Operation Sherlock (18 page)

“No,” snarled Roger, turning on her. “The question is, what have
you
been up to, Dr. Standish?”

Eyes blazing, the scientist drew herself to her full height. “Just what do you mean, young man?”

“I mean,” said Roger, “that I think you had better tell us what you've been up to that's so important it justifies attempted murder.”

“If you were an adult I could have you arrested for this nonsense,” said Dr. Standish.

Roger stared at her coldly. He took only the briefest of pauses, then said calmly: “I only want you to tell me one thing, Dr. Standish:
When does the bomb go off?”

“You little beasts!” screamed the scientist. She started to run.

“Grab her!” cried Roger.

But too much had happened. The gang was exhausted from the struggle to save Hap and Trip, and no one was fast enough to stop Dr. Standish as she ran past them, out along one of the small walkways between the tide shafts, and dove into the rolling surf.

A moment later her pink robe floated to the surface. But whether Dr. Standish herself had been pulled back into one of the shafts by the tide or had managed to swim out under the edge of the building, the gang had no way of knowing.

After a long silence Ray said, “How did you know she had planted a bomb, Roger?”

“I didn't. I took a guess.”

“It's an old tactic of his,” said Rachel.

“That's great,” said Trip. “Except for one thing. From the way she reacted, there's not much doubt that she
did
plant a bomb. Only we don't know where, or when it's set to go off!”

“I think I can answer that!” said Wendy.

The others turned to her.

She was holding a battered-looking leather notebook. “I found this when I was poking around the control panel. I've only glanced at it, but it's pretty heavy. Lots of stuff about saving the world from our parents' evil computer project.” She flipped to the end of it. “Lots of bomb talk, too.”

“Well, how much time do we have?” asked Hap, who was sitting at the edge of the tide box, still trying to catch his breath.

“Gimme a minute. Her handwriting is the pits.” Wendy ran her finger up and down a page. “Not here,” she muttered, flipping it over. “Not here. Ah—got it!”

“Well, how much time?” asked Rachel urgently.

Wendy glanced at her watch. Her face turned pale. “If this diary is accurate, we've got less than fifteen minutes before Anza-bora blows sky high.”

 

Into the Computer

The sprint the A.I. Gang made out of the power plant was a classic demonstration of what the human body can accomplish in an emergency. Hap and Trip, who probably should have been carried out on stretchers, were close to the front of the pack.

“Where did
this
come from?” cried Ray when they burst out of the building and came face to face with the Wendell/Watson Volkswagen.

“It belongs to my parents,” said Wendy. “Hop in.”

“I don't know if this is such a good idea,” said Trip.

“You idiot!” cried Wendy. “The whole island is going to blow up in twelve minutes and you're worried about whether I'm old enough to drive a real car? Get in!”

They clambered in.

“Okay,” said Wendy, starting the engine. “Rachel, do you remember that map of the computer center I pulled up on our terminal?”

“I remember,” said Rachel as Wendy popped the little car into gear and roared up the road.

“I mean
really
remember. You're the one with the magic memory, so I'm counting on you.”

“Why?” asked Roger.

“Because our friend Dr. Swimaway has planted her bomb right in the middle of the computer, and it's going to be a little like going through a maze to get to it.”

They screeched to a stop behind a hedge that ran in front of the computer center.

“Nine minutes,” said Ray, checking his watch. “Good luck, Roger.”

The redhead sprinted up the steps. Two men were standing guard. Though they drew together to block Roger's passage, they were smiling.

“I have to get in,” said Roger urgently. “It's an emergency.”

“Won't it keep until morning?” asked the bigger of the guards.

“We won't be here in the morning,” said Roger. “There's a bomb in there set to go off in eight minutes.”

“Sure, kid. And when I go home tonight I'm gonna spend an hour practicing ballet. Come back in the morning.”

“Please,” said Roger. “You've got to let me in. It's a matter of life and death for everyone on the island!”

“Yeah—we let
you
in, and
we're
dead. Ams-cray, kid.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Roger. “You've just told me everything I need to know.”
And
, he added to himself as he sprinted down the steps,
given us the justification for what we're going to do next
.

Jumping into the car, he said, “Okay, Wendy. You know what to do!”

Black Glove glanced up and down the hallway. It was late, but the Project Alpha scientists frequently worked all night when they were on to something.

Not that anyone would challenge me
, thought the spy, feeling slightly smug.
Still, there's no point in raising even the slightest hint of suspicion
.

Approaching the door that led into the refrigerated chamber where the computer was housed, the spy fished for the key. It was hidden beneath a supple black glove crammed in the right pocket of the lab coat.

A quick movement of the wrist and the door was open.

A last glance around showed that no one was watching.

Black Glove slipped into the heart of the computer center. But before the spy could actually reach the machine, all hell broke loose.

“Yee-hah!” cried the Wonderchild.

Pressing her foot against the accelerator, she made a large circle to build up speed—then headed straight for the marble stairway that led to the main doors of the computer center.

“Hold on to your hats!” she cried as they hit the steps.

The two guards held out their rifles, then dove for the bushes as the Volkswagen bounced and rattled up the steps. Accompanied by the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal, the car exploded through the front doors of the center.

“Sorry, Mom and Dad,” yelled Wendy. “It's for a good cause. Which way, Rachel?”

“Straight ahead, then left.”

“Six minutes!” yelled Ray.

The Volkswagen shot down the hallway. When they reached the turn, Wendy slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the left, leaving a trail of rubber as they screeched around the corner.

“Where did you learn to drive?” yelled Hap.

“Who said I know how?” cried Wendy. “I'm making it up as I go along!”

“Take a right!” shouted Rachel.

The car squealed around the corner on two wheels, piling most of the gang in a heap against the rear passenger door.

“What if we don't make it?” asked Hap.

“Bite your tongue, Sunshine!” snapped Wendy. “You're our official optimist!”

“Down those stairs!” shouted Rachel.

“Baby, don't fail me now!” cried Wendy as she headed the Volkswagen over the edge of the stairwell.

But the little car had done its part. By the time it had bounced and bucked to the bottom of the steps, its traveling days were done.

“On foot!” cried Roger. “Rachel, lead the way!”

They piled out of the car—and straight into the arms of another security guard.

“Ray, take him out!” cried Roger.

Ray, last out of the car, circled behind the guard and launched himself onto the man's back. This startled the guard into letting go of Rachel and Trip, who went bounding down the hall.

“Dunk shot!” cried Ray, snatching off the guard's helmet and smacking him on the head with it. The guard toppled like a felled tree. Ray rode him down, then scrambled to his feet and sprinted along the hall after the others.

A metal door, painted gray, stood at the end of the hall. Above it was a flashing red light.

“Through there,” said Rachel. “The computer is on the other side.”

“It'll be locked,” moaned Roger, pounding toward it. “It has to be.”

“Two minutes!” shouted Ray.

A roar from behind alerted the kids to a herd of security people charging down the hall.

“They don't look happy,” said Trip.

Roger reached the door first. He gave it a ferocious yank.

To his astonishment, it flew open.

“Get in!” he cried. “MOVE!”

He stood at the door until the others were through. The closest guard was less than ten feet away when Roger slipped through the door and slammed it shut.

“Trip, Hap—hold it as long as you can,” he ordered. “We don't need more than a minute or two.”

“You don't
have
more than a minute or two,” said Hap. “Go!”

Shoulder to shoulder, he and Trip braced themselves against the door—less than a second before the guards began slamming themselves against the other side.

“Hold on, buddy,” muttered Hap. “We made it this far. All we have to do is hold out a few minutes more.”

Trip shifted his position and locked his legs. “Look at it this way, Hap. If this is it, at least we're going in style.”

Then another guard slammed against the door, and there was no more time for talking.

Rachel was already heading into the center of the complex, Roger and the others close behind her.

“Look!” cried Ray.

Ahead of them was a shadowy figure. But there were two many wires and crossbars for them to get a clear look at the person's face. They did catch a sense of shock and outrage. But then the mysterious figure was gone, fading into the complex like a deer into the woods.

“Forget it!” snapped Roger. “Head for the center, Rachel.”

They came to a ladder. Roger scrambled up it, with the others close behind.

“That's it!” cried Rachel, pointing to an oddly wrapped package that was clearly not part of the computer.

Roger dove for it, but then hesitated once he reached it. Did he dare take a moment to study it? Or should he just yank out the wires—and pray that the bomb wasn't rigged to go off if anyone interfered with it?

He dropped to his knees beside the package. No sound, which didn't surprise him; the timer was probably electronic. His hands fluttered over the surface of the bomb, toying with the wires, then drawing back. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The fate of the island—the fate of his friends, his parents—was at his fingertips.

“Roger!” cried Rachel.
“Do something!”

“Time's up!” shouted Ray.

Wincing, Roger reached out and tore a handful of wires from the bomb. For a moment, he felt as if the whole world was holding its breath.

Nothing happened.

“I think we did it,” he whispered. Then, in a frenzy, he began to unwrap the bomb to make sure he really had disarmed it. After a moment he came to the timer.

“Cripes, Roger,” said Wendy, looking over his shoulder. “We could have saved the car. You had five seconds to spare!”

Looking past her, Ray said, “What's
that?”

Rachel picked up the item Ray had been pointing to. “Holy Moses,” she whispered. “Get a load of this!”

Then she cried out in pain.

 

An Apology, and a Secret

The next morning Dr. Hwa sent each member of the gang a message, asking them to come see him as soon as they had rested from their exertions.

It wasn't until late afternoon that the kids actually arrived at his office. Between the time they had spent being grilled by Sergeant Brody and his security team and the time they spent calming down their parents, it was nearly dawn before any of them got to bed—and even later before most of them fell asleep.

At about four-thirty they gathered in front of the building so that they could enter as a team. Wendy astonished everyone by appearing in a blouse. (It was the first top the others had seen her wear that they knew for
sure
didn't belong to her father.)

“Well,” said Bridget McGrory as they entered the outer office where she held guard. “If it isn't the heroes of the day! Himself is waiting to see you. I can't exactly say that he's happy—too much gone wrong for that to be the case. But he's certainly pleased with you six.”

It was hard to believe that this smiling woman was the same person who had wanted to throw them out the first time they tried to talk to Dr. Hwa.

Ms. McGrory pressed a button on her desk. A moment later Dr. Hwa appeared at his door.

“Ah, the young heroes!” he exclaimed. “Come in, come in.”

As the gang followed Dr. Hwa into his office, Ray remembered the strange thing he had seen on their previous visit. Positioning himself so he could go last, he turned to peer through the crack as he closed the door behind him.

Bridget McGrory was reaching under her desk, just as she had before. Her shoulder moved slightly. Then, with a furtive glance around the room, she turned back to her keyboard.

Ray let the door slip silently into place. His brow was furrowed.
What was Bridget McGrory up to?

Dr. Hwa led them to a conference table at the side of his room. After motioning for them to sit down, he positioned himself at the head of the table.

“To begin with,” he said, “let me extend my thanks on behalf of everyone involved in Project Alpha. It would appear that you have, as they say, saved our bacon. You have my deepest gratitude.

“Second, some news. The police have captured Dr. Standish. After she swam away from you, she stole one of the island's motorboats and headed for the mainland. As I understand it, she was planning to go to her family home.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy. Dr. Standish had a great mind. There was so much she could have accomplished.