by Stuart Gibbs
“There’s also this.” Olivia pulled a second wet bathing suit out of the plastic bag. This one was blue. She dangled it from a finger, as though she really didn’t want to touch it. “Is it yours, Teddy?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
Olivia gave me a suspicious stare. “You barely even looked at it.”
“I only have one other bathing suit,” I told her. “And it’s green.” I took the blue suit off her finger and examined it. It was a souvenir from FunJungle: board shorts with a piece of one leg purposefully missing, cut so that it looked as if it had been bitten off by a shark. On the rear end, written in letters designed to look like dripping blood, it said, “I survived Shark Encounter at FunJungle!”
I’d seen similar suits on sale at the Shark Encounter gift shop, which had always seemed to be very poor taste. After all, Shark Encounter was supposed to be teaching tourists that sharks actually weren’t very dangerous, while this bathing suit reinforced the stereotype that they were. Plus, I had barely survived Shark Encounter once, when the underwater viewing tunnel had collapsed, so the idea of a shark attack didn’t seem very funny to me.
“Yuck,” Summer said under her breath. “Who would wear something like that?”
“Hey!” Kevin exclaimed. “I have that exact same bathing suit!”
“Why?” Summer asked, not bothering to hide her disgust.
“It’s pretty sick,” Kevin said proudly, failing to realize Summer wasn’t impressed. “And as a FunJungle employee, I get a ten percent discount on all merchandise!”
I held the bathing suit up against my own waist to check the size. It was way too big for me. “I think this is an adult’s bathing suit, not a kid’s,” I pointed out.
Summer, who knew a lot more about clothes than I did, simply checked the tag on the inside of the elastic waistband. “Men’s medium,” she read. “What size pants do you wear, Teddy?”
“Uh . . . I don’t know,” I said.
Summer looked at me like I’d said I didn’t know my own hair color. “How could you not know your pant size?”
I shrugged. “My mom buys all my clothes for me.”
Summer rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Olivia. “Teddy’s obviously too small to wear these. If you’d just checked the tag, you wouldn’t have had to come all the way over here.”
“I didn’t think of it,” Olivia said. “One of the other trainers found them in the dolphin tank, and we didn’t know who else’s they could be.” She looked to me. “You’re the only one who Snickers has pantsed and the only kid who’s normally here after park hours, so . . .”
“You jumped to a conclusion?” Summer finished.
“Yes,” Olivia admitted. “Sorry, Teddy.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “Where in the tank was this?”
“Down at the bottom,” Olivia replied. “On the far side from the beach. There’s some pipes there to recirculate the water, and the bathing suit was jammed under one. Sometimes the dolphins like to hide things there.”
“The dolphins hide things?” Kevin asked, surprised. “How? They don’t even have hands!”
“They use their mouths,” Olivia said slowly, as though she was talking to a child. “And yes, sometimes if they find something unusual, they’ll try to hide it where we might not notice it.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Summer asked.
“Well, we try to control what goes into the tank,” Olivia replied. “Although we do give them lots of toys to play with to keep them stimulated. Plastic rings and balls and such. And sometimes we’ll put food inside something to see if they can figure out how to get it out. Like a plastic box with a latch. Or we’ll freeze it in ice.”
“The same thing Mom does with the primates,” I pointed out.
“Yes,” Olivia said. “Both species are very smart and need lots of stimulation.”
“Wow,” Kevin gasped. “I didn’t know there were fish as smart as monkeys.”
Olivia glared at him. “Dolphins aren’t fish. They’re mammals. And they’re smarter than monkeys. Or even some apes. They have complex communication, use tools, and work as teams. For all we know, they’re smarter than we are.”
Kevin laughed disdainfully. “Yeah, right. If they’re so smart, then why don’t they invent things like airplanes and television?”
“They also don’t kill each other,” Olivia pointed out. “So they’ve got that on us.”
“I’m just saying, we put them in shows,” Kevin pressed. “If they were the smart ones, we’d be balancing balls on our noses for them, right?”
“Can you pinpoint a fish two hundred yards away in the darkness using only sound waves?” Olivia asked.
“Uh . . . no,” Kevin said.
“Well, a dolphin can,” Olivia replied curtly. “We each have our talents.” Kevin started to protest, but Olivia held up a hand to silence him. “I’m not going to discuss intelligence with someone who can’t even remember to zip his fly,” she said.
Kevin glanced down and realized that his fly was, in fact, unzipped. Plus, his shirt was poking out through it. He turned bright red and quickly spun around to fix things. “Oops!”
While he was distracted, we all slipped away from him so we could finish our conversation in peace. We headed away from the loading dock, toward the front of the hospital.
“What were we talking about before that doofus interrupted?” Olivia asked.
“The dolphins finding things in the tank,” Summer told her.
“Right,” Olivia agreed. “We give them things to stimulate them and try to keep other stuff out, but every once in a while, something gets in. Some idiot tourist throws in a toy from the gift shop or drops a soda bottle over the rail—or maybe a bird feather or a plastic bag blows in. Well, if a dolphin gets ahold of something like that and wants to keep it, they’ll hide it someplace.”
“How good is this hiding place?” I asked. “Could the bathing suit have been in the tank for a few days?”
Olivia stopped walking to think about this. “Uh . . . maybe. We do our best to check the tank every night to make sure the dolphins haven’t gotten ahold of something dangerous. We don’t want them choking on garbage or anything. But they’re clever. This suit was wedged under the pipe so it was almost impossible to see. So I suppose it could have been in the tank more than a day.”
“Then whoever it belongs to could have been in the tank well before last night,” Summer said.
“Well, not much more before last night,” Olivia countered. “Only a few days, max. I’m sure this suit hasn’t been down there longer than that. Someone would have noticed it.”
We were now quite close to the group of FunJungle employees who’d been milling around. I realized they were all eavesdropping on our conversation. They were trying to act inconspicuous, but that was hard to do when three of them were dressed like an elephant, a zebra, and a giant panda.
I was about to suggest we find a more private place to talk when Olivia asked me, “Teddy, did you ever ask Hoenekker to check the camera feeds from the dolphin exhibit?”
“Er . . . no,” I admitted. Given all the excitement with Li Ping’s disappearance, I’d forgotten. And now Hoenekker was certainly too busy to check the feeds, although I couldn’t tell Olivia why. So I had to bend the truth. “I didn’t get a chance. He’s been really swamped this morning, with all the crowds and everything.”
Olivia seemed to suspect that I wasn’t giving her the full story, but before she could press the point, Summer wrinkled her nose and said, “That bathing suit smells funny.”
I held it up to examine it again. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Well, your nose probably isn’t as good as mine. Trust me, something’s funky about it.” Summer took the suit from me and sniffed it closer. Then, seeming to sense something, she shifted it around to sniff different parts of it.
I started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Summer demanded.
�
�You look like a bloodhound,” I said.
Summer stuck her tongue out at me, then went right back to smelling the suit. She took another few sniffs, then gave a triumphant shout. “Aha!” She inverted one of the pockets and a chunk of something grayish and flaky fell out onto the ground at our feet.
“Is that tuna fish?” I asked.
“Definitely,” Summer replied. “It totally smells like tuna.”
The FunJungle employees nearby were no longer even trying to pretend that they weren’t eavesdropping on us. They all craned forward, wondering what was going on.
“Why would somebody put tuna fish in the pockets of their bathing suit?” I asked.
“For a snack while swimming?” suggested the woman half-dressed as Zelda Zebra.
Before anyone could suggest a better answer, a helicopter roared overhead, catching us all by surprise. J.J. McCracken had made sure airspace over FunJungle was severely restricted; both the guests and the animals could find the sound of aircraft irritating. In addition, this helicopter came in extremely low, close enough to the ground that I could have hit it with a rock. It then banked sharply and started lowering behind the animal hospital. There was a helipad back there, in case a severe emergency required a human—or an animal—to be airlifted out, but as far as I knew, it had never been used.
Summer instantly darted that way, eager to see what was going on. I dropped in behind her. So did Olivia. We raced back to the area behind the hospital.
Kevin had abandoned his post to watch the helicopter as well. He was standing with Hoenekker, Marge, and my parents, a safe distance from the helipad, where they wouldn’t be hit by debris kicked up by the rotors. Hoenekker appeared more annoyed than I’d ever seen him—and that was really saying something. He was annoyed a lot.
Summer had to shout to be heard over the incoming copter. “Who’s that?”
“The FBI!” Kevin shouted back.
“The FBI?” I repeated, incredulous. “Why?”
Kevin started to answer me, but Hoenekker gave him a look that said he’d be better off keeping his mouth shut.
It was almost impossible to talk over the helicopter anyhow. The noise was earsplitting as it touched down. Before the rotors had stopped spinning, the chopper’s passenger door opened and a tall woman in a suit and sunglasses hopped out. Three other people got out behind her, but I barely noticed them because the tall woman was so striking. She had red hair so bright, it almost looked like her head was on fire, and though her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, she was extremely beautiful—although there was also something strangely familiar about her too.
“Oh no,” Marge groaned.
The red-haired woman strode directly up to Hoenekker and flashed her official badge. “Agent Molly O’Malley, FBI. I’m here to take over the investigation into the disappearance of Li Ping.”
“Agent O’Malley?” Summer echoed next to me, as surprised by the name as I was. Both of us turned to see Marge shrinking away in embarrassment.
Agent O’Malley noticed her as well. She looked to Marge and flashed a cocky smile.
“Hey, little sister,” she said.
THE FEDS
While the rest of us reeled from the surprise that Marge had a sister—and one who was an FBI agent, no less—the three other people who’d been on the helicopter gathered behind Molly O’Malley. There were two men and a woman, and they all appeared to be FBI agents as well. They all dressed exactly the same, in dark suits and sunglasses. They hung back from us, though, allowing Molly to run the show.
I was looking back and forth between Marge and Molly. I had never seen two sisters who looked so different. Molly was tall and skinny, while Marge was squat and round. Molly was impeccably dressed, while Marge looked as though she had slept in her clothes, then rolled around in the garbage for good measure; there were a dozen food stains on her uniform, ranging from chili to Cheez Whiz. Molly stood upright and radiated intelligence and confidence. Marge slouched—and the only thing she radiated was body odor.
Everyone else from FunJungle was looking from one O’Malley to the other as well—except Chief Hoenekker. He kept his gaze riveted on Molly, his eyes narrowed in anger. “We can handle this investigation on our own,” he told her. “We don’t need the FBI.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Molly informed him. “It’s a done deal. That panda isn’t the property of FunJungle. It’s the property of the country of China, which makes its theft an international incident. The nation’s best law enforcement agency needs to be on this case, not a group of security guards.”
“We are a fully operational police force,” Hoenekker growled.
“J.J. McCracken doesn’t seem to think so,” Molly said with a smirk. “He’s the one who tipped us off.”
Hoenekker’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Furthermore, this case doesn’t even fall within your jurisdiction,” Molly went on. “It didn’t occur at FunJungle. It happened somewhere en route between San Diego and here, which means the panda crossed state lines, which makes this a federal crime. Which, once again, mandates the presence of the FBI to investigate.”
Hoenekker didn’t respond. He still appeared stunned that J.J. had called in the FBI.
Molly gave him a smug smile, knowing she’d won this round. “So then, if you will hand over any evidence you have uncovered so far and disclose any discoveries you have made to my agents, I’d like to get started with this investigation right away.” With that, she brushed past Hoenekker, heading for the panda truck.
Hoenekker shook off his stupor and raced after her. “Now, hold on. My team has a right to be a part of this. The theft of that panda was a crime committed against FunJungle, for which we are the official law-enforcement arm.”
“Then perhaps you should have worked harder to prevent the crime in the first place,” Molly told him. She hopped onto the loading dock and strode purposefully toward the truck.
Hoenekker looked ready to explode. But before he could say anything, J.J. McCracken raced around the corner and intervened, desperate to keep the peace.
“Whoa there, Chief. Let’s not say anything we’re gonna regret.” J.J. was slightly out of breath, as though he’d run the whole way from his office. Several lawyers trailed behind him, like they’d been caught in his wake and sucked out of the administration building with him.
“She’s the one with the attitude problem, not me,” Hoenekker muttered to J.J. “Cocky feds. Why on earth did you call them?”
“Because the Chinese insisted on it.” Before Hoenekker could protest, J.J. held up a hand, silencing him. “I know, it stinks. But I couldn’t keep Li Ping’s disappearance a secret from China. I’ve got billions of dollars in business interests over there, and I can’t afford not to be a straight shooter with them. So if they want the feds involved, the feds are involved. Frankly, I probably would’ve had to bring them in sooner or later anyhow.”
Hoenekker’s frown grew even deeper, but he didn’t say anything. He and J.J. followed Molly O’Malley up onto the loading dock, and the rest of us dropped in behind them.
Molly was now examining the panda delivery truck from the outside. She seemed amused by Hoenekker’s criminal investigation kit, which was still sitting on the dock. “That’s cute,” she said mockingly, then asked, “So what have you found here?”
Hoenekker didn’t answer right away, still annoyed by how everything was playing out.
Molly groaned theatrically. “Please tell me you’re not going to get territorial over this. If I have to, I can get the US ambassador to China on the phone, but I really think she has better things to do with her time.”
Hoenekker sighed heavily, realizing he was beat, and coughed up what he knew. “It appears the truck was attacked while en route to FunJungle sometime last night. The attackers blew the lock off the rear door with what we believe was C-4 putty explosive, then entered the truck, cut the chains on the panda’s cage with bolt cutters, and forcibly removed both the panda
and Doc Deakin, the veterinarian.”
“All while the truck was moving?” Molly asked, sounding incredulous.
“That appears to be the case,” Hoenekker replied. “I had someone stationed in the cab of the truck throughout the trip—”
“That’d be you, Marge?” Molly interrupted, looking at her sister and raising an eyebrow.
“Er . . . yes,” Marge said. Normally, she was full of bluff and bravado, but it had all vanished in front of her sister.
“Looks like someone removed Marge’s spine,” Summer whispered to me.
“According to Officer O’Malley,” Hoenekker went on, “the truck made a pit stop at midnight near Las Cruces, New Mexico. At that time, Doc Deakin and Li Ping were still inside the trailer, alive and well. Everyone took a bathroom break, and afterward, Doc was locked back in with the panda. The truck did not stop again until it arrived here shortly before oh-900 this morning, when the disappearance of both Doc and Li Ping was discovered.”
Molly O’Malley made a face like she’d sucked on a lemon, as if she didn’t like any of what she was hearing. “And what evidence have you discovered in the truck?”
“Trace amounts of explosive,” Hoenekker reported. “No fingerprints as of yet.”
“Fibers?” Molly asked.
“Quite a lot,” Hoenekker replied. “But there’s a good chance most of them are panda fur. We haven’t had a chance to analyze them yet.”
“We’ll handle that,” Molly told him. “And I understand there was a ransom note?”
“I have my own people doing analysis on that . . . ,” Hoenekker began.
“Not anymore,” Molly said brusquely. “We’ll handle that as well. Any ideas who it might be from?”
“None yet,” Hoenekker replied.
“Really?” Molly taunted. “You don’t have one idea? For example, exotic animal traffickers, someone with a grudge against the Chinese government, a radical animal rights group like the Nature Freedom Force . . .”
Hoenekker laughed dismissively at this. “The NFF is a rinky-dink group of radicals. They hand out anti-zoo pamphlets at our front gates and picket construction sites. They don’t have the know-how to pull off a complex job like this.”