Exit 9

responsible for operations in his home neighborhood and several more surrounding it. Ultimately, over one hundred others would work directly for him.

Ayush had done even better. He was given the title of Coordinating Officer, and worked over the group of supervisors in charge of nearly half of Mumbai. Which made him Sanjay’s boss.

Though the project they’d been hired for was a temporary one, the people at Pishon Chem made it clear that if they did their jobs well, some of the supervisors and coordinating officers would be kept on permanently. And the money they were paying! It was even better than he had hoped.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day. For the first time, the sweepers-the title of those working under the supervisors-would be practicing with the spray machines. The managers from Pishon Chem wanted everyone to be completely familiar with the equipment. When the day finally came for dispensing the miracle spray, the sweepers would need to move quickly, covering as much ground as possible in a single day.

Sanjay would observe those training under his command, and give instructions and encouragement to those who needed it. At the end of the day, he was expected to give honest assessments to his coordinating officer- Ayush-so that adjustments could be made now while there was still plenty of time.

But that was tomorrow morning. Tonight he would make a stop at the fruit stand, because he knew for sure Kusum would be there. She had told him herself.

With a wide grin, he hopped off the bus and headed to the market, happier than he’d ever been.

GILSTRAP HALL

HAWKINS UNIVERSITY

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI

Corey was getting annoyed.

It had been several days since he contacted Hidde-Kel Holdings and requested an information pack about the company. He’d stressed the importance of getting it quickly, and had been told they would rush it right out, but, as his latest check of the mail just proved, it had yet to arrive.

It wouldn’t be so crucial except for the fact he’d been hard-pressed to find other information about the company. Apparently it wasn’t very big on publicity, as evidenced by its website, which was woefully devoid of useful information. He wasn’t even sure where its headquarters were actually located. The address on the website corresponded to a tiny office in a multiple-tenant building in Portland, Oregon. He knew this because he’d looked it up on Google Maps, then switched to street view and saw the actual building. From that he was able to get the name of one of the other businesses that shared the same premises. He called and persuaded the woman who answered to give him a little information on her neighbor.

Turned out Hidde-Kel’s address was more a mail drop than anything else. So was the company even in Portland?

As he walked back to his dorm room, he knew he had to come up with some other options. If he didn’t, his paper wouldn’t be much more than a page or two, guaranteeing him a failing grade.

There was one thing he could do. He’d been avoiding it because he’d hoped Hidde-Kel would be more cooperative, and because, technically, it would be breaking the law. But perhaps it was time to push things a bit.

His friend Blanton Kirn, also a student at Hawkins U, was working on a degree in computer engineering, a natural offshoot of his computer-hacking hobby. Corey thought that maybe Blanton could cut through the BS on the Hidde-Kel website and get to some real information.

Yeah, it was crossing the line a bit, but if Hidde-Kel wasn’t going to help him, then he’d just have to help himself.

As he reentered his room, he pulled out his cell and gave his friend a call.

BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA

“See what I mean?” Patricia said.

She’d convinced Rodrigo to come back with her to the not-quite-so-abandoned building. He’d been dubious from the start, but she had talked him into it, and now they were standing next to the collapsed portion of the wall, looking in at the blue metal box.

“You did this?” he asked.

“The wall? Well, yeah, but that’s not important.”

“Patricia, you damaged the building. Maybe you even damaged that.” He pointed at the container.

“That’s what’s important. The wall doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know. Look around! This place was already falling apart. I bet that wall was going to collapse soon anyway. All I want to know is what you think about the box. It’s a shipping container, yes?”

Rodrigo looked at it and shrugged. “Could be, but I’ve never been this close to one before.”

“Come on, come on,” she said, stepping through the hole into the other room.

Her brother hesitated for a moment, then followed her. Now that he was within reach of the box, he seemed more interested. He ran his fingers up and down the metal surface as she led him toward the end. Before they got there, he stopped.

“Over here,” Patricia said. “I want to show you something.”

He pointed at the upper corner. “See that?”

She looked. There was a number painted near the top in faded white. She hadn’t noticed it before.

“That’s how they track this.”

“So it is a shipping container.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Well, then, maybe you can figure this out.” She headed around the side.

When he joined her, she pointed at the odd locks on the doors. “They’re not normal, are they?”

He bent forward for a closer look. “I’ve never seen anything like these before. Pretty elaborate. It’s almost like you have to be inside to unlock it.”

She looked at the container anew. “You don’t think someone’s in there, do you?”

“Did you hear any noise?”

She shook her head.

He raised his hand and rapped on the door. “Anyone home?”

“Don’t!”

He smiled. “Relax. Nobody’s in there. See? Let’s take a look at the rest.”

He headed around the far side, and she followed.

“That’s unusual.” He pointed at the top again, only this time not at a number.

“What?”

“There. Right at the top corner. Doesn’t that look like a hinge?”

It was hard to tell for sure, but yes, it kind of did. “What could it be for?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t I take a look?”

He jumped up and grabbed the top lip, then grunted loudly as he tried to pull himself up. When it seemed as if he wasn’t going to make it, Patricia stepped over, put her hands under his butt, and pushed. That seemed to be the extra energy he needed. He flopped onto the top, and rolled onto his back.

“Well?” she asked, taking a few steps back so she could see him.

He flipped around. Since there wasn’t enough room to stand, he sat up. “It’s a hinge all right. Runs all the way down the long edge.” He looked away from her. “Well, that’s kind of odd. There’s another hinge on the other side. Same size. You know what? I think the roof’s split in two, so it can open like shutters.”

“Is that normal for a shipping container?”

“Not that I know.”

“Maybe you should get down.”

“Just a second.”