Code(72)

I thought back to the day we discovered Karsten’s secret lab. The pouring rain. Shelton picking locks. The shock of finding Karsten’s ghastly experiment.

So much security. So much effort to keep the project hidden.

Could we crack his password?

“Try ‘Candela,’” Hi suggested. “Or ‘3-3-3-3.’ That was the door code.”

Shelton did. “Nope. And . . . nope.”

“What about ‘parvovirus’?” Ben offered. “Or maybe Karsten used his name.”

Shelton entered the possibilities. None worked. “This is getting old, fast.”


“Wait.” I was thinking out loud. “It wasn’t regular parvovirus. Karsten mixed canine parvo with the harmless form that’s contagious to humans.”

“That’s right!” Hi said excitedly. “The human strain is Parvovirus B19. Try that.”

“No.” Suddenly I had it. “Karsten created an experimental strain. That was the point.”

“Shoot!” Shelton pressed his fists to his temples. “I can’t remember. And Karsten said he destroyed all the records.”

“Except this drive,” Ben said. “We have to access it somehow.”

I tried to visualize the lab as it had been that day. Desk. Computer. Quarantine chamber. Clipboard hanging next to Coop’s cage.

What had I read? What had Karsten told us that night in the bunker?

I smiled as it came to me. “Parvovirus XPB-19. The experimental form of B19.”

Shelton was already typing. His fists rose in triumph. “We’re in!”

Then his hands found his cranium once more. “Oh no!”

The words on-screen were pure gibberish.

“What is it?” I said.

“The individual files are encrypted.” Shelton clicked one at random. A new password box appeared. “And this level uses a code key. Meaning it’s synced to a device that changes the password every few minutes.”

“So the answer won’t be Karsten’s favorite color.” Hi shook his head. “Bummer.”

“To get past this mother, we’ll need professional help,” Shelton said. “Even then we might strike out.”

“Blargh.” Computers were conspiring to thwart me. “We’re nowhere on identifying the body either. Spotter won’t work without a better pic of the victim’s face.”

“Oh no.” Shelton’s chin dropped to his chest. “No no no.”

“What’s your problem?” Ben said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“You think she doesn’t already have a plan? Can’t you guess what it is?”

Hi paled. Ben looked from face to face, clearly still confused.

Shelton groaned. “I’m not going at night. Period.”

“Tomorrow afternoon.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Broad daylight.”

“Okay, people.” Ben crossed his arms. “Care to share?”

“No big deal.” Shelton’s tone was nonchalant. “Just a quick stop at Mepkin Abbey to get a new headshot of Mr. Dead Guy.”

“Oh.” Ben’s expression soured. “That.”

Shelton turned from Ben to look at me. “Did I guess right, Tor?”

“We have to give Spotter another try.” Firm, to hide my own misgivings. “We need to know who’s inside that crypt.”

I glanced at the items lined up on the table. We’d examined every scrap connected to the Gamemaster. Gotten nowhere.

“We have no other cards to play.”




The guest lot was nearly empty. We entered the abbey’s welcome center in silence. Though our cover story was solid, the mood was grim. No one wanted to revisit the crypt.

Brother Patterson was behind the gift shop register. His face lit up. “Welcome back!” His black-and-white robes swished as he swept around the counter. “What a pleasure to see you again so soon.”

“We really enjoyed our visit.” I conspicuously hitched the backpack on my shoulders. “So much, in fact, that we decided to make Mepkin Abbey the subject of our local cultural report.”

“Wonderful! The store offers several volumes of Mepkin Abbey history, or you can review our texts and original documents in the conference facility at no cost.”

Perfect.

“We’ll visit the library, if that’s okay. We’re supposed to use primary sources.”

“Be our guest.” Patterson gestured to the rear door. “Do you remember the way, or shall I escort you?”

“We remember,” I said quickly. “Thanks so much.”




Ben was last over the cemetery wall.

Hi stood on tiptoes, peering back the way we’d come. “The path is clear. No one followed.”

Our luck was good. We hadn’t encountered a soul as we snuck past the library, through the gardens, and over the wooden bridge leading to the graveyard. I was feeling confident we’d pull off this mission.

But I didn’t want to think about what came next.

Shelton worked the lock on the iron grate, then proceeded to the crypt door. Finally, “God help us, but we’re in.” Despite the mild temperature, beads of sweat dotted his brow.