Part 15 (1/2)

Inez.

I hold my breath as I strain to listen. Between the beeps, I hear a series of softer ones. Inez entering the alarm code. Sure enough, the house falls silent. I hear the back door swing open.

”Nicholas!” Inez shouts into the backyard. Then the door shuts, and I hear a gentler, ”That boy!”

And then I remember to take a breath. Indigo told me that Inez wouldn't bother to check the security cameras-that she thinks Zeta is a little crazy for having them in the first place. But I don't move an inch from my spot behind the vacuum. I close my eyes and listen. Waiting for some cue that it's safe to come out.

I hear it. In the kitchen, the faucet turns on, and there's the splas.h.i.+ng of dishes being washed. I open the door and peer my head out. I don't see Inez. I step out and shut the door softly. Then I round the corner, grab the banister, and head up the stairs on my tiptoes.

On the second floor, there's a door that's shut and locked just to the right of the staircase, so I pull out my hook pick again, and a few seconds later, I'm in Zeta's office.

I rest my back against the door for a moment. I keep forgetting to breathe.

Zeta's office is the opposite of Ariel's. Nothing's out of place in here. Actually, nothing's in place. The desk is empty, except for a boxy computer monitor and one picture frame. I pick up the frame. It's a photo of Yellow and Indigo, and I smile. Yellow can't be more than six. She has white-blonde pigtails tied with pink ribbon and she's grinning at the camera. A front tooth is missing. Indigo's blond hair has flopped in front of his left eye, and he has his arm thrown around his older sister. This picture was taken somewhere on the beach, and there's the outline of another huge house in the background. I wonder if Zeta has a beach house on Martha's Vineyard or the Cape. That wouldn't be surprising.

I set the frame down. I'm wasting time.

Yellow told me the blackout memo was in a file cabinet to the left of the desk. I use my lock pick for the third time and slide the drawer open. d.a.m.n. There have to be fifty files in here. I don't know what I was hoping, that I'd open the drawer and the memo would be sitting there on top, waiting for me?

I scan the tabs on the folders. Bank, Insurance, Investments-no, no, no-Warranties, Medical Info, Chilmark-no, no, no, come on! And then I see it. AG.

Annum Guard.

I flip open the folder. I'm not here to snoop, I remind myself. No matter how much I want to pull out this file and read every word that's inside it, I won't. I'm looking for the blackout memo and the blackout memo only.

The first paper is a memo, and my heart leaps. I scan the first few lines. The word Delta jumps out at me. Delta-my dad. I close my eyes for a second before scanning the rest of the page. I don't see anything about a blackout, so I flip to the next paper. At this point, I don't think I even want to know anything more about my dad. He's not the man I built up in my mind, and finding out more about the man he really is-was-just makes me lose focus.

I flip past mission ledgers, forms, and contracts. But there's nothing about a blackout. I broke into Zeta's house for nothing. There are only a few papers left.

But then there it is.

A confidential memo. Subject line: BLACKOUT EXPERIMENT. I yank it out of the drawer. I'm going to read it, memorize it, then tuck it back into the file and bolt. But before I get a chance, I hear feet pounding down the stairs and shouting.

”Where are you going, Nick?” a young female voice shouts.

Yellow.

”It's gotta be in Dad's office!” Indigo's voice. He's on the landing, and he's heading here.

I'm trapped. I fly to the window, but it's not an escape. There's no tree or bush or anything to soften a fall. Plus, there are alarm wires running the entire length of the window.

”You know you're not supposed to go in there!” Yellow says. Her voice is outside the door.

I don't think. I leap into the closet, pull the door shut, and hope that whatever Indigo wants isn't in here.

”Yeah, well, Dad's not here right now,” Indigo says as he opens the office door. ”And besides, that's never stopped you.”

I reach into my s.h.i.+rt and pull out my Annum watch. Should I project now? I press on the top k.n.o.b-the one that automatically sends me back to the present-and listen as the hands spin around the face. I start to press the face shut and then stop myself. What if I project back to the present, only to find Inez dusting the office windowsills? And let's not forget that Zeta would certainly realize this memo is missing.

Not yet.

Yellow and Indigo are in the room. ”Dad's going to kill you,” she says.

”Shut up, Lizzie.” Lizzie. It's so weird to hear Yellow called that. h.e.l.l, it's still weird to know that her real name is Elizabeth. ”Go listen to some more of that whiny c.r.a.p you won't stop playing.” Indigo must be at the desk. I hear a drawer slide open, then another one, and then- ”Look, Dad left the file cabinet open. It's like he wants me to find it.”

Uh-oh.

”Dad never leaves the file cabinet open,” Yellow says. Oh, not good. Not good at all.

There are footsteps. A loud stomp-stomp from whatever shoes Yellow must be wearing, which makes me wonder. In the present, Yellow is not a stomp-stomp kind of girl. She's a click-clack all the way. The footsteps head toward the closet. My fingers find the watch lid. Do I stay and let her find me, or do I run and face the unknown?

”Here it is!”

Yellow's footsteps fall silent, and I allow myself a quick breath. There's a ripping sound, like the opening of an envelope, and then an unfurling of paper.

Indigo sucks in his breath. ”Yep, this is it. 'Dear Mr. Masters, we regret to inform you that Nicholas will not be welcomed back at Bretton Pines next year'-like I want to go back-'due to his extreme insubordination toward the Bretton Pines counselors.' Insubordination. What's that mean?”

There's a crumpling noise, and I a.s.sume that Yellow's grabbed the paper out of her brother's hands. ”It means you're a huge jerk who won't follow rules.”

”Fair enough,” Indigo says. ”But Cody's the jerk, not me. He only hates me because he hates Jack's dad because Jack's dad-”

Yellow gasps. ”They talk about me, too,” she says. ”'I also must mention that I'm worried by Elizabeth's sudden mood change. I've gotten to know her over the past two summers, and thus you can understand that her appearance and att.i.tude were surprising this year. I tried to engage Elizabeth in conversation but found her to be extremely withdrawn and sullen all summer'-yeah, because I don't want to be there-'and I can't help but wonder if her relations.h.i.+p with her mother might be the root of the problem.'” Yellow laughs. ”Dude, she mentioned Mom. Just leave the letter there for Dad to read. He'll flip that they brought her up like that. There's no way he's sending us back there next year. He'll be so mad, he won't even care about your insubordination. Just keep playing the Mom angle-Cody wouldn't shut up about Mom, and that's why you never listened to him.”

”Except that's not true.”

”Whatever.” Her tone is angry. It's very different from the suns.h.i.+ne Yellow she is today. Well, under normal circ.u.mstances. I have to physically restrain myself from opening the closet door and peeking out. ”Come on, you did what you need to do. Now let's go.”

Yes. Go.

”I'm taking the letter with me.”

”Stop being a pansy,” she snaps. ”Leave it!”

There are footsteps against the wood floor, and the sound of the office door opening, and then I really can't help myself. I crack the closet door open an inch. My mouth drops open. Yellow-who is normally a walking J.Crew ad-is dressed head to toe in black. Black, sheer lace top with a black tank top over it. Layered black miniskirt. Ripped black tights. Black Doc Martens. Her hair is streaked with pink and purple, and I'd bet you anything that if she turned around, I'd see her eyes outlined in kohl like a racc.o.o.n.

I pull the closet door shut. So, Yellow went through a goth phase. Fascinating. And by fascinating, I mean hilarious. I'm dying to rifle through her bedroom, but I remind myself again why I'm here. The piece of paper I'm holding. I wait another minute to make sure they're not coming back, then I open the closet once more and slip out. I crouch low and slide underneath Zeta's desk to give myself a fighting chance in case anyone else comes in. Then I look at the memo. It's short. One quick, little paragraph.

My eyes widen. Zeta wrote the memo. The recipient was the defense secretary. And there's a CC: to A. Cairo. It's dated only a few weeks ago. I start reading.

It is my recommendation that the blackout experiment be regarded as a failure. We do not at present have the time or resources to police another layer of Annum Guard, and the Justice Department has quite unsurprisingly affirmed my opinion that there are serious const.i.tutional, due process concerns in adding a punitive team to our existing ranks. While I commend your enthusiasm for the project, I regret that I must withdraw my support.

And that's it. Two phrases jump out at me. Another layer of Annum Guard. A punitive team. What does that mean? The defense secretary wanted to add more members to the Guard? Members that would . . . punish people? Who? I have more questions than answers. I know who the defense secretary was six years ago-I mean, today, in the past. And I do mean was. It was all over the news when he had a heart attack and died while still serving his post. But I have no idea who A. Cairo is.