he didn’t have his heavy coat.

  Bryndis came to stand beside him at the rail. “Where’s your jacket?”

  He shrugged. “Forgot it?”

  “You should go back inside. You can still see plenty of meteors from the dome.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his mouth shut so she wouldn’t see his teeth chattering.

  “Come here.” She flung her hood down. “You can share mine.”

  They each slipped an arm into a sleeve and held the jacket closed in front of them. As Orion sailed through the waters of the Mediterranean toward Greece, everyone tipped their heads back to watch for meteors.

  “Some people believe comets bring bad luck,” Bryndis whispered in his ear.

  “Not me,” he said, gazing up.

  “Me either,” she answered.

  Suddenly, a shower of sparks filled the sky, followed by a chorus of “oooohs” from the explorers.

  “Good thing we’re not superstitious,” said Bryndis. “Because if we were, that’s a lifetime of bad luck.”

  A chill shook Cruz’s spine. And it had nothing to do with the weather.

  IT WAS Saturday, November 14.

  Cruz had to be at the spice market in less than an hour.

  Standing on the veranda outside his cabin, he took a deep breath to calm himself. The cool morning air smelled of both fish and coffee—not a good combination. Orion had put in at port in Istanbul sometime overnight, and Cruz was just now getting his first look at the most populous city in Turkey. From the harbor to the horizon, the gently sloping hills were blanketed with buildings. Ancient stone and modern glass-and-steel structures were packed together like mismatched furniture in an attic. Rising from the jumbled skyline, he saw the grand domes of centuries-old mosques and their decorative minarets, the tall spires from which Muslims are called to prayer. Orion was docked at a long terminal along the Eminönü estuary jetty, sandwiched between brightly painted tour boats with bubbled gold roofs. It was a few minutes after eight o’clock, but the walkway at the head of the pier was already crowded.

  The veranda door opened. Emmett leaned out. “Ready for breakfast?”

  Cruz shook his head. He could barely inhale, let alone eat.

  According to his GPS, the spice bazaar was a 10-minute walk from the docks. Cruz just wanted this whole thing to be finished. Over. Done. Go to the market, wait for Nebula to contact him, hand over the cipher, and cross his fingers that his father would be released.

  Emmett was motioning for Cruz to come inside. When he did, his roommate handed him a small piece of rubber no bigger than a pencil eraser.

  “What’s this?” asked Cruz.

  “Earbud. It’ll allow me to communicate with you while you’re in the market without Nebula knowing. Also, I’ve patched into the signal from your comm pin so you can talk to me, too, without having to press the pin. This way, we’ll be in constant contact.”

  “I don’t know, Emmett.” Cruz let the bud roll across his palm. “They said to come alone—”

  “And you will be. But, Cruz, you can’t go in there blind. What if something happens? What if they grab you? What if they don’t show? We have to stay in touch.”

  Cruz bit his lip. Emmett had a point. And the earbud was small. Nebula would never see it. “All right, but just the two of us. Nobody else.”

  “Nobody else.”

  His tablet was chiming. Cruz’s breath caught. He had a message and he was pretty sure he knew who it was from.

  Today. 9 a.m.

  The Spice Bazaar

  Stall 19, Galata Sweets

  Try the Turkish delight!

  Once we have the three sections of the cipher,

  your father will be released.

  Come alone.

  “Three pieces!” groaned Cruz. “They know I have three pieces of the cipher.”

  Emmett shook his head. “Why am I not surprised? They seem to have eyes and ears everywhere.”

  Cruz reached for his uniform jacket. He’d recalled Mell from her post outside the mystery door on B deck, and she was now safely tucked inside his upper-right pocket. His octopod was in his lower-right front pocket, where he could get to it quickly, if necessary. The full cipher was in his lower-left front pocket. Emmett and Cruz had made their copy of the pieces yesterday on their 3D printer. They were now back in Hubbard’s life vest.

  Cruz fitted the bud in his right ear.

  Emmett slipped on his headset. “Can you hear me?”

  His voice boomed in Cruz’s head. “Ow!” Cruz threw a hand to his ear.

  Flying to his computer, Emmett tapped a few keys. “Sorry. Okay now?”

  Cruz’s head was still ringing. “Yeah.”

  Emmett took a seat at his desk. “Talk to me.”

  “Cruz Coronado to Emmett Lu. Testing, testing.”

  “We’re set. All systems go,” said Emmett, holding out his fist.

  Cruz bumped it. “Where’s Sailor? I’ve got to get going.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here. I’ll find her.”

  Cruz slid his GPS sunglasses up on his head, tucked his tablet under his arm, and started for the door.

  “Be careful,” said Emmett. “Don’t do anything crazy.”

  “That’s the plan,” muttered Cruz.

  Shutting the cabin door, he headed down the explorers’ passage and through the atrium. Aunt Marisol had arranged things with Taryn so he could leave the ship on his own without getting into trouble. Trotting down the gangway to the pier, Cruz’s legs felt like two sticks of licorice. He told himself it was from being at sea. It was the best lie he could think of. He slid his sunglasses down and followed the route to the market his GPS mapped out for him. Cruz crossed a parking lot, then a wide, heavily traveled highway called Ragıp Gümüşpala. The spice market was located in a big L-shaped building next to a beautiful 17th-century mosque that Cruz’s GPS identified as Yeni Cami, or New Mosque. Cruz headed across the square toward the arched stone entrance to the market.

  “Stall 19, Galata Sweets,” he whispered to himself, then with a deep breath, “Fortes fortuna adiuvat.”

  “Fortune favors the brave,” a voice in his ear translated Dr. Hightower’s favorite saying.

  Cruz jumped. “I forgot you were listening, Emmett. I’m here. I’m at the market.”

  “I know. I’m tracking you via your GPS equipment.”

  Naturally.

  “İyi şanslar,” said Emmett.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s Turkish for ‘good luck.’ ”

  “Thanks,�
�� said Cruz, joining the flow of shoppers heading into the market.

  The bazaar was an explosion for the senses. Jostling his way down an aisle with more shoppers than space, Cruz was overwhelmed by the vivid colors, exotic smells, and sheer volume of goods. Every space in every little store was filled to its arched rafters with items—scarves, pillows, vases, jewelry, plates, tapestries, rugs, lamps, and wind chimes. Food was everywhere. Bakery cases brimmed with baklava, jellied candies, and chocolate. Cruz passed tall jars filled with dried apricots, figs, mulberries, and pineapple rings, and still more jars packed with pistachios, hazelnuts, almonds, and walnuts. Oils in every color of the rainbow glittered in crystal bottles. Strings of chopped and dried peppers, eggplants, and okra swung from hooks. Barrels overflowed with teas: mint, hibiscus, apple, jasmine, relaxation—there was even one called love tea. And the spices! Shoppers scooped spices from open bins containing perfect pyramids of bright red paprika, yellow curry, golden cumin, white ginger, and burgundy sumac.

  The shops had signs hanging above them with their name and stall number. Some were in neon and easy to find. Cruz kept moving through the bazaar, spotting the numbers and working his way into the teens. He turned sideways to squeeze through a choke point in the crowd. Looking behind him, Cruz caught a glimpse of reddish blond hair sticking out of a black headscarf. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Emmett.

  “I’m being followed.”

  “The man in the cowboy boots?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Officer Dover.”

  “Ship security?” Emmett’s voice went up a full octave.

  “Yep.”

  “Aunt Marisol,” they said in unison.

  “She’s wearing a head covering, so maybe they won’t notice her,” mumbled Cruz.

  “Hopefully, she’ll keep a safe distance,” said Emmett.

  Above the crowd, Cruz saw a vertical red neon sign: GALATA SWEETS, 19. His pulse quickened. “I’m almost there.” He shoved both hands into his pockets, the right latching on to the octopod, the left, the cipher. “Mell, on,” he said. Just in case.