In the Club (22 page)

A narrow foyer came into view.

Park inched her way inside, moving with her back to the wall. “Julian?” she called out, knowing she wouldn’t get a reply.

Madison and Lex tiptoed inside the apartment.

Just beyond the foyer was a big square room, a studio with three small windows and dingy patches of light. There was a tattered couch, two chairs, and a long large desk against the far wall. The air smelled sulfurous and musty.

Park froze when she spotted the dozens of test tubes and chemical tray holders, the books on explosives, the portable burners, and two jequirity plants. There was a spatter of something powdery on the floor. She said, “Nobody move.”

Lex froze beside her.

Madison, still staring around the apartment, was shaking her head. “So this is it,” she whispered. “This is the clandestine lab where Julian operates.”

“And there…” Park gulped and pointed. “Right there on the table is what looks like a completed stick of dynamite.”

“What?”
Madison cupped a hand to her mouth. The fear in her eyes was palpable.

“Uh, Park?” Lex spoke quietly. “Didn’t you say that nitroglycerin is shock sensitive?”

“Yes, you have to be very careful when transporting it.”

“Or what?” Madison asked.

“Or it’ll just blow up. The slightest movement could set it off.”

“Well, for God’s sake, what are we supposed to do? Just stand here until the police arrive?” Madison snapped. She had backed herself up against the wall closest to the sealed window; leaning into it, she turned sideways, cowering, lifting her arms up over her head.

Park nodded. She took a deep breath, then took a step toward the desk. She felt like she was standing in the laboratory where Frankenstein’s monster had been fused together, or in one of the classrooms at Hogwarts. But this was no fantasy. She stared down at the small open cardboard boxes and the pieces of paper strewn across the floor, trying to imagine the extent of danger that this small, nondescript studio apartment posed.

“Look at the corner of the desk,” Lex said. “It’s pieces of tinfoil wrapped around a fuse.”

Park tried to control the trembling in her arms and legs. “Don’t go near that,” she warned. She patted the drops of sweat from her forehead. She was afraid to move, afraid to even breathe.

“Park?” Lex whispered.

“I’m okay.” Park looked at Madison, still backed against the wall, and blinked. And blinked again. And again. As if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. For a moment, the fearful expression on her face disappeared and was replaced by one of astonishment. “Madison,” she said quietly, “you’re…glittering.”

“What?” Madison pressed herself deeper against the wall. Then she looked down at her clothes and gasped. The bottom of her shirt was glittering. The tips of her shoes were glittering. And there, in the ends of her hair, was a sparkle that caught the slats of light burning in through the shaded window.

Flecks of glitter, as bright as diamonds. Twinkling like stars on a moonless night.

“Holy shit,” Lex said.

Gasping a second time, Madison stepped away from the wall and ran her hands down the side of her shirt. “It’s all over me,” she said. “Even on my shoulders. What the hell is it? I didn’t touch anything.”

Moving slowly and carefully, Park went to Madison’s side and inspected the back of her blouse. A rainbow of glitter arced over the delicate fabric. Park turned and stared at the bare wall: it was a yellowish shade, the paint peeling and crumbling, tiny chips falling to the floor. She touched her hand to cold plaster, then inspected her palm.

It was glittering.

“It’s the paint,” she said. “These walls have glitter paint on them. Look.” She held up her hand. “It’s probably all over the place because the walls are so old. You so much as brush up against them and the glitter falls out with the paint chips.”

A long line of light suddenly cut through the shadowy space. Lex had pulled down on one of the shades, and now she was inching it up over the window slowly, not wanting to disturb the air in the room. The light spread across the walls. The air churned with dust motes and tiny, shiny specks. The glitter was etched into the walls, an ingredient of the paint that had probably been white once upon a time, back when this apartment served as an actual living space and not a musty clandestine laboratory.

“You’re right,” Lex said, her eyes widening. “It’s everywhere.” She glanced at her own palms and nodded when she saw the glittery specks on her fingertips. “I pulled up the shade, and now I’m glittering too.”

“And I guess if you spend a lot of time here, you kind of become immune to it,” Madison suggested. “I mean, the paint on these walls is saturated with glitter, but if Park hadn’t mentioned it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it myself.”

“And Julian obviously didn’t notice it either.” Park backed away from the window. “It’s in the air. We’re, like, breathing it in.”

“We’re also wasting time,” Lex snapped. “Come on—we either look around or we split. Personally, I feel like splitting. This place is creepy.”

“I’m going to look through that pile of papers,” Madison said, making the decision for them as she pointed to the messy stack beside the couch. “Lex, see what you can find.”

Park took several more steps toward the table. As it came fully into view, she saw the other test tubes and bottles of chemicals, the crystallized hairpins that had been used to measure a particular mixture’s detonation capacity. She was both transfixed and horrified. She would have reached out and grabbed for one of the books, but Lex’s voice broke through the silence.

“We were wrong.”

Park spun around quickly. “What?”

Lex was standing beside one of the chairs. Her expression was stony, and her eyes were locked on the familiar Prada man-purse pressed into a corner of the room. She went to it and picked it up. Then she held it out like Exhibit A in a courtroom. “This isn’t Julian’s.”

Park shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “That—that has to be a mistake. It—it can’t be.”

“It’s Emmett McQueen’s purse.” Lex unzipped it and angrily dumped its contents onto the floor: a hairbrush, a bottle of hair spray, several pens, and the clearest proof of all—Emmett’s St. Cecilia’s Prep ID.

“I d-don’t understand,” Park stammered. “Why is that here? Is Emmett part of this? Is it…
two
criminals we’re supposed to catch?”

Madison stood up from where she’d been squatting. “No, it’s just one.” Her lips had gone ashen. “It’s Emmett, for God’s sake. It’s not Julian. And here’s the proof.” She waved several sheets of paper in the air. “These are the documents that were stolen from Mother Margaret’s office. Look. It’s all a bunch of financial info about the school. Receipts, credit slips, endowment reports—”

“So what?” Park snapped. “How does that prove it’s Emmett who’s behind all this?”

“This sheet explains it all.” Madison held out a single piece of paper and pointed to it. Her voice low and trembling, she said, “This is a receipt for a two-million-dollar check written by Emmett’s father, Warren McQueen, last October. And look—it bounced. The sheet has a note scrawled at the bottom, and it’s signed by Mother Margaret.”

Lex shook her head. “And?”

“And don’t you see what it says?” Madison said impatiently. “Look! It says right here that Mother Margaret reported the matter to the Internal Revenue Service for review. And look here—three more of his checks bounced in the two weeks before that. Warren McQueen was writing checks on a phony account because he already knew he was in financial trouble.”

“And it was Mother Margaret who reported him to the IRS,” Park said. “And Mother Margaret who sparked the investigation that led to Warren McQueen’s disastrous downfall.”

Madison shook the papers at them. “Exactly. Emmett must’ve suspected it, so he broke into the office and stole these documents to confirm his suspicions. Remember what he used to say back when his dad was on trial? He used to go around telling everyone that
someone
would pay for it one day.”

“But why was that someone Damien?” Park asked.

“Damien was an obstacle,” Madison said. “He probably figured out to some extent what Emmett was up to.”

“About the dynamite?” Lex crinkled her nose.

“I guess so! Look around you!” Madison flicked the pieces of paper to the floor. “Damien must’ve caught on.
That’s
why Damien was killed—because he knew Emmett was up to something totally sick! This address was in his little date book! And he knew that, more than anything, Emmett wanted revenge for what was done to his father, his family.”

“Oh my God,” Lex whispered. “
Emmett?
How could it be? Why would he be doing this?”

“Damien wrote this address down in his little black book because he must’ve suspected Emmett was up to something, and Damien probably followed him here one day.”

“But there’s no way Damien knew what was in here,” Lex said. “He would never have kept this a secret.”

“I don’t think so either.” Madison let out a long, disappointed breath. “But everything we suspected Julian did? Erase his name from the equation and replace it with Emmett’s freakin’ name! Dammit.” She unzipped her purse. “I guess we should just call the police.”

“There’s no time for that,” Park said. She was backing away from the table slowly, a big sheet of paper in her hands. There was an urgency in her voice that neither Madison nor Lex had ever heard before.

The sheet of paper was a diagram of the St. Cecilia’s Prep auditorium exactly as it would look today, at commencement. There were little doodles of chairs and tables, balloons strung along the ceiling. It was, at first glance, a celebratory image. But the words scrawled in Emmett’s hand along the side of the sheet told an entirely different story:
impact, detonation, current from the live wire hits the switch.
In the left corner of the diagram was a sketch of the podium; an arrow pointed to the adjustable microphone, and a second arrow, a few inches away, pointed to a wire running along the edge of the floor.

“Holy shit,” Madison whispered. “Is that…?”

“It’s why Emmett’s been experimenting with all these explosive things,” Park said, her voice rising. “This diagram spells it all out. It proves what he’s planning to do!” The words caught in her throat as she shook the paper in her hands.

Madison raked her hands through her hair. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes!” Park shrieked. “He’s planning to detonate a bomb at commencement. That’s his revenge—
that’s
what this is all about! Look—when someone moves the microphone on the podium, the movement will create a current that will detonate an explosive.”

“Come on!” Lex turned around and bolted for the door. Her feet barely touched the stairs as she flew down to the first floor. “Hurry! Move! The ceremony starts in
less than ten minutes
!”

20

The Queen’s Revenge

T
he front of St. Cecilia’s Prep looked like a fortress: crowds of reporters packed one side of the street and a line of uniformed police officers formed a blue wall across the sidewalk. The school had totally beefed up security in preparation for the prime minister’s arrival.

“There’s probably a damn sniper on the roof!” Madison said, jumping out of the limo.

“Good! We need all the help we can get!” Park grabbed Lex’s hand and together they raced to the edge of the sidewalk.

Madison shoved her way past a cluster of reporters, using her elbows to knock their microphones and cameras out of the way. She kicked at a tripod. She ignored the petite woman calling out her name and shouting a question.

Park and Lex tried to follow suit, but they made it only halfway through the crowd before a sea of bodies washed over them. “Move!” Park screamed. “Please get out of our way!”

“Emergency!” Lex cried.

But the cluster wouldn’t break. Park felt one of the reporters reach out and grab her shoulder, and she nearly lost her purse.

“Park!” someone shouted. “Where’s your friend Concetta Canoli today?”

“Lex! How do you respond to rumors…”

With a burst of energy, Lex slammed herself against Park and simultaneously shoved two reporters out of her way. Microphones jutted out from every angle.

“This is insane!” Park said.

You have less than two minutes to stop a bomb from exploding,
a voice screamed in Lex’s head.
Hurry!

The old body-pushing approach wasn’t working. As the panic swelled inside her, Lex did the only thing she could. She circled her fingers around the strap of the heavy magic purse, lifted it over her head, and swung it propeller-style.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

“Oh my God! Watch it!”

The purse knocked every microphone out of the air in one fell swoop. The reporters bent down to scoop them up, and for a few precious seconds, a path cleared.

Park and Lex raced past several police officers and met Madison at the top of the stairs.

“Excuse me,” a male voice said from behind them. “I’ll need to search your bags. We have a security checkpoint and—”

“Come with us!” Madison screamed at the security guard. “There’s no time to waste!”

“Hey!” the man shouted, chasing the girls down. “Get back here!”

They dashed through the entrance and down the main hallway. Music flooded the air.

“Oh no!” Lex shrieked. “The ceremony’s started!”

“Twenty seconds!” Park snapped.

Madison was at the head of the line. She kicked up her speed, her eyes trained on the closed double doors straight ahead.

A bomb. The school. The prime minister. All the students and guests.

Hurry.

Breathless, Madison slammed against a security guard manning the hall and ignored his shouts of protest.

“Oh!” Park said, biting down on her lip. “Sorry, sir! We’ll explain in a minute!”

“Faster!” Lex cried.

Madison reached the double doors to the auditorium first. She shoved them open with a grunt. The music came to an abrupt stop and all eyes turned in her direction—a sea of shocked, startled faces.

Park and Lex jumped on either side of her.

As Madison turned her gaze to the stage, she saw David Gordon, the prime minister, staring at her awkwardly.

He didn’t stop walking toward the podium. His right hand went out, mere inches from the microphone.

“Prime Minister Gordon!” Madison shrieked, her voice booming across the auditorium.
“Don’t touch the microphone! There’s a bomb rigged to it!”

The prime minister jumped back.

Secret Service agents jumped up like rockets, shoving Madison, Park, and Lex aside.

And every guest started screaming in the mad dash to exit the building.

Madison nearly fainted from fright. Every ounce of energy drained from her body. She felt Park and Lex holding her up as they searched for a way out of the converging mass of bodies.

Someone grabbed Park’s arm. She glanced up and saw Sister Brittany looking down at her.

“Are you sure?” Sister Brittany asked nervously.

“Yes!” Park said, lifting her voice above the commotion. “Where’s Emmett McQueen?”

“Emmett?” Sister Brittany shook her head. “He left here about two minutes ago. I saw him heading for the side exit.”

“He killed Damien—and he rigged the podium with a bomb!” Lex screamed. “We have to find him!”

Sister Brittany’s face contorted with rage.
“What?”

Madison experienced an odd resurgence of energy. Adrenaline hit her nerves like a double espresso, and she grabbed Park and Lex and bolted out of the auditorium. Instead of heading for the main entrance of the school, however, she hung a sharp left, bypassing the music room.

Ahead of them was the little-known side exit.

The door was already open.

They rushed through it and ran out onto the avenue, thankful that the overflowing crowds had engulfed most of the reporters. As they ran across the pavement, thunder cracked overhead, and a sudden downpour drenched the streets.

Lex pointed and said, “Look!”

Madison and Park followed her finger. They both caught a glimpse of Emmett McQueen running into Central Park.

“Get him!” Park screeched.

Lex led the zigzag run through the gridlocked traffic. She stepped on the bumpers of several cars in her mad race to catch up with Emmett, holding tight to the magic purse. The rain beat down hard on them as windshield wipers flicked on and pedestrians hurried into cabs or buildings.

“Be careful!” Madison said, her hair matted to her forehead. “Those heels are gonna break!”

Park was totally drenched. “Come
on
!”

They made it across to the west side of the avenue, and Lex was the first one to dart into the park, stepping into a huge puddle that splattered her with more water.

“Emmett!”

He was a good distance away, but Lex saw him freeze and spin around.

“Don’t move!” Park screamed, picking up her pace.

All around them, the park emptied as the few lone joggers and dog-walkers ran for cover from the downpour.

Emmett realized what was happening. He turned and broke into a run, but he stumbled and went down on the ground.

“He’s gonna try to make it across the park!” Madison said.

“He won’t!” Park shot back.

“Ouch!” Madison stumbled and stopped, her hands flying to her right leg. “Charley horse!”

The path in front of them forked, and they all knew from experience that it converged again just past the meadow. Lex ran right. Madison and Park went left, Madison breaking into a weak limp-trot.

“Stop running, Emmett!” Lex shouted, her own feet pumping the ground. “Everyone knows! You can’t get away!”

He powered along the path ahead of her.

Lex was surprised by her own physical stamina. She gulped in huge breaths of air and picked up her pace until she was finally within an arm’s length of Emmett’s backside. But instead of reaching out and trying to grasp his shirt, she pounced and took to the air—slamming against him with a hard grunt.

They stumbled to the ground in a splash of mud.

“Shit!” Lex screamed, thinking of her clothes and the magic purse.

“Let go of my arm, bitch!” Emmett screamed.

When Lex finally caught her breath, she realized she was under him, his weight pressing down on her and his elbows resting on her shoulders. She tried to squirm and fight, but his body was too long and—surprisingly—too strong. “Just give up!” she said. “Why…the hell…are you…fighting me?”

Emmett managed to yank his arm from her grasp long enough to reach into his back pocket.

A moment later, Lex saw the dagger in his hand; the blade caught a glint of light as the sharp point came down at her.

She flung her body to the left, gasping as the blade dug into the dirt beside her right shoulder. Rain poured down the side of her dirt-streaked face. An image of a healing mud mask flashed before her eyes, and she stopped worrying about any potential damage to her skin. “You little creep!” she seethed. “Did you actually think you’d get away with it?”

“Revenge,” Emmett grunted, “for what that nun did to my family!”

Lex tried to nab him with an uppercut, but missed.

Emmett lifted the blade again.

And in the flash of an instant, everything shifted.

There was a loud
whoosh,
and Lex saw Emmett literally skid off her with a yelp.

Park had used her own body as a battering ram, knocking him onto his back.

“My head!” Emmett screeched, placing a muddy hand on his scalp.

“How could you do it?” Park yelled. “How could you try to blow us all up?” She was kneeling on his chest, angrily batting him with her fists. “That’s for Damien!” she screamed, striking Emmett in the jaw. “That’s for trying to blow up the school. And
that’s
for ruining our clothes!”

Emmett’s face registered pain. “It would’ve worked!” he panted. “If you little
bitches
hadn’t butted in! I knew I should have killed you in the Chamber with my sword when I had the chance!”

Park grabbed him by his muddy shirt collar. “And you even betrayed your best friend!” she shrieked. “Concetta would’ve fried for killing Damien! You pathetic little wimp!” She let go of him and slammed both her fists down on his chest again.

With a loud grunt, Emmett bucked his entire body. The movement threw Park to the ground. He shot to his feet and held the blade out.

Park jumped up too. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she hunched her back and held out her arms like a wrestler who had just entered a ring.

Lex did the same. She took Emmett’s left side, blocking his path of escape.

They circled him slowly.

“So,” he said between breaths, “which one of y’all wants to get cut first?” He slashed the dagger to his right.

Park jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blade. “Ha!” she said. “Not quick enough, McQueen!” She ran a muddy hand through her muddy hair. “Not smart enough and not quick enough!”

“Like hell I’m not!” In a lightning-quick move, he lashed out at her again, this time grabbing hold of her wrist and nearly pulling her against his chest.

But before he could complete the capture, Park elbowed him in the ribs and broke free. She ducked when she saw the dagger swooping toward her.

“Damn!” Emmett steadied himself on the wet ground. He was out of breath, rain dripping into his eyes and down his face. He stared at Lex—and the stare held a gleam of determined evil.

Before she could even scream, Emmett’s left hand grabbed her shoulder. She felt herself being spun around. Then she felt fingers close around her jaw and the sharp tip of the blade against her throat. “Park!” she screamed, helpless.

“Don’t struggle!” Park answered back.

Emmett laughed. “Now who’s not fast enough, huh?” He pressed the dagger deeper into the flesh at Lex’s throat.

Park froze. For a still, silent moment, she actually felt a spark of panic in her chest. She didn’t know what to do. She stared at Lex’s tear-streaked face. She stared into Emmett’s cold, gleaming eyes. She—

“We got him!” Madison yelled, appearing out of nowhere. She stopped limp-running as she reached the scene, but her shoes slid out from under her and she skidded forward, slamming directly into Emmett, knocking the blade from his hand.

He slammed into Lex.

Lex slammed into Park.

They tumbled to the ground in a knot of arms and legs. Thankfully, Lex landed flat on the magic purse.

“Ouch!” Park screamed. “Get
off
me!”

The instant Madison rolled onto her stomach, something caught her eye. She wiped the mud from her face and stared across the gray, rainy light of midday. As if in slow motion, she saw the figure powering down the path, coming toward them with all the speed of a rocket.

Sister Brittany ran like an athlete in her Roger Vivier platforms. The long ends of her black habit swished and swirled and the Dolce & Gabbana rosary beads bounced against her hip.

Madison was so startled by the surreal image that she didn’t see Emmett fish the dagger from the little puddle of brown water.

In one final attempt to salvage what was left of his vengeful plot, Emmett arched over Park. He clasped the dagger between his palms, pulled it up and took aim.

“Don’t!” Madison screeched. She lunged forward onto Park, purposely placing her own body in the path of the oncoming blade.

Lex thrust her muddy magic purse up and out, and it caught the blade’s impact completely.

Emmett gritted his teeth.

“Freeze!”
a voice behind them screamed.

Breathless, exhausted, the rain pooling over their muddy faces, they all turned and stared up at Sister Brittany.

The fingers of her right hand held a gun, and it was pointed directly at Emmett. In her left hand was a gold badge. She was FBI.