Marco glanced my way with an amazed grin. He cocked his head and let out a animal-like roar. “Woooooo-hoooo! I want to do this again!”
“In due time, my boy,” Brother Dimitrios said with a proud smile. “We will have great uses for all of your powers.”
Marco was dancing around the room, shadow-boxing, kicking his legs. To him it was all about G7W. Our cool powers. The Massa were letting him loose with it. Turning his genetic skill into a killing game.
To him, this was more than fun. It was an addiction.
What did they have in store for the rest of us?
I stood from the wheelchair. I didn’t need it. My head still hurt but I could walk. Cheers rang out from the battle room, which was now full of guards, medical people, animal wranglers. It was Marco Day at the Massa Headquarters. Everyone wanted a piece of the celebrity.
Behind us, the rotunda was empty. Totally empty. No one was minding the store. I quickly scanned the circular room and noticed a corridor to the left that appeared to be empty.
I edged backward. I pictured Aly disappearing into the crowd. She had managed to escape by bucking the odds. By showing courage. She had run when it seemed like a crazy thing to do.
Cass was backing up with me. I could tell we were on the same wavelength. “Ready?” I whispered.
“Ready,” Cass said.
“Now!”
We turned and ran. As we sped into the corridor, I noticed a tiny marble-sized contraption on the ceiling. It began blinking red and white. “Hurry!” I called out.
I fought against the pain in my head. One foot in front of the other. The path inclined upward and forked. I chose left.
With a loud thump, a metal gate dropped from the ceiling, blocking my path.
Cass and I whirled around and bolted down the other pathway. We followed it as it curved sharply to the right, ending in a steep flight of stone stairs.
We took them two at a time. At the top, I stopped short.
Before us was a small chamber, lit with candles. In the center was a long wooden sarcophagus, lying on a stone altar. Inside was a tightly wrapped mummy.
“It’s a dead end!” Cass said.
“There’s got to be a way out,” I said, creeping closer to the coffin. These guys were supposed to have free passage to visit the gods.”
“Maybe there’s a secret passageway,” Cass said.
I noticed something glint from inside the mummy’s eye slits. I leaned closer. The slits flashed red.
Sensors.
“Go!” I said, pushing Cass toward the door. “Just go!”
Below us, the floor shuddered. Hard. We fell to our knees and struggled to stand. But we were sinking fast. The entire room, mummy and all, was dropping downward into darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTY
A KILLING COMPANY
“HELLO, JACK.”
My eyes blinked open. I had no idea where I was. The voice had come at me from all sides. The same kind of scrambled voice we’d heard earlier. I was lying on a sofa in a darkened room, with pillows on the floor and a flat-screen TV showing scenic vistas with soothing music. “You guys really get a kick out of knocking kids unconscious, huh?” I said.
“It is the last thing we want to do,” the voice said. “We aim to keep you safe. Pampered, even. Brother Dimitrios asked that you be put into this relaxation room. We have several. Are you comfortable?”
I stood up and looked around for a window, a two-way mirror, a curtain like the one in The Wizard of Oz. “No, I’m not,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I’m creeped out beyond belief. Especially by you. Who are you? Where are you? Why are you disguising your voice?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” the voice replied. “I’ll start with the last one. I have to disguise my voice. My identity must remain a secret to all but the top echelons. A security precaution. I am known as Nancy Emelink Margana, but I confess, that’s not real, either. I may not even be female.”
“So you’re the boss?” I said. “The one Brother Devious reports to?”
“I wouldn’t be so harsh with Dimitrios,” the voice replied. “He cares deeply about your well-being, and he is a crackerjack manager.”
“Crackerjack?” The sound of that term grated against me. The only other person I knew who ever used that expression was my mom. Hearing it from the Massa CEO, or whoever this was, felt like a slap in the face. “Maybe you want to brush up on your slang.”
The voice made a strange noise that I took to be a laugh. “Old-fashioned, I suppose. I’m sorry. If you do not like it here, I will arrange for you to be taken to your room. Cass is there already. At any rate, I thought I would personally welcome you from the executive board of the Massa organization. You can be assured that I will be there to help you find the correct path. That’s a promise.”
I flopped down onto the cushions and stared blankly at the bland images on TV. The Massa organization. She made this sound like some Wall Street company. Which, somehow, didn’t surprise me. “Thanks a bunch,” I muttered.
“I’m really, really, really sorry,” Marco said, inhaling a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream by the spoonful. “I know you think I’m this total Arnold Benedict.”
The lounge had a full kitchen, a fridge stocked with food, and two giant flat-screen TVs. There were four windowless bedrooms off the lounge, one for each of us. They were actually going to keep all four of us together. Tinker, Tailor, Sailor, Traitor. They’d made us wear these bright yellow jumpsuits that would make us stand out a hundred yards away.
“Benedict Arnold,” Cass mumbled. “A world-class turncoat.”
“Right, that guy,” Marco said. “Hey, I know exactly how you feel. I felt the same way when Brother Dimitrios first found me. I was ready to floor him.”
“For about fifteen seconds, before he changed your mind,” Cass remarked.
“You’ll come around,” Marco insisted. “You’ll see.”
“Why did they put you in here with us?” I blurted out. “You’re not one of us. You’re Massa. You should be with them. They’re a company, did you know that? A killing company. And it looks like they’re training you well.”
“That was crazy, right?” he said. “I couldn’t believe myself. It’s almost like I left my body. Like I was standing outside it and watching all those moves. What did you guys think? Was that awesome or what?”
I wheeled around on him. “Are you kidding us? You think all is forgiven, that it’s okay for us to sit here and worship you?”
“Jack,” Marco said, leaning forward, “cool stuff is going to happen to you, too. And you, Cass. And Aly, when she gets back. These guys are not like the KI. They don’t just do lame exercises—you know, testing us in the garage, in the kitchen, on the mountain. These guys challenge you. That’s the only way to strengthen your G7W abilities. Aly will be hacking things you never imagined possible. Cass, you’ll be mapping routes all over the world. Jack, you . . . um . . .”
I hated hearing the pause in his voice. The old question in everyone’s mind—What’s Jack good for? “I don’t like it,” I said. “It smells bad. Like they’re trying to brainwash us.”
“The food is great, you have to admit,” Cass said, pulling another carton of ice cream from the fridge. “Look, they have Chubby Hubby, too, my favorite. And I liked the relaxation room. And the lady with the scrambled voice.”
“Nancy,” I said. “Morgana. Or whatever her fake name was. Or his. They’re just trying to bend our minds. Soften us up.”
Marco exhaled deeply. He threw his empty ice cream carton across the room and sank a perfect shot into the trash can. Cass offered him the Chubby Hubby, but Marco just set it down on the counter. “I owe you guys. If I were you, I’d be mad at me. But I’m mad, too. At the KI. They’ve been on that island forever. What have they done there? They didn’t know about the vromaski, which almost killed me. Or the maze, which almost killed Cass. They didn’t know enough to warn Jack about the griffin—which almost killed all o
f us! Then when things get really bad, they send us halfway around the world with some bearded goon who can’t keep himself out of jail.”
“And then the Massarene tried to kill us in Greece!” I reminded him.
“That’s because they didn’t know who we were, Brother Jack,” Marco said. “They saw us destroying everything they believed in. They didn’t know we were Select.”
“We all have the lambda,” I said. “It’s pretty obvious.”
Marco nodded. “They thought we painted it on, the way they do. They figured we were trying to fake them out, to blend in. When we tried to steal the Colossus, of course they went ballistic. Then Brother Dimitrios saw us flying—and everything changed. He knew we were the real deal. He’s smart, guys. We stay with the KI, we die. Their leadership is bad and they have nineteenth-century ideas. They’re like the hard-core nerds in school who make jokes you can’t understand and ignore you when you try to talk to them.”
“I’m like that,” Cass piped up.
“Yeah, but you’re cool, Brother Cass,” Marco said, giving his head a good-natured push. “You’re a real person with feelings. I trust you. That’s the thing—I trust these guys, too. They’re going to take care of us, support us. We will find those Loculi twice as fast.”
“And then what?” I said.
“They’re close to finding the island,” Marco said. “They almost did. A few weeks ago, there were a series of brooches in the KI firewall.”
“Breaches,” Cass said. “Brooches are things you wear on a blouse. I think they were able to break through when Aly had to disable the firewall briefly. That was because we needed info from the outside. Info about you, Marco.”
“Cool,” Marco said. “So now when the Massa do locate the island, we’ll be able to bring the Loculi back where they belong.”
“How is that any different than what Bhegad wants?” I said.
“Bhegad wants to nuke the Loculi,” Marco said.
“That’s not what he said,” I pointed out.
“It’s the Karai Institute, Brother Jack,” Marco said. “Their mission is to do what Karai wanted—which was to destroy the Loculi! Massarym was the one who hid them in the Seven Wonders, so that someday they would be returned permanently. And when that happens, the energy will flow again. Not only will we be cured, but the continent will rise.”
“Uh, rise?” Cass repeated. “As in, come up from the bottom of the sea, where it’s been for eons?”
Marco smiled. “Can you picture it? A new land mass, dudes. A place with that awesome energy flow. A hangout for the best minds, the best athletes, the best everyone—all picking up that Atlantean vibe. Imagine what they’ll do. End all wars, solve the fuel crisis, make the best movies and songs. And we’ll all be at the top level. Cass can be Transportation Commissioner, Aly can be Chief Tech Guy. Jack can be something cool, too, because Brother Dimitrios will be choosing. Maybe the chief of staff.”
“And what about you?” I asked.
I figured he’d say Chief Food Taster or Sports Czar or Babe Magnet. The whole thing was loony.
But Marco was grinning at me as if he’d just wandered into an ice cream store on a hot August afternoon. “Brother Dimitrios has big plans for the Immortal One. He says I have leadership ability.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Head court jester.”
Marco shook his head. “In the new world, you can keep calling me Marco. But to everyone else, I’ll be His Highness King Marco the First.”
The words hung in the air. I looked at Cass. He looked at me.
“You’re joking,” I said.
“Hey, in the old days, thirteen-year-old kings were pretty common,” Marco shot back. “Read your history. Also, Atlantis can only be run by descendants of the royal family if it’s expected to survive, right? So you learn on the job. And you surround yourself with wise advisers, like Brother Dimitrios. And loyal staff. You attract the best minds from all over the world. The coolest artists and athletes. It will be the most awesome country ever!”
He was beaming. He was also crazy. “Marco, we’re friends—or we used to be friends, before you betrayed us all,” I said. “So I have to be honest with you. That’s the most unbelievably ridiculous thing anyone has ever said. Sorry.”
Marco’s smile faded. For a moment he just stared down at the table.
Then he looked up, and I flinched from the flat, hard look in his eyes.
“You think I’m ridiculous?” he said, his voice as cold and deadly as his expression. “Fine. I’ll do it without you. Go tell Brother Dimitrios. Tell him you want nothing to do with any of this. You’d rather back away from the opportunity of a lifetime. Your loss.”
“Marco . . .” Cass pleaded.
Marco stalked into his bedroom. “I’ll celebrate my fourteenth birthday without any of you. Because I’ll be alive.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
THE PHONE
I DIDN’T FALL asleep until three.
King Marco?
He was serious. And he had gone off to a sound sleep. Me, I didn’t think I would ever sleep again. But I did, because an alarm woke me up out of a restless dream.
I looked at the clock on the table: 5:13.
Two hours.
I slapped the snooze button, but the alarm kept chiming. I sat up and shook myself awake. The noise was coming from the bed. I could feel the vibrations. I kicked back the sheets. Nothing. I lifted my pillow.
A smart phone glowed bright blue, beeping, with a screen that announced WAKE UP! in happy yellow letters.
I swiped at the off button. The place fell quiet, except for the mechanical whir of the lounge refrigerator and the whoosh of the air-conditioning ducts. I held the phone and stared at it. It wasn’t the same make as mine. Besides, I didn’t have a phone anymore. Hadn’t had one since the moment I got to the KI.
The alarm app had vanished. In its place was some kind of map. A tiny blue dot pulsed inside a small yellow box. I pinched to zoom out. The box was part of a larger circle.
Dot, box, circle—the phone, this room, the lounge. Outside the lounge was a network of parallel lines leading in different directions—hallways. At the top of the screen, an arrow pointed diagonally to the right. It was labeled “N” for north.
I pushed open the door of my room, stepped warily into the lounge and the hall. No one was there.
But someone had been here. While I was asleep. Someone had put the phone under my pillow, knowing I’d find it and see the map.
Who? And why?
Keeping my eye on the screen, I walked. I moved back from the hallway into the lounge. The place smelled like banana peels and orange rinds, and Marco’s uneaten container of Chubby Hubby still stood on the counter.
The blue dot moved into the circle as I walked. I slid my fingers around the screen, examining the maze of pathways. The plan of the Massa hideout revealed itself. The paths ranged much farther afield than I thought. The place was huge, dozens of rooms, a crisscrossing maze of corridors. The map was flat, but if I pressed a button labeled “3D,” it tilted to reveal a three-dimensional cross-section of paths on many different levels.
I sneaked into Cass’s room and put my hand over his mouth. His eyes popped open in fear, but I quickly put my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture. I flashed the phone’s screen to him, and he bolted up out of bed. “Where did you get this?” he whispered.
“Under my pillow,” I said. “And I don’t think it was the Tooth Fairy. Somebody here is on our side. Follow me.”
“Wait,” Cass said. “Find out who this is.”
I tried to access mail, photos, browser, settings. All of them were locked. “Just the alarm and map are public,” I said. “No. Wait . . .”
I’d hit the contacts button. It was showing a list. All the names were in number code.
“Got it,” Cass said.
“Got what?” I asked.
“The numbers,” Cass said. “Committed to memory.”
“Doesn’t
do us much good,” I said. “They look pretty random to me.”
Cass scratched his head. “This is where we need Aly.”
He was right. This was going to be impossible. “We have to channel our own inner Aly,” I said lamely.
“I don’t have the brain for this,” Cass said, staring at it intently and shifting from foot to foot, as if that would help. “Memorize, yes. Analyze, not so much.”
“It’s an internal code,” I said.
“Duh,” Cass replied. “So?”
“So maybe it’s not that hard,” I replied.
“How does that make sense?” Cass asked.
I was thinking about something my dad and I talked about, when I was studying American history in school. “Back in World War II,” I said, “the English stole a code machine from the Germans. If they could figure out how it worked, they could break all the enemy secret codes. They got everything except one part. Every German machine operator had to set each machine by keying in ten letters at the top. If the Brits could figure out those ten letters, they could crack the whole thing.”
“Ten letters, twenty-six letters in the alphabet—that’s like guessing the winning lottery numbers,” Cass said.
“Worse,” I said. “But that’s when someone realized that it was German soldiers who had to pick the letters, not cryptologists. They weren’t going to pick anything too sophisticated, or they’d forget it. Well, the English realized Heil Hitler was ten letters—and it turns out almost all the soldiers had used that!”
“Really?” Cass said. “You think there are Nazis here? I hate Nazis.”
“The point is, everyone in this place has to read internal code,” I said. “The leaders and the goons. So think simple. That’s what Aly does. She starts with the obvious, then works from there.”
Cass and I stared at the numbers on the screen. “They look like email addresses,” he said.
“And the last part of each address is the same,” I added. “After the dot.”