Down to the Wire (18 page)

Wirenut nodded. “Yes.”

I took a couple of steady breaths and then slipped the tool into my feet bonds.

Right ninety degrees. Left forty-five. Two tiny
tings,
and I was free.

I jumped to my feet and glanced at the clock. One minute, one second.

“Wirenut first,” TL instructed.

“Different locks. You need a four-point-one tes wrench.”

“Four-point-one tes wrench? What the hell’s a four-point-one tes wrench?” I reached down and yanked the belt off my thigh. I ran to Wirenut. “Show me.”

Quickly, he scanned the tools. “Third from the left.”

Pulling it out, I dropped the belt. “What do I do?”

“My right foot first. Insert the wrench into the foot bond one centimeter, click it left thirty degrees.”

“One centimeter? Thirty degrees? Are you serious?”
I can’t do this.

“GiGi,” TL barked. “Focus.”

Oddly enough, his harsh tone didn’t intimidate me. It zapped me full of confidence.

Ignoring the ticking time, I squatted at Wirenut’s right foot. I inserted the wrench and clicked it left.
Ting.

“Now my left foot. This time click it right, though.”

I did.

Ting.

“Right wrist, clicking left again.”

Ting.

I moved to his left hand. “Click it right. I got the pattern.”

Ting.

As his iron bonds fell free, Wirenut dropped from the wall, and Zorba shot straight up.

Wirenut shoved me out of the way. “Get TL. Same pattern. I got Zorba.”

I scrambled across the cement to TL. In my peripheral vision, Zorba jerked the sword from his knee right as Wirenut leapt.

My heart banging, I zeroed in on TL’s restraints.

Right foot. Insert one centimeter. Click left thirty degrees.
Ting.

Out of the corner of my eye, Wirenut kicked Zorba’s hand. The sword sailed across the room and landed, handle down, in one of the candle urns.

I focused on TL’s left foot. Clicked right.
Ting.

Zorba punched Wirenut, snapping his head to the left.

I scooted over TL’s body to his right hand, inserted the wrench, clicked left.
Ting.

Wirenut whipped around and delivered a flying roundhouse to Zorba’s stomach.

Left hand. Clicked right.
Ting.

Zorba stumbled back a few feet and then came roaring forward, striking Wirenut’s sternum and jaw at the same time.

TL’s bonds fell away.

Grabbing his chest, Wirenut sucked in a breath, and Zorba sneered.

TL sprung to his feet, and Wirenut held up his hand. “Don’t. He’s mine.”

Wirenut dropped to his knees, spun, and swept Zorba off his feet. The older man landed hard on the floor, his head thudding against the cement. Wirenut scrambled on top of him and rammed his elbow into Zorba’s throat.

Gagging, Zorba reached up, seized Wirenut’s hair, and yanked.

Gritting his jaw, Wirenut grabbed Zorba’s head and slammed it into the cement again.

Sounds of bones crunching echoed through the chamber.

With my heart stampeding in my chest, I glanced over at TL.
Aren’t we going to do something?

He shook his head.

Zorba twisted his body and threw Wirenut off. He rolled across the floor.

Zorba staggered to his feet at the same time Wirenut jumped to his.

He rushed Zorba, pushing him across the room, right toward the sword and the urn. Wirenut shoved, and Zorba flew backward, straight onto the double-bladed, lion-engraved sword.

Both blades sliced clean through his back and straight out his stomach.

His body twitched and then slumped lifeless over the urn.

I turned away from the gory scene and covered my face with my hands.

Zorba’s tool for sick, twisted pleasure had brought him to his end.

Twenty minutes later,
Nalani cut through calm water, motoring us away from the private island back toward mainland Rissala.

Dark red lit the horizon where the sun would rise in the next thirty minutes or so. A thin layer of fog hovered on the water’s surface. Under other circumstances, this would’ve been a beautiful, peaceful morning.

TL stood on the other side of the boat, talking on his cell phone. Wirenut sat beside me, arms folded, staring at the boat’s floorboards.

He hadn’t said one single word since exiting the mansion. I knew if I asked him if he was okay, he’d just nod his head. So I kept quiet and left him to his thoughts. He’d talk when he felt ready.

TL clicked off his cell phone. “Clean-up crew’s on their way.”

I furrowed my brow. “Clean-up crew?”

“They’ll take care of the mansion, evidence, Zorba’s body.” TL connected the satellite and punched in the scrambler code.

Balancing the laptop in his lap, he took a seat between Wirenut and me. Chapling, David, and Beaker appeared on the screen. All three sets of eyes widened in matching shock.

In that second, I realized what we must look like. Wirenut shirtless, tiny nicks on his chest, bruised eye, scar on display. TL with a makeshift ear bandage, soaked through with blood.

And me with dried blood on my face and mouth, sporting a (I moved my tongue around) yep, missing tooth. I touched my forehead, grimacing at the knot.

“Um.” Chapling cleared his throat. “Need I ask what happened?”

David frowned as he studied me, but didn’t say anything.

I sent him a small smile to let him know I was okay. His frown softened to a slight curve of the lips.

TL punched a few keys. “I’m sending you a digital image of the sword. We have it here on board if you need a live shot.”

“Okay, give me a sec.” Chomping her gum, Beaker did some key strokes on her end. She zoomed in on the image TL had sent. “Code is in the handle. Million to one says it’s engraved. That’s thirty-three-hundred-strength sterling. Mix one part citeca acid to two parts riumba enzyme. Heat to one fifty Celsius. Coat handle with mixture using a rubber rod. It’ll take three seconds, and you’ll see the final message.”

TL nodded. “Fantastic work, Beaker. Anything else?”

They all shook their heads.

“Signing off.” TL closed the laptop and dialed his cell phone. He began a conversation in Rissalan.

I heard citeca acid and riumba enzyme. He was probably arranging to have those chemicals waiting when we got to our destination.

Nalani stuck her head out of the pilothouse. “Six minutes to dock.” She tossed a duffel bag at us. “Clean up. You guys definitely need it.”

I unzipped the duffel. Three sets of clean clothes lined the top; first-aid supplies scattered the bottom. I handed the guys their stuff and then stepped inside the pilothouse to change.

Nalani glanced at my thigh as I peeled my wet suit down. “You’ll need a couple stitches and some antibiotics. Tape it together for now. Bandage it up good. Let me see your mouth.”

I opened wide.

She whistled. “Tore the root out and everything. It’s a molar. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you a replacement.”

I wiped my face with a wet nap. “What about TL?” That slice had been bloody.

Nalani idled down. “You’d be surprised what plastic surgeons can do. Everyone’ll be good as new in no time. Hurry and put on your clothes. We’re almost there.”

Over my bathing suit I slipped on an island dress. Similar to the flowy, gauzy ones the locals wore.

Nalani pulled the boat alongside a rocky slope.

Wirenut and I followed TL over the rocks, up to a dirt road where a car waited. Behind us Nalani motored off in the opposite direction. She’d done the same thing in Ushbania. Just disappeared.

This time I knew I’d see her again.

We climbed into the car, TL cranked the engine, and we were off. He cut across a field and into the woods. Twenty minutes later we parked behind a stone shack hidden in thick overgrowth.

“Safe house. Katarina’s here. She turned herself in. We had a local agent bring her here.” TL opened his door. “Let’s go.”

We helped TL cover the car with bushy tree branches and then followed him inside.

Katarina sat in the corner of the shadowed shack, handcuffed to a pipe coming from the floor. Still dressed in her black burglar suit, she glanced up and quickly looked away.

What an awful girl.

A short man handed TL a canvas bag, said something in Rissalan, and exited through a hidden panel in the floor.

TL unwrapped the sword and laid it on the only table in the shack. He emptied the canvas bag, too. Chemicals, burners, stir sticks, and tubes fell out. All the things Beaker had said we’d need.

I sat on the floor and cranked up the laptop, ready to decipher the last encrypted message.

Wirenut and TL worked in silence. Mixing chemicals, heating them. Wirenut stuck a thermometer in the liquid, and they waited, watching the temperature.

“One fifty.” He nodded.

TL spread the smoking mixture on the sword’s handle. Three seconds ticked by. I placed my fingers on the laptop’s keys.

He held a magnifying glass to the handle. “Five one two. Three spaces. One zero one two. Two spaces. One five one two. One space. Two zero…”

TL continued reading off the number patterns, and I typed. One hundred sequences in all. A lot of data crammed onto the handle of a sword.

I went to work. My fingers raced over the keypad. I wove in and out of security barriers, tunneled through safeguards, zoomed around blocked systems. I designated principles,
specified components, wrapped codexes. I stranded screeds, followed copeperis, formatted algorithms.

“Got it.”
Clickclickclick.
“The neurotoxin is on the other side of the world. It’s located on a sailboat in the Pacific five miles from Myralap Island.”

“Great job, GiGi.” TL dialed his phone and gave the information to the government’s retrieval team he’d hired.

I put down my laptop and stood, stretching my fatigued muscles. Another successful mission gone by.

Clicking his phone off, TL turned to Katarina. “Who are you?”

She didn’t look up. “Katarina Leosi.”

“Why did you turn yourself in? Why did you disengage the mansion’s explosives?”

Katarina’s shoulders slumped. Her patheticness didn’t faze me.

“I thought my father was collecting rare art pieces. I didn’t know about Stan or the stolen neurotoxin or Papa’s deceit.”

TL put his phone on the table. “Who, exactly, did you think your father was?”

“A businessman. An art collector. A descendant of a long line of famous burglars. He was training me to follow in his footsteps.”

“And you’re okay with being trained into a life of crime?”

She closed her eyes. “It was his dying wish. I lost my real parents when I was a baby. He took me in. He’s the only father I’ve ever known.”

“He wasn’t dying. He lied to you.”

Long pause. “I know that now,” she murmured.

I glanced across the shack at Wirenut. He stood with his back to us, staring out the dirty window. He and Katarina weren’t cousins after all. Interesting.

So Zorba killed Wirenut’s family, moved to Rissala, and took in a baby girl? It didn’t make sense.

I stepped forward. “Can I ask a question?”

TL nodded.

“Why did Zorba raise you?”

Katarina finally looked up. Sorrow and bewilderment weighed heavy in her eyes. It softened my heart a little.

“He told me my real father worked for him. He said he was responsible for my parents’ deaths.” She lifted a shoulder. “That’s all I know.”

TL stepped up next to me. “Who did you think Stan was?”

“Who he said he was, a guy here on vacation.”

“And the Ghost?”

“Another burglar after the same pieces we were. I copycatted him, trying to keep the trail off me. I had no idea Stan and the Ghost were one and the same.”

TL crossed his arms over his chest. “And you considered poisoning him fair play?”

“No! Of course not.” She looked over at Wirenut. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He turned from the window. An unreadable expression blanked his face. “Then why poison me?”

Katarina quietly sighed. “Papa told me the Ghost was selling the artifacts and funding terrorism.”

“What about the last time I saw you? You said your father saw us in the marketplace? Zorba was there?”

“He was. I had no idea. He saw us talking and got really mad. I’ve never seen him so angry. It scared me. But…what was I supposed to tell you? That I was a burglar?” Her voice cracked. “That I really like you?” She ducked her head, sniffed.

Wirenut didn’t say anything in response, just stood staring at her.

“And the messages?” I asked. “Didn’t you wonder about the paper hidden in the egg and the jewel?”

“When I found the paper in the egg, I asked Papa about it. He said the paper meant nothing to the Ghost without the artifact. And then before I went in to get the crown, Papa told me there was a replica of the ruby from the crown I needed to leave behind. I didn’t ask any questions; I figured he knew what he was talking about.”

Seemed to me Katarina was a manipulated pawn like the rest of us. Only more so. She’d been lied to her whole life.