Code

CHAPTER 3

LIRI’S BACK GATE rolled open with a soft whir.

“Come on if you’re coming,” Carl grumbled. A shade over five feet and weighing three hundred pounds, the ruddy-cheeked guard seemed winded by his short walk across the compound. “The magnets only release for thirty seconds.”

“Thanks, Carl,” I said cheerfully, familiar with his prickly demeanor. “Sorry to drag you out here. I wish Kit hadn’t ordered these new auto-locks.”

“Director Howard must’ve had his reasons.” Carl’s tone implied that we Virals might be primary among them.

As we passed through the reinforced perimeter fence, Carl punched numbers into a newly installed digital keypad. The gate closed behind us. Above, a pair of security cameras swiveled to track our movement.

“Can I assume you four won’t be back out this way today?” Carl asked. “I’m getting tired of tramping across the courtyard.”

“We’re taking off,” Hi said. “You can hit the gym early.”

Carl gave Hi a level look, sky blue security uniform stretching precariously over his massive bulk.

“We’ll be heading home shortly.” I shoulder-barged Hi down the path. “I just need to see my father for a minute. Thanks again!”

Carl waddled in the direction of Building Four, muttering about the foolishness of youth.

“Making rounds of the vending machines,” Shelton whispered. “They require constant security coverage.”

“Moron.” Ben had already started walking.

LIRI consists of a dozen glass-and-steel structures surrounded by an eight-foot-high chain-link fence. Aligned in two rows, the state-of-the-art buildings flank a well-tended central courtyard. Only two access points exist: a large front gate leading to the island’s single dock, and the smaller portal at the rear. The complex contains nearly every permanent construction on Loggerhead.

Crossing the courtyard, I was struck again by the bustle of the place. A dozen white-coated scientists dotted the grounds, some hustling between labs, others clustered around benches discussing research, snacking, or just enjoying the afternoon sun.

Since Kit had assumed the directorship, LIRI buzzed with a new energy and sense of purpose. The staff had doubled; rare were the days you could cross the grounds without encountering a preoccupied veterinarian hurrying to update a project. With its funding permanently secured, LIRI was, once again, one of the premier wildlife research facilities on the planet.

“Do we have to go in?” Hi hand-shaded his eyes to peer at Building One. Four floors high, it was LIRI’s biggest, housing the most sophisticated lab and the institute’s administrative headquarters. “My dad’s retooling the centrifuges, and won’t be happy to see me inside.”

Hi’s father, Linus Stolowitski, was LIRI’s chief laboratory technician, having been promoted by Kit the previous month. Since assuming the post, Mr. S had become more officious about Morris Island teens fiddling with facility equipment.

“Quit moaning,” Shelton said. “Both my parents are in there.”

Nelson Devers, Shelton’s father, was LIRI’s IT director. His office was on the ground floor. Shelton’s mother, Lorelei, was a vet tech working in Lab One.

“It’ll only take a sec,” I said. “Lately Kit’s so busy, I almost never see him.”

It was true. In the two months since Kit had been named director he’d worked nonstop. Board meetings. Staff assemblies. Budget conferences. Though running himself ragged, Kit seemed happy. Ditto every worker at the institute.

On Loggerhead Island, Kit was practically a god.

When lack of funding had threatened to shut LIRI down, Kit’s generosity had saved the day. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

No one but Kit knew who’d really bankrolled the institute. That the boys and I had discovered and donated the she-pirate Anne Bonny’s lost treasure to LIRI. That those underfoot teenagers had actually kept LIRI’s doors open.

And the Virals were just fine with that.

The less scrutiny we received, the better.

“Wait here, boy.” I attached Coop’s rarely used leash and looped it around a railing beside the entrance. “No wolfdogs allowed.”

Coop dropped to his belly, chin on paws, disapproval clear in his eyes. At seventy pounds and still growing, he was a sizeable animal. His half-wolf pedigree gave him a fearsome look, right up until he licked your face. I suspected he’d spook a few squints while he waited for us to return.

No big deal. A little something to spice up their day.

Passing through hermetically sealed doors, we approached the security kiosk. The other half of LIRI’s frontline defense manned the desk. Sam was Carl’s polar opposite, skeleton gaunt and completely bald. Though older, and terminally sarcastic, he was usually the more congenial of the two.

“Ah, the vagrants return.” Sam’s lips twitched in a half smile. “Break anything expensive today?” He wasn’t holding a shooting or hunting magazine, which could only mean one thing—his new boss was nearby.

On cue, a voice boomed from an office behind Sam’s desk. “State your business.”

Security Chief David Hudson emerged. Forty-something, graying, hair buzzed to his scalp, Hudson had the unyielding glare of a bird of prey. His uniform was neatly pressed, his shoes and name tag gleaming.

After recent events, Kit had decided to completely overhaul LIRI’s security. New fences. New cameras. New locks. Updated protocols. Better equipment. And a hard-ass security supervisor to oversee it all. On the job less than a month, Hudson was proving to be Kit’s least popular upgrade.

“I need to see my father, Mr. Hudson,” I said politely. “Just a fast word.”

“Wait.” Hudson snatched a clipboard from the countertop. “Sign, please.”

“I really won’t be long,” I said, beaming my most disarming smile. “I don’t want to clutter your official records with a quick pop-in.”

Finger tap. “Sign.”

Locking my lips in the upright position, I scribbled my name. “Good?”

Hudson didn’t smile. Never did. “No side trips.”

Nodding obediently, we started toward the elevators.

“Halt!”

My eyes closed briefly before I turned. “Yes?”

“Just you.” Hudson’s gaze scanned Hi, Shelton, and Ben. “Unless these boys also have business?”

“Nope.” Ben walked back outside.

“Mr. Hudson,” I began, “we’re just going to—”

“It’s cool, Tory.” Shelton headed after Ben, a head-shaking Hi at his heels. “We’ll wait with Coop.”

“Thanks, guys. Five minutes, tops.” I raised my eyebrows at Hudson. He snapped off a curt nod.

I strode to the elevator, entered, and pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“No side trips!” Hudson barked again, as the doors slid shut.

“Jackass,” I muttered, before remembering Hudson’s cameras still tracked me.

The elevator stopped at the second floor, admitting two white-coated men. I knew the taller one by name.

“Hi, Anders.” I tried not to blush.

“Tory. Off to see the Wizard?”

With pale green eyes and curly brown hair, Anders Sundberg was easily LIRI’s most handsome employee. Just a shade past thirty, a former Olympic swimmer, he looked like a taller, buffer Justin Timberlake. In other words, pretty hot.

Anders had joined Kit’s marine biology team the previous summer, adding a specialization in sea turtle habitats. Since Kit’s promotion he’d been running the department on a provisional basis. His selection had ruffled some feathers among the senior PhDs, but, by all accounts, the guy was doing a good job. The position was his to lose.

“I’m assuming you mean Kit,” I said, “so yeah.”

“He’s the one behind the curtain, pulling all the strings.” Anders grinned. “The great and powerful Dr. Howard!”

The other man appeared a decade older than Anders. He had thinning black hair styled in a bad comb-over, close-set eyes, and a nose about an inch too long. His foot tapped impatiently as he waited for the doors to close.

“This barrel of laughs is Mike Iglehart.” Anders elbowed his companion. “Say hello to Tory Brennan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Iglehart said blandly. “Is there a field trip on the island or something? I don’t think you’re supposed to leave the group.”

He promptly lost interest, refocusing on Anders. “I need more bandwidth on the mainframe. The Triton program can only run half-time as it is. If we’re going—”

“This is Director Howard’s daughter, Mike. You might want to show a bit more courtesy.”

“Kit’s little girl, eh?” Iglehart really looked at me for the first time. “You must be thrilled about your father wrangling the director’s office. It’s too bad I didn’t find a lost fortune.”

My lips parted, but words didn’t form. What was this guy’s problem?

The elevator beeped our arrival on the third floor. The door opened, and Iglehart strode out without a backward glance.

“Don’t mind him.” Anders actually winked. “Mike came to LIRI about the same time as your dad, and hasn’t exactly flown up the corporate ladder. Chalk the attitude up to sour grapes.”

“No sweat.” I tried for breezy, found myself standing straighter in response to Ander’s undivided attention. “Have a good one.”

“I’m dissecting a three-week-old turtle carcass,” Anders said as the doors slowly closed. “How could I not?”

“Have a good one,” I repeated to the empty car. “You’re such a dork, Brennan.”

The elevator continued to the top floor. I exited into a short hallway leading to a pair of frosted-glass doors. The director’s suite. Under Karsten, this whole area had been a ghost town. Abhorring distraction, he’d kept every office empty but his own.

Not so, Kit. The floor now hummed with activity, every workspace occupied or held open for guest researchers. Inside the director’s suite, Kit had assembled LIRI’s business-side officers. Fund-raising. Marketing. Public Relations. Trust Management.

I’d once asked Kit why he put up with so much distraction in his suite. “Better the pencil pushers are jammed in with me than bothering active scientists,” he reasoned. “And I want these people out here on Loggerhead, not in cozy downtown high-rises. It’ll help them remember what we’re actually doing.”

Passing through the doors, I encountered my last obstacle: Cordelia Hoke.

The Dragon.

Under Karsten, Hoke had been the only other employee stationed on the fourth floor. Though less than pleased by Kit’s disruption of her once-private kingdom, she tried to keep it to herself. And usually failed.

Hoke as Kit’s personal secretary? My guess, he was too chicken to let her go.

Kit had tried to stop Hoke’s hourly puff break—LIRI was, and always had been, a smoke-free facility—but even I knew she still snuck a cig every chance she got. But that was less than under the previous regime.

The nicotine cutback hadn’t improved the Dragon’s temperament. She glared at me over the rims of her bifocals.

“May I help you, Tory?” Her tone suggested the opposite intent.

“I was hoping to snag Kit for a moment.”

“Your father’s very busy.” Hoke shifted her impressive bulk, wiping cookie crumbs from the sleeves of her ragged cashmere sweater. She had one for each day of the week. Today was violet. “He can’t come running every time you stub a toe.”

Grrrr.

“I’d like to speak with him about his dinner plans.”

Blank face. No response.

“So that I can make my dinner plans.”

Nothing.

“Look, just tell my dad I’m here.”

Hoke’s face darkened. “Honey, in my day a young lady didn’t speak to her elders like that. We were taught manners.”

I was about to further reduce her opinion of my upbringing when the shade to Kit’s office rose. My father stood on the opposite side of the glass, phone to ear, a bored expression on his face. His charcoal suit and maroon tie were a far cry from the scuffed white lab coat that, until this year, he’d worn every working day of his life.

Kit made “can’t talk now, I’m tied up, please feed yourself” motions with his hands. Nodding, I waved good-bye.

Kit shook his head ruefully, mouthed, “Sorry.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, smiling to convey my understanding.

Hoke cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else?”

“Nope.” I was already headed for the door.