by Jude Watson
“Biofuels,” he said.
“Oh, good. Because that’s exactly what I want to talk about at three A.M.”
“It was something Mabel said. Combustion.”
“Right. Meaning something could blow up. Like algae can blow up? I didn’t get that.”
“No. Not like algae. Like biofuel. That’s powering a ship. That’s my dad’s big secret project.”
Nellie’s eyes went wide. She swallowed hard. “Talk.”
Sammy sat cross-legged across from her. “This isn’t my field, but I’ve talked enough to my dad to get a lot of it. There are a number of practical problems deriving fuel from algae. If it could be perfected, it could be awesome, because the development could be carbon-neutral.”
“Meaning it won’t take huge amounts of energy to make energy.”
“Exactly. Lots of scientists and companies are working on this. It was my dad who found this new species of algae … he called it Pediastrum mayanum after my mom.”
“Aw. Sweet!”
“It had all these properties that my dad saw could solve lots of problems that other kinds of algae had in terms of processing them into fuel. There was only one problem. It’s extremely unstable, with a high combustion rate.”
“You mean algae can blow up?”
“Well, not in its natural state, but when it’s being processed. Because you need massive amounts of it, right? It just needs a stabilizing agent — an X factor, if you will. Not as easy as it sounds. Then my dad reads this paper on ice algae, and boom, something clicked. Science is so amazing that way! You find stuff in other fields and all of a sudden, connections start firing! Then you’re off on a new direction, and solving way more problems than you thought —”
“Sammy, you are the most adorable nerd, but can you stick to the point?”
“Right. Something about ice algae was the key, some sort of stabilizing structure….” Sammy clutched his hair, something he did when he couldn’t remember a detail. “I don’t remember! But my dad’s brain just starts going in a new direction. He goes to see the scientist and asks to study his research. It looks promising, so they do some experiments together in this guy’s lab.”
“Did they discover the X factor?”
“No, just other cool stuff.”
Nellie slumped back, disappointed. “Oh.”
“But here’s the thing. The last time we talked about it, he was super excited. He said he went back over the notes, and they’d missed something. He felt pretty close. He was going to go back to this guy, back to the lab.”
“But when was that?”
“Couple of months ago, maybe. It’s funny, he stopped talking about it and I forgot to follow up. I was busy with my graduate project.”
“So maybe he did it! Maybe he found the X factor, or he thought he did, and he was waiting to tell you! Sammy, the Titanic II is running on biofuel. Some sort of incredible new green technology! What if there’s a connection here?”
“I know, that’s what I was thinking. But I can’t see how it could happen, really. My dad could have solved the X factor, but still, it would have been years away from being perfected.”
“Don’t scientists ever have a sudden breakthrough that zooms them ahead? Isn’t that what you just said before?”
“Sure, all the time, but in this case the fuel would have to be manufactured. There’d have to be a factory and everything….”
“Oh, like you’ve never been in a secret factory.”
Sammy sat up straighter. “Good point.”
Nellie’s fingers drummed on the coverlet. “We have to get a look at that file. It’s on the Chens’ computer. Do you know all the names of the kids?”
“David, Howard, William, and Mabel.”
“DaHoWiMa.” Nellie swung her feet off the bed. “Come on. It’s time to do a little breaking and entering.”
Titanic II, Antarctica
“Wake up, Amy.” The voice invaded her dreams.
“Go away. I’m sick.”
“No. You’re not.” It was Ian. “We’re in Antarctic waters. The ship isn’t lurching about like Ham attempting to dance.”
“Hey, dude. I heard that.”
Amy opened her eyes. The curtains were open. An iceberg sailed by. Or was it a mirage?
No, she corrected. They had sailed by an iceberg.
Ian smiled. “Welcome to Antarctica.”
Amy stumbled to the window. She could see the horizon instead of a wall of water. Outside, a silvery blue sky arced over a deep blue sea. Icebergs dotted the seascape, one as tall as a building, and others scored with undulations created by wind and waves. One was a shimmering portal, an arch through which Amy saw her first penguin as it slid across an icy floe and splashed into the sea.
Inside the ice were hidden colors: shades of blue she hadn’t known existed, electric aquamarine, the palest powdery blue, the sheerest green. A huge bird flew by, its white wings beating rhythmically. Its wingspan must have been close to ten feet.
“Albatross,” Ian said.
“Magic,” she said.
They were silent a moment, all of them lined up at the window. On the other side was a world of astonishing beauty, so strange and new that it seemed unreal. How lucky we are to see this, Amy thought, remembering all that Dan had said about how endangered the environment was. Hard on the heels of that was, We must save this ship.
Ian rubbed his hands together. “Yes. Now that we’ve fully appreciated the beauties of this amazing continent, let’s get going.”
He was interrupted by the chime of a text. Ian checked his phone.
“It’s from the Outcast.”
HAVING A BLAST? IT’S NOW DAY FIVE. LET’S SPEED UP THE TIMELINE. SET YOUR CLOCKS. FOR 6 PM EXACTLY! THAT’S WHEN THINGS GO BOOM!
Ian put down his phone, his face grim. “It’s four o’clock now. That only gives us two hours!”
Just then Dan barreled through the door followed by a shy-looking man with glasses. “Hey, everyone, meet Dr. Jeff. He’s going to solve all our problems!”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” The man shrugged in a modest way. “But I’ll do anything to help out Grace’s grandchildren.”
“Way to stay undercover,” Ian said with an annoyed glance at Dan.
“No worries. I’m an Ekat,” Dr. Tagamayer said cheerfully. “I wouldn’t have blown Dan’s cover, but he almost got caught by the purser. I’ve been in South Pole Station for a year. Totally out of the Cahill loop. So I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I want to help. My assistant got sick in Ushuaia, so one of you can be Rollo Hardcastle, and if anyone stops you, just tell them you’re working with me. Cahills have to stick together.”
“That’s a concept that seems to have been mislaid lately,” Ian murmured. But he stood and shook Dr. Jeff’s hand. “Welcome to the family,” he said. “We can use the help.”
The gang split up, the better to fully explore the ship. Dr. Jeff had gone off to ask Peter Zimmer for a tour of the engine room. Ian felt the ticking of the clock with every beat of his heart. What was that American expression that Hamilton always used? Crunch time.
Now that he had a cover story, he felt a bit safer on the ship. He would blend in. He’d donned a hideous fleece garment in order to pass as a student. Once they prevented the disaster and got off this ship, he would contemplate the American love of fleece and toss this one in the garbage.
Ian opened the door to the outside. A blast of wind almost knocked him down, and the cold hit him so hard his teeth hurt. Tears sprang to his eyes and ran down his face. Every exposed piece of skin was painful. Ian clapped his hands over his ears and bent over to protect himself from the agony. Suddenly, he loved fleece.
The door slammed behind him. He took a breath and felt his lungs expand. It was the sharpest, cleanest air he’d ever breathed. Iceberg formations loomed on either side of the ship, incredibly beautiful ledges and towers, some hundreds of feet high. An island sat in the distance, with snowy cliffs and bl
ack sand beaches. People were lined up, hanging on to the railings in the middle of the gusts, with binoculars pointed at the moving black dots on the beach. Ian realized that they were penguins. He stood for a moment, trying to trace their comical movements. When he turned and looked out to sea, a whale casually breached, its tail a lazy flourish as it sank back into the sea.
Ian wasn’t much for nature — he much preferred a busy London street — but this was beyond spectacular. Magic, Amy had said, and she was right.
He hurried along the deck to the bridge. When he pushed open the door, he was glad to see a crowd of science nerd students crowded around the instruments. They’d help with camouflage.
Passengers were welcome on the bridge, and Ian stopped for a moment, pretending to study the rows of electronic instruments. At the other end of the bridge he saw some officers conferring. They were frowning and speaking in low voices. Ian skirted the map table and, pretending to admire a breaching whale, edged closer to see if he could overhear.
“Captain wants to keep on to Paradise Harbor,” one of the officers said. “Too windy for landings on Deception Island, and there’s snow coming. The passengers have had enough of rough seas. We can hit it on the way back if we have time.”
“So we’ll just do the staff transfer then?”
“Second Mate Anderson will ferry Dr. Tagamayer to the Deception Island station.”
“Why’s he leaving early? Can’t wait to get back to civilization, huh?”
“Well, he didn’t last very well on the winter expedition, did he? Heard they had to airlift him out last April.”
“Sick?”
“No, just spooked. Too much dark, too much ice.”
“Man, is he in the wrong profession.”
They chuckled, and Ian moved away, his ears buzzing with what he’d heard.
Last April? That was almost a year ago. That meant Dr. Jeff had lied to them. He’d only lasted a month at the South Pole!
Maybe Dr. Jeff had been embarrassed to admit he had to be airlifted out.
But somehow Ian didn’t think so.
It meant that he had been around for much of last year. Plenty of time to be recruited by the Outcast.
And he was leaving the ship shortly before it was scheduled to explode.
Ian texted the others.
JEFF TAGAMAYER BEING ESCORTED OFF SHIP TO DECEPTION ISLAND. V SUSPICIOUS. LIED ABOUT SPENDING WINTER AT POLE. I’LL GET CARA TO INVESTIGATE. MEANWHILE LOCATE HIM! COULD BE IN ZIMMER’S CABIN.
He slipped the phone back in his pocket and headed off the bridge. The blast of wind made him stagger. In front of him was a crew member, and Ian slowed his pace, not wanting to attract attention. He buried his chin in his fleece.
It was too cold to walk slowly. Ian risked a quicker pace, coming up behind the crew member, who opened a door to the main passageway and passed through. Ian followed, glad to feel the warmth of the ship.
The crew member headed for the stairway, whistling a tune.
Whistling.
Bad luck.
No crew member would whistle aboard a ship.
Ian studied the man’s stride, the way he moved, keeping his chin slightly angled and away from the passengers as they walked by.
Something about him was familiar. Very familiar.
Nellie had filled him in on Fiske’s identification of the mystery guy.
It was Alek Spasky.
Singapore
Their bare feet made no sound on the polished floors. The air conditioning hummed as they tiptoed into Tiff’s office.
Nellie used her phone to illuminate the dark room. She switched on the computer.
Sammy pecked out the password. “DaHoWiMa. I’m in!”
Nellie hung over his shoulder as he clicked on the search engine. “Remind me to wipe the search history after we’re done.”
Sammy quickly searched through the computer and clicked on the file. He leaned forward, reading it quickly.
“Mabel was right,” he groaned. “It’s not only the paper he wrote with the biologist — that’s been published. But it’s his private lab notes! And it was forwarded to Patricia Oh!”
Nellie leaned over his shoulder. She tried to read the report, but all she saw were equations. Her brain hurt. “Who’s Rollo?” she asked, pointing to the screen.
“That must be the lab assistant. RH. See, down here? They sign off on each day’s notes with their initials.” Sammy scanned the notes. “It’s true. My father had a major breakthrough. He found the X factor! It’s an agent that neutralized the combustibility ratio of the algae. Together, they raised the oil pressure in the tank, but if he altered the molecular structure by the pH factor … hmmm. Fascinating.”
Nellie stared at the initials at the bottom of the report, DM. If only Darsh Mourad could speak to them!
“There’s something else,” Sammy said. He glanced up at her. “It’s embedded in the notes. It’s a detailed what-if scenario if the stabilizing agent isn’t added. The effect of combusting fuel tanks aboard a moving vessel. It’s a question of probabilities — how to institute emergency procedures in the event of human error. My father is meticulous. If he felt the fuel was too dangerous, he would stop the research. What if …”
“… someone wasn’t so meticulous,” Nellie said, “or was evil. And handed this scenario over to the Outcast.”
“And why does James Chen have it?” Sammy shook his head. “I can’t believe my godfather could do this.”
“Sammy, we need to investigate the other guy.” She pointed to the initials at the end of the lab report. “JET. Do you …”
Nellie stopped short. “Oh. Shut up.”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“No — JET. Do you know who this guy is?”
“He’s a professor at the University of Chicago. He shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“Chicago! Wasn’t that what Sinead said?” Nellie leaned in closer so that they were practically nose to nose. “She overheard Patricia Oh say that the jet took off from Chicago with the package. It was him!”
“What?”
“Not a jet … not a plane, a person. JET. That’s who stole the report! The other scientist! Maybe your dad mentioned to James what he was working on, and they got to the other guy. Bribed him or something. Sammy, how hard would it be to sabotage the ship?”
“Not hard. But you’d have to know what you were doing. These are precise calibrations.”
“But JET does know. And he could be aboard that ship!”
Sammy looked pale. “You’re right.”
“Can you figure out how to fix it? Is there something Amy and Dan and the others can do to reverse the combustion cycle? We have to figure this out fast. We have less than a day!”
Sammy nodded, his face intent. “Let’s see, I’m guessing that saboteur must have recalibrated the stabilizer and cut the concentration —”
Nellie held up a hand. “Shhh. I hear something.”
Footsteps. Coming down the hall.
Sammy shut down the computer. Nellie looked around frantically. She opened a door and peeked around it. It was a home gym. She and Sammy slipped inside and closed the door behind them.
They saw a light stream from under the door. Footsteps going to the desk. The creak of a chair.
Nellie’s heart thrashed. To have come so close! The answer was right there, in the computer. All she knew was that something in that biofuel was going to trigger a chemical reaction, and the ship was going to blow.
And her kiddos were on it. Along with Ian and Hamilton, and at least a hundred others.
She put her lips to Sammy’s ear. “We have to tell them,” she whispered.
Sammy took out his phone. He started a text to Jonah.
TRAPPED.
CHENS COULD BE IN LEAGUE W/OUTCAST.
BIOFUEL TO BLOW UP SHIP.
THERE’S ONE CHANCE THAT COULD WORK.
Nellie watched as Sammy closed his eyes in concentration. If anyone could
do it, her science genius beautiful nerd could do it.
Sammy’s thumbs went crazy, dancing on the screen.
The chair creaked again.
Nellie shrank back. She kept her eyes on the door.
She knew she couldn’t rush genius. So she kept the words unspoken.
Hurry, Sammy. Hurry!
Ushuaia, Argentina
Jonah checked his phone. Nothing.
“That’s the third time in three minutes you’ve checked your phone,” Cara said.
“Not a fan of downtime,” Jonah said. He stretched out his arms over the seat back of the couch. They’d been sitting there for most of the day, waiting for something to happen.
He needed news or he’d go crazy. He’d heard that everyone was seasick except for Dan. He’d been filled in on Dan’s enthusiasm for leopard seals and iceberg calving and emperor penguins. But he hadn’t heard anything in over an hour. Internet connections could be wonky, he knew that, but his bro Ham was on that ship, and he felt like something was missing. Like his right arm. Cara was cool, but she couldn’t replace the lug who had his back.
“Can’t believe you can keep working on that thing.”
“The digital world is full of trails people don’t even know they’re making,” Cara said. “I might find something to help them. But there’s nothing. That’s the problem.” Cara looked up. “That tailor who tried to drug Ian? No record of him. Zip. Berman ran the house, and he checked all records. Then I checked his checks and ran some deep background. Funicello was clear. Now those trails have disappeared.”
“So, the guy wasn’t who he said he was.”
“Yeah. Figures. But what about Berman? All the records I checked before we hired him? Gone. He was an Ekat, worked in a resort in the Maldives. A concierge in Cannes, a butler in London. Impeccable references that I checked impeccably! And now? Gone. No digital trails. Benjamin Berman does not exist.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.” Cara tossed the tablet aside and leaned her head back on the armchair. “I don’t get fooled like this. It’s unacceptable. I’ve tried and tried, and I can’t figure it out.”