Same held true for the next day, too. I didn’t want to say anything, but four guys in a room without maid service? Can anyone say yuck?
They did have food service. But the waiter had been instructed to leave the cart outside the presidential suite in the morning and pick it up at nine P.M.
I spent that night restless, thinking about David. I didn’t try calling or texting him back. Something was going on, and he didn’t need me crowding him. I wanted to ask TL again, but I knew it’d get me nowhere.
At this point, I felt that the mission had stalled. And I was beginning to wonder if it would even come to fruition.
I checked The Fly’s film. The lip reader’s report came back with nothing significant. Chapling had figured out emporium meant warehouse, but there were dozens of warehouses on Barracuda Key and the surrounding islands. So basically, we still had nothing.
I had morphed into Beaker, snarling at everything and everybody. If Eduardo didn’t do something soon, this mission would be over. All my research and planning would go down the proverbial drain.
[13]
Late The next morning, the last day of America’s Cheer, I stood in the lobby with Beaker, Lessy, and Jessy, tuning out the twins as they prattled on and on about who had said what to whom. In just a few minutes we would go into our final America’s Cheer meeting and find out who had made the national team. Our mission cover would be done—we’d have to leave and Eduardo would escape capture once again.
Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and my whole body jolted. I yanked it free, checked the display, and my heart kicked into overdrive with what I read.
Beaker yanked her phone from her pocket, too.
Simultaneously, we punched in our passwords to decode the encryption, and I read the text message from TL: EV ON THE MOVE. HEADING TOWARD FRONT DOORS OF HOTEL. ETA: 3 MINUTES.
Both our phones vibrated again.
Nalani this time. EV GO.
Our phones vibrated again.
The lip reader. EV MOVING
Jessy and Lessy leaned in. “Lord, someone wants you two pretty bad.”
Quickly, I pocketed my phone. “Just our coach.”
“Yeah,” Beaker agreed. “He can be a real pest.”
I gave Lessy a little nudge toward the rehearsal hall. “You two go on in. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Remember, today’s the last day. We’ll all find out if we’re part of the new America’s Cheer team.”
“Yay,” Jessy sarcastically enthused, linking arms with her sister. “Don’t be late, you two. I don’t feel like listening to you get yelled at.”
“Or watching you run laps around the room.” Lessy hopped in place. "L-A-T-E! Sorry we’re late!”
Laughing, Beaker and I waved them on. They disappeared inside the room, and we bolted out the hotel’s doors and across the portico to the palm trees lining the other side.
A bellman approached us. “Anything I can help you with, ladies?”
Beaker flashed him a smile. “No thanks. We’re fine. We’re just, um, waiting for someone.”
The bellman bowed. “As you wish.”
He backed away, and I slipped my backpack from my shoulder. I unzipped the front pocket and rifled around. Chapstick, pen, lollipop . . .where the heck were the simulated mosquito sting pencils?
Bouncing her leg, Beaker watched me. “Hurry,” she murmured.
I stifled the urge to hurry. Jerky, quick movements would draw too much attention. This was supposed to be a casual conversation between Beaker and me as we stood here under the palms.
“I’m about to rip that from your hands,” she gritted. “Eduardo’s going to walk out those doors any second.”
Purposefully ignoring her, I continued searching with a tiny bit of panic settling in. They were in here last night. I lifted a piece of paper and underneath lay two sting pencils. My heart gave a relieved beat. Oh, thank God.
I grabbed them and handed one to her. “Remember,” I said through a smile, “we’re supposed to be hanging out talking. Not about to shoot someone with one of these.”
She plucked the pencil from my hand, narrowing her eyes, and I knew she was about to do something ornery. “Oh!” Loudly, she faked a laugh. “Is that what we’re supposed to be doing?” Hahahahaha. “Oh, silly me. And to think, one would wonder.” Hahahahaha.
Bellmen began to turn and look.
I kept my smile in place as I put my backpack on the ground. “You can shut up now.”
“Ohhh,” she breathed, dramatically wiping her eyes.
I narrowed mine. Smart a—
The hotel doors opened, and we immediately snapped into our planned positions.
I lifted the eraser end of the mechanical pencil to my mouth and pretended to chew on it. Beaker stepped slightly in front of me to give the appearance I was looking at her instead of over her shoulder.
“So, anyway,” Beaker struck up a nonsense conversation, “I told the guy no way. I mean, what was he thinking asking me that? And then that girl . . .”
Pretending to hang on her every word, I watched Eduardo and his men stride through the hotel’s doors. They were all dressed in suits, leaving only their hands, necks, and faces exposed. The only place I could shoot the tracker.
“. . . and I was like, no way.” Beaker flipped her hand in the air. “I mean, who was she kidding, right? Saying all that. Oh, and then . . .”
Closing my right eye, I sighted down the length of the pencil. One of Eduardo’s men stood in front of him. Good thing I’m farsighted. The needless thought popped into my brain as I lined up the lead end of the pencil with the man’s forehead. With my tongue, I pressed the eraser. A tiny, nearly microscopic tracker sailed from the pencil twenty feet across the portico.
A couple seconds later, Eduardo’s man brushed his forehead and glanced into the air. One down, three to go.
“. . . Mr. Scallione. You remember him? He totally made a pass at me. Did I ever tell you that?” Beaker shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it. I was visiting my grand . . .”
Nodding at Beaker’s babbling, I handed her my pencil, she handed me hers, and I resumed my eraser-in-the-mouth position. In my peripheral vision, Beaker recalibrated the pencil I’d just handed her, getting it ready for the next usage. To an onlooker, it appeared as if she was merely twirling it as she continued talking.
“. . . all that ended, and she made me eat her famous egg casserole. I don’t know what’s so famous about it.” Beaker gagged. “I almost threw . . .”
I bet this is the most brainless yapping Beaker has done in her whole life. Another needless thought, but it popped into my head as I sighted down the length of the pencil, narrowing in on another one of Eduardo’s men. He shook hands with a bellman as they exchanged a key. Lining up the lead end of the pencil with the man’s hand, I pressed the eraser.
A couple seconds later, he gave his hand a little shake and wiped it on his pants. Two down; two to go.
“. . . later that night I climbed up on the roof.” Beaker propped her hand on her hip. “Guess who was up there? Timmy, our next-door neighbor. Only he didn’t look like the Timmy I remember from first gr . . . ”
Exchanging pencils with Beaker again, I kept Eduardo and the one remaining man in my sight. Eduardo said something to the man, the man nodded, and then headed back into the hotel. TL was positioned in the lobby. He’d get that one.
“. . . the horse’s name was Bunny. Or maybe Sunny.” Beaker shook her head. “Either way it was the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen. I can’t believe my sister got it for gradu . . .”
Putting the pencil in my mouth, I sighted down the length and lined up the lead end with Eduardo’s neck. I put my tongue on the eraser, and a bellman moved right in front of Eduardo.
“Crap,” I mumbled around the eraser.
Beaker kept right on talking. “. . . do you know what he’s probably going to get me? A set of encyclopedias or something equally boring and educat . . .”
The
bellman shifted away. I resighted Eduardo, lined up the lead end, and clicked the eraser.
A couple seconds later, he smacked his neck and looked straight across the portico at me.
My heart lurched.
As carefully, smoothly, and naturally as I could, I opened my right eye and moved my gaze to the left a fraction. I kept chewing on the eraser, pretending to be enthralled with Beaker’s prattling, and gave an understanding nod for good measure.
“Keep talking,” I murmured. “He’s looking right at us.”
“. . . it’s been that way my whole life.” Beaker threw her hands in the air. “Anyway. Hey, did I tell you I went to the zoo? It was the saddest thing that poor monkey . . .”
Taking the pencil from my mouth, I gave Beaker all my attention. “The monkey had been abused?” I grabbed her up in a huge hug. “That is sad.”
She didn’t hug me back.
I pulled away, and it occurred to me that I’d never hugged Beaker before. And from her sour face, I gathered she didn’t much appreciate it.
Nodding down the driveway, I grabbed my backpack from the ground. “Let’s go for a walk.” We headed off away from the sun, giving every appearance we were out for a morning stroll.
Eduardo’s car passed us about a minute later, and we kept right on strolling until it disappeared from sight.
Beaker and I nonchalantly turned and headed back up the driveway to the hotel. I wanted more than anything to sprint it, grab TL, and book it out of here. But the last thing I needed to do was to draw attention to us.
Reaching inside my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and clicked over to tracking mode.
Four blue dots popped up—Eduardo and his men. Lessy and Jessy’s red dots appeared in the bottom corner of the screen.
Smiling, I put my cell away. “Everything’s in place.” I turned to Beaker. “You’re pretty good at carrying on a one-sided conversation. Mr. Scallione? Egg casserole? Timmy? Bunny? Sunny? Encyclopedias? A monkey?” I laughed. “How’d you come up with all that?”
Beaker shrugged. “I have my moments.”
It made me remember all the fake conversations Jonathan and I had struck up on my first mission. I’d gotten such a kick out of saying stuff that took him off guard. It had surprised me more than anyone that I had come up with the things I had.
TL met us in the lobby when we entered. “Twenty-one hundred hours. Be ready.” With that he strode off.
Twenty-one hundred hours. Nine o’clock tonight. In under ten hours I’d hopefully see the end to Eduardo Villanueva and finally stop this madman before he ruins another family.
That thought echoed in my mind as Beaker and I quietly opened the rehearsal hall door and slipped inside.
From her spot up front, the America’s Cheer team leader pointed across the crowd.
In unison, all heads turned toward us.
“You’re late,” team leader echoed in her mike. "L-A-T-E! Sorry we’re late!” She circled her finger in the air. “Three times around the room and make it look good.”
Beaker and I exchanged annoyed looks while snickers filtered across the crowd.
We took off around the perimeter of the room, clapping, chanting, "L-A-T-E! Sorry we’re late!”
As when Beaker had chanted her gum mantra, some girls began sarcastically clapping, others bopped in their chairs. I caught sight of the twins on our second time around. They shook their heads in amused pity.
We circled the third time, came to a stop at the front, and went into simultaneous back handsprings. “Go, America’s Cheer!”
Everyone leapt to their feet. “Go, America’s Cheer!”
Thank God this was the last meeting.
seven P.M.
We were back in our room with the twins after getting cut from the team. In two hours Beaker and I had to be ready to go, and we still hadn’t gotten rid of Jessy and Lessy. And I’d tried, believe me. We needed, more than anything, to access the secret headboard panel for supplies.
“You all should go down to the beach for one last stroll,” I suggested. “Come tomorrow morning, you’ll be heading back to Alabama. No more Barracuda Key, Florida, sand.”
Lessy shrugged. “Don’t feel like it.”
“Come with us.” Jessy perked up. “Yeah, let’s all go.”
Beaker and I exchanged a this-is-not-working glance.
“Nah.” Beaker flopped back on our bed. “We don’t feel like it either.”
Seven thirty-one P.M.
“You two should go into town and gorge on pizza,” I suggested. “You know your mom won’t let you have any when you get home.”
“Come with us.” Lessy perked up.
Beaker and I exchanged a glance.
“Nah.” Beaker rolled over. “We’re not hungry.”
Eight oh-four P.M.
“You two should go sit in the hot tub,” I suggested. “Make use of the spa facilities before you head back home.”
“Come with us.” Jessy perked up. “Yeah, let’s all go.”
Beaker and I exchanged a glance.
“Nah.” Beaker shoved a pillow under her head. “I don’t feel like getting wet right now.”
Eight forty-nine P.M.
I stared at the clock, my jaw getting tighter and tighter. We had to be outside in eleven minutes, and still no luck with the Jessy/Lessy issue. They’d changed into their pajamas and lay under the covers watching TV.
With the way they were settled in, I highly doubted we were getting rid of them.
“You two,” I tried one last time, having no idea what to suggest, “should . . . hurry and get dressed and . . . go down to the, um, lounge, and start singing right there. Yeah, that’s what you should do.” I jabbed my finger in their direction. “If you were really serious about this singing thing, you would do it.”
Even to my own ears, I sounded stupid.
The twins just looked at me.
I cleared my throat and glanced at Beaker, hoping to get some backup.
She rolled her eyes and fell back on the bed.
I sighed.
A knock sounded on our door. I trudged across the room and opened it.
TL grinned. “Thought I’d take my two favorite girls out for an ice cream to cheer you up for not making the team.”
“Wow.” This came from one of the twins. “Your coach is so nice. Ours yelled at us for an hour.”
Beaker and I grabbed our back packs and followed TL out into the hall.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “No supplies.”
He shook his head. “Got it covered.”
Of course he had it covered. TL had a backup for everything.
In, down, and out the elevator we went. Bypassing the lobby, we cut through a hall and out the back exit door. We jogged past the pool and down the path leading to the beach, followed the moonlit shoreline about a quarter of a mile, then jogged through the dunes and came out at the back side of a grocery store.
The Winning Element (The Specialists) Page 18