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12
They reached the Gray brownstone without incident, Martha seeming surprised to see them. They told her they needed to update something on the computer in the secret lair before meeting up with Jazz and Seth. She didn’t question them, letting them in before going back to the kitchen
When they reached the basement, Nick hurried to the pocket door, sliding it open and dropping his backpack next to it. Seth’s old Pyro Storm costume—the one with the cape—hung on a rack beside a shelf of gadgets Jazz and Gibby had bought last spring. Night-vision goggles, a Geiger counter, high-powered binoculars, all things Gibby had taken apart and rebuilt, incorporating what she’d learned into Nick’s and Seth’s costumes.
Gibby sat in front of the computer, fingers flying along the keys as Nick stood over her shoulder. The Systemax was long gone, replaced by a machine far more powerful, with three separate screens, the middle one almost as big as Nick’s television. The wordLIGHTHOUSEappeared, along with a box to enter the password. As Gibby typed, she explained she was checking to make sure no one had tried to piggyback off their systems, tracking whatever they did like Burke had done to Nick’s phone. Nick hadn’t even thought of that. Nervously, he waited.
“I think we’re all right,” she said after a time. “But I’m going to use a Tor browser, just to be safe. Makes it harder to track.” She pulled it up, a light green screen with the picture of an onion next to a search box under the wordsCONGRATULATIONS! THIS BROWSER IS CONFIGURED TO USE TOR. YOU ARE FREE TO BROWSE THE INTERNET ANONYMOUSLY.
“Directory, right?” she asked. “That’s what you’re thinking?”
Nick nodded as he looked over her shoulder. “Seems simple enough. May not work, but at least it’s a start.”
“He might have wiped any mention of Martin,” Gibby warned him. “He did the same with Smoke and Ice, remember? We couldn’t find any trace of them after prom.”
“I know. But maybe we’ll get lucky. We deserve a break.”
She went to the website for Burke Tower. Across the top, a brightly colored banner with the Stars and Stripes waving next to a picture of Simon Burke, looking dangerously handsome in a black suit with a red tie. Underneath him, the wordsFOURTH OF JULY SPECTACULAR! JOIN US AS WE CELEBRATE AMERICA AND THE FUTURE OF NOVA CITY!
“Ugh,” Nick muttered. “With everything going on, I forgot about the holiday.”
Gibby clicked on the banner, bringing up another screen. Simon Burke would be speaking at sunset in front of Burke Tower as part of his mayoral campaign, to be followed by what was proclaimed to be the largest fireworks display in the city.
“Could be useful,” Gibby said. “At least we’ll know where he’ll be.” She clicked off the screen and scrolled down the first page until she got to the bottom. “Burke Pharmaceuticals,” she said, clicking on a link, bringing up another website with an obvious stock photo of two people wearing white lab coats and goggles. One held up a beaker filled with blue liquid, the other looking as if it was the greatest invention mankind had ever come up with. Farther down, another link that readABOUT US.
Gibby clicked on it as their phones chimed at the same time. “I got it,” Nick said, pulling out his phone. He clicked on the notification and pulled up the Lighthouse app. “Seth? Jazz? You there?”
“Yeah,” Seth said, and Nick clicked the speaker button, setting the phone down next to Gibby. “We’re at your house. Can’t tell if anyone’s home. Blinds shut. Can’t see inside.”
“App says she’s here,” Jazz said, voice crackling. “Anything on your end?”
“Not yet,” Gibby said. On the screen, a long directory had been pulled up, a list of names next to credentials. Scientists, doctors, lab techs. “Doing name search. Hold on.”
Nick held his breath.
A moment later, Gibby shook her head. “No Martin listed with Burke Pharmaceuticals.”
“Check the support staff,” Seth said. “In the building. A guard. A janitor. HR, something like that.”
“On it,” Gibby said, switching screens and scrolling more until she found another directory. It took another five minutes before she sat back with a sigh. “Nothing there, either.”
“Shit,” Nick muttered. “It was a long shot, but…”
“I really thought we’d find something,” Gibby finished for him.
“Why not just searchSimon Burkeand the nameMartin?” Jazz asked. “If there’s any connection, it might show up somewhere else.”
Gibby and Nick stared down at the phone, dumbfounded. Then Gibby snorted and shook her head ruefully. “Jazz, you’re amazing.”
“I know,” Jazz said. “But thank you for telling me.”
Gibby leaned forward and pulled up the browser once more, typing inSIMON BURKE MARTIN.
A dozen links popped up, but before Nick could get too excited, Gibby pointed out they were nothing more than the gossip pages in tabloids showing Burke out on the town, drinking martinis. She scrolled down farther, and Nick started to deflate. Nothing. Maybe Owen got the name wrong. Or worse, he was messing with them, sending them chasing after something that didn’t exist. He was about to admit defeat when Gibby said, “Wait. Hold on. I think I found something.” She frowned as she clicked on a link. “It’s a story from… twelve years ago. From a defunct Nova City blog. They haven’t updated anything in almost a decade.” She began to read. “‘Attorneys announced today that Burke Pharmaceuticals had reached a settlement agreement with Martin Underwood. Underwood, a security guard at Burke Tower, sued Simon Burke last year, claimingwrongful termination. While the details of the settlement are sealed, word on the street is that Burke paid well into six figures rather than proceeding to arbitration or a trial. Seems as if someone is keeping secrets. What does Simon Burke want to hide? What does Martin Underwood know about the goings-on in Burke Tower?’”
“That has to be him,” Nick breathed. “Right?”
“Maybe,” Gibby murmured, silently reading the rest of the article. “He… okay. It doesn’t saywhyhe was fired, or what happened to him after. Hold on. Let’s see if we can find Underwood somewhere else. If this is the right person, and he’s still in Nova City, we might be able to see where he lives.”
