Four ordinary boys.

One not-so-ordinary laptop.

One extraordinary adventure.

The Amazing Laptop #8

Shut Down

by

Christopher P. N. Maselli

To Gary Richardson, for having the courage to innovate a new series for boys.

And to Gwen Ellis and Gloria Kempton, two editors who had the courage time-and-again to turn my messes into something truly special.

Shut Down (The Amazing Laptop #8)

Copyright: Christopher P. N. Maselli

Physical version published 2004

Electronic version published 2012 by Writing Momentum, WritingMomentum.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

All Scripture quotations are from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

1 - Apprehensions

The inventor worked long and hard to destroy her own invention…or at the very least, those who would misuse it. She knew eventually her rest would come. The question was: at what cost?

—     —     —

Wednesday, 6:52 p.m.

“Your knee’s shaking.”

Matt stopped shaking his knee. “No it’s not.”

Isabel Zarza stared Matt straight in the face. He looked away from her swallowing brown eyes.

“C’mon, Matt,” Isabel pressed him, her voice sounding like newly-spun honey. “I know you. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s knee started shaking again.

I’m just a bit on edge, he wanted to say, because this Saturday I’m going to more than just a wrestling tournament. I’m going to be facing danger because a mysterious woman I barely know but implicitly trust, asked me to. I’m Superman. Saving the world without anyone ever knowing it.

Isabel let out a long breath. She looked across the room. Matt followed her gaze, noticing their Youth Pastor was getting ready to start youth group. Matt loved youth group, and he loved talking to Isabel…but tonight he was, well, just a bit on edge. All because I’m responsible for saving the world, he thought again.

“I know things will go fine at your tournament,” Isabel encouraged him. “I’ll even pray that God will give you strength just like before.”

“Thanks,” Matt said with a genuine smile. He wasn’t afraid; that wasn’t it. He just wasn’t sure if he had what it would take to save the world. That’s kind of a heavy thing to lay on the shoulders of a 13-year-old, Matt thought.

Isabel returned his smile, her eyes twinkling, but worry marks wrinkled her forehead. Matt hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her smile.

—     —     —

Wednesday, 8:27 p.m.

“Your knee’s shaking.”

Matt stopped shaking his knee. “No it’s not.”

Pastor Mick Ruhlen, youth pastor at Enisburg Community Church, stared Matt straight in the face. The youth service was over and Matt’s stomach was still in knots. “What’s going on, dude? You can tell me.”

Matt let out a long breath. Not this time, he thought. He looked at Pastor Ruhlen’s chia-pet shaped hair up close. It was orange tonight.

“C’mon, dude,” Pastor Ruhlen said emphatically. “I know you were hardly payin’ attention during the service. That’s not like my guy, Matt. What’s wrong?”

Matt looked across the youth hall at bleach-blonde haired, 200-and-some-pound bully, Hulk Hooligan. The big lug had his hand under his shirt, making armpit noises.

“Why single me out?” Matt said defensively. “Hulk never listens.”

“Right-e-o,” Pastor Ruhlen agreed, laying his surfer-dude talk on thick. “But you do.”

Matt shrugged. “I have a lot on my mind,” he admitted. For instance, what if this mission Sam roped us into doesn’t go as planned? What if something goes wrong? What will we do then? How will I handle it? And how could I forgive myself if the laptop got into the wrong hands?

“Well, friend,” Pastor Ruhlen comforted, slapping a lanky arm around Matt’s shoulders, “whatever it is, you can be sure that God will be with you.”

“Yeah.”

Pastor Ruhlen jumped up suddenly and ran to the podium at the front of the room. He grabbed his sermon notes and ran back to Matt. “Here ye go,” he said, stuffing them into Matt’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“That’s my message from tonight. I call it ‘Cougar Courage.’”

“Why?”

“You really weren’t listenin’, were ya? ‘Cuz you’re a LK252 guy. Remember Luke 2:52?”

Matt recited, “And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.”

“Right-e-o!” Pastor Ruhlen shouted. “Jesus grew deep, wise, mighty and engaging! And you’re growin’ the same way. One thing about growin’ deeper is knowing that God has given us courage like lions. Read the notes.”

“I thought you said it was ‘Cougar Courage.’”

Pastor Ruhlen opened his hands in front of him. “Well, yeah. But ‘Lion Courage’ just didn’t sound as good for a title. Now, c’mon, roar for me.”

“Huh?”

“Rowrrr! Rowrrr! Rowrrr!”

Matt looked around to see if anyone was watching.

“Say, ‘I’ve got Cougar Courage! Rowrrr!’ Do it!”

Matt whispered, “I’ve got…Cougar Courage.”

“Rowrrr!”

“Grr.”

“OK, that’ll do, dude! It’ll grow! Just promise me you’ll read the notes.”

Matt nodded, pushing them into his pocket. Come Saturday he would need more than just notes. Much more.

—     —     —

Thursday, 9:52 a.m.

“Your knee’s shaking.”

Matt stopped shaking his knee. “No it’s not.”

Matt’s best friends, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo grouped around Matt’s locker as he pulled out books for his next class.

“OK,” Matt finally admitted, “maybe it is. I’m just a bit nervous about this weekend.”

“You’ll do fine in the tournament,” Lamar encouraged.

“It’s not the wrestling tournament I’m nervous about,” Matt said softly.

“Oh. Right,” Lamar said as though he’d forgotten about their mission.

“I’m not nervous,” Gill offered with a big smile on his face. His eyes popped and his red hair bounced. “I’m bringing my spy bag.”

“Please don’t,” Alfonzo pleaded.

Lamar asked Matt, “Are you sure we have to go through with this—in this way?”

“It should be no big deal,” Matt replied. “All we have to do is be Sam’s eyes and ears. We don’t have to do anything dangerous. She promised.”

“That’s real comforting,” Lamar said with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Slam!

At once, Matt’s locker crashed shut. Matt barely pulled his hands out before getting them smashed.

“So ya nervous ‘bout wrestlin’, Calhan?!” Hulk Hooligan shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Cal-a-han,” Matt corrected his last name.

Hulk pushed Matt’s friends aside and leaned into Matt’s face. “Good ting I’m on yer team,” he said, sounding like Rocky. “Or I’d squash ya like a bug!”

Matt and his friends stayed quiet.

“What?” Hulk asked.

No one said a word.

Then Hulk pressed, “Ya plannin’ somethin’ tomorrow I should know about?”

“Uh…no,” Matt said truthfully. Tomorrow they were taking a school bus to the wrestling tournament, and then wrestling most the day. Their plans were for the next day…Saturday.

Hulk leaned back and smiled. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Not on your life,” Alfonzo said quickly.

“So ya are plannin’ somethin’!”

Matt’s eyes darted to Alfonzo.

“Ya don’t haveta tell me,” Hulk said coolly. “I’ll find out soon enough. I’m not takin’ my eyes off ya.”

And with that, Hulk stomped off, shaking the hall floor with every step.

“Great,” Matt said, squeezing his temples with his fingers. “That’s all we need.”

Lamar said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll lose him.”

“We’d better,” Matt said with a nod.

“We will,” Gill said optimistically. “’Cuz I’m bringing my spy bag!”

—     —     —

Thursday, 5:13 p.m.

After a long day at school, Matt stood beside his mailbox, thumbing through the letters addressed to “Occupant.”

“Hi.”

Matt smiled, then looked up to see Isabel standing across the street at her own mailbox. She reached in and pulled out a small clump of mail that looked suspiciously identical to what Matt held in his own hand.

“Hey,” Matt responded, walking forward. Isabel was a breath of fresh air after a long day at school. She looked exactly as she had the night before at youth group, her midnight black hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. No matter how many times Matt saw Isabel, she always seemed to take his breath away. That was one of the strange things about turning into a teenager. Matt used to run the other way when he saw a girl. Now…he was strangely interested in just…hearing her voice.

“You doing better?” Isabel asked, shyly peeking up from her letters.

Matt pursed his lips. For a brief moment he had let himself forget about his impending mission with Sam…now it had come back to smack him in the face.

“I’m doing all right,” he said softly.

“Look,” Isabel said suddenly, “I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve been praying for you guys—you, Lamar, Gill and my brother Alfonzo—and I just don’t have a good feeling about this weekend.”

Matt felt the envelopes slip from his hand. They hit the pavement with a slap. He quickly bent down to pick them up. “Y-you think I’ll lose the wrestling tournament?” he stammered, picking up the letters one-by-one.

Isabel bent down and met Matt at knee level, her long hair draping in front of her. “No, not just that. It’s…something else. I don’t know. When I prayed, I could just…tell. You need to be careful.”

Matt looked up and his and Isabel’s eyes locked. He didn’t want to dismiss her. She was a girl, and Matt’s mom always told him that girls had a built in suspicion…or something like that. Girls just “know” about stuff, his mother had said.

“This is just…something I have to do,” Matt stated, not quite sure if that would make any sense to Isabel. As far as she knew, he was simply traveling up the coast to a wrestling tournament. That was all.

As they stood again, Isabel said, “I understand facing hard stuff. Really, I do. When we were in Mexico City, we didn’t want to leave, but we knew it was something we had to do. Papa said it was time. So we left and came here for his new job.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“It was terrifying! But Papa said we had to be courageous and do it, so Papa and Alfonzo and I did. And you know what? We found this house completely by accident and now we feel safe.”

“How about that,” Matt responded. Still, the last thing Matt felt was “safe.” Day in and day out, there was danger hanging over him. Things hadn’t been safe since the day he had turned thirteen. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but somehow, he needed to make things safe again. And while he didn’t have the kind of “suspicion” Isabel did, he had an idea that what he was about to do with Sam could change everything. It could literally change the course of the world…or keep it from taking a wrong turn, anyway.

“Do me a favor,” Matt asked Isabel.

“Anything,” she said completely serious.

“Just keep praying. Saturday’s coming awfully quick.”

“Saturday?” Isabel said with a smirk. “You mean tomorrow: Friday. By Saturday, the tournament will be over.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, “Still…pray for Saturday, too.”

With a double take, Isabel softly bit her bottom lip.

—     —     —

Thursday, 7:04 p.m.

Sitting at his kitchen table across from his mother and father, Matt didn’t feel much like eating. He just pecked at his meatloaf.

Mr. and Mrs. Calahan exchanged glances.

“You all right?” Matt’s dad asked.

Matt shrugged. “I guess.”

“You don’t look all right,” Matt’s mother observed.

Matt wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”

“You’re nervous, aren’t you, honey?” Peggy Calahan said. “I noticed when you sat down your knee was shaking.”

Matt stopped shaking his knee. His mouth turned up, giving her an obligatory smile.

“It’ll be fine, Ace,” Mr. Calahan comforted.

Matt looked at the texture in the meatloaf. He knew they thought he was worried about his upcoming wrestling tournament, same as Isabel. Only he, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo knew their trip was much more than that. Tomorrow they were leaving and wrestling…and the next day it would begin. The mission.

After his parents downed a few more bites, Matt felt compelled to ask, “How do you know if you have enough courage to do something that’s hard?”

Mr. and Mrs. Calahan exchanged glances again. Matt’s dad set down his fork. “Well,” he said. “Sometimes you don’t know. But what’s important is to do what’s right—because it’s right.”

Matt looked up at his dad, a square-jawed, broad-shouldered, black-haired man who wore a plaid shirt. “And then you’re courageous? Because you do what’s right?”

Stan Calahan nodded. “It takes courage to do the right thing.”

Matt’s eyebrows furled. The right thing. “That’s not always easy though,” he said.

Mr. Calahan looked down. “It never is.”

Suddenly, Mrs. Calahan spoke up. “Stan…you should tell him.”

Matt looked at his round-faced, straight-black-haired mother. “Tell me what?”

Matt’s dad said, “You mean—”

Matt’s mom nodded.

“What?” Matt asked again.

Mr. Calahan let out a long breath.

“Several months ago…around the time of your birthday…your mother and I…well, we were having some troubles, Matt.”

“What kind of troubles?” Matt asked quickly.

“Parent troubles,” Mr. Calahan said.

Matt wanted to scream, Are you kidding me?! but he didn’t…because inside, at the time, he had known.

“It was really hard,” Matt’s father said, clearing his throat.

Matt’s mother tightened her lips, staring down at her iced tea.

“What’d you do?” Matt asked softly.

“We made it through,” Stan Calahan said. “We knew it was the right thing to do—for our family. For us. So, as hard as it was, we made some changes and we mustered the courage. And we haven’t regretted a day of it.” He smiled softly at his wife, who looked up and smiled back, her eyes glistening.

Matt blinked and looked down at his meatloaf again.

The right thing. Matt knew what the right thing to do was in his situation. It was to go on the mission. It was to help by being Sam’s eyes and ears. It was to be a part of saving the world from evil. But he couldn’t help but wonder…would he have the courage to do it?

—     —     —

Friday, 4:30 p.m.

Matt cracked his fingers. Away from home, quite a way up the West Coast, Lamar had just wrestled, Gill had videotaped it and Alfonzo was keeping score. Coach Plymouth called Matt to the mat. The black haired, mid-sized, thirteen-year-old stepped up.

He wrestled with the competition and won the match without breaking a sweat. There was nothing about the wrestling tournament that could rattle him. Not even a whole slur of jeers from Hulk, his own teammate. Matt had a feeling this was small potatoes compared to what was coming.

—     —     —

Friday, 11:58 p.m.

Amid the snores of his teammates, Matt quietly prayed. For the umpteenth time, he went over the plan in his mind.

Tomorrow morning, during their free time at the beach, they would rent jet-skis and meet up with Sam, who would be cruising in her boat. Matt would bring his laptop and the wireless network card Sam had given him. They were the keys to a successful mission, to helping Matt be Sam’s guidance from a distance. If everything went like clockwork, evil would be thwarted and they would be on their way back to the beach in a flash.

If everything went like clockwork.

“Cougar courage,” Matt muttered to himself. “Just do the right thing. Help me, God, to do the what’s right.” And as he drifted off, he couldn’t help but wonder, why oh why did Isabel have to say she didn’t feel good about this?

2 - Saturday Rendezvous

Saturday, 11:02 a.m.

Ker-splash!

Matt Calahan’s eyes shut tight as Hulk Hooligan flipped sideways on his jet ski, crashing into the Pacific Ocean water like a killer whale.

“Will he be all right?” Matt shouted to Lamar, who was driving their jet ski.

“He’ll be fine!” Lamar shouted back. “Now let’s get out of here before he gets back up!”

“Go! Go! Go!” Matt replied. “Follow Alfonzo and Gill!”

Lamar kicked the jet ski up a notch as he fell in line behind Alfonzo and Gill, also on a speeding jet ski.

Behind them, Hulk shouted something unintelligible as his jet ski circled back to him. Matt glanced back over his shoulder once more, his black hair whipping in his eyes. Yes, Hulk would be fine—and finally, after trying to lose the big lug for an hour, Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo could get on their way alone. The wrestling tournament was over; Matt could barely remember it. He was too fixed on what was coming up next.

“Do you think he’ll kill us for ditching him?” Matt wondered.

Lamar laughed. “Probably. But it’s for his own good.”

Matt nodded. As they sped away, wrapping around a peninsula and out of Hulk’s sight, Lamar asked, “How’s the laptop?”

Matt shifted the backpack on his shoulder. He could feel the weight of his laptop rub against his spine, right through his life jacket. “It’s fine,” he responded.

“How’re you keeping it dry?” Lamar wondered. “Did you vacuum-seal it?”

Matt laughed. “It’s just sealed in a baggie. You’ve seen the commercials. It should be fine.”

Lamar turned his head and shot a doubtful glance at Matt. His black skin glistened with water droplets.

“There!” Matt pointed to the West. A bright red speedboat cut through the ocean water like a knife through frosting. Its driver was standing and steering, her dark sunglasses masking her mysterious face. Her shoulder-length, golden hair criss-crossed in the wind, blowing behind her. She wore a shiny black diving suit.

Matt waved and the driver, Sam, returned the greeting with a nod. She pulled back on the throttle and brought the speedboat to a gurgling stop. Lamar and Alfonzo pulled their jet skis up to the back of the boat. Sam swiftly helped Gill and Matt aboard, then Lamar and Alfonzo. They slid the jet skis onto a small ramp, facing outward. Matt wondered how Sam knew to get a ramp that worked so perfectly, but then he dismissed the thought. If there was one thing Matt had learned, it was that Sam was resourceful.

With everyone safely on the speedboat, Sam smiled and nodded to the boys. Matt quickly noticed his friends were staring at her.

“Oh!” Matt cried, realizing they had never actually seen her before—at least not without darkness or shadows hiding her features. Matt addressed each of his friends. “Lamar, Gill, Alfonzo—this is Sam. The real Sam.”

Lamar smiled weakly. Gill scratched his red head. Fair-skinned Alfonzo said, “Hola.”

“Hello,” Sam said softly, her voice a bit raspy, barely heard over the waves that rocked the boat. “I know…it’s been a rough ride. But I appreciate you coming.”

“We’re here for Matt,” Lamar said pointedly.

Sam nodded and glanced at Matt. “I know.”

Alfonzo’s head tilted and he touched the side of his face. Sam mirrored the action, rubbing a long scar under her fingertips. Matt’s eyes widened. “Alfonzo!”

“It’s all right,” Sam assured Matt. “It’s just a scar, remember?”

After a long moment, Matt asked, “So now what?”

Sam brought her hand to her mouth, hiding a sudden smile underneath. The boys looked at each other.

“What?” Matt asked.

Sam tried stifling a laugh, but it escaped anyway. “I’m—I’m sorry. But you look like Twinkies.”

Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo surveyed each other. All four of them wore a bright orange life jacket. Underneath it, they wore gray shirts and black swimming trunks—the same gray shirts and black swimming trunks.

Sam’s giggling eased the tension.

Alfonzo said, “Er…they’re from school. They’re our wrestling shirts.”

Matt shrugged. “And Wal-mart had a sale on black swimsuits.”

“So I see,” Sam said, wiping away her smile.

“Lamar,” Gill said a bit too loud, “she doesn’t seem mean and manipulative at all.”

Lamar shouted, “Gill!”

“Hey,” Gill defended himself. “She knows she creeps us out.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “That’s in the past. No more creeping. I promise.”

Sam told the boys to sit down as she started up the engine again. The boat rumbled in the water as they took off, splitting the waves in two.

“So how’d you finally manage to get here?” Sam shouted to Matt.

Matt tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Well, I heard about the wrestling tournament, so I used the laptop to get our school invited and into a nearby hotel.” He popped his eyebrows up and down.

Lamar added, “Our tournament was last night. Coach gave us free time today until 3.”

Sam looked at her digital watch. “Three p.m.? That’s not much time.”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Matt said.

“Then it’ll have to do,” Sam replied. “Is the laptop in your backpack?”

Matt nodded.

Sam shook her head, raising her voice above the roar of the engine. “I wish you wouldn’t rely on the laptop so much, Matt.”

Matt shrugged. “It does a lot of good. Without it, we couldn’t have all got here today. I even got Gill to come so he could help record the tournament on video.”

“It does a lot of bad, too,” Sam quickly reminded Matt.

This was a reoccurring theme with Sam. She was the previous owner of the laptop…and had seen it do more harm than good. Matt had received the laptop months ago for his thirteenth birthday. It was the “perfect” gift from his parents; Matt had always loved writing, and now he could write anytime, anywhere. But then Matt and his friends discovered something powerful…and dangerous. They discovered that whatever Matt typed into the laptop actually happened. They didn’t understand how, but it did. Soon, they found themselves using the laptop to help others.

But Sam didn’t share their optimistic intentions.

Sam had seen another side to the laptop. She had seen it in the hands of someone evil. From what Matt had put together, she had seen it used to hurt people, and for extravagant personal gain. By her silence, Matt could only imagine the depths.

And that was why they had gathered together: for this mission, as Sam called it. She said those who had used the laptop for evil still had records of the laptop’s technology…and those records had to be destroyed…or the world could forever be in the shadow of danger.

Matt wasn’t sure if she was being melodramatic or not. “Save the world” seemed a bit melodramatic…but Sam did not. He had never met a more serious person.

“That’s why we’re going to do this,” Sam continued. “I need your help to destroy all the evidence and research connected to the laptop. We must make sure this technology never gets into the wrong hands again.”

Matt felt the weight of the laptop in his backpack. “What about the laptop itself? After the records are destroyed, what do we do with it?”

“That’s up to you,” Sam said, steering the boat left. “It’s yours now.”

Lamar shouted, “Are there a lot of records?”

Sam responded, “Yes—they’re extensive, but fortunately, they’re recorded on nine encrypted discs. They’re unable to be duplicated. I did that on purpose.”

“What do you mean you did that?” Matt questioned.

Sam didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “The discs are in the Records Room on the back side of the Facility.”

“Hey Sam!” Gill shouted, apparently having lost all inhibitions. (It never took long for Gill to warm up to a stranger.) He whirled his small backpack off his shoulder. “I brought my spy bag! Just like the TV spies have!” He unzipped the bag.

Lamar and Alfonzo, sitting on either side, peeked in. Alfonzo said, “So we finally get a peek into Sherlock Gillespie’s spy stash…”

Matt leaned over and took a peek himself. “Rope, a flashlight, a screwdriver—good thinking, Gill.”

Alfonzo dug deeper. “Hairspray, Groucho Marx disguises, marbles—obviously, you’ve lost your marbles.”

“Ha-ha,” Gill said dryly.

“You brought Pooka-Dookas?” Lamar asked, leaning back at the sight of the downright disgusting tasting cookies with green goo filling.

“I got a lifetime supply for my commercial,” Gill said.

Alfonzo said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Gill admitted. “My dog likes ‘em.”

“Hershey’s Cocoa mix?” Alfonzo asked, pulling a packet out of the spy bag.

“That’s to get the Pooka-Dooka taste out of my mouth.”

“Ah.” Yes, now it all made sense.

Gill exclaimed, “I’m ready to stop the bad guys!”

As they put the items back in the bag, Sam pulled Matt toward herself. “Listen,” she said into his ear. “If something goes wrong…if I’m stopped…it’s not worth the risk for one person. I want you boys to get out of there. You don’t want to mess with these people.”

Matt nodded. “I know. Gill’s just excited.”

“I have no intention of putting you boys in danger,” she pressed. “Your job is to stay outside, where it’s safe.”

“Is that why you wanted us all to come?” Matt challenged her.

“There’s safety in numbers, Matt.” Then, “There it is.”

Each of the boy’s heads popped up and looked straight ahead as Sam slowed the speed to a crawl and quietly approached.

The Facility was a monstrous stone and dark glass building, at least five stories tall, straight down to sea level. The entrance, Sam explained, was on the other side, several stories up, on the cliff. An eerie, enclosed walkway stretched from the main building to a series of steel warehouses not far from a few old, creaking docks.

Matt gulped. He was glad he wasn’t the one going inside.

—     —     —

Saturday, 11:25 p.m.

“So I thought the Records Room was in the back,” Lamar noted. “Why is Sam going in the front?”

“She said it’s the only place her access card will work,” Matt replied.

Alfonzo asked, “How’d she get an access card?”

Gill said, “Sam can get anything.”

“She’s full of surprises,” Lamar said plainly.

The four boys sat in the grass a great deal away from the entrance, behind a clump of trees and several rocks. They stared into Matt’s laptop. It was fully booted and Matt alternated between two screens. One contained a map of the Facility—lines and dimensions—clearly identifying hallways and rooms, vent systems and camera placement. This is what Matt would use to figure out the exact locations of the cameras. The other screen was a direct feed into the Facility’s camera systems via a wireless network card. Matt could actually watch Sam as she made her way through the building…and warn her if anyone was around the next corner. This was the main reason Sam needed the help of Matt and his friends. And Matt was glad this was all she needed them for, because it was enough. Matt had already dealt with several days of feeling sick in anticipation of his responsibility. He knew he couldn’t mess up, or Sam’s life could be on the line.

Matt looked up. He could barely see Sam by naked eye anymore. She was at the front of the stone building, sliding her card through an access slot. Matt hoped it would work and get her in. The building was just as ominous from the front as it had been from the back, though not nearly as tall. They were actually viewing only the two top stories—the bottom three stretched down the cliff in back. Nearby, Matt heard the buzz of generators behind a steel fence.

“I’m in.”

Matt spoke into the two-way radio. “Good.” He looked at the screen on his laptop. He watched the front door open from the inside, and spied Sam entering the building. No one lurked anywhere near, as best as Matt could tell. He switched to the map and back. “OK, I don’t see anyone down the next two halls. Which way are you going?”

“Left.”

Matt switched back to the map and looked at the lines representing the hall she walked down. He identified the closest cameras: #056, #057, #124. He switched back to the camera screen. He punched the numbers into the laptop. The three cameras popped up on the screen beside one another. They were all empty. Matt could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“This is a cakewalk,” Alfonzo said. “No one’s around.”

“Thankfully,” Matt replied. “That’s why she chose Saturday. She says there should be just a handful of guards.”

“So far, so good,” Sam whispered back through the two-way radio. “We’ll be fine unless we run into—well, nevermind.”

Matt’s right eyebrow raised. “What? Who?”

“Nothing. Let’s concentrate.” On her end, Sam had an earpiece and a microphone hooked to the two-way radio on her belt so she could hear Matt and talk to him without anyone knowing about it.

Suddenly a deep voice boomed, “What’re ya guys doin’?!”

Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo screamed like girls as Matt slammed his laptop shut. The boys nearly fell over each other.

“Hey!” the voice boomed again. Matt flipped around in fright. His mouth dropped open.

“Hulk?!” he shouted in disbelief. “What are you—how did you find us?!”

“I followed ya here,” Hulk said boldly. “Ya almost lost me when ya got in da boat, but I was onta ya. Told ya I wouldn’t let ya outta my sight, Calhan.”

“Oh, great!” Matt shouted, upset.

Alfonzo grabbed Hulk’s arm. “Get down!” he ordered, pulling.

Hulk’s legs collapsed underneath him as he plopped onto the ground. Matt was pretty sure the earth shook.

“So what’re ya doin’?!”

“Shhhh!” Alfonzo hushed Hulk.

“This is just great,” Matt huffed again.

From the two-way radio, Sam said, “I’m turning right, and down the next hallway, I’m going left again.”

Hulk said, “Who’s da chick on da radio?”

Matt looked at Hulk. He didn’t have time to explain. He sat up straight, opened the laptop again and switched back to the map. #074, #111, #003. He switched back to the camera screen and punched in the numbers. The cameras popped up.

“It’s clear.”

“How do I look?”

Matt scoured the camera feeds with his eyes. “Where are you?”

“Second hall already.”

“You’re doing great. I can’t see you at all.”

“Good. Because if you can, they can,” Sam replied.

Hulk’s face scrunched up. “What is dis? Who’re they?”

“Just very bad men,” Matt said, sticking to the point. “Very bad.”

Hulk looked at Matt, blank-faced. Matt couldn’t give him a detailed answer, because Sam had never given him one. But Matt could see it in Sam’s eyes every time she mentioned “them.” They were the faceless entity that wanted nothing more than to get the laptop back—so they could do whatever they wanted with it. All Matt knew was that he couldn’t let them have it. No matter what the cost. No matter what the loss.

“Yer breakin’ in!” Hulk whispered, his eyes wide.

“It’s not like that,” Lamar quickly corrected.

“Yeah, sure,” Hulk guffawed. “Like I care. Hey, dis is cool. I am in wit’ cha!”

Gill reached into his spy bag and pulled out a Groucho Max disguise: large glasses with a big nose, a mustache and fluffy eyebrows attached. “Good then, wear this.”

Hulk took the glasses from Gill. “You want me to wear dese?”

“I just wanted to see if you would.”

Matt spun around. “Look, you want to help us?” he demanded from Hulk. The bully nodded enthusiastically, completely in his element. “OK, then,” Matt said. “Go back to the boats. Put your jet ski on the ramp of the boat we came in on—with ours. Make sure everything is ready to go. We may need to get out of here fast. Got it?”

Amazingly, Hulk didn’t bulk at Matt’s authority. Apparently, he didn’t want to lose out on being a part of the danger. “Yeah! Calhan, I got it,” he said. He hopped up and bounded off, giving Matt a thumbs-up in the process.

Lamar’s eyebrows shot up. “Way to get rid of Hulk.”

“It won’t last long,” Matt said.

Lamar responded, “Hopefully long enough.”

“Oh man!” Gill exclaimed. “He took the disguise with him! I hope Sam won’t need hers.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Alfonzo said.

From the two-way radio, Sam’s voice said, “OK, I’m going straight for a while. Just clear the hallways ahead—to the South.”

Matt checked the map and corresponding camera numbers. He punched them into the camera screen. The hallway was empty all the way down. Matt pressed the button on the two-way radio. “Still clear.”

“At this rate, I’ll never get to use my spy bag,” Gill said.

Matt switched back to the map screen. He memorized some new numbers and switched back. He input the numbers.

Matt quickly shouted “Whoa!” into the two-way radio.

“What?”

On screen, on camera #038, a man in black walked briskly down the hall.

“There’s someone coming your way,” Matt said.

The man left camera #038 and appeared in #066. “He’s moving fast.”

The boys waited, watching the screen, holding their breath.

“Sam?”

No response.

“Sam?”

“I’m in the bathroom.”

“Oh, sorry,” Matt replied.

“I’m not going to the bathroom. I’m hiding.”

“Oh, right.”

Alfonzo slapped Matt’s arm.

Matt switched to the map and found the bathroom. He switched back. The guard had passed her. Matt let out a long breath. He checked the nearby cameras once again. “OK, I think it’s clear.”

“You think?”

Matt checked again, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “It’s clear.”

Matt viewed the next two cameras ahead. Nothing. It was totally safe.

Matt switched back. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. A guard popped back onto camera #038. He must have appeared when Matt was on the map screen. Then another guard. Camera #021. Matt squeezed the two-way radio. “Sam! Get out of there!”

“What?”

“Ahead of—”

Whoosh! On screen, Matt saw the guard in camera #038 draw his weapon. Matt’s heart pounded hard as Sam appeared in the center of camera #066. The guard drew closer. He was shouting something. The guard in #021 turned and closed in. The third guard came running into view. Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo gasped.

As the guard in #038 became the guard in #066, he held his gun steady, Sam in his sights.

“Whoa!” The boys jumped back as Sam jumped into the air and kicked the weapon out of the guard’s hands. The weapon flew across the tile.

“Sam!” Matt shouted. But she was too busy. She slide-kicked the man in the shin and he went down.

Sam whirled around, dodging a punch from guard #2. She charged forward, knocking him in the chest with her shoulder. He flew back, nearly plowing into guard #3. Sam turned around again and started down the hall at full speed.

But she wasn’t fast enough. Guard #3 drew his weapon and fired. Sam darted right at the sound, and the boys gasped when she dropped to the floor, holding her arm tightly. The second guard pulled her up from behind, and threw an arm around her neck. The guard pulled down and suddenly Sam was defenseless, her back arched in the center of camera #066.

She was caught.

3 - Dun-dun, Dun-dun

Matt and his friends gasped as they stared at the camera feed on Matt’s laptop. Dead center, Sam struggled to get free from the thugs inside the Facility a hundred feet away…but there was nothing they could do about it.

A guard pulled Sam’s hands behind her back. Though the boys couldn’t hear her, they saw her cry out in pain, her arm obviously throbbing from the gunshot wound. The guards forcefully led her down the hall. Matt quickly switched to the map and back so he could follow her with the cameras.

“What are we going to do?” Gill whispered.

“What can we do?” Lamar responded softly.

Matt’s pushed his hands back through his hair. “Isabel told me she had a bad feeling about this.”

Alfonzo stared in disbelief at Matt. “Iz told you she had a bad feeling? Man, always listen to my sister’s feelings.”

“No kidding,” Matt whispered. He watched the screen intently. The guards led Sam into an office; Matt found it on the map. Fortunately, there was a camera in the waiting room outside the office—and Matt could still see Sam in the doorway.

Suddenly Matt’s two-way radio squawked, making the boys jump. Sam was allowing them to hear what was going on.

“—do you want?” Sam asked, sounding out-of-breath, yet somehow as cool, calm and collected as ever.

A grizzly, deep voice followed. “It’s been a long time, Ms. Dunaway,” it said. Matt couldn’t see the speaker on the other side of the doorway. The grizzly voice continued, “I knew you’d return…eventually.”

“Who is that?” Gill asked.

“One mean sounding dude,” Alfonzo answered.

The voice demanded, “Where is the Wordtronix, Sam?” He used the brand name of the laptop.

Sam glanced toward the camera. “The laptop is gone. Forever,” she said, her words obviously directed to Matt.

“I doubt that,” said the man’s voice. Then Matt saw a large, dark shadow brush over Sam as the man leaned in. “I want the Wordtronix,” he stated.

“I don’t—”

Snatch! A meaty hand grabbed Sam’s collar. The boys jumped as the sound boomed through the two-way radio. The hand pulled out Sam’s microphone. “What is this?!”

“Oh no,” Matt whispered.

Sam turned to the camera. “Go! Matt, go!” she shouted. Matt’s eyes grew large.

The meaty hand ripped off the microphone and pulled out Sam’s two-way radio. Suddenly Sam was pushed aside as a large man—one of the largest men Matt had ever seen, even on a tiny computer screen—stomped through the doorway. He was dressed in a black, three-piece suit that covered his bulky body from head to toe. He was bald, his rounded head a milky contrast to his dark outfit. A pointed, black goatee framed his mouth. He bared his teeth as his eyes pierced the camera.

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked into the two-way radio. Matt dropped his radio on the ground.

“Oh no,” Lamar whimpered. He started praying under his breath.

“Who is that?!” Gill asked again.

“One mean looking dude,” Alfonzo answered.

“Matt?” the man demanded. “Matt C?”

Matt felt his stomach turn. How did he know his last name began with a C?

“Am I talking to the Matt C who started to register the Wordtronix on our website?”

Matt felt his heart beating faster. It was true. When Matt first received the laptop, he logged onto the Internet to find out more about it. First he stumbled across the website for Wordtronix—the maker of the laptop—and he started filling out the registration form. But then he came across Sam’s warning on another page…and stopped immediately. Apparently, the beginning of his registration passed through.

Matt lifted the laptop off his lap and placed it onto the ground in front of him.

“If you want to see Sam alive again,” the big man said, staring into the camera menacingly, “you must bring the Wordtronix to me.”

“Don’t do it!” Sam shouted.

The man turned and pressed Sam’s wounded arm. She cried in pain.

“We can’t bring him the laptop,” Lamar stated.

“I know,” Matt agreed.

“Where are you?!” the man demanded, turning to the camera, spitting. “I want the Wordtronix, Matt C! Bring it to me now! Or this will be the last time you see Sam!” He turned to his thugs and said, “Take her to Storage Room 4.” Then he let go of the talk button on his radio and shouted something Matt couldn’t make out. He disappeared into his office as the thugs carried Sam out of the room.

“We need to get out of here,” Lamar said. “They’re coming to get us.”

Matt switched to the layout screen. He found Storage Room 4. He switched back and punched in different camera numbers. They were indeed heading to Storage Room 4.

“No,” Matt said. “They don’t know where we are. They’re going to the storage room.” Then Matt added, “After that, they’ll probably head down to the docks. That’s where I’d expect us to be.”

“Hulk’s down at the docks,” Alfonzo said. “Should we go warn him?”

“And have us all get caught?” Lamar challenged.

“Hulk’s street-smart,” Matt said. “He’ll be fine. He knows how to hide.”

“He’s got a lot to hide,” Gill said. “Good thing he took a disguise.”

Lamar squinted. “Oh right, the bad guys’ll be like, ‘Oh, it’s just a fat Groucho Marx. Leave him alone.’”

Gill ignored the jab. He pointed to the laptop. “OK, so is anyone gonna tell me who that bad dude was?!”

“It’s the antagonist,” Matt said, standing up. He started pacing, running his hands through his black hair.

“The who?” Gill questioned.

“What are you talking about?” Lamar asked.

“The antagonist,” Matt repeated. “Don’t you guys pay attention in English?”

“Oh, it’s a writer thing,” Gill said flatly.

“It’s the truth, plain and simple,” Matt said, dismissing the thought. “I knew there was more to this when Sam wouldn’t let on about exactly what kind of danger was inside.”

“You knew there was more to this?” Lamar challenged.

“Well, I didn’t know…but I gathered.”

“You gathered. Great.”

Once again, Gill asked, “Um, that was who?”

Matt clarified, “Look, he’s like the Boss. The villain at the end of a video game. You have to be stronger, more experienced, or smarter than him to win.”

“Which are we?” Gill asked.

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Gill. Gill looked at Alfonzo.

Gill said, “Game over.”

“Look,” Matt said to his friends. “Sam told me that if anything happened, she wanted us to get out of here and never look back.”

The boys were silent.

“But I don’t think we can do that,” Matt admitted. “One of two things is going to happen. Either Sam will break and sooner or later, when we least expect it, those goons are going to end up on our doorstep. That will put every one of us—and our families—at risk.”

“Or…” Lamar said.

“Or, Sam won’t break…and she’ll put herself at risk.”

“Let’s just get out of here and call for help,” Lamar said. “I don’t know what else we can do.”

“We can’t call for help,” Alfonzo argued. “If these guys have the technology to build a laptop that can change stuff, they can certainly find out who called the cops. And then we’re back with the goons on our doorstep.”

“Besides,” Matt added, “who can get here, get inside and free Sam in time?”

Gill shouted, “I know! The A-Team!”

Alfonzo slapped Gill on the chest.

“What?” Gill asked.

“I think we may have to be the A-Team,” Matt said, his eyes moving from one of his friends to another.

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Lamar wondered. “You want us to go in and rescue her?”

“Do we have any other choice?” Matt asked, point-blank.

“This isn’t one of your stories, Matt,” Lamar argued. “This is real life. This might not end like your standard rescue plot.”

Alfonzo piped up. “How does a rescue plot end?”

Matt said, “The victim is freed, the villain is foiled and the good guy gets the girl.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Gill admitted. “And I’ll get to use my spy bag.”

Matt let out a long breath. “Well, rescue plots don’t always end that way.”

The boys looked at Matt.

Matt added, “Sometimes the rescue plot turns out to be a tragedy and everyone dies.”

Alfonzo cringed. “How Shakesphere.”

Matt nodded. “But we have two advantages right now. One, the Boss thinks I’m the only one out here. And two, we have the laptop.”

“Right!” Alfonzo cheered. “So just write that Sam gets free and let’s be done with it.”

“C’mon, you know how this works,” Matt said. “There are too many variables. We don’t know what the bad guys are going to do. We type without knowing the full situation and we could blow something up.”

Alfonzo laughed. “Like that’s gonna happen! When was the last time we blew—oh…never mind. I keep forgetting.”

“We need to go in,” Matt finally said.

After a long moment of silence, Lamar looked at his watch. “We have to act fast. If we’re not back by three, Coach’ll call in the SWAT team to find us.”

“I know,” Matt agreed. “If we don’t get back in time, word will get out and these guys will find out who we are for sure, putting us and our families in jeopardy. We have to do everything as quiet as we can.”

Gill picked up his spy bag. “Stealth! I’m ready!”

Alfonzo shook his head. “Yeah, bring on the Hershey’s cocoa, Gill.”

“Who’s with me?” Matt asked, throwing his hand, palm down out in front of him. “Who’s got Cougar Courage?”

Gill didn’t waste any time throwing his hand in. “Rowrrr!”

Alfonzo placed his hands on the stack next. “The QoolQuad sticks together,” he said, calling them by the name they called themselves.

Lamar placed his dark hand on top. “Bow your heads,” he ordered. “I’m going to pray.”

—     —     —

Saturday, 12:07 p.m.

After several minutes of prayer and then brainstorming, Matt announced, “The first thing we have to do is disable their cameras.”

“But then how will we see where the bad guys are?” Lamar wondered.

“We won’t,” Matt admitted, “but then they won’t see where we are either.”

The boys nodded agreement. Matt added, “Plus, we’ll still have the map.”

Gill asked, “But how do we get in?”

“Why don’t you use your Hershey’s Cocoa,” Alfonzo taunted.

Gill thought for a moment, his finger on his chin. “No, I think I’d better save that.”

Matt looked at his friends blankly. Without a passcard, there was no way they could get in the front door…and walking around the halls would be too dangerous anyway.

Matt switched his laptop’s screen to the building layout.

Alfonzo said, “Hey, those green lines—Sam said they made up the vent system, right?”

Matt followed a line with his finger. He looked up at the nearby steel fence surrounding four generators. “Yeah. And one of the vents is on the other side of those generators.”

“Cool!” Gill shouted. “Just like on TV! Crawling through the vents! Infiltrating the enemy base! Rescuing the victim!”

“Yeah,” Matt said, “but we need to go to the Record Room first.”

“Why?” Lamar pressed.

“Because,” Alfonzo offered, “if we don’t, we’re back at square one. I, for one, want to finish this.”

“Me, too,” Matt said. “We have to destroy the records since Sam can’t do it.”

Lamar dropped his defenses. “OK, you’re right. Let’s finish this.”

Matt studied the map again. “The problem is, none of the vents lead directly to the Record Room. Still…we can get close.”

“Then let’s go!” Gill shouted, pulling out his flashlight. “I’ve got the light!”

Together, the boys sneaked over to the steel fence surrounding the generators. Alfonzo climbed up first, hopping over and signaled that the coast was clear. Matt, Gill and Lamar quickly followed. Alfonzo was the first to find the vent they were looking for, just a foot above the stone wall next to one of the generators. He climbed the wall with ease and surveyed the situation. He grabbed the wide, metal vent screen and pulled. And pulled. And repositioned his hands and pulled again. With white knuckles, he let go. “It’s screwed on,” he reported. “There’s no way—”

Gill rummaged through his spy bag and recovered his screwdriver. “This what you need?” he asked Alfonzo.

Matt smiled. Leave it to Gill…

“Throw it up here,” Alfonzo said.

Gill shook his head. “Not until you apologize for doubting me.”

Alfonzo rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Throw it up here.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Do you want a knuckle sandwich?”

Gill tossed up the screwdriver. Alfonzo caught it and looked it over. He popped off the cap on the handle and six screw heads dropped out. He found the one that fit in the vent screws and put the rest back in the handle. “Cool screwdriver,” he admitted.

“Push the button,” Gill suggested.

Alfonzo pushed a button on the side and suddenly the screwdriver spun to life.

“Where’d you get this?” he wondered. “This is the coolest spy gadget I’ve ever seen.”

Gill shrugged. “Home Depot. $14.95. It’s rechargeable.”

Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz! One-by-one, Alfonzo unfastened the screws from the vent. Once he was finished, removing the vent screen was easy. He handed it down to Lamar, who set it against the building. Alfonzo squeezed into the square hole first. Matt, Lamar and Gill climbed the stone wall and joined Alfonzo inside.

“Hey, what if Hulk comes back?” Gill wondered. “Besides, we might be able to use his strength. He could pull wrestling moves on the bad guys.”

“As much as I’d like to see that,” Matt said, “Do you really think Hulk can fit in here?”

The boys looked at each other. No way. The space was larger than Matt expected—but not that big. They decided to continue without the big lug, knowing he’d stay with the boats. Matt assured his friends once again that he’d known Hulk for a long time…and he knew how to take care of himself, especially when trouble was involved.

In the shaft, they had to crawl on their hands and knees, but once they were about ten feet into the building, the vent opened up to actually allow them to pass each other if they wanted. Matt dragged his backpack beside himself, his laptop riding on top.

Matt stayed in second place and stopped periodically to coordinate their moves with his on-screen map. After three wrong turns that required backtracking, they finally found themselves over the main network room beside the Security office—the place from which they were convinced the camera network stemmed.

“You sure this is it?” Matt whispered to Gill.

Gill turned his head sideways as he looked at the map. “Yeah, it has to be,” he whispered back. “I’ve done audio/visual at school forever. Trust me. This has to be it.”

Alfonzo dropped to his stomach and peered through the ventilation grate in front of him. “There’s someone down there,” he whispered over his shoulder.

Matt said, “Not for long.” At once, he opened the word processor on his laptop. He had been waiting to do this for days. He began writing…

The guard in the room below the QoolQuad suddenly got a hankering for a breath from the fresh, California outdoors. Ah, the salty air, the clean breezes, the smell of smog wafting out from the city…this was the life the guard loved. At once, he up and ran out of the room, and out of the building to breathe in and breathe out.

Matt reread his work and shrugged. It would do. He pressed the laptop key with the clock face on it and at once the on-screen cursor turned into a gold and white clock, ticking forward like lightning. That’s all it took. Matt had seen it happen time and again. As he watched the cursor change, he felt a sudden sadness inside, as though he was about to part with an old friend. He quickly dismissed the feeling and pressed on.

Matt leaned down beside Alfonzo and watched from above as the guard started sniffing the air and pulling at his collar. No more than 20 seconds later, he headed for the door, exiting as fast as he could.

“Screwdriver!” Alfonzo ordered as the door closed behind the guard. Gill slapped it into his hand.

Alfonzo froze. “Whoops. We have a problem.”

“A problem?” Lamar asked.

“A problem?” Matt echoed, closing the lid to the laptop.

“The screws are on the other side.”

Matt looked at the grate; it was true. From this end, all they saw were the flat ends of four bolts. Matt grabbed one with his fingers and turned it. It hurt his fingers, but it nudged. Matt and Alfonzo went after the bolts one at a time. They turned three of them down as far as they could. The fourth wouldn’t budge. Matt licked his fingers.

“Scoot back,” Alfonzo said. Matt didn’t question him. Alfonzo flipped onto his back, raised his feet and smashed down on the grate. The three turned bolts popped out, clinking onto the floor below. The fourth held, but the grate bent into the room. Alfonzo flipped over and pushed it the rest of the way down.

“How was that?” Alfonzo asked.

“Loud,” Lamar quipped.

Suddenly the door opened. The boys froze. A guard walked in—a different guard—and looked around the room. Matt could see one of the popped bolts lying on the ground in front of the guard. He didn’t seem to notice it, and fortunately, he didn’t look up. A moment later, after shaking his head, he left. The boys started breathing again.

“We’ve gotta stay quiet,” Lamar emphasized. “No more loud noises.”

Matt leaned over the railing. “Um…how are we gonna get down there?” It was at least a 12-foot drop. Maybe more.

Alfonzo nudged Gill. “Hey, didn’t you have some rope in your sack?”

Gill’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He dug in and pulled out a long, tangled line of thick rope.

“Home Depot?” Alfonzo asked.

Gill nodded.

“You can lower me in!” Gill said enthusiastically.

“No, I’ll go in,” Matt offered. “I’m the one who got us into this mess.”

“Please,” Gill said, wrapping the rope around his waist and under his armpits. “You can only go in if you can tell me what a router is.”

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar shrugged.

“OK. Gill,” Matt conceded. “You’re the man.”

With the rope wrapped around Gill like Christmas tree lights around an evergreen, Gill slid through the open grate and Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo did their best to lower him slowly.

Matt felt his arms burn almost immediately from the weight.

About half way down, Gill spread out his arms and legs. He started singing the theme to Mission: Impossible. “Dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun…”

He reached into his backpack, still on his shoulder, and pulled out the can of hairspray. He sprayed it into the air around him. Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Alfonzo. Alfonzo looked back at Matt.

“Gill!” Matt shouted as quietly as he could. “What are you doing?”

“I’m scanning for lasers!” Gill reported, in all seriousness.

“Gill!”

“Hey, I’ve seen the movies! I’m not taking any chances!”

“Put the hairspray down and turn off the cameras!”

Reluctantly, Gill let his feet swing underneath him. He touched the ground and winced as though he expected a thousand alarms to sound. When they didn’t, he shrugged and walked to a desk just a few feet away. Sitting atop was a sleek computer terminal. Gill looked at the back and twisted his lip. He set down the hairspray and touched the keyboard. The computer fired to life. Gill looked up at Matt and his friends and smiled.

“What’s he doing?” Matt asked Lamar and Alfonzo, each still holding the limp rope in their hands.

Lamar said, “With Gill, you never know.”

Gill typed something into the computer, then walked to the left, toward several servers and network components. He studied the wires branching out the sides and followed them with his fingers. At one point, they heard a snap on the other side of the door. Gill froze and Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo tightened their grip on the rope, ready to pull Gill up quickly. But it was a false alarm.

Gill pulled out a wire and quickly ran to the computer terminal, dragging the thick wire across the room. He plugged it into the back of the machine. It barely reached. Gill’s face beamed and he gave Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo a thumbs-up.

That’s when the door opened.

At the sight of Gill, the eyes of the guard who walked in became the size of meatballs.

“Pull him up! Pull him up!” Matt cried.

The guard shouted in surprise, reaching for his gun.

Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo pulled as hard as they could and Gill suddenly launched in the air, like a flailing puppet. “Whoaaaaaaa!”

The guard ducked as Gill flew up and around, making crazy circles. With the rotation of the rope, Matt and his friends couldn’t hold on easily. Gill dropped down again, nearly hitting the floor. When they jerked the rope back up, Gill flew up into the air again and with a wide swing, he slammed into the stomach of the guard who was still trying to figure out what was happening. The guard bent over in shock and stumbled forward, knocking into the desk.

Shhhhhh! The guard’s head slammed down onto the hairspray can, and he shot himself in the face with a good dose of AquaNet. He screamed and ran for the door, running into Gill again on the way out. Gill spun around as if he were on a twisted swing.

“Let go!” Matt shouted. Lamar and Alfonzo lightened up on the rope and Gill plummeted to the ground with an “oof!” He hopped back up and ran to the door, closing it fast.

“What’re we going to do?” Alfonzo cried. “He knows we’re here!”

“We need to keep them from getting back into the room and turning the cameras back on!” Gill shouted. “And we need to keep them from getting me!”

Alfonzo pushed forward to slide down and help, but Lamar caught his shoulder. “I’m going in,” he said. “We need your strength up here to pull us back up.”

Alfonzo made way and Lamar grabbed onto the rope. He slid down, much to Matt and Alfonzo’s pain. At once, he ordered Gill to help him stack the furniture against the doorway. Like greased lightning, the boys moved three large filing cabinets, the desk and a potted plant in front of the door.

Just as they finished, a thud! came from the other side.

Thud!

Thud!

The guards tried to get in, but the boy’s fortress held.

“Let’s get going!” Matt shouted. Lamar climbed up first with a push from Gill, then Gill climbed up and out of the room. When all four boys were back in the ventilation shaft, they crawled fifty feet away and then stopped when a deep voice crackled over Matt’s two-way radio.

“So, Matt C,” the Boss said. “I see you’ve come to join our little party.”

Matt fought the temptation to talk back.

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” the Boss said. “But we’re just getting started. You don’t have much time, my friend. And neither does Sam.” And the line went dead.

“I don’t like fighting the Boss,” Gill said, unwrapping the rope from his body. He adjusted his wrinkled shirt.

“Good job guys,” Matt encouraged his friends.

“But he saw us,” Alfonzo stated.

“No,” Lamar said, sounding a bit more into the game. “He saw one of us. They still don’t know there are four of us here.”

The boys smiled.

“You know what was strange?” Matt asked. “I could have sworn I heard be-bop music in the background when the Boss was talking just now.”

Gill grinned.

“What did you do?” Alfonzo asked.

“Well,” Gill said. “I didn’t exactly turn the cameras off.”

“What?!” Matt exclaimed.

“I did better,” Gill said, his eyes flashing again. “I changed the feed.”

“What do you mean?” Lamar asked.

“Well,” Gill said, “let’s just say instead of seeing the cameras on their security monitors, they now see a bit of entertainment…courtesy of that computer in the network room.”

The boys continued to look at Gill quizzically.

Gill punched, “Have you guys ever heard of hamsterdance.com?”

4 - Stinky Discovery

Saturday, 12:45 p.m.

After four more wrong turns, Matt finally got the QoolQuad to the right place.

“We’re just outside the bathroom across from the Record Room,” he announced, closing his laptop. “We have to make it across the hall…but that’s it. Then we destroy the records and go get Sam.”

“Why do I have a feeling it won’t be that easy?” Lamar wondered.

“Because you don’t watch spy shows,” Gill responded.

Several minutes passed as they fought to remove the grill in front of them. Finally, with a little effort, Alfonzo removed it, turned it, and pulled it inside. Matt looked out the square hole, leading into the room from the side wall. The bathroom was relatively non-descript: a clean, white tile and beige countertop paradise with four stalls and three urinals. Plank-like fluorescent lights buzzed from the ceiling, casting a tiring glaze over the room.

“I’ll go first,” Alfonzo offered.

Gill stopped him. “Wait—is this a men’s restroom, or a woman’s restroom?”

“What does it matter?” Alfonzo asked.

“Because,” Gill said through gritted teeth, “I’ve never been in a woman’s restroom.”

“There are urinals,” Matt stated. “It’s definitely the men’s room.”

“How do you know?” Gill asked.

“They’re urinals!”

“Maybe woman’s restroom’s have urinals, too. How would you know? You’ve never been in one. Have you?”

“We are not having this conversation.”

“You have!” Gill cried. “When?!”

Matt said, “Once when we were at Wal-Mart, the men’s room was closed for cleaning so my mom said she’d look-out while—”

“OK!” Gill said, throwing up his hands. “I believe you! But I can’t believe you waited until now to tell me this.”

“If we get out of this alive,” Matt said, “I am seriously going to hurt you.”

Gill gave Matt a wide smile. “Me?”

Alfonzo pushed himself out the hole and swung into the stall below. Straddling the stool, he caught Matt’s backpack and helped Matt down. Gill came down next, followed by Lamar. Once Lamar’s feet hit the ground, the four boys looked at each other. They looked back up at the opening. Without saying a word, they knew they were committed now, all four on the ground, inside the building, without an easy way to get back into the ducts.

Pa-doom! Matt’s heart nearly stopped as he heard the bathroom door open. At once, Matt slammed the stall door shut. Alfonzo sat down, Matt jumped onto the pipes of the toilet seat and Lamar and Gill balanced themselves between the toilet bowl lid and the flimsy stall walls.

“That you in there, Fowler?” came a voice from on the other side of the door. Matt knew instantly it was one of the guards.

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Gill. Gill looked at Alfonzo. Alfonzo said, “Mmm-hmm.”

Matt gulped.

The guard slowly made his way into the room. They could hear his feet shuffle toward the stalls. Matt’s heart beat faster as his palms began to sweat.

Pop! The stall door two spots down popped open. Matt listened and heard the guard enter. The boys exchanged glances.

“What’re we going to do?” Gill whispered.

“Shhhh!” Lamar hushed him.

“What’s that?” the guard asked, a couple doors away.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Alfonzo responded.

The boys waited silently, not quite sure what to do. A few moments later, the guard asked, “Can you believe Sam came back?”

“Hmmm.”

“Yeah, me neither. Crazy, if you ask me. Got a death sentence. There’s no way she’s getting out of here alive.”

Suddenly, his words were punctuated by a horrifying sound erupting from his stall.

Gill’s face cringed. “Oh!” he cried.

“Sorry.”

Matt slapped Gill on the chest. “Shhh!” he shushed through his teeth.

A putrid odor wafted into the stall. Matt squeezed his eyes tightly.

“What is he doing in there?” Gill whispered.

Lamar asked, “What do you think he’s doing in there? Quiet!”

Gill’s eyes crossed.

Another rupture echoed off the walls.

“Gill’s not going to make it,” Lamar warned Matt.

Matt nodded. He motioned toward the door and kicked the flusher with his foot. Alfonzo jumped up, obviously peeved at Matt’s lack of a warning.

“Go!” Matt charged.

Alfonzo opened the door and the boys carefully got down (well, Matt nearly fell in). Holding their noses, they quickly shuffled past the guard and to the exit. Matt grabbed the door handle when the guard in the stall barked, “Hey!”

The boys froze in place.

“Huh?” Alfonzo asked, his voice deep.

“C’mon, Fowler, aren’t you gonna wash your hands?”

The boys let out a collective breath of relief. Alfonzo ran over to the faucet and ran his hands underneath. He turned it off and ran back to the door.

“Thank you,” the guard behind the stall door said.

“Mmm-hmmm!” Alfonzo said.

“Go!” Gill whispered to Matt, waving the air in front of him.

Matt pulled the door open a crack and peered outside. The hall was clear. He stuck his head out. No one in sight. Matt slipped out, followed by his friends. He spied the door leading to the Records Room and led his friends across the way.

“Man, that was rank!” Gill expressed, gasping for air. “What did he eat for lunch?”

Matt pushed open the door across the hall and the four boys slid inside. Once they were in, Matt turned on the light and the boys let themselves breathe again.

The room was large, about the size of the library at Matt’s school. Computer screens glowed atop metal desks cluttered with Post-It Notes, papers and pens. Several of the terminals were positioned around electronic instruments—the kind that recorded sound waves and electrical impulses…stuff Matt had seen on TV—and in Sam’s secret underground lab.

“This doesn’t look like a Records Room,” Lamar said. “Did we take a wrong turn?”

Matt pointed to a round structure in the center of the room, a cylinder that turned the room into a donut. “That’s the Records Room,” he said. “This is some kind of lab, I guess.”

Alfonzo took a few steps around the side of the cylinder and then exclaimed, “Oh, that’s just great.”

“What?” Matt asked.

Alfonzo pointed to a large, stationary wall fan at the far side of the room, near the floor.

Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo all turned and stared at Matt.

“What?!” Matt repeated.

“We could have crawled right in here is what,” Alfonzo punched. “That’s a fan to the vent system. Wasn’t that entry point on your map?”

Matt shook his head. “Reading that map isn’t as easy as it looks.”

Lamar walked to the Records Room entrance—a door on the cylinder—and announced, “I think we have a bigger problem.” He pointed to a small, silver touchpad beside the door. It looked like a phone pad, but the buttons were completely flush with the wall.

“We need a code to get in?” Matt asked.

“Never fear!” Gill shouted. “I shall figure out the code with my super-sleuth abilities! Stand back!” Gill pushed Lamar aside and studied the keypad. “Well, the way I see it, there are only 9,999 combinations.”

“Oh that makes me feel better,” Matt responded flatly. “That should only take you a year to figure out.”

“But,” Gill added, “odds are that they don’t repeat any keys. So that narrows it down to…well…it narrows it down.” He scratched his head.

“I’ll give you a boost,” Matt said. He pulled his laptop out of his backpack, opened the lid and booted it back up. A minute later, he opened the word processor and started typing:

Super-Sleuth Gill Gillespie looked at the keypad outside the Records Room with an intensity unknown since Sherlock Holmes walked the earth.

“I think Sherlock Holmes was fictional,” Lamar corrected Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. He muttered, “Everyone’s an editor…”

With great powers of deduction, the Great Gill discovered the secret combination, the QoolQuad got into the Records Room and were able to destroy the only records of the laptop.

Matt stared at his short story for a long moment. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but they were about to destroy the laptop’s only records. Never again could a laptop like Matt’s be built. Something about it seemed so final…so complete…so much the end. Well, at least he still had his laptop.

Matt punched the clock key and at once the on-screen cursor changed to a clock, ticking forward. Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo looked at Gill.

Gill closed his eyes tightly and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

“I’m not getting any great deduction,” he admitted.

Lamar stepped forward and reached for the keypad.

“No!” Gill shouted. “Don’t touch it!” Then, “That’s it!”

“That’s what?” Lamar wondered.

Gill dug into his spy bag and pulled out the Hershey’s Cocoa Mix.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Alfonzo scolded.

“No,” Gill said enthusiastically, “I’m brilliant!” He tore open the mix packet and sifted a handful of powder into his palm. He tossed it lightly at the keypad. The cocoa blew into the air like a small brown snowstorm hitting the keys.

“He’s lost it,” Matt sang.

Gill stood back, then leaned forward, with his head just above the keypad. He blew down on it through his nostrils. Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Alfonzo. All three boys shrugged.

Gill stared closely at the keypad and then finally announced, “Two, four, seven, zero.”

The other three boys stared at him blank-faced.

“Those are the four digits,” Gill said. “Now we just have to figure out the order.”

“You figured that out with cocoa?” Lamar asked.

“When a private eye dusts for fingerprints, he uses powder,” Gill explained. “I knew it would only stick to the keys that had oil from people’s fingers on them. You really need to watch some spy shows.”

“So we only have 16 combinations to try now,” Alfonzo reasoned.

“You’re brilliant,” Matt congratulated Gill.

“I know!” Gill cheered.

“Though the laptop may have helped,” Matt added.

“I doubt it,” Gill said.

As Matt closed down his laptop and put it back in his backpack, Gill started punching numbers. “Eenie, meanie, mienie, moe,” he said with each press. Nothing. Then “Eenie, mienie, moe, meanie.” Nothing. “Mienie, meanie, eenie, moe.” Nothing.

Eight tries later: Pop! The door released. The boys cheered and slapped Gill on the back.

Matt pulled back the door and stepped inside.

The inside of the Records Room looked like a vault, stacked floor to ceiling with rows of CDs—or possibly DVDs, Matt wasn’t sure. The boys perused the records for only moments before Lamar announced that he had found the correct discs. A short stack of eight discs were on a spool marked “Wordtronix.” Matt pulled the spool out and read the top. The first disc was marked, “1 of 9.” Matt counted the discs.

“There are only eight CDs here,” he said.

“Well, let’s destroy what we can,” Alfonzo said, grabbing the discs from Matt’s hand. Then to Gill he asked, “Can I see your flashlight?”

Gill opened his spy bag and handed Alfonzo his thick flashlight.

The four boys stepped back into the lab and Alfonzo grabbed a stack of papers off a table. He pulled the discs off the spool and positioned them inside the paper. And he smashed it with Gill’s flashlight.

Crack!!

“Hey!” Gill protested. “Be careful! You’re gonna break it!”

“That’s the idea,” Alfonzo said.

“I mean you’re going to break my flashlight!”

Crack!! Crack!! Tiny shards of glistening disc shot out, scattering across the tightly-woven carpet.

“Oh great!” Gill cried. “Now it’s everywhere!”

“And there’s no way it can be put back together,” Alfonzo said, satisfied.

Matt was about to take a crack at the discs himself when Lamar’s voice came from the back of the lab, sounding rather urgent. Matt moved around the circular Records Room, past the stationary wall fan, and found Lamar staring forward stunned, as if he had just received an ‘F’ on his math test.

“What is it?” Matt asked, his concern rising.

Lamar nodded toward a strikingly clean lab table, with nothing in the center except a laptop.

It was a laptop labeled with the words, “Wordtronix II.”

And Lamar whispered, “They’re building another one.”

5 - Slam, Bolt and Scram

Matt and Lamar stood frozen, staring at the strikingly familiar laptop sitting on the lab table in front of them. It was black and thick, like Matt’s laptop, but shiny and smooth, as though it hadn’t yet been carried around and used in everyday situations. Staring at it, Matt felt his mouth go dry. He wondered if Isabel’s bad feeling about this weekend had anything to do with this.

“Bad,” Lamar whispered.

“Very bad,” Matt responded. “If they’re capable at duplicating the laptop…”

“…they could do anything they wanted,” Lamar finished. And he wasn’t kidding. The boys had often talked about what evil could happen if their laptop fell into the wrong hands. Sam had seen it. That’s why this mission was so important. Now, it looked as though people Matt knew they couldn’t trust were close to rebuilding their evil dream. Matt’s heart thumped like a subwoofer inside his chest.

“Well, that’s why we’re here, right?” Lamar asked quietly.

Matt nodded. “Yeah. This is where it ends. This is why we’re destroying the records—so a second laptop can’t be made.”

Another crack! came from the other side of the room. Alfonzo was destroying the discs, so maybe there was nothing to worry about. Still…

“I’m going to try it out,” Matt said.

Lamar nodded. They needed to know how close the enemy was to rebuilding the laptop technology. Matt slid his finger across the touchpad on the Wordtronix II and tapped it. A hollow thump echoed off the desk. Matt tapped it again. Thump!

And they waited.

And they began to feel a bit foolish.

“It’s not on?” Lamar asked.

Matt lifted up the laptop. It was light as a feather. “There’s nothing inside,” Matt said. “This is just the casing. They haven’t figured out how to create the insides yet.”

“Good,” Lamar finally said. Then he leaned into a computer terminal beside the laptop. “Hey, look at this, Matt. It does look pretty complicated. No wonder they haven’t figured it out.”

Matt leaned in. On screen, there were schematics of some kind—lines and codes that meant more to a scientist than they did to Matt. But one thing did catch Matt’s eye—the writing on the bottom left corner of the screen. It said:

Created by: Samantha Dunaway

Matt let out a long breath. At once, Sam’s self-loathing, her over-concern about the laptop and its subsequent owner, the depth of her interest in stopping those who would misuse it…all suddenly made sense. Sam wanted the laptop destroyed because Sam felt totally responsible for everything…because she had created the laptop. The laptop would have never fallen into the wrong hands…or Matt’s hands…had she not created it. She was to blame. And she knew it. Matt could only imagine the guilt she must have lived with, feeling she alone was responsible for all the lives the laptop had ruined before it fell into Matt’s hands. It was no wonder she wanted to make sure no one evil would ever gain control of the technology again. It was no wonder she sneered at the very sight of it.

And Matt knew she was right. They had to make sure the laptop would never fall into the wrong hands again. No matter what. That was the right thing to do.

Lamar pushed eject on the nearby computer’s CD-ROM and it opened, revealing a disc inside labeled, “7 of 9.”

“Star Trek: Voyager pictures?” Lamar wondered.

“The missing CD,” Matt confirmed, snatching it out of the tray. He handed it to Lamar who ran around the circle to give it to Alfonzo.

Matt stood, staring at the unfinished laptop as he heard Alfonzo say, “Yes! Another one!” Matt smiled. This is as close as they’ll get to building another, he thought.

Suddenly, Matt heard Gill shriek. A moment later, Matt ran around the column to see Alfonzo slamming a chair under the doorknob as the door buckled in from the other side.

“What’s happening?!” Matt cried.

“They’ve found us!” Alfonzo shouted.

A guard shouted from the other side of the door, threatening to use his gun.

“We’re trapped!” Gill screamed. “Quick! Use the laptop!”

Matt hesitated. “There’s no time—we need to get out of here!”

“How?!”

Matt exclaimed, “The fan!” As Alfonzo and Lamar pushed against the chair and the door, Gill pulled out his battery-powered screwdriver, right on cue. Matt followed him to the fan, pointing out one screw after another.

Bzzzzzz! A screw popped out. Then another. Then another. There must have been ten of them.

“This isn’t going to hold!” Alfonzo cried.

“Just give us another second!” Matt cried back.

Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzzz! Bzzzppppffft!

“It’s lost power!” Gill shouted. He dove under a lab desk.

“What are you doing?!” Matt cried.

“I’m going to recharge it!”

Matt ran over and snatched it from Gill’s hands. “You can still turn it!”

“Oh yeah!”

Matt twisted the last two screws out manually and then used his muscle to pull the fan out of the wall. He had Gill gather up the screws and dump them as he called to Lamar and Alfonzo. The boys joined Matt and Gill. Matt shuffled into the fan duct. He slid five feet in when he stopped in his tracks.

“Oh no.”

“What?!” the boys shouted in unison as they heard the pounding at the door intensify on the other side of the room.

Matt gulped. He leaned forward and his heart pounded even faster. There was a reason the fan wasn’t on the map. It didn’t lead into the air duct system. It lead outside. To the back side of the building. Over the cliff. Over a four story drop, straight down.

The pounding got even louder.

Matt looked to his right. There was a thin ledge.

“It goes outside,” Matt reported. “We can shuffle along the ledge…maybe.”

“Better than to be killed by those goons!” Alfonzo said.

Lamar and Gill nodded in agreement.

Matt crawled through the short duct and carefully stood up at the end, his legs shaking.

“Don’t push me!” he ordered.

“Hurry up!” Alfonzo said, when gunshots rang in the air. The guards were shooting their way through.

Matt slid over as fast as he could, trying to not look down, trying to keep his balance. Below, he saw the boat they’d arrived in, with the jet skis anchored on the back, facing out. The docks looked like toothpicks; the ocean was over the trees, off in the distance.

Lamar scooted beside Matt, his breathing fast. Gill stood up next, nearly loosing his balance.

“Alfonzo?” Matt shouted.

“I’m pulling the fan back on!” he shouted back. “It’ll take ‘em a while to discover how we disappeared!”

“Good thinking!”

A moment later, Alfonzo appeared along the wall, standing up beside Gill. The four boys stood, their backs to the wall, their nerves tensing their bodies. Matt tried balancing himself with his backpack, feeling heavier than ever.

They listened quietly, hearing the guards inside the room shouting, screaming, trying to figure out how the boys disappeared.

“When can we go back in?” Gill wondered.

“We can’t,” Matt responded.

“How long is this ledge?” Lamar asked, trying to see past Matt.

Matt looked to his right. “About another twenty feet…then…I think we can get on the roof from there. It’s not too steep.”

“Let’s do it,” Alfonzo encouraged, “before one of us falls.”

“Falling wouldn’t be good,” Gill said.

Before moving, Matt reached to his belt and turned his two-way radio on. When he did, it squawked with the Boss’ deep voice. “—don’t know where you went, Matt C, but consider yourself lucky! Trust me: Give yourself up! Because if I catch you, you’ll regret it! And I guarantee, I’ll catch you within the hour!”

Matt turned the two-way radio off. He said, “He’s not happy.”

“I am,” Lamar countered.

Gill said, “This Boss isn’t easy to defeat, is he?”

Matt shook his head, sweat shooting off his hair-tips. “No,” he said. “No, he isn’t.” Then, “But we’ll do it.”

6 - Trapped

Saturday, 1:26 p.m.

Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo shuffled along the ledge, each one holding their breath and trying their best not to look down. The drop was intense and Matt had to stop at one point because he felt so dizzy…but he continued.

Suddenly, a strange bird sound broke the quietness. The boys froze and carefully looked around.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

“What is that?” Lamar wondered.

“Sounds like a bird,” Matt responded.

“A dying bird,” Alfonzo quipped.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

Matt looked down, his fingertips holding tightly onto the wall behind him. His mouth dropped.

Matt said, “I don’t believe it! It’s Hulk!”

The boys looked down to see Hulk, the size of an ant—well, a very large ant—jumping up and down and waving his hands. And…he was wearing his Groucho Marx glasses! Gill cracked up.

“Oh, man, I forgot all about him!” Then Matt asked Alfonzo, “Are the bad guys out of the Records Room?”

Alfonzo leaned to his left and listened. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

Matt let out a long breath, then shouted down to Hulk, “Don’t just stand out in the open! Hide!”

Hulk quickly got the message and darted into some nearby brush. “I’ve been hidin’!” he shouted back. “Where’d ya guys go?!”

“Inside!” Alfonzo shouted.

“I wanna come!”

“We need you at the boats!” Matt shouted back.

“Dis is boring!”

Gill shouted, “Well, this ain’t no church picnic, believe me!”

Hulk looked around then shouted back up, “Will ya be long, Calhan?!”

“No—just be alert and ready for anything! And practice your wrestling moves—we may need them!”

Hulk yelled, “What?!”

“Just—nevermind! We’ll be down soon! Be ready!”

“OK! But hurry up, Calhan!”

Matt groaned.

When Matt came to the corner, he was relieved to find a long, wide, flat surface ahead, leading to the roof. Carefully, he rounded the edge, gripping tightly with his hands, trying to keep his balance. He let out a long breath as his feet hit the flat area. One-by-one, Matt helped his friends round the corner. Lamar’s foot slipped, but Matt and Gill caught him before he fell.

They rested for a long moment, then preceded to a skylight that was shut by a latch. With Gill’s screwdriver, Alfonzo jimmy-rigged it open. Alfonzo dipped his head down and surveyed the hallway. He described it to Matt and Matt pulled out his laptop, booted it up and found the hallway on the map.

“I think we’re about right here,” he said, pointing to a long hallway on the right side of the screen.

“But where’s Sam?” Lamar asked, looking at his watch. “We don’t have much time.”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Matt said, turning to Lamar. “But the storage room—where the Boss said he was going to lock her up—it’s at the end of the hall.”

Gill laughed. “So for the first time we ended up in the right place?”

“It looks like it,” Matt said.

Gill said, “That was easy.”

“Too easy,” Alfonzo countered.

“That wasn’t easy,” Matt countered both of them.

Matt switched to his word processor. He typed:

The guards around Storage Room 4 cleared out, all suddenly getting the hiccups.

Matt hit the clock key and the waited for a flurry of guards to run down the hall, seeking out the nearest water fountain.

“Hiccups?” Lamar questioned Matt.

Matt shrugged.

The boys waited for five minutes, but not one guard came into sight.

“You sure it worked?” Alfonzo asked Matt.

“You ever seen the laptop not work?” Matt asked. “Maybe they went out another way. Whatever happened, I’m sure they cleared out.”

“All right,” Alfonzo said. “Then let’s do this.” He pushed the skylight all the way back and lowered himself into the hallway. He let go and dropped down about seven feet. He quickly looked around to see if his thump! on the ground had stirred any interest. No one showed up.

Alfonzo motioned and Lamar went next as Matt stuffed his laptop back into his backpack. Gill followed, and then Matt dropped down, his fall broken by the help of his friends.

“I can’t believe we came back in here,” Gill said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t plan to stay long,” Matt assured his friend.

One after another, the boys tiptoed down the hall toward the storage room. When they reached the door, Matt moved forward and pulled it open.

The room inside was dim—a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Matt pushed the door open farther. He stepped inside. The room was empty.

“Psst!” Gill whispered, tapping Matt’s shoulder. “Where’s Sam?”

Matt twisted his lip. “Something’s wrong. She’s not here.”

The four boys walked fully into the room, softly closing the door behind them. Old boxes and dusty filing cabinets were stacked around the perimeter; other sections of the room consisted of rows of stacked chairs and a couple small tables, lamps turned on their side and ancient computer equipment.

“We did take a wrong turn,” Gill surmised.

Matt pulled his backpack off his shoulder and walked to a short filing cabinet. He pulled out his laptop and booted it up again. He pulled up the map of the building. “No,” he corrected. “We’re in the right place. I don’t see any other storage rooms around here. Just offices.”

“Well, maybe she’s in an office,” Gill suggested.

“We don’t have time to search all of them,” Lamar said.

“So what do we do?” asked Alfonzo.

Matt pulled the two-way radio off his belt. “We go straight to the source,” he said. Matt turned the two-way radio on. It squeaked. Matt cleared his throat. Before pushing the button, he lowered his voice and asked, “How does this sound?”

Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo exchanged worried glances. Alfonzo took the two-way radio from Matt. He closed his eyes and pushed the Talk button. Then, with a heavy New York accent that came out of nowhere, he said, “Ay, mistah—where you at?”

Matt’s eyes popped open wide, Gill cracked up and Lamar covered his face with his hands.

Seconds later, the Boss’ deep voice cracked through the electronic device. “Hello, Matt C. I’ve missed you.”

Alfonzo nodded. “Eh, yeah, bub, da feelin’s mutual.”

The Boss chuckled sadistically. “So, I imagine you’ve just discovered that Sam isn’t in the storage room?”

Alfonzo’s eyes darted to Matt.

Gill asked, “How did he know that?”

Matt shrugged.

Alfonzo said, “You don’ know dat.”

“So this is just a social call?” The Boss thundered back. “I’m smarter than you think, Matt C. Now it’s time for you to be smart. There’s no way quick way out of there. Stay put and don’t resist…and we’ll meet shortly.”

And the line went dead.

Gill gulped. “So,” he asked, “is this the standard ending to a rescue plot?”

“Sure is,” Matt said flippantly, “minus the freed victim, the defeated villain and the good guy getting the girl.”

“What do we do?” Lamar pressed. “They could be here any second.”

Matt studied the map quickly. “He’s right—there’s no way out of here. How could we be so stupid?!” Matt slapped a box next to him. “It’s a trap!”

“What do we do?” Lamar repeated.

“Rowrr!” Matt said. “We don’t get scared,” knowing it was easier said than done. “Everyone—behind boxes. I’ll use the laptop. Gill—turn off the light.”

“Why?”

“A dark room will buy us a few seconds.”

“Right!” Gill shouted.

Matt wiggled his fingers and started up the word processor. They wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

Matt ducked down, his heart racing at the sudden shooting sound.

He peeked out over the filing cabinet. Gill stood in the middle of the room, throwing marbles into the air, running out of the way as they came crashing down onto the hard ground.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

“What are you doing?!” Matt cried.

“I’m turning out the light!” Gill defended himself.

Alfonzo shouted, “Use the switch!”

“I can’t find the switch!” Gill threw another handful of marbles at the single light bulb. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! They came crashing down around his feet.

“Never mind,” Matt said quickly. “I’ll use the laptop to blow it.”

“No! Gill the Super Sleuth can do it!” Gill shouted. And with one last throw, Gill launched fifteen more marbles at the light bulb.

Bam! He hit it! The light bulb exploded.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The marbles came crashing down.

“Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” Several hit Gill on their way.

The room was suddenly black, save the bluish glow from Matt’s laptop, shining in his face. Matt started typing:

When the guards entered Storage Room 4, they never knew what hit them.

Gill turned on his flashlight and it came on briefly, then flickered off. Then back on, but dimly. “You broke it!” he cried, making his way to Alfonzo.

Matt continued:

Surprise was on the QoolQuad’s side. With their wits, they caused the guards to knock themselves out to get out of the room—leaving the QoolQuad safe and sound.

Matt hit the clock key but wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew that using broad descriptions only led to trouble sometimes…but time was short and he was fresh out of ideas.

Suddenly, the door to the room popped open. Matt ducked as the light streamed in. He slapped his laptop shut so the guards couldn’t see him. He heard Gill and Alfonzo whispering, though he couldn’t make out their words.

“Hello-o-o-o? Matt C?” a guard called. “There’s no use in hiding. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Yeah,” a second guard called out, his voice raspy. “What’ll it be?”

Matt gulped.

A third guard chimed in, “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Matt was about to open his laptop again when he saw Gill’s flashlight pop on across the room. He held the dim light under his face and went, “Blah!” The light went off.

One of the guards screamed. Matt heard their footsteps head in Gill’s direction.

Then, from a different corner, Gill appeared again, with a “Blah!” and then his light went off.

“Stop fooling with us, Matt C!” a guard ordered.

Foom! Suddenly, near the ceiling, Matt saw a flame ignite. He watched as a hand held the flame near a fire spicket and then suddenly—whoooooooooosh! Water sprayed everywhere from above. The guards screamed. Matt quickly stuffed his laptop back into his backpack.

Gill shot his flashlight stream around the room, disorienting the guards. At once, the first guard ran into the second, who slipped on the marbles and caught the third in the rush. Like three sacks of potatoes, the guards hit the ground, one knocking his head on another, the third hitting his head on the ground itself. In an instant, all three guards were knocked out.

A moment later, the sprinkler system turned off and the room was quiet. On the other side, Lamar turned on a small lamp he had found and the boys looked at the knocked-out guards.

“That worked out better than I expected,” Alfonzo admitted, tossing Gill his lighter.

Gill rubbed his fingernails on his wet shirt. “You guys are so blessed to have a Super Sleuth like me with you.”

“And the laptop,” Matt added.

Gill shrugged. “Well, yeah. That helped, too.”

Matt and his friends gathered around the fallen henchmen. Alfonzo took the rope out of Gill’s spy bag. “I’m tying ‘em up,” he announced.

Matt nodded. Then he had an idea. “Wait—cut the rope in thirds. We still need to find out where Sam is.”

“How’re you going to do that?” Lamar wondered.

Matt smiled. “The logical way,” Matt reasoned. “Just like they do on TV.”

—     —     —

Saturday, 1:53 p.m.

Matt watched as Alfonzo paced in front of the small table, his hand on his chin. Finally, he said, “OK, wake him up.”

Gill reached over to the henchman tied to the rickety chair and shook his shoulder. The man wobbled his head and awoke, his eyes straining to see around the lamp shining in his face.

“What…what do you want?” he asked, unable to see any of the boys.

“So,” Alfonzo said in his deep, New York accent, “you have valuable info I want, see?”

“I’m not telling you anything!”

Alfonzo looked at Matt. Matt motioned toward Gill.

“You can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Alfonzo responded.

Gill suddenly thrust a small item in front of the guard’s face.

“Wha—what’s that?” the guard asked nervously.

“That,” Alfonzo responded, “is what will end up in yer mouth if ya don’t cooperate.”

“I have nothing to tell you!”

Matt nodded to Gill. With utter delight, Gill stuffed the item into the man’s mouth. The man bit down and grimaced. “Ewk! What is that?!” he cried, as if in pain. “Poison?!”

“You could say that,” Alfonzo admitted. “It’s a Pooka-Dooka. And there’s more where that came from,” Alfonzo threatened. “Now chew it.”

Reluctantly, the man chewed it, his face soured at the taste of the awful cookies-with-green-goo-filling. Finally, he swallowed.

“So?” Alfonzo asked.

“I can’t—”

Matt nodded to Gill. Gill pressed another Pooka-Dooka on the man’s lips.

“All right! All right!” he cried. “No more! Please!”

“Where’s Sam?” Alfonzo asked, his voice deep.

“She’s—you’re not gonna believe this, but—I don’t know!”

Gill danced the cookie on the man’s chin.

“I promise, I don’t!”

Gill wiped it across the man’s lips.

“Wait!” he shouted as the cookie started to crumble. “I don’t know where she is…but I know who does.”

“Who?” Alfonzo asked.

“My boss.”

“That doesn’t help me,” Alfonzo said.

Gill stuffed the cookie in the man’s mouth. His face grimaced with angst.

“Wait!” he cried again, cookie falling out of his mouth and onto his shirt. “I have a direct line to him—here—on my belt.”

Gill pulled another cookie out of his bag. Matt put up his hand. He slid in beside Alfonzo. “This might work,” Matt said. “If we can get him to ask his boss where Sam is…”

“OK,” Alfonzo said.

Lamar reached down and pulled the small radio off the guard’s belt. He pressed the Talk button. Gill held a Pooka-Dooka close to the man’s lips. The man said, “Boss? Eh, boss?”

Instantly, the Boss’ voice sounded from the radio. “Did you get him?” he barked. “Did you get Matt C?”

“Er…”

Gill put a handful of Pooka-Dooka’s in front of the henchman’s face.

“Yes! Yes! I got Matt C!”

“Good,” the Boss said. “Bring him to me.”

Alfonzo ordered, “Ask him.”

“Er…where you at, Boss?”

“I’m in Warehouse A…where I’ve got a little bargain for our nosy friend.”

Lamar pulled the radio away from the guard’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” Matt said.

The four boys started out the room.

“Wait!” the henchman shouted. “What about me?”

“Oh!” Gill cried. “Right!” And he ran back and dumped the Pooka-Dookas in his lap.

7 - Vacuum-Sealed Sam

Matt knew what was coming next. He had known for days what lay at the end of the long corridor that he, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo were rushing down. It was the inevitable.

At once, as they rushed down the hall, a thought flickered across Matt’s mind: What would he do now? Would he have the courage to do what was right? But he already knew the answer to that question. He had known since the morning prior. Slowly, as they ran, his thoughts drifted, remembering it like it was yesterday (which, of course, it was)…

On Friday morning, the day before the big mission, the bristles on Matt’s toothbrush were worn, so to compensate, he brushed longer. Circles, circles, circles. As Matt brushed, he paced around his bedroom, looking at his autographed poster of basketball star The Slammer, his unmade bed and on his desk: his laptop. The bringer of the inevitable. Sometimes he was thankful he had it, other times, he wasn’t. This was one of those times. If it wasn’t for the laptop, he wouldn’t have to go away this weekend and take a calculated risk to help Sam. So long as that’s all it was—helping from afar—he could handle it…but he couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time: What if the plans changed? And if they did, what would he do? Could he follow through to the end? And if so, why? What was the reason he was doing this? Because Sam told him to? Surely not.

Matt stopped his pacing, stopped his brushing, and unfolded a piece of paper that had been sitting on his desk since Wednesday night. It was Pastor Ruhlen’s sermon. It wasn’t long, but simply said:

“Cougar Courage”

“The righteous are as bold as a lion.” – Pr 28:1

God wants us to have courage like lions—our cougars. (Roar!)

—Tell the story about fessing up as a lad.

—Tell the story about Joshua entering the promised land. (Josh 1: Be strong and Courageous)

In both instances, God told us to have Cougar Courage (Roar!)

Cougar Courage is doing what is right because it’s the right thing to do. (Pr 21:7)

Cougar Courage is being sure of what you do—because God is with you in all you do. (Josh 1:9)

God wants us to be 2:52 men of courage. Growing smarter, stronger, deeper and cooler in Him. (“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong.” – 1 Cor 16:13)

Matt twisted his lips, his mouth full of toothpaste. Cougar Courage, he thought, is doing what is right because it’s the right thing to do…that’s what my dad said. Then his thoughts drifted to the second point: Cougar Courage is being sure of what you do—because God is with you in all you do. Matt walked over to his end table and flipped open his Bible to Joshua 1:9. It read: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Matt stared at the verse for a long moment, rereading it again. It was true. God said it.

Matt left the Bible open and walked back to his bathroom. He spit in the sink and rinsed off his toothbrush. He wondered though, what if this wasn’t the right thing to do? What if it didn’t work out? What would he risk by not helping?

Suddenly Matt heard a faint scream. Isabel? Matt dropped his toothbrush and ran back into his room. He looked out the window over his desk, his eyes wide, searching across the street.

It was Isabel—and her father and Alfonzo, all outdoors, in front of their house at 7:30 in the morning. Isabel was being chased by Alfonzo, and Alfonzo by his father—each one of them with a water gun in their fist. Matt’s heart stopped pounding so fast. Matt could only guess what had happened, but Mr. Zarza’s shirt was soaked. Isabel screamed a shrill of laughter again and bolted to her front door. Before either of the men could make it inside, Isabel locked them out. Good for her, Matt thought with a smile.

Then Matt heard a rumble. He craned his neck to see his dad leaving for work, in his red Ford F-150. Mr. Calahan was sitting in the driver’s seat, his head leaning out the window, giving Matt’s mother a kiss good-bye. Matt smiled again. He watched his dad drive away and then he pulled away from the window. His eyes darted to a framed photo on his desk. It was a picture of the Culprits, Matt’s school’s football team, when Matt was on it. There was Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo, side-by-side. And in the background, Gill took up valuable photo space with a cheesy smile and two handfuls of hot dogs. Matt grinned as he remembered those football days…when he had first received the laptop, and started to realize how much good it could do.

Matt thought of his family, his friends. He was the one with the laptop. The responsibility had been given to him. Why, he didn’t know, but he knew it was too divine to be a freak accident that it had fallen into his hands. The laptop was given to him for a purpose: and that was clearly to help others, not hurt them. Matt picked up the football picture and knew immediately why he had to go this weekend: because if he didn’t, he would risk everything. He couldn’t allow those he loved to live in unknown danger any longer. He had to help Sam stop the danger once-and-for-all. Matt’s eyes drifted to Pastor Ruhlen’s sermon notes one more time.

He would do it because he had the surety that God was with him. He would do it because it was the right thing to do. He would do it because God had given him Cougar Courage. No matter what happened, he was suddenly determined: The world would hear him roar.

—     —     —

Saturday, 2:15 p.m.

The QoolQuad were at the end of the corridor. They had reached the inevitable. They had followed the hall that bridged the main building to the warehouse, but now that they had reached the entrance, they didn’t pop right in.

“What if he’s on the other side of this door,” Matt argued. “We need an element of surprise.”

Gill put a finger up, then leaned forward. He grabbed the door handle, pulled it open, peeked inside, and then closed it. “He’s not on the other side.”

“OK, thanks, Super Sleuth,” Matt said. “Well, that answers that.”

The four boys then entered the room, quickly hiding behind a stack of boxes. The door shut behind them quietly, keeping their entrance concealed.

Matt moved forward, crouching down, followed by his three friends. Ten steps later and Matt saw the tops of several ladders, and a railing leading down stairs.

“We’re on an upper level,” he whispered, “above the main warehouse.”

Warehouse A smelled musty and tasted sour—a bitter combination of cardboard, plastic and electronic parts that filled Matt’s senses. Using hand motions, Matt showed his friends where to dart, and they all followed perfectly, their training coming from television and acting out their own Star Wars scenarios more than once. A lack of windows made the room darker than Matt had expected, given that it was midday. Still, like in the storage room, the dark would keep them hidden temporarily…hopefully long enough for Matt to use the laptop to free Sam and get themselves back home safe and sound. It was almost over.

The boys hunched down behind another stack of boxes and peered over into the larger room below. Standing in the center was the large, bald, intimidating Boss—clearly more than six feet tall—wearing a black three-piece suit. His pointed black goatee dripped from his chin.

Matt was visibly shaken when the man coolly said, “Hello, Matt C.” His voice reverberated off the steel warehouse walls. Matt gulped, but didn’t return the greeting. “Yes,” the Boss said, “I know you’re up there.” Matt looked at his friends who just stared back at him.

“I also know,” the Boss said, “that you’ve outwitted my guards. You’re quite resourceful, Matt C. Quite.”

Matt quietly pulled his laptop out of his backpack and booted it up.

“Now come out so we’re on fair playing ground,” the man continued. “It would be in your best interest.”

Matt typed:

Suddenly, all four light bulbs over the upper level of Warehouse A blew out with a pop, hiding the QoolQuad.

Matt hit the clock key and seconds later, Pop! Pop! Pop! Crash! all four light bulbs on the upper level blew out. One bulb actually shattered.

The man below, still clearly in the light, snarled and smirked. “I see you’ve brought the Wordtronix, as I asked.”

Matt asked his friends, “You see Sam?”

Lamar said, “I think I—”

“I’m a step ahead of you, Matt C,” the bald man said. “I know you’re looking for Sam. Well, look. She’s right over here.” Slowly, the man walked to his left, stepping up to the end of a long conveyor belt. He stopped beside a large sheet, covering something on top of the belt. The man grabbed the end of the sheet and dramatically whipped it off.

Matt’s eyes grew large as his friends gasped. Removing the sheet revealed Sam, tied down with duct tape, lying on top. Three sections of tape bound her securely to the belt and a thick wad of tape held her wrists.

“What’s he doing?” Matt asked no one in particular, his gut twisting.

The Boss suddenly raised his voice. “You see this machine down here?” he shouted, pointing to the other end of the conveyor belt. “Do you know what this is? It’s a vacuum-sealer. We usually use it to vacuum-seal packages sensitive to moisture and the elements. But today, I thought we’d try something new. How about Vacuum-Sealed Sam?”

“Not good,” Matt whispered. “Not good.”

“Yes, let me tell you how this machine works,” he said, his voice echoing. “First she’ll pass through the heating chamber—reaching up to 1000 degrees Celsius.”

Matt turned to Lamar. Lamar confirmed, “Nearly 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. No one can live through that.”

“Then she’ll enter the vacuum chamber where all air is immediately eliminated through a tremendous amount of pressure. And at the end is the sealing chamber…but I don’t want to bore you with the details.” His voice lowered. “Use your imagination.” He smiled. “Now there’s a way you can prevent this, Matt C! All I want is the Wordtronix. So let’s make a deal: Hand over the Wordtronix and I’ll get Sam out of this…uncomfortable experience.”

Matt and Lamar exchanged a worried glance. “You can’t let him have the laptop,” Lamar pressed. “He could hurt millions.”

“I can’t let him have Sam either,” Matt shot back.

The Boss said, “I wish patience were one of my virtues, but it’s not. So let’s speed things up, shall we?” The Boss pulled a lever on the floor and the vacuum-sealer roared to life. The conveyor belt started moving slowly forward.

Matt felt sweat forming on his forehead. “Not good…not good,” he said again. He placed his fingers on the home row of his keyboard. They were visibly shaking.

“Decide quickly, Matt C!” the Boss yelled. He started pacing. “You don’t have time to write anything I can’t change!”

“Quick!” Gill said, “Type!”

Alfonzo nodded.

Matt pulled his hands away from the keyboard. “No—he’s right. Look, he could change whatever I write through his actions—which could put Sam in more danger. We need to rescue her, not put her at risk.”

Lamar said, “So we can’t use the laptop on him?”

“No,” Matt said, “but we could use it on us.”

Matt looked at Sam, slowly moving forward. He turned back to his friends. “Gill, you still have those Groucho Marx disguises?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Alfonzo protested. Gill reached in his spy bag and pulled the four remaining disguises out: large glasses with big noses, mustaches and fluffy eyebrows attached.

Matt grabbed one. “Look, Sam said it herself: We look like Twinkies today, right?”

Suddenly, Alfonzo smiled. He grabbed a disguise from Gill. “C’mon,” he said to Lamar and Gill. “I’ll explain on our way down.”

“Our way down?” Gill cried.

Lamar nodded. “Oh, I get it.”

“Cougar Courage,” Matt said to his friends. “Rowrrr!”

“Rawrrr!” Alfonzo roared back.

Matt put on his pair of Groucho Marx glasses. He started typing:

With Cougar Courage, the QoolQuad could not be stopped! They were an unstoppable force! They were confident the Lord was with them—through thick and thin, no matter how much heat was thrown their way!

Matt slapped the clock key and watched the cursor change to a clock, ticking forward. He smiled. Yes, that was the confidence they needed—confidence they were doing what was right because it was right—confidence that the Lord would be with them every step of the way. Matt narrowed his eyes.

“You only have a couple minutes left, Matt C!” the Boss shouted. “You can’t defeat the inevitable!”

“Yeah,” Matt whispered to himself. “But there’s only one of you…”

Matt typed:

Alfonzo distracted the big, bald boss guy, clearly drawing him away from Sam and the vacuum-sealer.

A moment later, Alfonzo popped up on the far side of the floor, from behind a stack of boxes and materials. Wearing his gray shirt, black shorts and Groucho Marx glasses, he shouted, “Hey Bossman!” He put his fingers in his ears and wiggled them. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah! Rowrrr!”

The Boss spun around, fuming. “What?! Ah, Matt C! I see you’ve come to join me!” He headed in Alfonzo’s direction. Matt quickly typed:

While on his way to get to Alfonzo, the Boss didn’t notice Gill and Lamar behind him, freeing Sam. Oh, and Alfonzo gets outta there—fast!

Matt slapped the clock key. The icon changed to a clock, ticking forward like lightning. Suddenly, Matt watched as Gill and Lamar, both also wearing their gray shirts, black shorts and Groucho Marx glasses, ran in to free Sam. Gill had his electric screwdriver out and used the edge to slice through one of the duct-tape-binders around Sam. The tape started to peel as Sam, eyes wide, struggled to free herself. Down the line, Lamar grabbed the machine’s power lever and jerked the conveyor belt to an immediate stop.

The sound of the machine halting froze the Boss in his tracks. He whirled around, but not before Gill ducked out of sight. His eyes focused on Lamar, who quickly yelped and ran out of sight.

“Matt C! How did you get over there?!” the Boss shouted, his eyes wide with anger.

On the upper level, Matt’s fingers shot to his keyboard.

Alfonzo distracts the bald boss dude again, giving time for Gill to free Sam.

Below, Lamar had disappeared, and Alfonzo reappeared in another spot on the other side of the room. He shouted, “Hey baldy! Rowrrr!” The Boss spun around and growled, obviously trying to figure out how Groucho Marx/“Matt C” made it around the room so quickly. He didn’t think about it too long though. Soon he was heading back in Alfonzo’s direction.

Gill popped out again and went to work on Sam’s second bond. Lamar ran over and ripped the tape off Sam’s mouth.

“Aauurgghh!” Sam shouted in pain. Gill ducked out of sight. The Boss whirled around again. He visibly stammered at the sight of Groucho Marx/“Matt C” standing beside Sam, freeing her—when he had just seen him on the other side of the room.

“What—hey!” he shouted. Lamar quickly dove for cover.

The Boss grabbed the lever and with a jerk, the machine started up once more.

“Matt!” Sam shouted, still bound to the moving conveyor belt, drawing closer to the heating chamber. “Get out of here! Leave me! He’s going to kill me anyway!”

Matt whispered, “I can’t do that.” He typed:

Alfonzo and Lamar distract the bald boss dude one more time—and this time Gill gets Sam completely free.

Alfonzo popped up again on the opposite side of the room. “Rowrrr!” he shouted.

The Boss ran in his direction. Alfonzo dropped down.

Gill jumped up and started cutting at Sam’s third bondage.

Lamar popped up on the other side of the room. “Rowrrr!”

The Boss stopped in his tracks. He suddenly put two-and-two together. “There’s more than one of you?!”

Lamar dropped out of sight.

Gill sawed at the duct tape.

Sam’s feet drew closer and closer to the heating chamber of the vacuum-sealer. Matt could only imagine the feeling of the heat slapping her skin.

Alfonzo popped up, teased the Boss and dropped back down.

Lamar popped up, teased the Boss and dropped back down.

Snap! Suddenly Sam was free!

“Whoo-hoo!” Gill shouted.

The Boss whirled around. “Three of you?!” he cried.

Alfonzo and Lamar stood up at the same time and shouted, “Rowrrr!”

The Boss froze. “But where’s the Wordtronix?” he shouted. With full force, he shot forward straight at Gill. Gill’s eyes widened as the Boss slammed right into him, knocking him onto the ground.

Matt typed, but so fast, the screen filled with gibberish. Quickly, he hit the delete key to start over.

Alfonzo charged the Boss, but the man kicked up with his leg and slammed Alfonzo right in the arm—the same arm that was still healing from a recent wrestling bout. The pain must have shot through his body because he cried out and dropped to the ground beside Gill. Lamar charged forward next, but stopped in his tracks when the Boss grabbed Sam, whose wrists were still bound, and thrust a gun under her chin.

Matt’s fingers froze.

“Stop!” the Boss shouted at the boys, who quickly obeyed. “This ends now!” The Boss searched around the room with his eyes. Everything fell quiet save the rumble of the conveyor belt. “Matt C! I know you’re still out there! Where’s the Wordtronix?!”

Matt sat and stared at his screen, not sure what to type. What could he type? What was the right thing to do? If he wrote the wrong thing, the unthinkable could happen. The Boss’ finger could twitch and pull the trigger…it was a casualty Matt couldn’t afford.

“Get out of here! All of you!” Sam cried emphatically, her blonde hair wrapped around her face.

“No one’s going anywhere!” the Boss corrected. He tightened his grip. “Matt C! Show yourself! Now!”

Matt closed the laptop and slid it into his backpack. He slowly stood up, his backpack in hand.

Then the Boss said to the boys, “Take off your masks!”

Matt ran forward, to the end of the railing overlooking the lower level. “No!” he shouted. “I’ve got your laptop!”

Even with their masks in place, Matt could see the pain and worry in his friends’ faces.

“What are you doing?!” Sam cried.

“The right thing!” Matt shouted back.

“No!” Sam begged. The Boss shoved the pistol harder into her throat.

“I can’t let him take your life,” Matt said to Sam, his eyes locking with hers, even beneath his mask.

Tears streamed down Sam’s face. “Matt, I’m not worth it! You’ll be putting too many people at risk!”

“The Lord is with me,” Matt said to himself. “He’ll help me do what’s right.”

“Give me the Wordtronix!” the Boss shouted once more, stepping forward, dragging Sam with him.

Matt felt a fire burn inside his chest. He knew the time had come. He had to do what was right because it was right—no matter what the cost. It was something he had to do to save the world—his world—from impending danger. He had to do it because it was the right thing to do to keep his family…his friends…safe. Forever. He had made the decision the day before…and no matter what the loss, he was sticking with it. Matt thrust his hand into his backpack and pulled out the laptop. He held it above his head. “You want this?” he shouted. “You want this?”

“Yes! Give it to me!”

“You’ll let her go?!”

“He won’t,” Sam whimpered. “He won’t…”

“Yes!” the Boss shouted. “Give it to me! Now!”

Matt shouted, “Then take it!” And with all his might, Matt launched the laptop forward, over the railing and into the air.

8 - Worth the Risk

As if in slow motion, the laptop spun around and around, sailing through the air. Everyone’s eyes grew wide as it spinned and rolled, dropping down, light as a feather, heavy as a rock. The Boss let go of Sam and ran forward, to try and catch the laptop.

Lamar jumped up and ran for the laptop.

Gill pushed himself up and ran for the laptop.

Alfonzo hopped up and ran for the laptop.

Sam didn’t move.

Crrrrraaaaaaacckkkkkk! The laptop hit a pole, cracking off it, electric blue sparks shooting from the joints, small plastic pieces cracking away. It bounced sideways, soaring in the other direction; everyone’s course changed.

The Boss was clearly the closest to it when it hit the conveyor belt with a smash! He lurched ahead to grab it, but the forward momentum of the belt caused the tumbling laptop to roll forward, end over end. Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo pushed forward, but no one was fast enough. As if on its own course, the laptop sailed into the incinerator.

The Boss, Sam and the QoolQuad were suddenly blown back like paper dolls as the 2000 degree oven instantly engulfed the machine. A dazzling blast of electric blue light exploded throughout the room, forcing Matt to turn away. Red, orange and white sparks danced out of the firing oven, sizzling into whatever surface they hit. A horrible crackling sound echoed throughout the room.

And Matt felt a weight lift off his chest.

Not missing a beat or taking time to lament, Sam jumped up and called to the boys. Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo jumped up themselves. Matt ran down the nearby stairs and joined them on the lower level. The five of them headed for the nearest door at the back of the room. The Boss, at first completely stunned by the spectacle, was now on his feet and following them with determined speed. If he couldn’t have the laptop, he obviously wanted Sam and the QoolQuad—dead or alive.

Matt crashed through the door first. He was nearly blinded by the sunlight slapping him in the face. Sam and the boys followed him, stumbling as the sunlight smacked them. The Boss was next through the door, blinded by the sun. Before Matt could figure out what was happening, he heard a Whap! Bam! Bam! Bam!

The next thing Matt noticed, the Boss fumbled back in pain, his face impressed with thick, red knuckle marks. Hulk-in-Groucho-Marx-glasses raised his clenched fists and shouted into the air like a WWE wrestling warrior.

Then Sam, like a martial arts expert, spun around on her heel and took the moment of the Boss’ confusion to kick him…well…where it counts. The Boss doubled over, the gun flying from his grip.

“Whoa!” Matt shouted.

“I’m here for ya, Calhan!” the big bully said, slapping Matt on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of him. “’Bout time ya guys showed up!”

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Sam shouted.

Matt knew she was right; he wouldn’t be stopped for long.

“That was so cool!” Gill shouted to Sam.

“Don’t ever do that to someone,” Sam responded. “I was defending myself!”

“Heh, yeah, me too!” Hulk shouted. Then to Sam, “Who’re you?”

“A friend,” Sam said, flipping aside her blonde hair and winking to Hulk.

Gill took his screwdriver and cut through the binds on Sam’s hands, freeing her once-and-for-all. Once he did, Matt noticed Sam’s hand move to her aching gunshot wound.

The six ran down the hill as fast as they could, their boat and docked jet-skis in the distance. As they drew closer, Matt smiled wide. They were actually getting away!

Pzzzzzow!

Matt ducked at the sound of the bullet.

“Whoa!” Hulk shouted. “Dis is awesommmmme!”

But it wasn’t over yet.

—     —     —

Saturday, 2:46 p.m.

Sam, Matt, Lamar, Gill, Alfonzo and Hulk ran as fast as they could, toward the docks. Though he was significantly behind them now, the Boss was still on their tail—and it was clear he had a gun he wasn’t afraid to use.

Pzzzzzow! Another shot rang through the air.

Sam and the boys ran, not looking back. Matt felt a rush of adrenaline when his feet slapped against the wooden dock.

“This is the last time I listen to you when making vacation plans!” Gill shouted at Matt.

“Me too!” Matt called back.

Like a group of leaping lizards, the six leaped over the back of Sam’s speedboat, over the jet skis. Sam didn’t lose her footing, but jumped into the driver’s position. Hulk landed second and Matt, Lamar, Gill, Alfonzo each tumbled in after him, cushioning themselves from a hard fall with Hulk’s body. Matt peeked over a jet ski and saw the Boss stop and aim.

“Go!” Matt shouted.

“Whoo-hoo!” Hulk exclaimed.

Sam turned the key. The speedboat choked to life. She thrust the throttle down and the boat lurched forward with a jolt of fuel.

Pzzzzzow! The Boss shot.

Ka-thump! Matt’s breath was taken away as the cushion next to him popped from the bullet’s impact.

“Go!” Matt shouted as Sam sped away, twisting the boat’s path as she drove.

Under Sam’s orders, Matt and his friends quickly put on their life jackets.

“What about yours?” Matt shouted.

“Don’t worry about it!” Sam said, comfortable in her wet suit.

“He’s coming!” Alfonzo shouted.

Matt looked behind them—it was true. In the distance, he saw the Boss launching his own speedboat.

“The Boss isn’t easy to beat!” Gill said, tossing off his Groucho Marx disguise.

Sam assured, “It’s not over yet!” As she pushed the boat on a hard course to the left, she ordered, “Get on the jet skis!”

“What?!” Matt cried over the roar of the engine, his black hair blowing wildly in the air.

“The jet skis!” Sam repeated. “There’s a peninsula coming up! When we go around it, we’ll be out of his sight for a few minutes—I want you boys to launch off and get away from here! I’ll draw him away! It’s me he wants—not you anymore!”

“No!” Matt protested, stepping up beside Sam. “We didn’t go through all this to let him get you in the end!”

“I told you not to come after me!” Sam scolded Matt, her eyes watery, yet determined. “My life doesn’t matter in all this!”

“It does to me!” Matt shouted. “We’re in this together!”

“I’ll be all right!” Sam said a split second later. “Right now it’s important to get you guys away from him—before he sees your faces!”

“Hey, I’m all for leaving,” Gill offered.

Matt scowled and bit his lip. He didn’t like what Sam was suggesting, but Matt knew she was right. This could be their only opportunity to get away from the Boss without him knowing what they really looked like. If they didn’t take the chance, they could be putting themselves and their families at a great risk again.

“You promise you’ll be all right?!” Matt drilled Sam.

Sam looked at Matt, her face wrenched with concern. She nodded.

The Boss was still a great distance behind them, but closing.

“OK,” Matt agreed. “Let’s go. Now.” Quickly, the five boys climbed aboard their jet skis, ready to take off.

The Boss was quickly gaining ground.

Then, suddenly, as Sam spun the boat to the left, he was out of sight…and Matt knew their chance had come. He heard the whirring of the deck lowering as their jet skis splashed into the water. Lamar, Alfonzo and Hulk—the drivers—sped off as fast as they could, heading away from Sam. Matt looked back over his shoulder as they parted, and caught Sam’s eyes. As she rode off in the distance, their eyes were locked, their hair blowing in unison. It was a moment meaningful to the two people that shared secrets that no other two people on earth would ever share…secrets that would die that day.

At once, the Boss rounded the bend and followed Sam like a fish follows a lure, not even paying attention to the three small jet skis speeding away in the other direction.

Matt watched as the boats became smaller and smaller in the distance. Then in one last punch to his stomach, Matt saw a bright explosion on the horizon. Sam’s boat went up in a small fireball, black smoke rising.

Across from him, Gill saw it, too, and just looked at Matt, blank-faced. Matt’s eyes watered up, and a part of him wondered where the emotion had come from for this woman who had once scared the daylights out of him.

“She couldn’t have…” Gill shouted to Matt.

“She wasn’t afraid,” Matt responded. “She did it for us.”

“But how do we know—”

“Because,” Matt said barely loud enough for Gill to hear, “she wasn’t the one with the gun.”

“But…that’s not how a rescue plot’s supposed to end!” Gill protested. “The victim is supposed to get free!”

“I know,” Matt said softly. “I know.”

—     —     —

Tuesday, 5:18 p.m. (Three days later)

“Hey.”

Standing beside his mailbox, Matt looked up slowly and spied Isabel across the street at her mailbox, pulling out her mail. Her presence glistened like a soft rain after a raging storm. Matt smiled weakly. “Hey.”

Isabel returned the smile, her soft features accented by her beautiful, long black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Matt was pleased to see her again.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked softly, approaching Matt. Matt waited until she stopped in front of him. A thought flashed through Matt’s mind as he wondered why he ever thought turning thirteen was such a bad thing. Before thirteen, he had never noticed Isabel…but thirteen changed all that.

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, “I’ve been kinda out of it. I slept most the weekend and was too sick to go to school yesterday.”

Isabel nodded. “It took a lot out of you—the tournament.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Matt responded. “I’ve never faced a challenge quite like that.”

“But you made it through.”

“Rowrrr,” Matt muttered.

Isabel giggled. “Rowrrr.”

Matt smiled and Isabel smiled back.

“You know, you were right,” Matt said softly, “to have suspicion. To not feel right about this weekend.”

“I just kept praying for you.”

“I know. I could feel your prayers. They gave me the strength to follow through with…doing the right thing.”

Isabel sighed. “So everything’s ok then.”

“Yeah.”

Matt and Isabel held each other’s eyes for a long moment.

Isabel pulled her lips into her teeth, pressing them together.

Matt swallowed, cleared his throat and threw his thumb over his shoulder. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna go take a nap. I’m still kinda feeling melancholy.”

Isabel’s forehead wrinkled.

Matt explained, “Like a fish out of water.”

Isabel nodded.

After a pause, Matt slowly spun on his heels and started to take a step when Isabel called his name again. Matt quickly spun back around.

“Hey,” she said, holding up a postcard. “We got one of your letters.” Her eyes squinted at the postmark. “I didn’t know you could overnight postcards.”

Matt shrugged and accepted the postcard, and then suddenly his stomach turned. On the front of the postcard was a picture of two big feet in the sand, the ocean behind them with a caption, “Wish You Were Here.”

Matt flipped it over and read,

Dear Matt,

Crisp air, bright sun and the food is terrific—that’s why you’d love the Caribbean. I love it because every night when I look up at the moon, I’m reminded that you’re looking at the same moon. Thank you for being courageous. Retirement is bliss.

Love, Sam

P.S. I’m shipping you a new laptop to replace the old. It’s the least I can do. This one isn’t as special as the last, but knowing you, you’ll still write something that will change the world.

Matt felt his heart begin to race.

“You all right?” Isabel asked. “You’re turning white.”

Matt looked up. “Huh? Yeah—yeah, I’m…I just got a letter from an old friend.”

“Good news?”

A smile stretched across Matt’s face. “The best.”

Now it was over—truly over. And it ended the way a rescue should end. Sam was free to live her life in paradise, and the foiled Boss was looking for four guys who looked like Groucho Marx. Matt nodded. Not bad. Not bad at all. Now only one element was missing from the rescue plot.

“Matt, I’m glad you’re back,” Isabel said sincerely. “Safe and sound.”

Matt softly agreed, “Me too.”

Then to Matt’s surprise, she leaned forward and embraced him, her warm ear softly touching his own. Matt smiled and closed his eyes, returning the embrace. There it was. The missing element. Now it was truly over.

The good guy got the girl.

“Cougar Courage”

—Pastor Ruhlen’s Sermon Notes—

Study these verses yourself and discover how to be courageous

when you need to do what is right!

“The righteous are as bold as a lion.” – Pr 28:1

God wants us to have courage like lions—our cougars. (Roar!)

—Tell the story about fessing up as a lad.

—Tell the story about Joshua entering the promised land. (Josh 1: Be strong and Courageous)

In both instances, God told us to have Cougar Courage (Roar!)

Cougar Courage is doing what is right because it’s the right thing to do. (Pr 21:7)

Cougar Courage is being sure of what you do—because God is with you in all you do. (Josh 1:9)

God wants us to be 2:52 men of courage. Growing smarter, stronger, deeper and cooler in Him. (“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong.” – 1 Cor 16:13)

About the Author

For two decades, Christopher P. N. Maselli has been sharing God’s Word with kids through stories. He has authored more than 50 books, including the Amazing Laptop series, the Commander Kellie and the Superkids Adventures and more.

With a Masters of Fine Arts from Vermont College, Chris lives in Fort Worth, Texas, with his wife, Gena, and their three children. His hobbies include running, playing hide-and-seek with his kids, collecting It’s a Wonderful Life movie memorabilia, and “way too much” computing.

Visit his website at ChristopherPNMaselli.com.

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

The Amazing Laptop series:

1 – Reality Shift

2 – Double Take

3 – Explosive Secrets

4 – Power Play

5 – Dangerous Encounters

6 – Hot Pursuit

7 – Choke Hold

8 – Shut Down

The Commander Kellie and the Superkids adventures:

1 – The Mysterious Presence

2 – Quest for the Second Half

3 – Escape From Jungle Island

4 – In Pursuit of the Enemy

5 – Caged Rivalry

6 – Mystery of the Missing Junk

7 – Out of Breath

8 – The Year Mashela Stole Christmas

9 – False Identity

10 – The Runaway Mission

11 – The Knight-Time Rescue of Commander Kellie

Want to write a children’s book?

Chris teaches writers regularly through an interactive system on the Writing Momentum website, as well as at writer’s conferences nationwide. Visit WritingMomentum.com for details!

Table of Contents

1 - Apprehensions

2 - Saturday Rendezvous

3 - Dun-dun, Dun-dun

4 - Stinky Discovery

5 - Slam, Bolt and Scram

6 - Trapped

7 - Vacuum-Sealed Sam

8 - Worth the Risk

“Cougar Courage”

About the Author

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

Want to write a children’s book?

Table of Contents

1 - Apprehensions

2 - Saturday Rendezvous

3 - Dun-dun, Dun-dun

4 - Stinky Discovery

5 - Slam, Bolt and Scram

6 - Trapped

7 - Vacuum-Sealed Sam

8 - Worth the Risk

“Cougar Courage”

About the Author

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

Want to write a children’s book?