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“You’re there now, so let’s get this done. I want to go home. Now, look at the dial and tell me what it’s doing.”
“It’s scrolling to the left.”
“Then turn right.” I turned right and tried to look like I was ambling casually.
Gemma and Marcia flanked me, Gemma saying loudly, “What’s the score?”
Marcia glanced around nervously and added, “What inning is it?”
“I thought you were supposed to be a foreign tourist,” Gemma whispered to Marcia. “A foreign tourist probably wouldn’t know about baseball.”
“No one here knows or cares if I’m a foreign tourist,” Marcia hissed back. “That was all in your head.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, guys, busy saving the world here.” Then I reported to Owen, “The dial’s moving to the right.”
“Then keep going that way. Stop and change directions when it moves to the left.”
I moved steadily toward the northwest corner of the deck, then I saw something attached to the wall there. “I think I’ve found it,” I told Owen.
Marcia and Gemma came to a stop beside me. “What is it? Where?” Marcia asked.
“That metal box there in the corner,” I said, fighting the urge to point.
“I don’t see anything,” Gemma said, and Marcia shook her head.
“It must be veiled,” I reported to Owen. “Gemma and Marcia don’t see it.”
“Then that’s probably it,” he said. “What does it look like?”
“It’s a metal box attached to the wall.”
“Can you get the cover open?”
“There’s a minor problem with that.”
o;The necklace is giving me fits.”
“See if it’s stronger in any one direction.”
The observation deck was crowded on a summer Sunday afternoon, so that was easier said than done. On the bright side, having to squirm my way through crowds meant that meandering all over the place wasn’t too terribly obvious. Gemma and Marcia joined me, and, giggling, they both leaned over and said into my earpiece, “Hello, Charlie.”
I gave them what I hoped was a withering glare and hissed, “Knock it off, you two. This is serious.”
“Who’s Charlie?” Owen asked.
“My friends are getting delusions of grandeur about being on a secret mission.” Gemma stuck her tongue out at me, and Marcia took her picture.
“That better not have film in it,” Gemma shrieked, lunging for Marcia’s camera. It was a shame I hadn’t yet found the magical transmitter because they were creating a nice diversion.
“Are you getting anything?” Owen asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell much of a difference.”
There was a tug on my sleeve and an older man said, “Excuse me, miss?”
“Just a sec,” I whispered to Owen. “Yes?” I said to the man.
He held a digital camera out to me and gestured toward his wife. “Could you take our picture?” He had a heavier Southern accent than I did.
