“Stop calling me Braceface,” Jackson said as he slipped them on and looked down. He could see red silhouettes shaped like people rushing about inside the building. The X-ray sensor goggles were amazing. “So, how do we get inside?”
Heathcliff gestured to a fire escape door on the roof. “Duh!”
Jackson also pointed to the huge lock on the door. “Double duh!”
“I’ll take care of that,” Flinch said, turning the dial on his harness. He ripped the door off its hinges and tossed it aside like a scrap of paper. “Ta-da!”
The four boys hurried though the door and down the stairs.
“She’s two floors down,” Duncan said.
“Pufferfish, how’s the cookie sale going?” Heathcliff said.
“Very well,” a voice echoed inside Jackson’s head. He recognized it as Ruby’s.
“I heard her in my head,” Jackson cried.
“Communications are linked through the chip inside your nose,” Duncan explained. “If you need to talk to one of us, just focus on our faces in your mind. The chip does the rest.”
The boys continued down to the eighth floor of the building and slipped into the hallway. Before they had a chance to regroup, a guard appeared. Luckily, the team leaped into an empty room before he spotted them.
“Flinch, you and Gluestick go after Dr. Badawi,” said Heathcliff. “I’ll stay here and babysit the dead weight.”
The two boys raced into the hallway and vanished, leaving Jackson and Heathcliff alone. They sat in silence for a long time until Jackson’s curiosity got the best of him.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“As if you have to ask,” Heathcliff said.
“Actually, I do have to ask. That’s why I’m asking.”
Heathcliff let out an impatient sigh. “NERDS is an organization like no other, because its members are chosen for their skills and abilities.”
“And you don’t think I have skills and abilities,” Jackson said. “I’m a star athlete.”
“So what? Who cares if you can throw a football? The world is not saved by touchdowns—it’s saved by ideas. This organization has always had an elite membership. Our members go on to be diplomats, scientists, and inventors—very few of them spend as much time on their hair as you do. Your very existence here is a slap in the face to every person who has ever risked his or her life as a member of this team.”
Jackson felt his face flush. “Brand seems to think I have potential.”
“Agent Brand sees himself in you,” Heathcliff replied. “But like you, he could never have been one of us. We’re the guys they call when people like Brand can’t get the job done.”
Jackson looked away. He didn’t want Heathcliff to see that his words had hurt him.
“It’s all clear,” Flinch said in Jackson’s head. “I’ve got the guard under control and Gluestick is on his way to pick up the package.”
“Good,” Heathcliff said.
“Sit tight and we’ll be back to get you,” Flinch replied.
“Choppers to the School Bus,” Heathcliff said out loud. A moment later, Jackson heard the lunch lady’s gravelly voice.
“School Bus is here.”
“Gluestick is retrieving the package. Request extraction,” Heathcliff said.
“On our way, kid,” the pilot replied.
While this conversation was taking place, Jackson heard something in the distance. It sounded like a heavy machine coming in their direction, loud and fast. He stood up and went to the window. As he peeked outside, a helicopter flew directly over the building.
“Uh, any idea who that is?” Jackson said. He studied the helicopter. It didn’t have any markings on it at all.
Heathcliff rushed to the window and craned his neck to see the new arrival. “I don’t have a clue. Team, we have an unidentified helicopter in the area. Gluestick, do you have the doctor?”
There was a brief pause and then Duncan’s voice could be heard. “Not yet. Whoever it is, I recommend you engage. It will give us more time to acquire the target.”
“Negative,” Ruby said. “Work faster.”
Jackson watched the helicopter land on the roof of the lab. A moment later, he heard heavy feet rushing down the stairs the boys had just taken. Jackson and Heathcliff raced over to the doorway and peered out into the hall. A dozen heavily armed men were running down the stairs from the roof. Among them was a young girl, no older than Jackson, with platinum blonde hair. She said something to the men and they raced down the hallway past the boys’ hiding spot.
“They’re in the building,” Jackson said. “You’ve got to warn the others.”
“I can see that!” Heathcliff snapped. “Gluestick, can you hear me? Wheezer? Choppers? Flinch? Can anyone hear me? Abort the mission!”
“It’s too late,” Flinch said. He sounded nervous in Jackson’s head. “They’re storming into the doctor’s lab now. Gluestick is in there. Where did these guys come from?”
Heathcliff frowned.
“We have to save them,” Jackson said.
“Absolutely not. You’re here to observe and we are outmatched.”
But Jackson was already running down the hallway after the armed men. Heathcliff may not have had any faith in him, but he’d show that jerk. He was Jackson Jones, and Jackson Jones did not sit on the bench.
Dr. Jigsaw said it would be simple. All the Hyena had to do was to storm the lab, kidnap the scientist, and go, but did it turn out like that? No! Nothing was ever simple when you worked for a crazy person.
It was, of course, her own fault, because she should have known better. She should have quit the moment she saw Dr. Lunich die in a fiery inferno. She should have quit when she saw what Jigsaw’s continent-moving machine could do. She should have quit when she discovered Jigsaw had been in a mental hospital for a nervous breakdown, but she realized that if she quit every job because the boss was a lunatic, she would never work again. But now he had gone too far. He had saddled her with a team of morons who were heavy on weaponry and short on attention span.
As goons went, they were really quite useless. If she hadn’t reminded them to show up at the airport at a certain time, they would never have gotten on the plane. If she hadn’t personally made wake-up calls to get them out of bed on time, they would have slept through the mission. And meals—oh, the meals on the mission were the worst. Picking a restaurant to eat in took hours and usually ended in an angry squabble. One wanted fried chicken; another had to have chili. One was on a special no-carb diet. The other was allergic to wheat and eggs. There was no making them happy.
But the morning of the actual kidnapping, the Hyena thought she had whipped them all into shape. Everyone was showered, dressed, and ready when the helicopter landed. Everyone had had breakfast. No one had to go to the bathroom at the last minute, and best of all, they had remembered to bring their weapons with them.
When they landed on the roof of the doctor’s building, she led the goons down to the lab, where they found a locked door. There are many ways through a locked door. One can pick the lock. One can slide a credit card along the crack where the door and the frame meet. One can use a crowbar and pry a door open. One can even knock. But the goons had another method—kicking a door off its hinges. They dashed in, fully prepared to snatch a screaming scientist, when the Hyena saw something she didn’t expect. Standing with mouth agape was a chubby African American boy dressed in a black jumpsuit. He was clutching Dr. Badawi’s arm as if he were preparing to drag her away.
“Who are you?” the Hyena demanded.
The chubby boy thrust out his hands and a thick, yellow substance squirted out of the tips of his fingers. It landed all over her boots and the floor.
“Hey! Watch the boots. They’re new!” she cried, but the boy was already on the move. He hoisted the tiny scientist onto his shoulder like a sack of apples and then did something the Hyena would not have thought possible if she hadn’t seen it herself. He ran up the side of the room and onto the ceiling like a human fly. Each step left more of the gooey yellow glop behind. Soon he and the scientist were racing across the ceiling and out of the lab.