The Winning Element (The Specialists)

by Shannon Greenland

I reached the bottom of the driveway and checked the blue dot on my phone screen. Eduardo and his men had already made it across the five-mile wide island to the other side.

  Shoving my phone into my warm-ups pocket, I snapped the flap and took off running through town.

  I tried to make it look more like a healthy jog than a frantic chase. I didn’t need anyone calling 911.

  Hello, officer? There’s this tall blond girl running for her life through town.

  Wouldn’t that be great?

  I had said it before, but I would say it again. Thank God for PT back at the ranch. There was no way I could make this run without it.

  One mile in, I passed a boy on a bike and cut a U-ie. “Hey, kid, let me borrow your bike. I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

  The kid narrowed his eyes. “Let me see the money.”

  Smart kid. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my zipper pouch, hoping I did indeed have twenty bucks.

  Thirty in all. Phew. I gave him twenty and pointed to the grocery store across the road. “I’ll leave it in the bike rack in front of that store on the right. Cool with you?”

  “Cool.” He pocketed the money.

  I climbed on his mini-dirt bike and away I went, pumping down the sidewalk, my knees nearly hitting my chest.

  Twenty minutes later, I made it to the other side of the island. I stopped and checked my cell phone. The blue dot was beginning to fade, indicating the thirty-minute tracker was dissolving, but from what I could tell, Eduardo was to my right.

  I rode into a deserted parking lot of the state park. Behind me stretched a half mile of beach highway leading back into town. In front of me spanned the dark ocean lit only by the half moon. To the left stood a small concrete visitor’s station.

  With the DNA glasses still on, I scanned the area. A red trail led from the parking lot, where the car must have dropped him and drove off, and onto the beach.

  Leaving the bike, I followed the red trail across the beach and down the length of a long pier. The red trail stopped at the end of the pier, where a boat had probably picked him up.

  There was no telling how far out he’d gone.

  I unsnapped my pocket and pulled out the cell phone. I activated the audio recording/eavesdropping software Chapling had coded in.

  Here went nothing.

  I programmed it to record everything within a mile in front of me. Slowly, I scanned the ocean, moving from left to right, degree by degree, listening closely.

  Static. Birds. Wind. Bugs. Nothing else.

  I reprogrammed it for two miles and started over, left to right, degree by degree.

  Bingo!

  A faint conversation in what sounded like Spanish. Definitely Eduardo’s deep, ugly voice.

  Holding the phone steady, I pressed the record button and listened for fifteen solid minutes, wishing Parrot was here with me to translate immediately.

  Through the phone I heard the boat’s motor crank. Depressing the record button again, I sprinted back down the pier across the beach to the bike.

  Down the highway, headlights pierced the night.

  Crap.

  Praying, praying, no one would see my blond head and flashy cheerleading outfit, I picked up the bike and ran for the visitor’s station.

  Right as the car pulled into the lot, I ducked into the shadows behind the concrete structure.

  I drew in deep breaths and blew them out slowly, repeating the process a couple of times. Gradually, my thumping heart and heavy breaths normalized.

  Peeking around the building’s corner, I watched as a black Cadillac with tinted windows rolled to a stop.

  A dark-haired man dressed in a suit climbed from the driver’s side. I recognized him as one of the guys who had been in the elevator with Eduardo back at the hotel. I switched my phone to infrared mode, killed the flash, and snapped a picture of him.

  He shut his door and leaned up against the car.

  Minutes later, Eduardo and two more men emerged from the beach’s darkness. I zoomed in on each face and got a picture.

  They began speaking. From the distance between us their voices came across muffled, but I could still make out the conversation.

  “What are we going to do with him?” one of the men asked in perfect English.

  “Kill him,” Eduardo responded, as if he was answering a pleasant question.

  “And the woman and children?” the man asked.

  “Did any of them see you deliver the money?”

  The man nodded. “Two of them did.”

  Eduardo shrugged. “Kill them, too.”

  “How do you want it done?”

  Eduardo stepped toward the car. “The usual—bullets to the head. All of them.”

  My whole body froze as I listened to them discuss killing an entire family. That easy. Bullets to the head. Just like my parents.

  You can’t just kill a whole family, I wanted to scream. What had they done that was so wrong?

  The driver opened the door for Eduardo, the other men climbed in, and the car drove away.

  I made myself get up when all I wanted to do was stay cowered in the shadows, grieving for the family that was about to die. A family that, although I didn’t know them, was just like mine.

  Crossing behind the visitor’s center, I got a picture of the license plate as they pulled from the lot.

  Waiting until its rear lights disappeared, I climbed on the bike and pedaled my way back down the highway, through town, and to the grocery store with the bike rack. I walked the remaining mile to the hotel, my footsteps heavy to match my thoughts.

  David had said not to let my emotions cloud the mission. But this time I couldn’t help it. I thought about what my life would have been like if Eduardo hadn’t ruined it. Hadn’t taken the two most important things from me. Where would I be right now? Still in Iowa? I’d probably live in a really cool house with maybe a dog. We’d go on family vacations every year. I’d help my mom cook dinner at night and help my dad on the weekends do lawn work. My mom and I might have planted a flower garden. Our Christmas tree would have been medium-size, with white lights and blue decorations.

  Someone pushed through the exit door of the hotel as I approached, bringing me from my reverie. I walked in the hotel and took the stairs up to our floor.

  Sweaty from my bike ride and worn out from my thoughts, I entered our room. There sat TL and Beaker. Him on one bed, her on the other, and the blue pyramid on the nightstand between them.

  I knew I was in trouble. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

  TL indicated the desk chair. “Sit.”

  I glanced at Beaker as I sat. She gave me a good-luck look. “Where’re the twins?”

  “Downstairs,” Beaker answered, “practicing their routine for tomorrow.”

  Nodding, I turned my attention to TL, wanting to get the whole thing over with.

  “Back at the ranch I told you that you were developing into a person I hadn’t expected you to. At least, not this quickly.” He shifted on the bed. “There’s nothing wrong with being an independent thinker and making your own decisions. But there’s a time and place for that sort of thing. This isn’t it. There’s something wrong when you’re with a team and you’re not using them.”

  He pointed across the room to me. “You are sixteen and a half. Letting you plan this mission was a test. You have not had enough training to be making some of the decisions you’re making, like going after Eduardo by yourself. And you have enough intelligence in that head of yours to understand that.”

  Reluctantly, my brain agreed with him.

  "GiGi, you are extremely gifted. In so many ways. I don’t think you fully comprehend what you are capable of.” TL shook his head. “But I’m really disappointed in you. And that’s something I never thought I’d say to you.”

  I glanced down at the carpeting, my heart sinking, but all I could think about was the family. “There’s a family that’s about to die,” I whispered.

  “I k
now. I know where you’ve been. I know what you’ve done. And I know you have a recording and pictures.”

  [11]

  "whaT?” I brought my eyes up to his.

  “I told you I’d always be watching you.”

  TL reached inside his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Everything you did tonight is right here.” TL held the phone up. “Courtesy of Chapling.”

  I sat up in the desk chair. “How?”

  “I had monitoring devices installed everywhere. Your phone. The stitching in your clothes.” He waved his hand around. “This hotel room.”

  Anger bubbled inside of me.

  “You are sixteen and a half,” TL reminded me again. “And this is the first mission you’ve designed. Of course I’m going to monitor you. If you would put aside your agitation, logic would point that out.”

  “But don’t you trust me?”

  His brows lifted. “What have you done here in Barracuda Key to earn my trust?”

  That question bounced around in my head for a few seconds, and I came up with . . . nothing. And if I had done something, it was negated by the other. I’d purposefully deceived him.

  I sighed.

  “I see logic is trickling in.” TL stood. “From this moment, this mission is officially mine. You do not say or do anything unless it’s a direct order from me. And one more anything out of you and I’m sending you back to California. Beaker and I can finish this on our own.”

  “What about the family?”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help them, but odds are we’re not going to find out who they are. I’m sorry. Get the recording sent back to home base so Parrot can translate it.” Grabbing the blue audio-blocker pyramid, he strode straight past me and out the door.

  Beaker took in a breath like she wanted to say something, but I ignored her. I walked over and turned on my laptop, connected my phone, and punched in the scrambler code.

  HI. Chapling typed.

  HI. I typed back. Usually his online presence made me smile. Not this time, though. I really wasn’t in the mood.

  WHATCHA GOT FOR ME?

  NEED PARROT TO TRANSLATE. I clicked some keys. SENDING NOW.

  I watched as my screen flicked, transmitting the recording back to home base.

  GOT IT, he typed. YOU OKAY, SMARTGIRL?

  Amazing how he could pick up on my mood from across cyber space.

  I’M FINE, I typed back. I didn’t need him worried about me.

  My cell phone beeped. I checked the display. “Lessy and Jessy are coming.”

  GOTTA GO, I quickly told Chapling.

  BYE! BE SAFE.

  I closed my laptop, and Beaker and I lapsed into silence, staring off into space, waiting for the twins to appear. All I could think of was how bad I’d screwed up and of the family that was going to die.

  Blowing out a silent breath, I dropped my head into my hand.

  “Um . . .” Beaker started.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

  “I’m sorry you know people are about to die.”

  I barely nodded. Sometimes this new life of mine really sucked. I didn’t like having the inside information on bad stuff that was about to happen, especially when I was powerless to do anything.

  My cell phone buzzed, and I punched in the password to decode the incoming message.

  THINKING OF YOU.

  I silently read the message from David and smiled inwardly at the comfort and peace it brought. I didn’t tell him how I’d screwed up.

  ME TOO, I typed back.

  The next day came way too early and was way too packed. Breakfast, training, rehearsal, lunch, and break. More training, another rehearsal, dinner, then a team-building activity where we all sat around with linked arms, singing. And in between, in the few moments we got to ourselves, I had to switch gears and try to focus on the mission.

  At the end of the day, Beaker and I trudged into our room after the annoying sing-along.

  Frustrated, I plopped down into the desk chair. “We haven’t done anything today regarding the real reason we’re here.”

  “Tell me about it,” Beaker grumbled. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m happy Coach Capri made me work as hard as she did. There’s no way I would’ve been prepared for all this cheery stuff without all her barking.” Beaker jabbed her finger in my direction. “But tell her I said any of that, and you’re dead.”

  I laughed.

  Our door clicked open, and Lessy and Jessy bounded in. “Hi!”

  “Hi,” Beaker and I returned.

  Jessy flopped across their bed. “Looord, I hate cheer training.” Smiling at her whining, I slipped out of my chair and onto the floor, where my backpack sat under the desk. I unzipped it and dug around, searching for a lollipop.

  On the bed, Beaker stretched out on her stomach. “Me, too.” Lessy plunked down next to her sister. “You’ve got the hottest coach.”

  Jessy grabbed a pillow. “Yeah, everybody’s talking about it.”

  Beaker and I glanced at each other. Yeah, TL was hot. Actually, the first time I saw him I thought he was the best-looking guy I’d ever seen.

  “Ooh!” Jessy threw her hands up. “Speaking of hot. You know CJ, that blond guy we met yesterday?” She cut Beaker a sideways glance. “Guess who I saw talking to him?”

  Beaker diverted her attention to the bedspread and suddenly became very interested in the pattern.

  I found a pineapple lollipop in my backpack and unwrapped it. “Who?”

  “Apparently he’s a delivery guy for the hotel. He was in the lobby after lunch, and I saw him talking to our own little Tiffany.” Lessy pursed her lips as she surveyed Beaker.

  I slipped the lollipop in my mouth. “Is that so?” I teased.

  Beaker shot me a snarl. It cheered me up.

  “He asked me if I was here with the cheerleading thing.” Beaker rolled her eyes. “As if he couldn’t figure that out by looking at my stupid getup.” She rolled off her bed. “I need a soda. Anybody want one?”

  Actually, a soda sounded good. “I’ll go with you.” I dug around in my backpack and fished out some money.

  Jessy started undressing. “Get me diet orange.”

  Lessy flipped on the TV. “Me, too. You’ll have to go to the lobby, though. The vending machines on the floors don’t carry orange.” She cringed. “Sorry.”

  I shrugged. “No big deal.”

  Beaker and I left the room and got halfway to the elevator.

  "Just a sec.” I jogged back down the hall to TL’s room and knocked.

  Seconds passed, and, just as I turned to leave, he cracked open the door. He didn’t look happy. Behind him, Nalani sat on a bed, wiping her cheeks.