Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21 "Dan, you have to come now! Nellie, too!" Amy raced into the Ubuhlalu Electronics employee lounge, looking unbelievably excited. "Where were you?" Nellie blurted. "Don't tell me," Dan said. "You found a library." "Where's the guard?" Amy said, looking around. Dan gestured toward Mr. Bhekisisa, who was standing in a corner, talking into a cell phone. Amy grabbed Nellie's hand. "Quickly!" Dan followed them across the floor. Amy led them to a door hidden behind a stack of boxes. He leaned in toward the door's sign. "'Radioactive'?" he said. "This should lead outside, to those buildings."

"Exactly," Amy said. "Okay, remember Irina's wallet, with all the IDs? She had one for each of the Holts." Looking left and right, she pulled out three plastic ID cards, one each for Hamilton, Reagan, and Madison. "When I put Reagan's card against the screen on this door, her name registered." "It's a Tomas hiding place," Dan said. "I knew it! And we have access!" Amy shook her head. "It needs a fingerprint, Dan." "Dang, I knew we should have amputated when we had the chance," Nellie said. Dan frowned. "Wait— the door is just here? Unhidden?" "If this company is a front," Amy said, "then there are a lot of Tomas here. Maybe everybody is. So hiding it wouldn't be necessary. People probably come in and out of this door all the time." "Let me see that wallet," Dan said. Amy handed it to him, and he dug around, taking out the three small zipped plastic bags, each containing a

microscope slide. On each bag, an initial had been written in black marker. Dan carefully opened the one marked H and took out the slide. He held it up to the light. "It's impossible to see anything," Amy said. "Someone left a smudge smack in the middle." Smudge. Smudge meant handling. Handling meant hands. Hands meant… "It's not a smudge," Dan said. He separated the two pieces of Plexiglas comprising the slide. Inside it was a moist, shriveled-up membrane in the shape of a cap. "It's a fingerprint." "What?" Amy said. Dan reached into the wallet again and extracted Hamilton Holt's ID card. "Hold this," he said, handing the ID to Amy. As delicately as he could, Dan snapped the membrane cap over his right index finger. It felt a little slimy, more substantial than he expected. He nodded at his sister. "Now." Amy waved the card over the plate.

HOLT, H. PLACE FINGER IN SENSOR NOW. A round disk glowed red, just below the words. Dan pressed his capped finger to it firmly and waited. "Nothing," he murmured. "What did I do wrong?" He pulled it away to look at the membrane. The red disk sputtered and turned green. The door emitted a beep. CLEARANCE SECURED! WELCOME, HAMILTON HOLT. With a click, the door opened. "Now, this rocks…" Dan said. As he stepped onto an escalator, he turned toward Nellie and Amy. One by one, they had cleared the sensor. The door had sealed shut behind them and they were now in the connected building.

Like the tip of an iceberg, the solar-paneled structure was only the top of a gargantuan headquarters that seemed to stretch out forever. It was as if the entire hill had been hollowed out. The place was alive with natural light. There must have been windows strategically placed among the solar panels— maybe even windows embedded in the grassy surface of the hill beyond. As the escalator descended, Dan could see the arrangement of the place. It was shaped like a vast hive— interconnected hexagonal chambers with glass walls, each chamber filled with people. The strangest part was the voices— grunts, cries of anguish, shrieks for mercy, triumphant bellowing. Like a torture chamber with an unlimited budget. Some chambers contained two people, some groups— wrestling, boxing, forms of combat he had never seen before. Some of the glass walls were smeared with red. "What are they doing in there?" Amy asked, her face contorted in dismay. "It's not ballroom dance class," Nellie said. As the escalator reached bottom, a trim, gray

haired man bustled toward them. "Holt," he said, eyeing them impassively. "The United States?" "Yes," Dan replied. "Mr. Malusi," the man said efficiently. "Follow me." "EEAAARRRGHHH— STOP!" a voice screamed as they walked past a chamber marked COMBAT FREESTYLE. "It is quieter in my office," Mr. Malusi said over his shoulder. He led them into a spacious room, frigid with air-conditioning. He gestured toward a set of leather chairs as he sat behind a dark polished-wood desk. "Holt… Holt…" he said, fingers tapping on his phone. "Not much information here. Oh! Oh, my goodness. Ha! Eisenhower…" Despite himself, Dan felt the pang of insult. "Our family has been loyal for generations—" "Yes, yes, the sins of the father, et cetera," Mr. Malusi said, vaguely waving the thought away. "It is still very good you have volunteered for the training." "Training?" Nellie said.