Ben and I stood outside the doors of LIRI. Deep breathing. Trying to calm our jangling nerves.

The last thing we needed was a flare.

Only a zillion things could go wrong. But I saw no alternative. Karsten had answers. We needed them.

“If the old goat’s still here, we’re toast.” Ben, always the optimist.

“He won’t be. Karsten’s due at the aquarium right now. And if he is here, we fall back on our excuse and leave.”

I sounded confident, but Ben had a point. Tossing Karsten’s office would be difficult with him sitting in it.

Hopefully we’d taken care of that.

“What if Karsten recognized my voice?” Ben hadn’t wanted to make the call.

“The caller had to sound like an adult. Could I have pulled that off? Besides, you speak so rarely he probably has no a clue what you sound like.”

I’d struggled with step one of the plan. To have any chance of success, we had to lure Karsten off the island.

My inspiration came from his online biography.

Dr. Marcus Karsten was director emeritus and veterinary consultant to the South Carolina Aquarium. Armed with that knowledge, tricking him had been a cakewalk.

Despite his nervousness, Ben smiled. “Karsten will be livid when he learns there was no penguin emergency.”

Oh yeah. We had to move quickly. Already paranoid, Karsten might guess he’d been lured away on purpose and hurry back to Loggerhead. By then we had to be long gone.

“Ready?” I shook out my arms, hopped on my toes.

“Ready,” Ben said.

We pushed into the main building and walked to the security office. Sam was manning the desk. Break there. Sam was less moody than Carl. And physically his polar opposite. Scarecrow thin and bald as a cue ball, he looked more like a cadaver than a guard.

Dragging reluctant eyes from his magazine, Sam acknowledged our presence. “Great. The troublemakers. Here to burn down the building?”

“Hello.” I hit him with my most engaging smile. “We need to give my father some documents.”

“Leave them in the box.” Sam’s eyes returned to his Guns & Ammo.

“I can’t. These have to be faxed in the next thirty minutes. If not, we can’t go.”

Sam sighed, extended a hand. I handed over the forms.

“Math camp?” Chuckle. “You need shots for math camp? Better question: Why go?”

“Ha ha. Can we please just do this? We’ll be out of your hair”—oops—“your way in no time.”

Sam hesitated, perhaps wary of Karsten’s recent foul temper. Finally, he nodded.

“Ya’ll are in luck. Dr. K’s out for the moment.” Handing the papers back, he waved us though. “Don’t sign in, and step on it. I don’t want to get chewed out because of this.”

“Thanks.” We scurried down the hall before he could reconsider.

“No log in,” Ben whispered. “Numb nuts just did us a favor.”

“Time for some larceny.”

We took the stairs to Karsten’s office, all four flights. Kit’s an elevator guy. Couldn’t risk running into dear old Dad.

On four, the stairwell opened onto a short hallway. At the opposite end, a pair of frosted-glass doors closed off the director’s suite.

Our last roadblock lay ahead: The Dragon.

Karsten’s intolerance for noise is legendary. His secretary, Cordelia Hoke, is the only employee who works inside the inner sanctum. If we could dodge the Dragon, we’d have a chance.

For the moment we needed a hiding place.

Ben nudged me and pointed to a supply closet. We ducked inside and peeked out through the tiny window.

One minute passed. Five. Ten. I started to sweat. Of course.

Finally, Hoke pushed through the doors and waddled to the elevator. So predictable. An incurable chain smoker, the Dragon slipped out at ten past every hour. Two cigs, plus a call to her trucker boyfriend. We’d have at least fifteen minutes.

Funny. The Dragon’s routine was known to everyone at LIRI but her boss.

As the elevator clicked shut, we dashed into the suite and entered Karsten’s office.

Countdown. Twelve minutes.

“Where do we start?” Ben whispered.

“Look for files, records, anything with a roster of projects.”

The office was positively Spartan. Corner bookcase, stacked with reference materials. Desk. File cabinet. Hat stand.

Karsten clearly stored most of his papers elsewhere. But we couldn’t gain access to the secret lab. We had to find something in here. And fast.

I sat at Karsten’s desk and started with the computer. When I right-clicked the mouse, a password screen filled the monitor. Of course.

I tried the file cabinet. Found it locked.

“Ten minutes left,” Ben warned.

I rifled the desk drawers. Three contained office supplies. Pens. Post-its. A three-hole punch. Another held power cords and computer cables.

Across the room, Ben was working the bookcase.

“Nothing so far,” he said. “Eight minutes.”

“We need the file cabinet key,” I said. “His papers must be in there.”

Ben spread his hands, a this is doomed look on his face.

Ignoring him, I inventoried Karsten’s desktop. Monitor. Mouse. Printer. Metal cup filled with pens and paperclips. Small clock.

Chimpanzee skull.

Huh?

I lifted and rotated the skull. Heard a rattle. I tilted Mr. Chimp, then shook him from side to side. A small key dropped from the hole at the cranial base.

“Booyah!”

I set down the skull, inserted and turned the key in the lock. The cylinder popped and the drawer opened.

Ben dropped to a knee beside me. Together we flipped through files as quickly as possible.

“Six minutes.” Ben’s voice was beyond tense.

I checked folder after folder.

Equipment. Expenses. Employee evaluations.

“Hello!” Ben held a file labeled Active Projects—LIRI. Inside was a spreadsheet, its latest entry dated this week.

I speed-read the contents. Lab Six had its own column. Within that section was printed: Closed—out of service. The closure stretched back to mid-February.

“I knew it,” I whispered. “Karsten’s project isn’t registered. The University doesn’t know about the parvo experiment.”

What was Karsten’s game?

Ben opened the bottom drawer. The files it contained were unlabeled. We tore through them, ears alert for signs of the Dragon.

“Three minutes,” Ben hissed. “We need to bail.”

“What’s this?” I held a folder containing bank deposit slips. The name on the account was Dr. Marcus E. Karsten.

“Wow. This one’s for fifty thousand dollars!” I flipped through the stack. Dozens. Each for the same amount. “Every check is from the same company, Candela Pharmaceuticals.”

“Look.” Ben lifted the bottom slip. “The first deposit took place six months ago.”

“The checks are made out to Karsten, not to the University,” I said. “They must tie in somehow.”

The outer door opened, clicked shut. The Dragon’s humming drifted from just outside Kartsten’s door.

I stuffed a slip into my pocket, then, moving as quietly as possible, locked the cabinet and slipped the key back into the skull.

Ben and I snuck to the door and peered out.

Hoke’s desk was directly between us and the outer doors. She sat behind it, unwrapping a box of Godiva chocolates.

We were trapped.

We couldn’t wait an hour. Karsten would return. Catch us. Call the cops. My pulse raced at the prospect.

Suddenly I felt heat. The sensation of falling through a long dark tunnel.

SNAP.

Bolts of light flashed in my brain.

I heard Hoke’s fingers thundering through candy papers. I smelled chocolate, walnuts, and caramel. Sweaty polyester. Chantilly cologne.

My eyes focused to laser points. I saw lacy dust particles riding the air. Mites clinging to the wooden desk. Tiny grooves embedded in the chimp’s skull.

Ben was beside me, flexing and un-flexing his hands. Our eyes met. His irises gleamed gold. Like mine.

Suddenly, I knew what to do. Ben nodded, right there with me.

I cracked the door. Crouched.

Ben coiled at my back, ready.

Finally, Hoke bent and reached for something beneath her desk.

Like desert wind, we shot from Karsten’s office. Blew past the Dragon. Slipped soundlessly into the hall.

Out.

Free.

Puzzled by the sensation of moving air, Hoke glanced toward the suite’s entrance. The double doors were slowly drifting shut.

Odd.

The Dragon lumbered to her feet and stuck her head out into the corridor.

Empty.

Shrugging, she returned to her desk and resumed the serious business of snacking.