The Secret of Zoom (6 page)

“Oh.” Taft's shoulder relaxed. “All right, then.” He sat down on his pallet and curled his knees to his chest. “Leo Loompski was one of the famous Loompski brothers, and the founder of Loompski Labs. And he built the orphanage, too, for a public charity.”

“Everyone knows
that
,” said Christina, still grumpy at being misunderstood.

“And he was a great scientist, and he had all these ideas, and so he set up his laboratories here so he could try to see if any of his
ideas worked. I guess he liked it here by the Starkian Mountain Ridge, or something. And I think one of his brothers lived here.”

“I
know
all that. What about Lenny?”

“Hang on, I'm getting there. So anyway, Leo wanted to work on his theories and inventions, but it was taking more and more time to manage Loompski Labs and the orphanage, too, so he asked his nephew Lenny—”

“I
knew
it had to be a relative!”

“—his nephew Lenny,” repeated Taft, glaring at her, “to run the orphanage. Listen, if you want to tell this, just go ahead.”

Christina sighed. If all kids were this touchy, she wasn't sure she wanted to meet any more. “Go on.”

Taft tucked his chin on his arms. “So Lenny ran the orphanage, and later he started to help manage Loompski Labs, too. Leo was busy in his private lab somewhere, doing experiments of his own, and he was happy to let Lenny give the orders. Then after a while people just never heard anything about Leo anymore. Nobody knew where he'd gone. And now Lenny runs the lab and the orphanage and probably the mines, too, if they really exist.”

Christina leaned against the wall, watching him. “How do you know all this?”

Taft lifted both shoulders. “I hear things. They talk, over at the orphanage.”

Christina was silent for a moment. “Have you ever seen Lenny Loompski?”

“Oh, sure, all the time. He drives up to the orphanage in this long black car, and we have to say how happy we are to see
him. And how
he's
going to win the Karsnicky Medal someday.” Taft's foot tapped against the floor. “So can we look through the telescope
now
?”

Christina nodded. “Let's take it out onto the roof.”

 

Taft gazed at the face of the moon and the town of Dorf, and after that he wanted to look at the orphanage. Christina helped him patiently with the focusing knobs, and then sat down on a low balustrade, looking up at the looming rock of the Starkian Mountain Ridge.

It rose above the tops of the trees, sharply etched in the moonlight, and Christina wondered if the truckload of orphans had really gone right up to the top. Maybe she could look through the telescope and find out.

“I want a turn, Taft,” she said.

“In a minute.”

Christina waited a minute, then two. “Come
on
.”

Taft stepped away from the telescope, his face unhappy. “I found some lighted windows, but the shades were all pulled. I couldn't see anything, really.”

“What were you hoping to see?” Christina put one eye to the telescope, still aimed at the orphanage, and closed the other. A dimly lit rectangle sprang into view, crisscrossed with mullions and brighter at the bottom. As she watched, a shadow passed behind the window and was gone.

Taft gave a half shrug. “I thought I'd check on Danny. You know, see how he's doing.”

“Danny? Is that the guy with the big head? The slow one?”

“He's not that slow,” said Taft quickly. “You just have to tell him things more often, is all. And he understands more than people think he does.”

Christina glanced at him.

“He understands that I've gone away, for one,” said Taft, very low. “I hope he doesn't try to follow the truck. He'll only get in trouble.”

Christina swiveled the telescope to face the Starkian Ridge. Was it possible to see where the garbage truck had gone? No—not when she couldn't even see the road.

Still, it was interesting to look at the ridge in the moonlight. The high edge of rock was like a black paper cutout against the lighter sky. There were large, high-flying birds that lived up there—harriers, they were called—and sometimes during the day she had heard their distant cries. It was a lonesome sound that fit with the bleak, windswept peaks, and she had always wished that someday she could climb the Starkian Mountain Ridge and see the harriers for herself.

Christina lifted her head with sudden realization. Now she could! Now she had a tunnel that led straight into the forest. She could go tomorrow, during Nanny's nap. If she returned before supper, no one would miss her at all.

Taft tapped her on the back and she gave up the telescope, shivering a little in the cooling air. Off in the distance, a car engine growled as it changed gears, and headlights cast faint twin beams that showed in gaps through the trees. Christina looked up at the ridge and rubbed her arms for warmth.

Were the orphans really breaking rocks up there? And why didn't any of them ever come back?

Christina frowned. Something else was bothering her. Did her father know what happened to the orphans? He certainly seemed worried enough about her ability to sing on pitch. And the man in front of the orphanage had been just as interested in the orphans' ability to sing, though Christina couldn't imagine why. To help Lenny Loompski, was all the man had said.

But if Lenny Loompski was the manager of Loompski Labs, then he was her father's boss—wasn't he?

Christina brushed her bangs out of her eyes with an impatient hand. It was all too confusing, and she didn't want to think about it anymore. She was getting the feeling she always got when she looked at those dancing chickens with the numbers in their beaks—as if her brain had frozen solid.

She tapped Taft on the shoulder, and he gave up the telescope at once. Christina was just thinking that his manners were improving, when he tapped her again.

“What?” Christina was annoyed. “Can't you let me look one minute?”

“Shhh!” Taft put up a hand in warning. “Listen.”

Christina straightened. A car's headlights glowed, closer now, and the smooth grumble of a well-tuned engine reached their ears.

She shrugged. “That's just some scientist driving home late from the laborator—”

The ridge above them bloomed with sudden orange light, as if a firework had gone off behind the highest rocks.

Two seconds later, there came a muffled
boom
. The house beneath them trembled slightly. Above the Starkian Ridge, a clot of harriers lifted, scattered, and came flying over the
treetops in a flurry of beating wings. One, slender and dark against the moonlit sky, wheeled over Christina's house with a cry like that of a frightened child.

And on the forest road a long, black shadow flicked off its headlights, took the turning to Christina's house, rolled smoothly past the iron fence, and stopped at the front gate.

T
HE
ridged wing of a stone gargoyle was cool and rough under Christina's hand. She stood on the rooftop without moving, looking down on her father as he emerged from the house into the night. Beside her, Taft took a soundless step back into the shadow of the roof's peak.

The moon shone silver on Dr. Adnoid's hair and the tops of his shoulders. He walked slowly down the brick path to the gate, where a long black car waited.

“Yes, Mr. Loompski?”

An elbow pushed out of the driver's window, followed by a forearm encased in a pinstriped sleeve. A meaty hand splayed on the car's door. “Wilfer, my man. Good of you to meet me.” Lenny Loompski's jovial voice carried clearly in the still night air.

Taft looked at Christina. “Wilfer?” he mouthed, his eyebrows expressive.

Christina frowned at him. Her father's first name might be odd, but it was no weirder than Taft.

“But what's this I hear about you requesting an inspector?” Lenny Loompski's voice was suddenly less friendly.

Dr. Adnoid cleared his throat. “I was thinking it was time we had someone look in on the orphans—you know, to make sure we're in compliance with the child labor laws.”

The silence from the car had an incredulous quality.

“I just want to make sure they're safe. Working with zoomstones can be tricky, you know.”

Zoomstones
? Christina glanced at Taft, but he looked as confused as she felt.

“Wilfer, Wilfer, Wilfer.” The shadowy figure in the car shook his head. “You amaze me, you really do. I would have expected more loyalty from you.”

“It's not a matter of loyalty, sir.”

“Who promoted you to head scientist? Who got you into this house after Uncle Leo disappeared on one of his wild-goose chases? Who
pays
you, Wilfer?”

“You, sir, but—”

“Are you saying you don't
trust
me?”

“Of course not, Mr. Loompski, but—”

“You keep saying ‘but,' Wilfer. Those orphans are getting the very best of care. They receive the finest schooling, with the most advanced teaching methods—”

Taft expelled a small breath in a sound of disgust.

“—they are given pleasant and healthful outdoor tasks—”

“Collecting
garbage
!” whispered Taft, his voice outraged.

“—and up on the mountain, all they do is sing. The acoustics are quite fine up there, you know, with those rocks
all around. You might almost say that we have an orphan choir. It's an extracurricular activity, so to speak.”

Dr. Adnoid's feet scraped on the walk as he shifted his weight. “If all that's true, then why would you have any objection to an inspector?”

Lenny Loompski's thick fingers began to tap the car door, one at a time.

“And as long as we're speaking frankly,” said Dr. Adnoid, his voice growing stronger, “I'd like to do research on Leo Loompski's theories again. He brought me here to help him unlock the secrets of the Starkian Ridge—to explore the far edges of quantum mechanics, to do the noble work of adding to the world's scientific knowledge—”

Lenny Loompski chuckled. “Not much money in
that
racket.”

“—but you! All you want is to turn Loompski Labs into a factory for cheap fuel! We scientists aren't even allowed up on the ridge anymore—there are electric fences and warning signs everywhere—”

“For the protection of the orphans, of course,” Lenny said smoothly.

“Zoom is highly unstable—you know that—and I'm not convinced that you have every safety measure in place for the children. I think it's about time an inspector came to check things out!”

Up on the rooftop, Christina barely avoided cheering aloud, and Taft gave a vigorous nod. But on the ground, the silence was ominous.

Christina's father fumbled in a pocket for his pipe. There was a sound of a match striking and a little glow of flame. For a moment, in the brief flickering light, Christina caught a glimpse of Lenny Loompski's flat, pale face, his cheeks like two slabs of ham.

“You seem upset, Wilfer.” The voice from the car had a soothing tone. “Maybe you need a little vacation. I hear there are some truly exciting spots in the . . . Middle East, perhaps?”

Dr. Adnoid's shoulders stiffened. A scent of tobacco rose in the air as he took his pipe from his mouth. “I don't need a vacation, Mr. Loompski. I'm just asking for an inspec—”

“You wouldn't have to bring your daughter along, you know. I'd be happy to take care of her while you're gone.” Lenny Loompski leaned his head out the window and stared up at his employee. “By the way, I hear she has perfect pitch.”

Christina stopped breathing. Somewhere a cricket chirped loudly in the sudden stillness.

“My spies are everywhere, you see.” Lenny smiled, his flat cheeks bunching.

Dr. Adnoid made a strangled sort of sound. “She
doesn't
have perfect pitch.”

“You think not? We could use her in the children's choir.”

“She has nothing to do with you.” Dr. Adnoid leaned forward. “Keep away from her, do you hear?”

“I'd
like
to, Wilfer, really I would. But if you're going to call in an inspector, I think he would be impressed to see that the daughter of our head scientist was singing right along with the orphans . . . don't you agree?” He pulled in his arm. The car engine started up.

“Wait! I've changed my mind about the inspector!” cried Christina's father, banging on the car door.

Lenny Loompski put the car into gear. “I had a feeling you might, Wilfer.”

 

Silently, Christina folded up the tripod and tucked her telescope under one arm. She followed Taft through the service door and back into the attic. He was talking—she heard words like “zoomstones” and “your father” and “Lenny”—but she wasn't listening. She said good night and stepped down the ladder.

She put on her pajamas in a sort of daze. She had the same numb, stupefied feeling she always got when staring at a math problem. There were too many pieces of information, and she couldn't seem to put any of them together. She half expected to see a dancing chicken come into the room with a sign in its beak that said
PRETTY GOOD WORK
! or
EXTRA CREDIT FOR TRYING
!, leaving her unsure if she'd gotten the problem right or wrong.