Текст книги "NERDS: National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society"

Автор книги: Michael Buckley

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

The Hyena was surprised when Dumb Vinci told her that Dr. Jigsaw wanted to see her in his secret lab, where his henchmen still worked day and night on the giant satellite dish. She asked the goon what Jigsaw wanted, but he couldn’t elaborate, so she grabbed her warmest sweater and headed toward the scientist’s inner lair.

Once inside, the Hyena wished she had worn a coat. Jigsaw, however, seemed oblivious to the cold. He was wearing just a thin lab jacket and a scarf. He smiled and gestured for her to follow him. He led her up a flight of stairs to a tiny room looking out over the lab. Inside was a chair, a desk, a computer, and thousands of jigsaw puzzle pieces, covering the floor. The box for the puzzle was tacked on the wall. It showed a map of the world. Jigsaw scooped up a handful of pieces and snatched a pair of scissors off the desk, then he stood by the window overlooking the lab and gazed down on his machine.

“You have done well, Mindy,” he said. The Hyena bristled at the use of her real name, but kept her cool. Jigsaw was paying the bills. He could call her Señorita Monkeyface if he wanted. “Lunich’s invention is an essential element of my design,” Jigsaw continued. “Without it we might have suffered setbacks. Simon doesn’t like setbacks.”

“Who is Simon?” the Hyena asked.

Jigsaw ignored her. “Mindy, do you know the definition of beauty?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Beauty,” Jigsaw repeated. He used the scissors to cut the jigsaw pieces into entirely new shapes, as if he was unhappy with the picture the puzzle was making. What he had completed so far didn’t look much like the Earth. “It’s a simple question.”

“Beauty is something that’s visually appealing,” the Hyena answered.

“A simple answer for a simple question. Some might argue that beauty is more than what you see, that it involves a variety of senses—smell, sound, and touch, as well as vision. All combining to represent what many people might label as beauty.”

The Hyena was confused but said nothing. She could tell that Jigsaw was making his I’m-an-evil-mastermind speech. He would find it rude if she interrupted with questions.

“Still others subscribe to a notion that beauty is defined by perfect symmetry,” the scientist continued. “Have you heard that word before?”

The Hyena nodded. “That’s when things balance each other.”

“Very true. Take a human being. What we often call beauty is no more than features that align; eyes that are just the right width apart, a nose that doesn’t sit too low on a face, high, perfectly matched cheekbones. Symmetry is what makes beauty possible. It creates the ideal. It’s at the heart of nature. But what happens when symmetry hasn’t been provided, or worse, has been broken? The beauty is distorted. It’s impossible to see clearly. When that happens, at least for the human animal, we turn to surgeons who can give us what nature has not provided. What a noble profession that must be—surgeon.”

“Uh, yeah,” the Hyena said. She tried not to stare at Jigsaw’s face-lift. It looked as if someone had collected his loose skin and tied it into a knot on the back of his head. It was distracting.

“I like to think of myself as a surgeon,” Jigsaw continued. “In many ways what my machine and I are doing is reconstructive surgery. I thought you might like to see a demonstration.”

Jigsaw tapped a button on a speaker near his window. “Is the new tractor beam ready?”

A crackling voice replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Lock in coordinates.”

“Coordinates are ready, sir,” the voice said.

“You have a ‘go,’” Jigsaw replied.

There was a loud blasting sound and the Hyena watched the giant satellite dish turn toward another part of the sky. Mounted on the dish was a huge peg-shaped object. The Hyena recognized it at once. It was a gigantic version of Dr. Lunich’s tiny invention. Jigsaw and the scientists had figured out how it worked! Jigsaw clapped like a happy baby and led the Hyena to the computer in the far corner of the room. On the screen was a satellite map of the world. He pointed to the Hawaiian Islands and grinned. “Have you ever been to Hawaii, Mindy?”

The Hyena nodded.

“Lovely place,” Jigsaw said. “Though it’s quite expensive to go there and the flight is very long. I’ve always wished that wasn’t the case.”

Just then there was a loud rumbling sound from the lab below. The dish was glowing with energy, and when the Hyena was sure it was about to explode, a green beam shot into the air.

“Watch the monitor, Mindy,” Jigsaw said.

She turned back to the computer and watched as the satellite image revealed something that the Hyena was sure was impossible. The entire chain of Hawaiian Islands began to move. It drifted toward the coast of California and stopped somewhere near San Francisco.

The henchman’s voice chirped through the speaker. “Sir, congratulations! The test was a success,” the voice replied.

“I’m pleased, and Simon will be too,” Jigsaw replied.

“Unfortunately, the fuel cell on the dish has been destroyed. To finish your plans we’re going to need a power source with nearly unlimited energy.”

“And very soon I will provide you with the next element of the machine’s design. It will fix all of our problems,” Jigsaw said. Then he turned off the speaker box and faced his puzzle. He snatched his scissors and went to work cutting out new jigsaw puzzle pieces.

“Mr. Jones, I’m sick of seeing your face in my office!” Mr. Dehaven shouted as Jackson sat in a chair before him.

“I’m sick of being here,” Jackson grumbled to himself. Since he had joined the NERDS, Jackson had been in Dehaven’s office seven times.

“You have been late for school every day for two weeks. Why is that?”

Jackson rolled through a list of previously constructed lies: he was attacked by dogs, the power went out and his alarm clock didn’t go off, his house burned down, etc. Jackson wanted to tell Dehaven the truth. He wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep because he was busy learning to fight and be sneaky and to interrogate suspects, and reading through mountains of files and reports on every little squabble anyone had ever had for the last twenty years. He wanted to tell him everything so Dehaven would get off his back, but he couldn’t. He had been sworn to secrecy.

“I know exactly why you’re late every day,” Dehaven barked.

Jackson felt a bead of sweat roll down his face. “You do?”

“I do. You’re late because you have no respect for anyone or anything other than yourself. You’re lazy and shiftless, and won’t amount to much. Unfortunately, I am required by law to keep trying to reach out to you so that you know what a wonderful gift an education can be. And I assure you, you’re going to appreciate it whether you like it or not. Now, what are we going to do about this problem, Mr. Jones? Hmmm?”

“I’m not sure. I probably need to think about it,” Jackson said.

“I couldn’t agree more. Thinking about it is exactly what you should do and the best place to do that is in detention. How about two weeks?”

“Two weeks!” Jackson cried.

“See, there’s an old saying, son. When you mess with the bull, you get the horns. I’m the bull, Mr. Jones.” Jackson watched as Dehaven made horns on the side of his head with his fingers.

Jackson shuffled down the hall feeling as if the whole world were on his shoulders. Since joining the team, his grades had plummeted, his teachers looked at him like he was a degenerate, and his father was considering sending him to military school. On top of that, he was blowing it big time with his training. He was getting better at some things. He’d managed to avoid the tetherball for almost ten minutes and caught a few more Toyotas with his braces, but the kindergarteners were still beating him senseless, he hadn’t fooled Ruby’s lie detection once, and Matilda had pummeled him with an egg timer, a Whiffle ball bat, a ream of copy paper, and a jar of dill pickles in the span of a week. He was sure Agent Brand would kick him off the team at any moment.

As he slipped Mr. Pfeiffer his tardy note, he wondered if he was cut out to be a secret agent. It was so much work and the team expected nothing but perfection. He wished he could go back to his old life, when he was popular and carefree. He sat down and listened to Pfeiffer prattle on about online dating and quietly envied the man. Pfeiffer had no idea what was happening at this school, and he was happy. Ignorance was bliss.

At that moment, he felt a strong tingle in his nose, and let loose with an explosive sneeze. A second later, he was following the rest of the team toward the lockers that led to the Playground.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Duncan responded. He was the only one who would talk to Jackson outside of training. “Probably a mission.”

Jackson stepped into the locker he’d been assigned by Brand.

As usual, the floor disappeared and he was tossed around in the secret tubes, landing at last in the Playground, on his rump. The others, naturally, landed on their feet.

“Please take your seats, agents,” Brand said as he gestured to the circular desk in the center of the room. As everyone was getting settled, Ms. Holiday arrived. She looked nervous and worried, and stood off to the side while chewing on a fingernail. When everyone was settled, Brand waved his hand over the blue orb, which brought it to life.

“Benjamin, we’re ready for our briefing,” Brand said.

Benjamin’s voice filled the room. “Of course, Agent Brand.”

The orb sent flecks of light dancing around the room. After a moment, they came together to reveal a series of photographs.

Brand spoke. “As you know, we’ve been tracking several kidnappings in the scientific community. The number of big brains that have been abducted is growing by the day. Dr. Robert Hill, a preeminent geologist; Dr. Judy Pray, an expert on tides and water movement; Dr. Francis Pizzani, a specialist in antigravitational devices; and, lastly, Dr. Joseph Lunich, who recently invented something called the miniature tractor beam.”

“It’s truly a marvelous device,” Duncan said. “It has hundreds of practical applications.”

“As usual, Gluestick is ahead of us all,” Brand said. “Yes, Dr. Lunich is missing, as is one of his prototypes.”

Matilda took a hit off her inhaler. “Who is doing the kidnapping?”

“We don’t have a clue,” Ms. Holiday said with a sigh. “But we did retrieve this at the scene of the last kidnapping. It was found next to an expensive black boot.”

A copy of a yellow list appeared before them. The names Brand had just listed were crossed off, but there was one that still hadn’t been touched. “We believe whoever is doing the goon work left this behind.”

“Could this have something to do with all the crazy moving islands?” Flinch said as he sucked the cream filling out of a cupcake with a straw.

“My thoughts as well,” Brand said. “That’s why we’re taking over these kidnapping cases. Normally, this is a job for the FBI, but if the events are somehow connected, then it’s more than the feds can handle.”

“So all the scientists have been crossed off but one,” Ruby said. “Who’s the lucky person?”

Ms. Holiday ran her hand over the orb and a photograph of a middle-aged woman with dark skin and a thin face appeared. “Dr. Nashwa Badawi—a mineralogist who discovered a rare substance that can be used in supercharged solar power collectors. Her work has countless commercial and military applications. I’m told that one five-foot panel matches the fuel output of a nuclear power plant. It’s clean and cheap, too. Badawi may very well have created a fuel source for the next generation!”

“Geology, solar power, tidal movement—whoever is behind this is obviously up to something big, and whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Ruby said.

“We’ve got analysts trying to figure out what it might be, but for now we have to make sure that Dr. Badawi is safe,” Ms. Holiday explained.

“So we’re bodyguards now?” Heathcliff asked.

Brand ignored the sarcasm in the boy’s voice. “Our mission is to outmaneuver the bad guys. We’re going to kidnap Dr. Badawi before they can.”

Ruby sat back in her chair, stunned. “Kidnap her?”

Brand nodded. “If we pick her up and hide her, it puts a stop to whoever is behind this list. We did this many times when I worked for the Special Operations Bureau. Ms. Holiday has more about the mission.”

Brand turned and walked away.

“He’s not what I’d call a chatty guy,” Jackson said.

Ms. Holiday gave a knowing smile. She straightened her glasses and skirt, and placed her hand on a panel near the spinning blue orb. The images faded and were replaced by a scene of a desert. “The Nile River Valley in Egypt is a dry one hundred and two degrees today—”

“Wait! We’re going to Egypt?” Jackson cried. “I can’t go to Egypt! I’ve got detention.”

The group stared at him as if he were a babbling idiot.

“I’m serious,” Jackson said. “I’m in big trouble. My grades are falling and Dehaven has decided to make me his personal project.”

Heathcliff shot him a disgusted look. “You’re going to have to figure out how to solve your school problems on your own, Braceface.”

Ms. Holiday continued her presentation. “Your ultimate destination is Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. It has a population of nearly seventeen million, so it’s going to be pretty crowded. It’s also a dangerous place. The government is in a state of flux, and religious zealots are struggling for control. Westerners are still welcome, but they aren’t always respected or left alone. You’ll have to be careful.”

“When do we leave?” Matilda asked.

“Now,” a voice said from behind them. Jackson turned and saw the lunch lady. “Let’s get to the School Bus!”

The children and Ms. Holiday followed the lunch lady down a hallway. Jackson had concerns. “Um, I don’t know a lot of about geography, but I know we can’t drive to Cairo in a school bus.”

The others ignored him and stepped through sliding doors that led to a passageway. At the end of the passage, Jackson saw they were inside the school’s gymnasium. Agent Brand was waiting for them in the center of the room. He stood near a rope hanging from the ceiling. Jackson knew the rope well. He held the school time record for climbing. Brand pulled on it three times and a violent rumbling rose from beneath Jackson. A huge section of the gym’s floor slid aside, and from below an incredible machine rose. As it came into view, Jackson understood what it was—a rocket. It was bright orange and had small wings at the bottom. Once it was fully up, a dozen scientists in jumpsuits attached an enormous hose to its side. A moment later, the odor of fuel flooded Jackson’s nose. “What’s that?” Jackson asked.

“That is the TA-48 Orbital Jet,” the lunch lady said proudly. “But we call it the School Bus.”

There was a loud siren wailing from speakers mounted on the wall. A moment later, Jackson could hear a voice beckoning all students to the basement because of a tornado warning.

“There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Jackson said.

“True,” the lunch lady replied. “But getting everyone into a crouched position in the basement distracts them for a while.”

“Let’s get that roof retracted, people,” Brand shouted, and in no time there was more rumbling, this time from above. Jackson saw the gymnasium roof spreading apart, revealing the blue sky.

Ms. Holiday ushered the children up a small flight of stairs to the rocket’s door. “Come along. We have to get you on board.”

“On board!” Jackson exclaimed. “I can’t fly in a rocket.”

Heathcliff, Duncan, Matilda, Ruby, and Flinch eyed him with disgust.

“It’s always about you,” Ruby said as the rest of the team entered the hull of the ship. Jackson reluctantly followed. Brand and Holiday brought up the rear.

Duncan rubbed his hands together eagerly as he strapped himself into one of eight leather seats. “I love missions!”

“Do I get to blow something up?” Matilda asked.

“That remains to be seen,” Brand replied, helping the librarian into her seat and then taking his own.

A group of workers brought in six stuffed backpacks. Ms. Holiday smiled. “Oh, good, do they have everything?”

One of the workers nodded. “Everything that was on your list.”

“You can put those in the storage compartment,” Ms. Holiday said. The men opened a panel at the front of the jet and shoved the packs inside. A moment later the men were gone. No sooner had they left than the lunch lady climbed aboard.

“You ready to get this bird in the air?” she asked.

Brand nodded.

“She’s the pilot? That woman can’t make meat loaf. How is she going to fly a rocket?”

The lunch lady reached up and snatched her dull brown hair off her head. Jackson quickly realized she had been wearing a wig and had a clean-shaven bald head underneath. Then it dawned on him that the lunch lady wasn’t a lady at all.

“You don’t like my meat loaf, kid?” the lunch lady grunted. “I’m hurt.”

“Buckle up,” Ms. Holiday said.

Jackson considered jumping up and rushing out the open door while he still had a chance. Unfortunately, one of the workers slammed it shut. There was a loud roar and a sudden burst of speed, which caused Jackson to sink into his seat.

“Blast off.” Flinch cried. Jackson was horrified. He could feel the skin on his face clinging to his skull as it was pulled backward by the g-force, and he imagined the whole machine exploding. He turned to his window only to see the ship shoot out of the top of the school and rise higher and higher in the sky, up into the blackness of space. If he craned his neck, he could see the entire planet below. That’s when Jackson screamed.

And screamed …

… and screamed.

“Oh boy,” Heathcliff said, rolling his eyes. “I think we have a barfer on our hands.”

YOU’RE BACK!

UNBELIEVABLE. WELL,

TO BE HONEST, YOU’RE

DOING VERY WELL. OUR

DNA EXAMINATIONS HAVE

REVEALED YOU HAVE

A LOT OF NERDINESS

RUNNING THROUGH

YOUR BLOOD. IN FACT,

SENSORS REVEAL THAT

YOU ARE PRACTICALLY 90

PERCENT NERD. THAT’S

A LOT OF NERD. STILL,

THE BIG SHOTS AREN’T

COMPLETELY CONVINCED.

THEY WANT MORE INFORMATION, SO…

TO GRANT ACCESS TO

LEVEL 6, I NEED YOU

TO RUB YOUR ARMPIT

ON THE SENSOR.

REALLY, RUB YOUR

PIT ON THE SENSOR.

ACCESS DENIED!

HMMMM,

SENSOR MALFUNCTION.

TRY THE OTHER PIT.

ACCESS GRANTED.

(I NEED A SHOWER.)

The halls of the Milwaukee Mental Hospital were a creepy place late at night. They were dim, with ominous shadows that slithered about in the moonlight. The rooms that lined the hallway were filled with the criminally insane—certifiable lunatics responsible for mayhem, murder, and quite a number of maimings. The patients were the incorrigiblest of the incorrigible, and if one were to break out of his room, there would be no predicting what kind of chaos would follow. The possibilities unnerved Denny Parsons. Sure, he was a trained security guard. He had a badge. He had a nightstick. But crazy people were crazy people and it didn’t help that his partner, Tommy Newton, was a complete idiot.

“Look at this guy!” Tommy shouted as he peered through a window in one of the doors. “This guy is crazy.”

“That’s why they call this a mental hospital,” Denny said.

“I know that,” Tommy snapped. “But this one is real crazy. He’s in there flapping his arms like a duck. Hey, man, you ain’t no duck! You can’t fly!”

Denny wondered if Tommy would be missed if he were to somehow find himself locked in one of the rooms—maybe one of the soundproof ones with padded walls.

“Check this loony tune out,” Tommy said as he moved to another room. “He’s in there talking to himself. Hey! Ain’t nobody in there talking to you! I tell you, Denny, they should just let me sit down with some of these folks. I’d get their heads on straight.”

“Perhaps you should suggest that to the doctors,” Denny muttered as he aimed his flashlight farther down the hall. “Leave him be, Tommy. We’ve got a lot of halls to patrol.”

Suddenly, Denny heard a painful groan. When he turned around, Tommy was curled up in a ball on the floor, and a young woman, no … a girl, dressed entirely in black, was standing over him. Denny didn’t know whether to run for help or give the attacker a hug.

“I took a chance,” the girl said. “I’m hoping you’re the smart one.”

“Yes, that would be right,” Denny said.

“Tell me about Felix Jigsaw,” she said.

“The Jigsaw Puzzle King?” Denny said.

“The what?”

“The Jigsaw Puzzle King,” the guard said. “Don’t you read the papers?”

“I’ve been a little busy being twelve years old,” she replied.

“Felix Jigsaw was a brilliant scientist, or so I read. He specialized in tectonic plate theory, you know, the movement of continents. He was famous for his work on the Pangaea theory.”

“Huh?”

“He dedicated his life to proving that all the continents had once been one big island, which broke into pieces. He was also famous for being a star in the competitive jigsaw puzzle circuit. Some called him the Tiger Woods of jigsaw puzzles, but if you ask me it was the puzzles that drove him crazy. The moment he was locked up in here it was all puzzles, day and night. He was obsessed. Still, he wasn’t a criminal so they couldn’t keep him. Someone signed him out and that was the last I saw of him.”

“They let him go? Does that mean he was cured?”

Denny chuckled. “You don’t get cured of what Jigsaw has. No, someone agreed to look after him.”

“Who?”

Denny led her to a dark office. He tapped a few keys into a computer and pulled up a file. Scrolling down, he found what he was looking for. “Here, this is who signed him out. A guy named Simon. Can’t tell you if that’s his first or last name.”

The Hyena frowned.

“Why are you so curious about this nutcase?” Denny asked.

“I work for him,” she said.