by S. C. Davis
MY SUSPICIONS HAD JUST been confirmed. I knew something was strange about the situation with Dr. Wyatt. I also knew it had to have something to do with the Jasper oil and the clove and balsam that Kieran didn't seem to know about. Now that our roles had changed, I knew I needed to tell the others about it.
I explained what I had read in the note Dr. Wyatt left for Kieran, and how I was sure I’d smelled clove and balsam in Jasper Oil v. 5. I also mentioned that the first flask we had demonstrated to Mr. Gregory had ended up being dry when I picked it up to put it in the sink. I still had it in my backpack, so I pulled it out to show them.
“Didn't Kieran say that their entire goal was to find a way to make the coating become dry while still keeping the glass invisible? Well, it seems like version five does exactly that. If Kieran was aware of that, why would he still be experimenting?” I asked.
“Maybe he just never gave the oil a chance to dry completely,” Chase suggested.
“That seems unlikely,” Wes said, unconvinced.
“Or maybe someone changed the contents of Jasper v. 5 without him knowing about it,” I said, finally coming out with my hypothesis.
“Think about it,” I said. “Dr. Wyatt disappeared mysteriously after being visited by two strangers. He left instructions for Kieran to add coconut and shea oils to the mixture. Even I could tell you that wouldn't work; that stuff is used in moisturizers and cosmetics and stuff. There's no way it would dry clear. And Kieran confirmed that the new mixture left a film.”
I could see the others were starting to get on board with my theory.
“Are you suggesting that Dr. Wyatt changed the oil mixture himself?” Mr. Gregory asked. I put my finger to my nose and pointed at him, charades style.
“Bingo,” I said with a wink, having a little too much fun with my new detective role, considering we had a missing person on our hands.
“But if he’d already added those ingredients, why would he tell Kieran not to add them to the new version?” Britta asked.
“Someone's going to steal it,” Wes said suddenly. Everyone looked to him, and I nodded in agreement.
“Someone's going to steal it, and Dr. Wyatt must have figured that out. He made a phony suggestion for Kieran to add the shea and coconut oils to the new version, knowing it wouldn't work. He must have assumed whoever wanted to steal it would take the latest version,” Wes explained. “He didn't want them to get their hands on the good stuff.”
“So why would he add the good stuff—what was it, clove and balsam—to the older version that we now have?” Alexandra pondered.
“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe he was hoping Kieran would use it and notice that it was different.”
“We need to go back to the lab and tell Kieran about all this. If it is true, we might have the only bottle that Dr. Wyatt added the clove and balsam to. If he wanted Kieran to be able to discover it, there's no way he's going to as long as we have it,” Britta said as she stood up, prepared to march over to the college at that moment.
“Not so fast,” Mr. Gregory said. He gave us a helpless look. “This is where it gets tricky and frustrating. Yes, going back to someone like Kieran could make our job so much easier. But remember what I said? The fewer people who know about what goes on, especially other scientists, the better.
“Furthermore, we could be endangering Kieran by bringing him into this. He’ll be a prime suspect to Rosalind; they’ll be keeping a close eye on him to make sure he's not getting involved.”
We collectively sighed as we accepted the limitation. It was certainly going to slow things down, but we understood why it was necessary.
“We can't involve Kieran, or anyone else. At least not right now. I'm sorry,” Mr. Gregory said. “We've got to see how far we can get on our own first.”
We all nodded in understanding and sat in silence for a while, each thinking harder than we were used to, even at school.
“Well,” Mr. Gregory said with a sigh as he stood up. “I've added enough dark clouds over your young minds for one night. I think we should all just take some time and think. This was a really good start. I'm proud of you guys for being so observant,” he said. I actually felt a little proud of myself, too, for my excellent detective work.
Mr. Gregory walked over to his desk and unlocked the bottom drawer.
“Before you go, there's something I want each of you to have,” he said as he pulled out a heavy-duty plastic Pelican case, which was also locked. He unlocked it, opened the lid, pulled out six smaller boxes and handed one to each of us.
I opened the box, and inside was a brand new watch. It had a flat square face, like the screen of a smartphone. The band was a drab gray color.
“Is this the new Apple watch?!” Chase said excitedly.
“Not exactly. Similar, but made by a different company,” Mr. Gregory explained. “It's the same idea, but it's made for a more specific purpose. It's made for...well, for spy activity.”
We all looked up at him, astonished. Now he had to be pulling our legs.
“I'm serious!” he said, reading our faces. “The company gets contracted by the government and military for other similar products. It’s really advanced technology.”
Mr. Gregory motioned for us to huddle around him. He asked Ethan if he could borrow his watch, and he pressed a button on the side that made the screen light up in a bright turquoise. He showed us a few normal functions, like how to adjust the brightness and change the time.
“Now for the cool stuff,” he said. “See this button on the right side?” We all nodded. “And this one on the bottom left side?” We nodded again, craning our necks to see the tiny buttons.
“You press these at the same time, and the watch switches operating systems. It switches from a regular watch into spy mode. You can press this here to go into the GPS feature,” he said as he pressed a tiny icon that looked like a satellite.
“We'll have to sync all the watches together first, then you'll be able to see each other's locations.
“Here's the instant messaging feature, the sound recording feature, and this one is the photo and video recording feature. There's actually a tiny camera lens on three sides of the watch, so you could discretely record photos and video footage without having to hold the watch up in an obvious way.
“And this here is the brick feature,” he said, pointing to a tiny brick icon. “If you think you're about to be compromised, you can press this and it will 'brick' the watch. No one will even be able to turn it on except you. We’ll have to program in your fingerprints.”
I was totally amazed at this new gadget, and I couldn’t believe it would be my very own. I’d never even seen, much less used, such a thing. It made the mission seem even more real, and even more serious. This was actual spy movie stuff!
“Let's meet up tomorrow after school again. We'll get these watches all programmed and ready to go, do some more brainstorming, and then you'll be able to communicate using the watches between meetings,” Mr. Gregory said.
We agreed, said goodbye, and left the classroom to head home. The sun was already beginning to set as I walked toward the town. I heard footsteps behind me, and turned to see Wes jogging to catch up with me.
“I'm heading to the coffee shop to help close up, so I'm walking in your direction,” he said, looking pleased to have the company.
I smiled, and we walked in silence for a few moments, both deep in thought about the unbelievable situation we had found ourselves in.
“So this is all pretty crazy, isn't it?” Wes said.
“You could say that again,” I said in simple agreement. “Yesterday we were just your average seventh graders. Today, we're spies tasked with rescuing a missing scientist.”
Wes laughed, then turned serious. “I'm not gonna lie, Jenna, I'm…I'm a little scared. Not really about anything happening to me, but, what if we fail? What if something happens to Dr. Wyatt before we can help? I don't know how I would live with myself. I would always feel responsib
le.”
I had been trying not to think that way, but it's true that it was the exact thought that had been brewing in the back of my mind as well. This was big stuff for a twelve-year-old.
I was surprised to hear Wes, who always seemed so strong, admit that he had doubts and fears. He looked so rugged on the outside, with his punk rocker appearance. But I had seen sides of Wes Nguyen over the last few weeks that I never would have imagined he had.
Afraid that he would grow embarrassed over the admission, I quickly responded.
“We might be his only chance. We have to try. Anything less than trying would be a failure, and that's not going to be the case for us,” I said, surprising even myself by the strength in my voice.
We had reached his family's coffee shop, so we stopped on the sidewalk. The first few stars were becoming visible, and I knew I needed to get home to let Parsley out before my mom did. But for some reason, I really didn't want to leave. I noticed Wes was looking at me with something like admiration.
“You're right,” he said, nodding. “I knew I could talk to you about it.”
He reached out and lightly touched my arm in a gesture of gratitude. Nothing out of the ordinary. But I felt the same little twinge I had felt that Sunday at my house when I heard him playing the piano: a single tiny butterfly somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter 21
The Grand Underground Room
WHEN DR. WYATT LEFT his lab with the two strangers in early October, he knew it would be a while before he was back. A small fearful part of him wondered if he would be back at all.
Outside of the science building, parked along the curb, was a dark town car. Typical, Dr. Wyatt thought.
“Dr. Wyatt, please allow us to escort you to our headquarters,” Olivia said as Axel opened the back door. “There will be no need to use your own transportation. We will bring you back here promptly after the meeting.”
It was clear from her tone that it was not merely a suggestion. Dr. Wyatt also knew that they had no intention of bringing him back “promptly”.
He felt, for a brief moment, a strange mixture of panic and sadness. Would anyone even notice his absence? He wasn't married, had no children, no close friends. It was just him, his lectures, and his research.
He supposed the college would eventually notice, but Kieran was covering his classes. Kieran would probably teach them better than he could himself. Dr. Wyatt laughed slightly at the thought that Kieran, his student, was probably his only friend.
Dr. Wyatt did not try to argue or resist. He simply cooperated, trying to think of a way to get himself out of the situation, but also resigning himself to the possibility that he wouldn't be able to. Not just yet, anyway.
Olivia kept up her act. Dr. Wyatt was surprised; couldn't she tell that he knew better than to believe a word she was saying? Perhaps she did know, but was simply carrying out her task as assigned.
The short drive took them to where a few industrial warehouses and small factories fringed the border between the town and the rural areas.
They pulled up in front of an old concrete building with chipping yellow paint on the outside. There were no windows that could be seen, except for two tall narrow ones flanking either side of the front door, which was close to the far right corner of the building. The building was broad, stretching out to the left toward a patch of forest. It was deep as well, extending just as far back from where they stood toward the railroad and a large grassy hill.
I remember this place, Dr. Wyatt thought. The old Natural History Museum.
Decades before, the museum had moved to a modern building right next door to the public library downtown. He never imagined he would ever enter the old building again, and yet, here he was.
Olivia, dressed in her fine suit and heels, led the way into the building. Dr. Wyatt thought she looked out of place, walking into a run-down building on a cracked sidewalk, lined on either side by tall, unruly weeds.
Dr. Wyatt had a hunch that the appearance of the building was a choice made on purpose. A disguise to thwart attention from the outside world.
Inside, the tiny front foyer had a single reception desk, paneled with sun-bleached warped pressboard. The entire room looked like it belonged in the seventies, with ugly chipping paint in mustard yellow and olive green, and gaudy floor tiles to match.
The musty smell in the air was a perfect match. Dr. Wyatt half expected a woman with big hair, thick horn-rimmed glasses and retro clothing to appear behind the receptionist desk, but no one else was there except them.
Instead, Olivia proceeded to open another old wood door into a large dark room. There were no lights on, but dim natural light spilled in from very small gaps that lined the top edge of the walls.
In the faint light, he could just make out rows of shelves loaded down with stacks of yellowed paper, boxes full of manila folders, old clunky staplers, dust-covered gigantic computer monitors, and other random objects. It looked like an outdated and forgotten office supply warehouse.
Dr. Wyatt followed the dark figure of Olivia as she headed across the seemingly never-ending room, mostly following the sound of her heels clicking on the concrete floor. He was keenly aware of Axel's silent but very close presence behind him, ever since he had exited the car.
Finally, Olivia reached a heavy metal door. When she pulled it open, ugly artificial orange light washed into the room. On the left was a downward staircase, with a solid armored door to the right of it. Olivia motioned for Dr. Wyatt to follow her down the stairs.
Expecting just a single-story basement, he became anxious as they descended four flights of stairs before reaching the bottom. It seemed they had reached a dead end; there were no doors in sight. Only the staircase that they had just descended.
Olivia turned to the right and faced a blank cinder-blocked wall. She stepped on a floor tile that Dr. Wyatt noticed was just a shade darker than the rest of the other tiles. A cinder block directly in front of her, about chest level, receded into the wall and sunk out of sight. A shiny black touchscreen panel emerged in its place.
What am I seeing? Dr. Wyatt thought, as he squinted his eyes at the object. Olivia turned and looked at Dr. Wyatt, then snickered as she turned back to the panel and touched a series of buttons that Dr. Wyatt could not see from his angle.
“Never seen the likes of this before, have you?” she said, pompously.
After entering what he supposed was a secret code, the rest of the cinder blocks in the wall before them receded as the first had done. They separated in a jagged line down the middle and spread to either side. It was a door, hidden in plain sight.
Dr. Wyatt followed Olivia through the wall door into the low light of an elegant foyer. The room was in stark contrast to the musty, gray surroundings of the warehouse and the stairwell. To the left was an elevator door, and straight ahead was a thick purple velvet curtain, hanging from the vaulted ceiling all the way to the floor. Olivia pulled the curtain aside and gestured for Dr. Wyatt to pass through.
What he saw on the other side amazed him, and also explained the many flights of stairs they had descended. A gigantic room, easily four stories in height, spread before him. Like the foyer, it was dimly lit.
The room itself was sparse, save for a few large elaborate rugs covering parts of a black tiled floor. Dr. Wyatt could see his own reflection in the polished tiles, even in the low light. Potted ferns decorated the corners. It was like being in a grand hotel banquet room.
“Wait here,” Olivia said as she clip-clopped off to disappear into a dark corner of the room. Axel remained; an everlasting and unwanted shadow.
What struck Dr. Wyatt the most about the large room were the walls. They were made of dark cherry wood panels, each etched with complex images, apparently all with scientific themes. Strands of DNA, a schematic comparing the stages of mitosis and meiosis, cross-sections of the earth’s layers and oceans, and even a life-size human skeleton, every bone carved in great detail.
“The etchings were done by Rudolf Planck,” a deep but gentle voice echoed across the huge room.
Dr. Wyatt pulled away from the etching of a bacterium he had been examining and turned abruptly to face a tall, distinguished man with broad shoulders and a warm smile. His salt-and-pepper hair was tastefully slicked back, and his narrow eyes seemed at once cheery and mysterious.
Dressed in a neatly-pressed light gray suit coupled with a deep purple tie, it was clear this man was just as well off, if not more so, than Miss Pritchard and her associate Axel. The man continued toward Dr. Wyatt, hands confidently tucked into his pockets.
“He was one of the most sought-out scientific illustrators of all time. He was the first to represent hundreds of newly discovered species with his drawings. This,” he said as he gestured around the room, “was his last project. It took him five years to complete it.”
“It's...quite impressive,” Dr. Wyatt said, trying to mask his nervousness. He could only assume this man was Dr. Rigby, but his manner was nothing like he’d expected. Nothing like the other two.
“You’re a scientist as well?” he asked, though he was sure he knew the answer.
“Me? Ah, no, I've nowhere near the IQ for that,” the man said with a friendly laugh. “What I am is a man with means, and a deep respect for brilliant scientists. Like you, in fact,” he said, placing a hand on Dr. Wyatt's shoulder like an old friend. He offered his other hand to Dr. Wyatt in introduction, but Dr. Wyatt already knew exactly who this was.
“I'm Dr. Nigel Rigby. Call me Nigel, though. You're the only person in this room deserving of the title 'doctor',” he said with the same genial laugh. To Dr. Wyatt, it was beginning to sound patronizing.
“I earned a PhD in finance ages ago. Friends and family started calling me 'doctor,' and I never could get them to stop,” he said, smiling in a failed attempt at humility. Dr. Wyatt forced a laugh of his own.
“Well I'm sure you're a busy man, so let's get down to business, shall we? Let's have a seat in my office,” Rigby said, as he headed toward the largest panel right in the middle of the wall at the far end of the room, near where Olivia had disappeared and not returned.