Forever Begins Tomorrow (6 page)

“Just start with the part where the shark knocked you senseless,” said Rachel.

“Which wasn't much of a change,” noted Hap.

To everyone's surprise, Wendy ignored the dig and plunged into her story. “I don't know how long I was actually out,” she said, slowing her pace and glancing toward the ocean. “But when I came to, I was a long way down. Talk about total panic. This was plasmarrendous! Can you imagine waking up and finding yourself under several feet of water?”

“Easily,” said Ray, thinking back to his own experience.

“Well, at least
you
went back up,” countered Wendy. “I was being pulled farther under!”

“By what?” asked Rachel.

“You mean, ‘By
who?'
Or, if you want to be grammatically correct, ‘By
whom?'”

Wendy waited for the babble of reaction this statement generated to die down. Finally she said, “Let me get through the whole story. You can ask questions when I'm done. Now, not only was I being pulled down, I had some kind of patch stuck over my mouth and nose. That was probably a good thing, since I was so out of it I might have tried to take a breath before I realized I was underwater. But it scared the living daylights out of me. I thought my lungs were going to pop!”

She shuddered at the memory.

“I was so confused that at first I didn't even realize someone was holding on to me. I struggled like crazy—until I saw one of those underwater sleds ahead of us; you know, one of those two-person jobs, with a bubble dome?”

The others nodded. They had all seen the sleds, which were kept in storage at the marina. But they had never been able to cajole anyone into teaching them how to use the things. Roger had finally declared that he suspected this was because no one else on the island actually knew how to use them, either.

Clearly at least one person
did
know how.

“What happened then?” asked Rachel eagerly.

“I blacked out again! Next time I woke up I was lying on dry ground. Guess where?”

“Just tell us,” said Hap tartly.

She made a face at him. “In the cavern!”

Roger felt a little chill. The gang had thought they were the only ones who knew about the cavern.

“I wonder why this person took you there,” he said.

“I figure so no one would see the sub-sled,” said Wendy. “Remember, we always suspected there was an underwater entrance to the place.”

“Come on, Wendy—tell us who saved you!” demanded Ray. “I'm dying to find out!”

The Wonderchild spread her hands. “I don't have the foggiest idea! When I woke up the place was empty. Thank God whoever it was had turned on a lantern—one of the ones
we
left there, by the way. Otherwise I would have been in total darkness. I probably would have figured I was dead and waiting for some angel to come take me to heaven.”

“That would have been some wait,” snorted Hap.

“That's the end of it?” asked Rachel incredulously. “You don't have any idea who it was?”

“Oh, it's someone we know,” said Wendy. “I found this tucked under the lantern.”

She pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pocket. Roger snatched it before she could play any more games.

“Read it aloud!” demanded Rachel.

“I intended to.” Roger unfolded the crumpled paper. His face fell as he glanced at what was written there.

“What does it say?” cried Ray.

“Not much. Here are the exact words: ‘Nice work, but a little sloppy. Try to be more careful next time.'”

“That's
it?”
cried Trip.

“Except for the signature. It's signed—”

“Don't tell me,” said Hap. “Let me guess. It's signed ‘A friend.'”

“You got it,” said Wendy.

“I don't know which is going to drive me crazy first,” sighed Rachel. “Our enemy—or our mysterious ally.”

 

Suspicions

“Well, Ray,” said Elinor Gammand as she handed her stepson a thick wedge of chocolate cake with fudge icing, “did you have a nice day?”

The Gamma Ray looked at his stepmother speculatively. Was it really possible she didn't know about everything that had happened in the last few hours? He stalled for time by plunging a forkful of the rich cake into his mouth. The fact that Elinor was short enough, and had hair dark enough, to match their two clues to Black Glove's identity tended to make him nervous.

This was a fairly new problem. For a long time Ray had felt that his stepmother was too removed from everything to make a serious suspect. But on a recent overnight at Trip's, when they had stayed awake until nearly morning discussing the question of Black Glove's identity, his friend had reluctantly but logically pointed out that just because Elinor Gammand didn't
seem
to have any technical expertise didn't mean she couldn't be the spy.

“As a matter of fact,” Trip had said, “the very appearance of ignorance makes a pretty good cover. Let's face it, Ray, three years ago she came out of nowhere to marry your father. Sure, no one knew about Project Alpha then. But considering your father's abilities, would it be surprising if some group interested in cutting-edge computer technology wanted him spied on anyway? If your stepmother was already working for G.H.O.S.T., she would have been the right person in the right place when this project began.”

Though Ray had protested the idea vigorously, he knew Trip was right: Elinor had to remain on the suspect list.

He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It just didn't seem reasonable that a spy could make such incredible cake.

“Ray?”

Mrs. Gammand was still waiting for an answer.

Suspect or not, was it possible neither Brody nor Hwa had contacted his parents to tell them about the gang's latest escapade?

He was searching for some nice, noncommittal response when a six-inch-tall polystyrene monster came bounding across the table. Leaping onto his plate, it began jumping up and down in the frosting.

“Warthos!” cried Ray's father. “You come back here!”

Ignoring its creator, the hideous, four-armed purple automaton continued to stomp through Ray's cake.

Dr. Hugh Gammand's towering figure rose from the other side of the table. Muttering in disgust, he snatched his newest character out of his son's dessert.

Ray gazed mournfully at the mutilated cake. He thoroughly enjoyed his father's passion for creating three-dimensional monsters. But the hobby did make the odds of completing a meal in peace in the Gammand household a less than fifty-fifty proposition.

Fortunately, in this case the monster had provided a useful diversion. His stepmother turned her attention to his father, launching into her “How many times have I asked you not to bring your monsters to the table?” speech.

Locating an undamaged corner of his cake, Ray popped it into his mouth. He consoled himself with the thought that if the gang's clues were accurate, at least his father was off the hook. At seven feet plus, Hugh Gammand was too darn tall to be Black Glove.

Wendy Wendell III had no such consolation when it came to her parents. They were
both
well under the five-foot-seven mark the gang had figured as Black Glove's maximum height after they had seen the spy run under a pipe suspended at that level.

At least Mom is a blonde
, thought Wendy.
That lets her off the hook
. She paused, then added,
Unless they're working as a team!

The Wonderchild glanced down at the plate of bean sprouts and stir-fried tofu she had been trying not to eat and wondered if it would really be so bad to find out her parents were spies. After all, if they got tossed in the slammer, maybe she would get sent to an orphanage where they served normal food (like hamburgers and french fries) instead of the super-healthy glop her parents always ate.

She poked at a sprout. The thing that really mystified her was that her parents actually seemed to
like
this slimy stuff. She could understand people who were in their thirties, and therefore well on their way to being ancient, wanting to take good care of their bodies. But she couldn't understand them enjoying it. At least, not if it involved eating goo like this.

Mrs. Wendell gestured toward Wendy's plate. “You didn't finish your meal, darling.”

Fighting down several remarks that would have done wonders for her reputation as a smart-mouth but nothing for the sake of domestic tranquility, Wendy said, “I wasn't very hungry.”

Her parents' acceptance of this explanation was a sign of the hours they had been putting in at the computer lab. Anyone who spent much time with the Wonderchild knew that hunger was a permanent condition with her.

“Did you have a good day?” asked Dr. Watson, spearing his last piece of tofu with his fork.

“It was… interesting,” replied Wendy. Was her father genuinely ignorant of the day's events? Or was he baiting her, to see what she would say?

“How are you making out with your new tutor?” asked her mother.

Wendy seized on the question as an excuse to escape from the table. “Actually, I haven't started with it. You said I could choose the hours I put in. Since I already had plans this morning, I was waiting until tonight to work on it. I'd better get at it.”

Before her parents could think of another question, she had slid out of her chair and was scooting down the hall, glad to be away from the cross-examination—not to mention the smell of that food.

Reaching the door to her room, she glared across the mess on the floor to where the shiny new computer sat waiting. “I hope you're ready to fight,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Because this bedroom isn't big enough for the both of us!”

Plunging into her room, Wendy waded through the debris, prepared to battle the electronic intruder to the death.

Rachel looked up the path leading toward Dr. Remov's house. “I wonder if Dr. Mercury will be here, too,” she said.

Hap Swenson shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably. It's not easy to find one of them without stumbling over the other.”

Rachel hesitated. It was hard to believe chubby, exuberant Armand Mercury could be a danger to anyone. But the portly scientist did match their two clues… On the other hand, he was best friends with Dr. Remov, the only adult on the island willing to seriously discuss the gang's fears that a spy was trying to undermine Project Alpha. In spite of Dr. Mercury's frequent teasing on the matter, Dr. Remov was adamant in his belief that G.H.O.S.T. did exist, and deeply concerned that it might have infiltrated the project.

In her darker moments Rachel sometimes wondered if Dr. Remov was so certain about G.H.O.S.T. because he himself was one of its agents.

You've got to trust someone
, she told herself, repeating her twin's comment on the situation. And as Roger kept pointing out to her, not only had Dr. Remov been a real help to them on more than one occasion, he was too tall to be the spy.

She shook her head.
Something's got to break soon or I'm going to lose my mind. I can't stand living in a situation that makes me so suspicious I wonder if the only reason someone is helping me is to cover his tracks!

Hap nudged her with his elbow. “You still here?”

“What? Oh, sure. Sorry about that. I'm right beside you.”

“What happened to ladies first?”

“I'm liberated. Get moving!”

Dr. Remov threw open the door almost before they rang the bell, which was the way he usually greeted them. A smile creased his freckled face. “Rachel! Hap! How nice to see you. Come in, come in!”

He ushered them into the living room, where Dr. Mercury sat with his pipe and a container of sudsy water.

“Armand—look who's here!”

Dr. Mercury was in the midst of blowing an enormous, rainbow-hued bubble. His real attention reserved for the work at hand, he didn't speak, only gave them a wink. Unfortunately, that slight motion was all it took to burst his bubble. It disappeared, spattering him with a fine spray of droplets.

“Oh, poop,” he said softly. “You know, Stanley, this new formula just isn't working.”

“I'm sure you'll get it eventually,” said Dr. Remov, patting his friend on the shoulder. He crossed to a battered leather armchair and settled in with a sigh. “So—what brings you two here on this fine October night?”

“Fine, indeed,” snorted Dr. Mercury. “Personally, I miss a nice, blustery, multicolored October. Living where the seasons are backward is going to drive me out of my mind.”

“It will be a short trip,” replied Dr. Remov. Turning to Rachel and Hap, he said, “I've only got a few minutes. I'm scheduled to meet Dr. Clark in the Brain Cell soon.”

Hap lifted an eyebrow in surprise. The Brain Cell, the central command location for Project Alpha, was so secret usually the scientists wouldn't even acknowledge its existence. The gang only knew the term because Dr. Mercury had once blurted it out to Trip and Ray. None of them had managed to get inside the place.

Noticing Hap's reaction, Dr. Remov shrugged. “You two are less of a security risk than someone else who seems to actually have access to that ‘secret' location. So why play unnecessary games? Now, what's on your minds?”

Rachel quickly poured out an abbreviated version of the day's events, culminating in the interview with Dr. Hwa. Despite her belief that they could trust Dr. Remov, caution prompted her to leave out some of the details, such as Wendy's mysterious rescue.

Dr. Remov listened quietly, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. “And why have you come to me?” he asked when Rachel was finished.

“Two reasons, sir,” replied Hap. “To begin with, we thought you should know what the enemy had been up to.”

He nodded. “And the second reason?”

“We're confused about Dr. Hwa,” said Rachel. “He was
really
angry with us. But as far as we can tell, he hasn't said a word to our parents. It doesn't quite add up, and we wanted to know what you thought about it.”