by P. J. Hoover
CHAPTER 5
ONCE I GET OFF THE PHONE, I HEAD INTO UNCLE RANDALL’S OFFICE. I LOOK through the papers on his desk. Cluttered doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I check each page. There are all sorts of symbols and translations from every language known to mankind and even something that looks like a Sudoku puzzle with symbols instead of numbers. But whatever sketch he was looking at last night is nowhere to be found. He must’ve taken it with him. I look in the drawers, too, just to make sure, but if it’s around, I can’t find it. I try to replace all the papers as messy as when I found them, then I leave the office.
The next day I check again, just in case I missed anything. Then I spend some time trying to decipher the symbols on the rubbing I found in the Canopic jar. It’s like Uncle Randall said about the Deluge Segment. Some of the symbols are familiar, but most of them just feel incomplete. I also get as much information as I can on Amino Corp and the layout of their headquarters from what I can find online. It’s a combination of floor plans, advertisements, and public photos from holiday parties that people have posted on their Facebook pages. Hopefully it’s enough.
Friday morning finally rolls around, and I meet Lucas at Java Coffee.
“Tell me again why I have an assistant for the day?” Lucas says.
I’ve been reluctant to give him all the details because I haven’t wanted him to tell me that I can’t come along. But now that it’s finally Friday, I give him the plan.
“You want me to get you through security so you can snoop around?” Lucas says. “How is that being my assistant?”
I shrug. “I can carry some chalk sets in for you if you want.”
“No, I don’t want,” Lucas says. “And I also don’t want you to get me fired.”
“I’m not going to get you fired.”
“What if you get caught?”
“I won’t get caught,” I say.
“But what if you do?”
Getting caught isn’t an option.
“I won’t. No one will even notice me,” I say. “Anyway, I’ve done some research on Amino Corp. This isn’t the only artifact they have.”
My research turned up quite a few things. John Bingham, the CEO who’d bought the Deluge Segment back in the eighties, is the father of the current CEO, Doctor Peter Bingham. Both father and son have a huge interest in artifacts and have set up a private viewing gallery for parties that’s open to employees by request. I’m sure I can talk my way in. All I need is two minutes to take a picture of the Deluge Segment.
“I’m not sneaking around with you. You know that, right?”
“You can be my lookout,” I say. “We’ll keep the phone line open. All you have to do is let me know if someone’s coming.”
He seems to consider this. “And I don’t have to go anywhere I’m not supposed to?”
“Nope,” I say. “It’ll take five minutes, tops.”
“Five minutes,” Lucas says. “That’s all you get.”
“That’s all I need.”
“Hmmm …,” Lucas says.
“So that’s a yes?”
“Fine, yes.”
And so it’s set.
Lucas drives us to Amino Corp. They’re located downtown, with a parking garage underneath. It’s employee parking only, and Lucas refuses to talk to the security guard. I don’t mind. I’d rather not be on some parking garage camera just in case something goes horribly wrong.
Nothing will go horribly wrong.
I tell myself this over and over as he drives around looking for street parking. It takes forever, and finally he shoves his Camry into a questionable half-spot next to a dumpster.
“You better not make me late, woman,” Lucas says.
I try to open my door, but with the dumpster, there’s not enough room, so instead I crawl over the front seat and get out on the driver’s side.
“Me make you late!” I say. “You know, next time I’ll have Devin take us.”
“No way.” Lucas has a strict “no chauffer” policy.
We walk the two blocks to the front entrance of Amino Corp. Lucas opens the door and lets me go in first. Beyond the first door is a second one, secured with a swipe card. Lucas presses a buzzer next to it.
“Hey, my name is Lucas O’Keeffe. I’m here to do art in the coffee shops.” He’s completely awkward when he talks, like he’s nervous.
Wait. He probably is nervous. This art stuff is his dream. And there is no way I’m going to get him in trouble.
“Come on in,” whoever is talking into the intercom says, and the door clicks.
Inside is another world. All I’ve heard about Amino Corp is the bad stuff. The unregulated tests in third world countries, the unsanctioned animal testing, the accidental gas releases that might not have been accidents. But this …
First off, along the entire back wall are artifacts behind glass cases, like a museum. The CEO and his interest in antiquities isn’t an exaggeration. Just what’s in the lobby alone must be worth tens of millions.
Lucas elbows me and nods toward them. I scan them quickly but don’t see anything that looks like the Deluge Segment. It must be back in the private gallery. My heart speeds up at the possibility of seeing it.
We walk to a receptionist’s desk, and she gives us visitor badges.
“You have access to anywhere with a yellow carpet,” she says, pointing at the ground under our feet. “Anything else is off limits. But don’t worry too much. If you aren’t supposed to be somewhere, you shouldn’t be able to enter.”
That’s just perfect. Maybe I can snag a badge from some unsuspecting employee when they aren’t looking.
Maybe I can end up in jail. Because it must be illegal to sneak around some giant pharmaceutical corporation. Amino Corp would probably have me arrested.
Okay, this is getting completely ridiculous. All I want to do is take a couple pictures of some artifact. It’s not anything to do with their research or drugs. Everything is going to be fine.
“You okay, Hannah?” Lucas shakes me from my thoughts. We’re already a few steps away from the receptionist. I turn back to see her watching me like I’m crazy.
“Fine,” I say. “Which way’s the coffee shop?”
He points down the path ahead of us. “Follow the yellow brick road.”
I smack him on the arm. “Wizard of Oz? Really?”
“Sure,” Lucas says. “Somewhere over the rainbow.”
I need to stop the dorky references before they get out of hand.
“Okay, here’s the plan. You get set up. I help you. Then we say we’re going to the bathroom.”
“The bathroom? They probably have one in the coffee shop,” Lucas says. “That’ll never work.”
I smile. “I’ll tell them that I need some privacy. You know … for that time of the month. That always works.”
Lucas cringes, like the mere thought of this excuse gives him the heebeegeebees. “Always?”
“Always.”
It turns out that Amino Corp has the best coffee shop in the world. They offer Lucas and me free drinks, so I get a cappuccino. Lucas only wants water. I take a sip and then set it down.
“You guys don’t have a bathroom, do you?”
“Sure,” the guy barista says. “Right back there?”
I look toward the café bathroom and grimace. “Oh uh …”
“Is there a problem?” he asks.
“Well,” I say. “It’s just that I have this embarrassing … Okay, I don’t really like to talk about it, but is there one with a little more privacy?”
I swear the guy takes a step back, like maybe he’s afraid he’ll catch whatever I have. Which is nothing, just for the record.
“Oh, sure,” he says. “If you go back out in the hallway and turn right, you’ll see them halfway down on the left.” Then he turns away and makes himself really busy grinding beans.
“Good lord, Hannah, you are so embarrassing.”
“Yeah, I know. Now come on.”
Lucas sets his art supplies down near the chalkboard and we head back out of the café, down the hall. Sure enough, there are the bathrooms.
I slip in my Bluetooth earpiece. “Okay, you wait here. If you see something, let me know. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
I hope. According to the Internet, the gallery is here on the first floor, toward the back of the building. It can’t be that hard to find.
I wind my way down the hallways, from the yellow carpet and on to the blue. And there, when I’m nearly to the back, are two fancy double doors. Beyond them is a large room, lit with dim lights, and along the edges of the room are all sorts of artifacts. I know this, not because the doors are made of glass, but because they’re already wide open.
I stop and press myself against the wall then call Lucas on my cell phone. “Have you seen anyone come in?” I whisper to Lucas through the earpiece.
“Not yet,” Lucas says, way too loud.
“You need to talk softer,” I whisper.
“Is this better?” he whispers, so quietly that I can barely hear him.
“A little louder than that.”
“How about this?” he says, a bit louder.
“Perfect,” I say. “It’s just that the doors are open.”
“Be careful, Hannah,” he says.
I nod in reply even though he can’t hear me.
I stand there, pressed against the wall for a solid minute, listening for anything, but it’s as silent as a vacuum tube. Then I edge forward on the blue carpet, so softly that I don’t even hear my own footfalls. A couple more steps and I’m peering through the door. I don’t see anyone, so I step in and scan the room. And there, on the back wall, behind a glass case, is the Deluge Segment, exactly what I’m looking for. The only problem is that someone’s standing directly in front of it.
CHAPTER 6
I SUCK IN A BREATH OF SURPRISE. THE PERSON STANDING IN FRONT OF the Deluge Segment snaps their head around in my direction.
The gallery is dim and covered in shadows, with only the display cases lit, but I can tell that it’s a guy, maybe six feet tall or so, wearing a hoodie.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. With that outfit, he sure as heck doesn’t work at Amino Corp. Maybe he’s a maintenance person, except he’s kind of young for that.
“What are you doing here?” he says, with a harsh edge in his voice that is way meaner than I think he needs to be. As far as I can tell, he has no more right to be here than I do.
“Who are you talking to?” Lucas’s voice pipes in through my earpiece.
“Hang on a second,” I say back to him. I walk closer so I can get a better look at the Deluge Segment. It’s beyond weird that this guy is looking at the exact thing I came to see. Unless he was the one who called Harvard to ask about it.
“Hang on for what?” the guy says.
“Hannah, who is that?” Lucas says.
“Never mind,” I say. “Just give me a minute.”
“I’m coming in there,” Lucas says.
“No,” I say.
“Look, I don’t know who you’re talking to, but you need to explain yourself pretty fast or—” the guy says. Besides the hoodie, he’s got on dark jeans and work boots.
I’ve seen those boots before. I try to place them in my mind.
“Or what?” I say. “You’ll report me? You don’t work here.”
He holds up a badge. Crud. Maybe he does work here. I am so busted.
“Hannah,” Lucas says.
“Not now, Lucas.” I push the tiny button on the earpiece to turn off the Bluetooth.
“Who’s Lucas?” the guy says.
“Lucas is none of your business,” I say. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” he counters.
I don’t answer because no way am I giving this guy my name.
I step forward, closer to where he is, closer to the artifact. “Look, I just want to get a picture.” I hold up my cell phone. “One picture. No harm or anything. Then I’m out of here.”
I notice he’s gripping a cell phone, too, and it’s on the camera screen.
He narrows his eyes at me. And with that, I recognize him. This is the guy who’d come to Uncle Randall’s lecture. Ethan Oliver, the son of my parents’ ex-best friends.
My heart nearly stops. According to Uncle Randall, we used to play together when we were little kids. Does he remember? Does he have any clue who I am? And if he doesn’t know who I am, should I tell him? He’d looked at me during the lecture, but that doesn’t mean anything.
“Why do you want a picture?” Ethan Oliver asks.
“Archaeology is a hobby,” I say kind of lamely. But I hadn’t expected anyone else to be here.
“You look familiar,” Ethan says.
“Do I?” Silently I curse the fact that I am the only girl I know who wears two ponytails and a knit hat every day. But even still, that doesn’t mean he knows who I am.
“Yeah, I saw you at Doctor Easton’s lecture last week,” Ethan says. “You were sitting in the back.”
“Good memory,” I say, deciding not to mention that Doctor Easton is in fact my Uncle Randall. “That’s why I’m here. The picture he showed in the presentation. This is the piece. Is that why you’re here, too?”
It makes perfect sense. He’d seen it in the lecture. Gotten interested. And come to check it out. But that doesn’t explain the badge.
“Yeah, exactly,” Ethan says, but the quick way he answers makes me think this is not quite the full truth.
“How’d you get a badge?” I ask. Not that I’m complaining. His badge solved the problem of me trying to get inside this room.
He shrugs. “My dad works here.”
That’s right. I knew that. But I don’t tell him that I knew that.
“Convenient.” I push the small button on the earpiece, turning it back on. Lucas is probably freaking out. “You there?” I whisper.
“Who are you talking to?” Ethan says. “That Lucas person?”
I ignore him.
“Who is that, Hannah?” Lucas says.
“It’s no one,” I say. “What’s happening out there?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Lucas says. “Someone is coming your way. I had to head back to the coffee shop. You’re on your own.”
Crud. It’s bad enough that Ethan is here. The last thing I need is someone else discovering me.
I hold up my phone again, swapping from the phone to the camera screen. “Do you mind if I take a picture?” With him standing in front of it, I can’t get a good image.
“You didn’t say please,” Ethan says.
“May I please take a picture?”
Ethan flashes a smile that is almost worth the anxiety that I’m feeling. “Well, since you asked so nicely …” He steps to the side.
I move directly in front of the Deluge Segment and snap the picture. But the flash is on, and it reflects off the glass. I fumble with the buttons and turn off the flash, then take another one. It will have to be good enough.
“Hannah, hurry,” Lucas says. “Two security people just walked past the coffee shop, heading your way. You need to get out of there.”
“I gotta go,” I say.
“Are you talking to me or Lucas?” Ethan says.
“Someone is coming,” I say.
For a brief moment, Ethan and I are of one mind. We both take off running for the door. I dash out first, then him. He pulls the doors closed just as two security guards round the corner. Ethan tucks his dad’s badge into the pocket of his jeans.
“Do you guys know where the bathroom is?” I ask, trying to look like I’m ready to pee my pants.
They don’t smile.
“This is a restricted area,” one guard says.
“Yeah, I was just visiting my dad,” Ethan says, and he walks off. They let him. Anger seethes inside me. This is so not fair.
“I was just going to the bathroom,” I say.
“You need
to come with us,” one of the guards says.
What I need to do is get out of here, but I can’t just make a run for it. Fine. I’ll talk my way out of this.
They lead me back to the yellow carpet, to a conference room not far from the coffee shop. Lucas stares at me as I walk by.
Inside the conference room, I’m greeted by a man in a blue dress shirt and khaki pants. His hair is graying but smoothed back. I’ve seen this man before, on the news, being interviewed during protests about questionable testing ethics. I’ve also seen him most recently in the news articles and interviews about Amino Corp going bankrupt. This is none other than Doctor Peter Bingham, president and CEO of Amino Corp.
CHAPTER 7
“HANNAH HAWKINS, IF I’M NOT MISTAKEN?” DOCTOR BINGHAM SAYS.
The president of Amino Corp knows my name? I don’t find this comforting.
I tuck my cell phone into my pocket. “You’re Doctor Bingham aren’t you? I’ve seen you on the news.”
“Not the best news recently, I’m afraid,” he says. “But it will all be resolved. I’m sure of it.”
According to the news, they’re going to either can Doctor Bingham, or the entire company is going to tank. He’s pretty upbeat for either of these options.
“What am I doing here?” I ask.
He opens his hands wide. “Why don’t you tell me?”
My heart speeds up, but I force my face to stay calm. “Well, I’m here helping my friend in the coffee shop. And I was trying to find a bathroom. But then your guards brought me here. I really need to get back to the coffee shop.”
“How’s your uncle doing?” Doctor Bingham asks.
I have no clue why he would care.
“Fine,” I say. “Why? Do you know him?”
“Oh, we go way back,” Doctor Bingham says. “Did you know that he worked for me for a while?”
“My uncle worked at Amino Corp?” Uncle Randall had never mentioned that.
“Just as a consultant.”
“Doing what?” Maybe I shouldn’t be prolonging the conversation, but curiosity gets the better of me. Uncle Randall is a linguist, not a scientist, and as far as I know, the two fields don’t have much in common.
Doctor Bingham’s smile never falters. “Projects here and there.”