Challenge (12 page)

52.

SUNDAY, JUNE 1,
THE CHALLENGE,
DAY 2

Sunday morning at nine o’clock, Steel waited in the challenge’s “green room”—one of the conference center’s smaller meeting rooms—with Kaileigh and about a dozen other kids. A TV in the corner displayed a closed-circuit feed of the stage. A college-age girl with a headset and a clipboard tried to keep them organized, but it was a bit like herding cats.

“So?” Kaileigh said impatiently, encouraging more explanation from Steel.

“So I told them about the picture,” Steel said.

“No way!”

“I had to. That lady could be in real trouble.”

“And?”

“And the guy flipped out,” he said. “He took my mom and me to the Department of Justice, which is only the biggest building you’ve ever seen in your whole life, and this guy there, this tech head, had me describe the woman in the photograph while he drew it. Only, he didn’t draw it; he used a computer.”

“And how’d you do?” she asked.

“This is
me
we’re talking about,” Steel said. He reached into the back pocket of the khakis his mom had made him wear, and unfolded the color printout. “I have a photographic memory. Remember?” The photo that unfolded looked uncannily like the original, except that there was something sterile and mechanical about it: the woman in the chair, a row of broken windows behind her, her arms and legs taped to the chair.

“You did this?” she asked.

“A guy did it, I told you. I just described what I’d seen, and corrected him and stuff.” He pointed to the handwritten code on the bottom of the computerized sketch. “This is what got the marshal—this guy Larson—all hyped up: the code. He said he was taking it somewhere to see if they could break it.”

“Like, with spies and stuff?”

“Who knows? But once I told them that the photo was basically all I’d seen inside the briefcase, they let me rejoin the challenge. So here we are.” He felt Kaileigh’s disappointment. “Still no sign of your entry?”

“Why would anyone steal a balloon invention, if not to enter it in the science challenge? I just don’t get it,” she said.

“Maybe it’ll still show up.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

On the TV, yet another participant demonstrated his invention; it involved colored water and a membrane that filtered out all the color from the water.

“Pretty impressive,” Steel muttered to himself.

“Don’t worry: nobody’s got an electronic sniffer like you do. You’re going to do great.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “There’s some pretty cool stuff.”

“Best in the country,” she reminded.

“Yours would have won. Controllable balloons? You kidding? I know they would have.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

One of the other contestants, a boy who was also waiting to go on, grew restless. He milled about in front of the others, mumbling to himself pretty loudly. “Who cares about this stupid stuff?” he said. “What’s the big deal about winning this thing, anyway?”

“Meltdown,” Kaileigh whispered.

Steel nodded. He’d seen other kids collapse under the pressure at both the state and regional levels. Sometimes they just broke down in tears. Other times, like this, they started airing their complaints, as if everyone was supposed to care about their whining.

“Sit down!” one of the kids shouted. “I want to watch!”

“Down in front!” another kid yelled when Mr. Meltdown intentionally stepped in front of the television, provoking more anger from the crowd. “Move it, fatso! I want to see this entry!”

“You want to see?” Mr. Meltdown said, highly agitated. “You want to
see!?”
Now he was shouting. “I’ll let you see!” He turned around and pressed the television’s
CHANNEL
button, switching it from the closed-circuit view to regular TV.

On the screen, a preacher was giving a reading to an enormous congregation. “Today’s scripture is from Genesis, twenty-three, verses three and four: ’And Abraham stood up from before his dead, and spake unto the sons of Heth, saying, I am a stranger and a sojourner with you: give me a possession of a burying place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight.’”

“Boo!” the kids jeered.

“Put it back to where it was,”
a high-pitched voice cried.

The image of the preacher dissolved into a still photograph—a color slide—of the preacher with a woman at his side. There was an address, a Web site, and a phone number printed below the picture. A voice came on explaining that it was time for the collection; he encouraged viewers to make contributions to keep their ministry spreading.

A narrator’s voice said,
“We help those in their time of need. Our mission is the Christian word of God, and you can help us show others the way.”

“Oh…please,” said Kaileigh, rolling her eyes.

Steel was about to make his own nasty remarks when the words caught in his throat. He coughed roughly.

Kaileigh turned. “Are you okay?” She reached up, prepared to slap his back. “I know the Heimlich.”

Steel, now in a real coughing fit, shook his head and stabbed a finger at the screen: the preacher and the woman, with information printed beneath. Still unable to get a word out, he tapped at the printout Kaileigh was holding. Then he pointed to the television and the shot of the preacher and the woman.

“Oh…my…gosh!” said Kaileigh.

Steel recovered just as the screen changed to a choir of women and men wearing red robes with gold collars. “That’s her,” he said. “The same woman.”

Kaileigh studied the printout one more time. “I think you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Steel said. “That’s definitely the same woman who was tied up in the chair.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

“No one will believe us,” he said.

“They might.”

“I’m not even sure I believe it,” he said.

“It
did
look a lot like her.”

There was an address on the screen where viewers could send their contributions. The city was Washington, D.C.

Steel coughed yet again. Something had stuck in his throat: fear.

“It’s here. Washington,” he said. “We could check it out. See if it’s really her or whatever.”

“What about the challenge?” she said.

“Trapp?” he said. “It’s alphabetical. Are you kidding? I’m gonna be like, dead last. Always am.”

“And your mom?”

“She parked me here knowing I’d be stuck in this room most of the day. We had this…fight. I think she’s trying to reach my dad.”

“Oh my gosh!” Kaileigh said. She rose out of her chair.

Steel thought this was a bit of an overreaction to his explanation. That is, until he saw that Kaileigh’s face was now practically stuck to the television, which someone had turned back to the closed-circuit camera. Her finger was pointing, for Steel’s sake, to an unpleasant-looking woman wandering in an aisle. She was short and wide and had a severe look to her.

“Miss Kay,” she hissed.

It took Steel a moment to connect the name and the woman on the television to Kaileigh’s governess.

“That’s her?”

“Out of the way!” one of the kids shouted.

“Shut your trap!” Kaileigh hollered back. The protester sat down.

“She’s looking for you,” Steel said.

“Duh!” Kaileigh said.

On the screen, Miss Kay had found a woman with a badge—one of the challenge organizers—and was talking to her. The badge woman pointed.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Kaileigh said. “Now!”

Steel and Kaileigh moved toward an exit at the back of the room. Then Steel stopped and hurried over to a table where many of the inventions were displayed. He picked up his sniffer, a lentil-shaped orb the size of a large frying pan. It carried a retracting antenna and three wheels on the bottom. Steel pocketed the remote-control device.

“You’re taking that with you?” Kaileigh said.

“After yours was stolen? You think I’m leaving it here?”

She shrugged.

Steel pushed open the door.

“How do we find the church?” Kaileigh asked.

“I memorized the phone number and the mailing address,” Steel said.

Kaileigh looked at him as though he were a space alien. With his sniffer tucked under his arm, he pretty much fit the part.

“We’re going to get in trouble for this,” Kaileigh warned him.

“Yeah, I know.” Steel smiled. “But we don’t exactly have a choice.”

53.

Steel and Kaileigh, having traveled by Metro, arrived at the church just as it was letting out. People streamed down the old stone steps. Pipe-organ music wafted over their heads.

“What now?” Kaileigh asked.

“We try to find the guy in the picture. The guy on TV.”

The only person in robes they saw was a woman at the main door, shaking hands of parishioners as they left.

“She would be the assistant minister. Or whatever.”

“That would be correct,” Steel said.

“Then not through there.” The woman minister had created a traffic jam at the main doors.

Kaileigh moved away from Steel and, looking down the sidewalk, motioned him toward her. She pointed to a side door also in use, but by far fewer people. “Choir entrance,” she said. “Trust me. Been there, done that.”

“So?”

“So that’ll lead us into the back part of the church. As in offices. As in the minister’s office.”

“Okay.”

Steel clutched his invention tightly to his side—it looked a little like a misshaped bowling ball—and they trudged down the sidewalk, intentionally taking their time to allow the choir to leave, not wanting to explain themselves to anyone.

Kaileigh bravely led the way up the narrow stone steps and through a black enamel door that carried a small brass plaque announcing:
CHURCH OFFICES
, and a smaller plaque added some time later below this one:
PLEASE USE MAIN CHURCH ENTRANCE
.

They tried to sidestep two women in a hurry to get out the door.

“May I help you?” the wider of the two inquired.

Kaileigh and Steel, both taken aback, froze with the question. Steel noticed the woman was carrying a folder. Kaileigh finally managed to squeak out, “No, thank you. We’re just meeting someone.”

The woman said nothing. She offered them a smile, held the door for them, and let it fall shut behind her. It clunked shut, the sound reverberating off the pale stone of the hallway.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Steel said.

“You want to chicken out now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then shut up. ’Cause I’m not exactly thrilled to be here either.”

Faced with a choice of left or right, they inched down the hall to their left with great reservation. They were, in fact, barely moving at all.

“We keep up this pace,” Steel said, “we’ll be here all night.”

“Yeah?” Kaileigh whispered. “Well, if you’re in so much of a hurry”—she motioned ahead—“be my guest.”

The sound of the organ came from ahead of them now. It drew them forward like a spell.

They passed several doors, all to their right. To their left towered tall, leaded windows of softly colored glass culminating in pointed peaks.

“May I help you?”

The low voice was a man’s, and it came from an open door to their right. Both Kaileigh and Steel jumped, Steel nearly dropping FIDOE to the stone floor, but catching it somewhere around his knees, and fumbling it like a football.

He looked up into the face of the minister they’d seen on television: Reverend Jimmy. He wore a dark purple-and-black robe with bright red piping, and he stood very tall. His face was hollow, his eyes red and glassy with grief. He looked about a hundred years older than he had on television. Makeup was caked to his cheeks, caught on the slight stubble of beard where he’d missed himself shaving.

For a moment, Kaileigh and Steel just gawked.

Beyond the man, Steel saw the briefcase on the floor next to a large desk.

The briefcase…

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” the Right Reverend Jimmy said. “This part of the church is—”

“My mother’s in the choir,” Kaileigh blurted out.

Steel found himself nodding along with her.

“Is that right? I’m sure I know her, then.”

Steel’s incredible memory saved him, for in that instant he recalled the name written on a song folder carried by one of the women. “Donna Pembroke.”

The Right Reverend Jimmy looked puzzled and then…suspicious.

“Oh, Donna. Of course…. How can I help you children?” The Reverend didn’t question whether they’d lied or not, and Steel appreciated that. It seemed that they all three knew, but the Reverend’s voice was consistent and calm—nothing like Steel’s father’s voice when he smelled trouble.

“Actually,” Steel said, “I have a message for your wife.”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone wearing so much makeup to go pale, but something drained out of the Reverend Jimmy like a plug had been pulled. He looked like a wax statue in the sun, all of a sudden.

“I’m afraid she’s unavailable.”

At that moment, Steel noticed a quotation stenciled on the wall. All this time trying to crack the code, and Steel hadn’t made the connection. It seemed so stupid to have missed it. On the wall it read:

And God said, Let there be light, and there was light.

—Genesis 1:3

Steel blurted out: “G…for Genesis. Genesis, twenty-three. Verses three through four.”

Kaileigh looked over at him as if he were crazy.

The Reverend’s upper lip twitched, and his gray eyes narrowed under the weight of a crinkled brow. “Today’s spiritual citation,” he said, his voice like a dry wind. “What about it?”

“Your wife,” Steel said boldly. He’d come this far.

“Anyway, I think she’s your wife…the lady on TV with you. Today’s citation:…Genesis, twenty-three. She’s in danger.”

“Who…are…you?” He took a step back into the safety of the doorway and the room behind him, like Steel and Kaileigh were some kind of devils. His eyes darted left and right down the hallway, expecting to see someone. He whispered harshly, “What…do…you…people…want? Using
children
as messengers…You tell them—”

“Who?” Steel interrupted. “Who did that to her? Is she okay?”

“We want to help,” assured Kaileigh.

The Reverend Jimmy focused on the two children. “GET OUT!” he snapped at them. “If this is supposed to be some grotesque display of intimidation, you tell them—”

“Who?” Steel repeated. “Is she okay? Is she—?”

But before Steel could complete the question, the Right Reverend Jimmy Case had a heavy Bible in his hand, and the way he had picked it up—with both hands—it seemed he might use it to crush Steel’s head.

Kaileigh tugged sharply on Steel’s sleeve. But Steel needed little encouragement. The two of them took off running.

Reverend Jimmy called out loudly down the hall, “You tell them I did what they asked! You tell them to leave me alone! You tell them they promised!”

The man’s rage and anger swirled inside Steel’s head as Kaileigh reached the side door and threw it open to the heat and the snarl of traffic in the street.

Steel didn’t forget a word of what he’d heard.