by Paul Aertker
This ocean theme repeated itself in the lobby with clamshell couches, lobster chairs, and starfish coffee tables. Someone dressed in scuba gear played a whale-shaped piano.
In her mermaid dress Ms. Günerro floated across the room toward the music. She shooed the piano player away, and he waddled out in flippers as Ms. Günerro placed the birth chart on the music rack and sat down.
Immediately Lucas recognized that she was playing Debussy’s La Mer. It was a version that Lucas had to admit was much better than Mr. Siloti’s at the New Resistance Hotel-School.
Lucas scanned the lobby for an exit.
Ekki and Goper were standing guard by the front doors, and Curukians with earpieces bunched together in clumps of three. Escape would be impossible. At least right now.
While Ms. Günerro was playing, the hotel manager approached in an all-white captain’s uniform with shiny shoes and hat to match. A brass nameplate on his left breast-pocket flap read FRED ALFRED.
Parents couldn’t come up with another name? Lucas thought.
“Mr. Alfred,” Ms. Günerro said.
“Please call me Fred,” Mr. Alfred said.
As Ms. Günerro played the piano, she gestured toward Lucas and the woman with long black hair. “This is Lucas Kapriss and his mother, Luz Kapriss. Cute—aren’t they?”
“Cute as mice boogers,” he said.
“As what?” Ms. Günerro asked, pausing her fingers on the keys for a second.
“It’s an expression from back home,” he said. “You see...”
“I don’t care about your home,” Ms. Günerro said.
“Oh, okay,” Mr. Alfred said.
Ms. Günerro said, “Lucas is going to be my guest in the Good Suite.”
“But it’s—”
“Never mind that,” Ms. Günerro said. “He is to remain under twenty-four-hour watch.” Ms. Günerro pointed at the two closest Curukians. “Those two young men can stand outside the Good Suite today.”
Ms. Günerro’s started playing again and swiveled toward a woman who had just walked up in a white uniform.
Without stopping the music, Ms. Günerro asked, “Are you head of housekeeping?”
“Yes, madam, I am Esmeralda.”
“Were you the one who designed my desk downstairs?”
“Yes, madam,” Esmeralda said.
“You’ll be making me more desks very soon,” Ms. Günerro said. She nodded toward the woman with long black hair. “But for the moment, I want Luz to start working at the Good Hotel Las Vegas immediately. Do whatever it is you do to have these cleaning people clean.”
“I’ll get her a cart right away,” Esmeralda said as she scurried away.
Magnus came up and stood next to the manager.
“We have our container number,” said Ms. Günerro glancing at the file folder.
“And,” Magnus said, “Agent Janssens has already given us the dock information. I’ll pull your car around. We have a flight to catch.”
Just as he was leaving the lobby, two men wearing bright yellow jumpsuits and hats came in through the front door. The men eased over to the concierge desk.
“If I may ask,” Mr. Alfred said to Ms. Günerro. “How long will Mr. Lucas Kapriss be staying with us in the Good Suite?”
Ms. Günerro pointed at the birth chart on the music rack. “Until I finish reading this wonderful treasure trove that Lucas was so kind to return to me, which I will be reading on the flight.”
“Very well,” Mr. Alfred said.
“And,” Ms. Günerro said, “as soon as I leave, call Interpol and let them know Lucas Kapriss is here. They may have him listed as Lucas Benes.”
“Interpol?” Mr. Alfred asked. “The international police agency?”
“That one,” Ms. Günerro replied. “Ask to be connected to Agent Charlotte Janssens.”
“Yes,” Mr. Alfred said. “Esmeralda and I will take care of everything.”
Ms. Günerro turned back to the piano and began playing even louder.
As Esmeralda rejoined the group, Fred Alfred said to her, “I had no idea our CEO was this good on the piano.”
“You stay here and listen,” Esmeralda said. “I’ll take Luz to the housekeeping room.”
Mr. Alfred looked at Lucas and the two Curukians. “Esmeralda,” he said. “Would you also take Lucas to the Good Suite? And these boys. They’re supposed to guard the door or something.”
“Certainly,” she said.
Esmeralda led the way. The woman with long black hair followed, pushing the cleaning cart down the hallway, and the Curukians and Lucas trailed the two women.
As they walked away, the piano music faded.
Esmeralda whispered to Lucas. “Did you like Ms. Günerro’s desk?”
“It was very nice, except for the elephant-tusk legs.”
“I mean the desktop,” she said.
“What about it?”
“Your mother taught me the pattern.” Esmeralda stared straight through Lucas. “You understand me.”
Lucas pulled up the picture of the desk in his mind. He saw the swirls. He saw the golden spiral. He remembered the number on the birth chart. Phi backward. They were all related.
Lucas smiled. “That’s how I find the code hidden in the birth file, isn’t it?”
Esmeralda nodded, and then she and the woman with long black hair turned down another hallway. The Curukians escorted Lucas to a set of double doors, where the taller boy opened the door to the Good Suite.
The other Curukian touched his index finger to the cord spiraling from his ear and spoke into his wrist microphone, “Good Suite guest now entering the secure location.”
The boys pushed Lucas in and locked the door behind him. The room was nothing but an empty construction zone with white painter’s tape on gray sheet rock. There was no bed, lamp, TV. Nothing. In the bathroom, there was a toilet and sink. The window was a thick pane of glass.
Lucas twisted the door handle, but it was locked from the outside.
It was more of a cell than a hotel room.
TIME TO CHECK OUT
Lucas knew the door was locked but tried the handle again.
One of the Curukians on the other side banged his fist on the jamb. “Cut it out!”
Through the peephole Lucas could see the woman with long black hair pushing a cleaning cart. He saw the two men in yellow. The lettering on their jumpsuits read LOST VEGAS LOCKSMITH.
Then he saw the briefcase.
Alister! Lucas couldn’t believe it. The men were Alister and Jackknife!
Out of nowhere, Jackknife started cartwheeling down the hallway. The Brazilian was a flying tumbleweed of yellow.
Jackknife literally flew in midair toward the two Curukians.
A body at rest stays at rest unless acted upon by an external force.
In this case Jackknife was the external force as his feet nailed both boys, emptying their lungs and sending them to the floor.
One of the Curukians rolled over and moaned into his wrist microphone, “Help!”
Lucas peered down through the peephole.
Alister was already opening the briefcase and hooking up the Kano computer to the key-card slot.
Blip, blip, and the door opened.
Lucas wanted to hug his buddies, but there was no time. Three new Curukians were racing toward them.
Lucas, Jackknife, and Alister ran toward the housekeeping cart at the end of the hallway. The woman with long black hair handed each boy two bottles of cleaning fluid.
Like gunslingers from the Wild West, the three boys held the spray bottles out in front of them and blasted the Curukians in the face with chemicals. In their eyes, in their mouths, on their earpieces. It wouldn’t hurt them, but it would sting and stop them for a minute.
“Sorry,” Lucas said. “But I meant to tell you that I needed to check out of my room a little early today.”
UBER
Jackknife, Alister, and Lucas ducked into the stairwell.
Fo
otsteps were coming from somewhere. At this point it could have been anyone. Curukians. Hotel security. Interpol. Or maybe just a guest staying in the Good Hotel.
“How did you guys get here?” Lucas asked.
“Uber,” Jackknife said.
“But the driver’s gone,” Alister said.
“Follow me,” Lucas said. “I’m your new Uber.”
They raced down the stairs and blasted into the private garage.
“Whoa,” Jackknife said, staring at the Tesla. “Look at this car!”
“Get in,” Lucas said, as he hit the garage-door opener on the wall.
The giant metal door scrolled upward. Light poured into the garage, and Lucas climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Do you even know how to drive?” Alister said.
“I drove a bus in Paris,” Lucas said defensively.
“You wrecked it into a river!” Jackknife said.
“Günerro did.”
“Guys,” Alister said.
The interior was smooth black leather. Lucas could barely see over the steering wheel, so he ratcheted the seat forward.
Jackknife hopped in the passenger seat while Alister and his briefcase climbed into the back.
Lucas started the engine and slowly and quietly rolled out of the garage.
Goper and Ekki rounded the corner of the hotel on Segways, tiny blue lights flashing on their helmets. In the side-view mirrors Lucas could see the two guards zeroing in on the Tesla. He put his finger over the control panel and tapped INSANE. In 3.2 seconds the speedometer hit one hundred kilometers per hour, and the car rocketed across the parking lot and into the streets of Las Vegas.
As they passed the Bellagio fountains, Lucas buzzed the windows down. A Frank Sinatra song boomed from the fountain that shot geysers of water seventy-three meters up into the desert air.
After two more corners, Lucas nosed the Tesla around the parked cars and stopped right in front of the valet station at the Globe Hotel.
Astrid was waiting on the sidewalk with her arms folded.
Jackknife said, “I think we’re in trouble.”
IT’S TIME
Astrid shook her head as Lucas, Jackknife, and Alister climbed out of the Tesla.
“You guys are in trouble,” she said.
“Magnus kidnapped me in this car,” Lucas said. “I just drove it back.”
“It’s not that,” Astrid said. “Someone broke into the file room.”
“Hmmm,” Jackknife mused. “Wonder who that could have been?”
Alister glanced at his yellow jumpsuit. “Haven’t got the foggiest idea,” he said.
“I don’t want to know how you got in there,” Astrid said. “But keep your mouths shut and change out of those ridiculous theater costumes. The fact that the emblem says ‘Lost Vegas Locksmith’ might be a dead giveaway.”
Alister and Jackknife unzipped the jumpsuits. Underneath they were wearing the clothes they had had on earlier. Alister still had his bow tie on, and Jackknife wore his Pelé shirt. Lucas gave the keys and the jumpsuits to the valet, and they followed Astrid through the hotel and down to the New Resistance Hotel-School.
When they passed the principal’s office, Lucas peered through the blinds and spotted Big Mac sitting in front of her desk with his head in his hands.
Dr. Kloppers scurried over to the door. “Were you two boys out of bounds today at lunchtime by any chance?”
Astrid cranked up her inner lawyer. “I haven’t had time to discuss this matter with my clients.”
“It’s a simple question, Astrid,” Dr. Kloppers said. “I think the boys can answer for themselves.” The head of school gestured toward Big Mac in her office. “Mr. MacDonald here said he saw Lucas and Alister breaking into the file room today during lunch.”
“If that were true,” Astrid said, “if Mr. MacDonald did in fact see my clients, Alister and Lucas, then he, too, would have been out of bounds. And if so, then his testimony would be—”
“Enough,” Dr. Kloppers said. “You’ve made your point, young lady.”
Astrid, Lucas, Jackknife, and Alister headed to the Grotto for early dinner. The lights had been dimmed, which picked up an orange tint in the rock walls. The sugary smell of doughnut glaze still hung in the air, even though the cooks were already putting hot steaming pans into the buffet counter.
The cafe was about half full. Travis was sitting in a booth with Walter, who was sound asleep. Nalini was playing with Gini and talking with Zibby about how to babysit. Lucas sort of missed the little kid in a big-brother kind of way. Gini had helped them so much in Paris, and now it seemed everyone wanted to take care of her. Especially Nalini, who had somehow overnight become an expert on mothering.
Astrid, Lucas, Jackknife, and Alister went through the line and got their dinner trays. A few minutes later Mr. Benes walked straight up to their table. Lucas swallowed hard.
“I heard there was a problem over at the Good Hotel today,” he said calmly. “What do you know about this Lucas?”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“You know that woman that Magnus went to the airport with?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I met her today,” Lucas said. “Like you said, she’s not my mother, but she told me what happened to her, and how Bunguu’s diamonds actually belonged to my grandfather.”
“So the legend of the Kapriss diamonds lives on,” Mr. Benes said.
“You know about this?”
“Madame Beach has always believed there were dark secrets hidden in the Good Company.” Mr. Benes said. “Did this woman you met today tell you how to interpret your birth chart?”
Lucas put his fork down and thought for a second. He had tons of new clues.
“According to Alister, my mother left a ridiculously complex algorithm in the file.”
“Can you figure it out?”
“I think I can, but I’ll need help.”
Mr. Benes took a phone from his inside coat pocket. “Etta,” he said into the microphone. “It’s time.”
EMERGENCY MEETING
The sound of Etta Kerr’s soft British voice came across the school’s intercom system.
“Attention,” the communications director announced. “This announcement is an official Call to Legs. All Tier One and Two students report to the main boardroom for an emergency meeting.”
Lucas and the others trailed Mr. Benes from the Grotto and across the cavern in fire-drill silence. Other kids were streaming down the sidewalks. No one was talking. There had never been an emergency meeting at night. Ever.
Emerald, who normally worked as a flight attendant, held the door open.
A dark wooden table surrounded by office chairs occupied the center of the room. The fifth-year seniors in high school, Robbie Stafford from Australia and Sophia Carson from New Zealand, sat at the far end without smiling. Behind them was a giant monitor that showed the NRHS logo. On the sides of the room there were rows of carrels for Tier Two team members.
Coach Creed was standing in the kitchen area off to the side, drinking coffee. He was wearing sport shorts and a T-shirt that read CAFÉ CAFFÈ CAFÉ.
His enormous voice filled the room. “Good evening, everybody. Let’s get your tails a-moving and put them in a seat.”
Lucas sat at the Tier One table with Travis, Jackknife, Astrid, and Nalini and Gini. Everyone else took seats on the sides.
“What’s this all about?” Mac said.
“Why don’t you wait a second,” Astrid said, “instead of starting out being annoying.”
Mac took a carrel opposite Astrid. “I don’t even know why we’re doing any of this,” he said. “We’re a bunch of kids in a boardroom. Doesn’t anybody else think this is kind of stupid?”
“You stupid,” Gini said.
“That proves my point,” Mac said. “You’ve got this baby that supposedly helped you in Paris, and you’re toting her around like some good-luck charm.”
“Mac,” Kerala said f
rom a carrel across the room. “I am a polyglot, which means I can speak a lot of languages, but I don’t much like to talk in general. I used to think this whole New Resistance stuff was kind of hokey too. I’ll have to admit—kids solving problems created by adults? Really? But when we were in Paris, I saw how Lucas’s inexperience actually helped us.”
“Inexperience is a weakness,” Mac argued back.
Astrid fidgeted like she was itching to get in on the argument. “Kerala’s right,” she said. “The fact that Lucas and the rest of us didn’t have some fixed idea of how things were supposed to work out actually made him and all of us come up with new and creative ideas, and we saved a bunch of kids.”
“We’re adaptable,” said Jackknife.
“Listen here, Mac,” Coach Creed said. “Any numb-skull can complain. In this school, we express ourselves by our likes rather than our dislikes. If you want to join our program, you’ll need to rewire your thoughts.”
Coach Creed always had a way of ending a discussion. Everyone sat silent for about five seconds.
“Coach Creed?” Mr. Benes asked. “I have a feeling we’re going to need an airplane tonight. Will you kindly make sure White Bird One is ready to go?”
“Will do,” he said, and left the room.
Mr. Benes sat on a stool in the kitchen area. “Robbie, you ready?”
Robbie nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Normally at this point we know where we’re going, and we would decide who should go where. But we still have heaps of work to do.”
Sophia leaned her head toward Robbie and whispered something. They both looked at Lucas.
“Lucas,” Robbie said. “Why don’t you get us up to speed on what you know?”
“I think starting at the end might be better,” Lucas said. “I know we’ll end up at my birth chart.”
“Where is it now?” Robbie asked.
“It’s in Alister’s briefcase.”
Mac shouted out. “Because you stole it.”
“Terry,” Robbie said, “would you please take Lucas’s birth chart into the tech room and upload a digital version to the cloud.”
Terry took the file and left the room.
“Maybe,” Sophia said, “you should start at the beginning. And we’ll see if we’ve missed something along the way.”