I put on a sheepish grin. "Better than I was,"
I said. "I like having my guts inside me, as opposed to having them smeared all over."
"Yeah, guts should not see daylight," Tobias agreed.
"Okay, that was exciting, but now we're here," I pointed out briskly.
"We have a job to do. Let's get on with it. Marco? What's the plan?"
"We catch a bus from here to downtown. That's where the WAA Building is.
We bust in, enter the computers, get the information we want, get back here, and catch a plane home."
"That's supposed to be the safe, easy part, taking the plane," Rachel said. "Let's hope the WAA offices aren't as dangerous as the stupid plane."
"Hey, we'll take a different airline home," Marco said. "We'll get one that likes and appreciates flies."
I tried to laugh, but I don't know if it sounded right. I hadn't thought yet about getting home.
I was sure of one thing, though. I didn't want to go as a fly.
We took the bus downtown. We got out, asked directions from a nun who, oddly enough, knew which was the Web Access America office. It was a few blocks away.
We stopped on the way at a Taco Bell. It was cheap enough for us to afford. And it kind of
lightened my mood a little when Ax went nuts and started sucking up packets of hot sauce.
The manager kicked us out.
"You kids stay out of here. Buy your crazy friend a bottle of Tabasco if he needs it!"
"What is Tabasco? Tuh-bah-sco. Sco. Is it tasty and full of flavor?" Ax wondered as he headed on down the sidewalk, carrying our bags of tacos and burritos.
"Yeah, you'd probably like it," Rachel said.
The WAA Building was one of those medium-sized buildings, maybe twenty floors high and not all that modern. We loitered around outside, trying to figure out what to do next. And that's when a bus pulled up and a bunch of old people started climbing out.
Someone came out of the WAA Building with a big smile and shook the hand of the bus group's leader.
"You folks are right on time. If you're ready, we can begin the tour immediately."
We all looked at each other. "They have tours?" Tobias said.
"Guess so. I guess we might as well tag along."
We fell into step at the back of the group. None of the old people seemed to mind. Basically, I think kids are kind of invisible to old people unless they are their grandkids, or they're being rude.
We were polite and quiet, and no one said a thing.
"As you may already know, Web Access America is the largest online service in America, with over nine million subscribers," the guide said.
"Well, this was easy," Marco whispered to me.
"We're not anywhere yet," I pointed out.
"Now we'll start by showing you our 'command center.' This is where we monitor the ebb and flow of traffic across our entire system."
Marco grinned. "Like taking candy from a baby."
We traveled up elevators, and down a hallway decorated with portraits of guys who I guess were the owners of WAA. I only recognized one. The guide stopped by the oversized oil painting in the gold frame.
"And this is our founder, Joe Bob Fenestre. Later we'll show a short, entertaining film about the fascinating life of Mr. Fenestre."
Marco raised his hands and made a bowing motion, like he was saying prayers to Joe Bob Fenestre. Rachel yanked his shirt.
"Hey, the idea is not to attract attention, genius."
"I'm sorry," Marco said. He pretended to wipe away a tear. "This is Joe Bob Fenestre. I love Joe Bob. I admire Joe Bob. I want to fee Joe Bob."
"I didn't know you were all that interested in computers," Cassie said.
"I mean, I knew you liked playing around with them, but-"
Marco waved a hand dismissively. "It's not about computers. Who cares about computers?"
"Well, isn't that the big thing with Mr. Fenestre?"
Marco shook his head, like Cassie had said something insane, and walked away.
Cassie looked at me.
"Joe Bob Fenestre is the second wealthiest man in the world, Cassie," I said. "I think that's what Marco cares about more than computers. Hey, Marco?"
"What?"
"How much is Fenestre worth?"
"Mr. Fenestre is worth twenty-four point nine billion dollars. That's billion. What a 'b.' As in billion."
"Is that a lot of dollars?" Ax asked.
"You could buy all the Tabasco sauce in the world with it, Ax. All the Tabasco in the entire world, and have enough left over to buy your own small country."
We turned a corner, and there, through the glass, we saw the command center. It looked like
ground control at NASA. Row after row of men and women sitting at computer consoles.
We dropped back from the tour group so we could talk privately.
"Okay, there it is," I said. "Now how do we get in?"
How do we get in?" Rachel asked. "It's daytime. There are people around.
This isn't how we usually do things. It's usually night."
I glanced around. The tour group was moving off. Pretty soon someone would notice us hanging around. People were coming and going from the command center down below. But it was awfully hard to imagine what kind of animal morph we could use to sneak in there and work a computer keyboard without being noticed.
I was puzzled. And no one else seemed to have any brilliant suggestions, either. I looked at Marco. He shrugged. I looked at Rachel.
Rachel said, "We could create a distraction.
Set the place on fire, then when everyone runs . . ."
"Rachel, these are nice, normal, innocent people, not Controllers, as far as we know," I pointed out. "We can't go around terrifying and endangering normal people."