·Sweet-talk: Because sweet-talking might make the sweet-talkee suspicious about the sweet-talker's plans and motivations - not to mention that even the burliest members of the security staff are probably afraid of taking us into the sublevels and getting . . . you know . . . killed.
·Teleportation: Sure, Liz says she has an excellent working theory, but she doesn't have a prototype yet, and without a prototype it's pretty much a moot point.
·That thing Bex's parents did in Dubai with liquid nitrogen, and earthquake simulator, and a ferret: Because we don't have a ferret.
__________
It only took three weeks.
I know that sounds like a lot of time - and it is. But also, it isn't. Because . . . well . . . in the clandestine services, nothing ever happens quickly (except when it does). Nothing is ever, ever easy (except when it is). And, most of all, nothing ever goes perfectly according to plan (except in the movies).
It's dirty work that is almost universally slow, tedious, repetitious, mundane, morose, and just in general boring (except for the parts when people might die).
We could have done it sooner and it still wouldn't have felt soon enough. We could have planned for years and we still wouldn't have felt ready. So, yeah. It took three weeks.
For Liz, to crack the code. For Macey and Bex to gather the gear. For me to plan our way inside.
By one a.m. on the night in question, we were making our way down the third-floor corridor as quickly and as quietly as we could without making it obvious that we were trying to be both quick and quiet.
The Operatives fully understood that the first step in Denial and Deception Operations in denial. And it's way easier to deny being involved in some rogue, undercover operation if you're wearing jammies.
"There's still something I don't understand," Liz whispered. "If Mr. Solomon is so desperate to have this book or whatever it is that is located inside Sublevel Two, then why did he make it impossible to access Sublevel Two?"
"Because he wanted to make it impossible for the wrong people to access it," I said peeking around the corner, where, as if on cue, Agent Townsend bounded down the stairs. I threw myself against the wall, forgetting that we hadn't broken any rules at that point and there were at least a dozen perfectly valid reasons we might have been there.
But I'm a chameleon. I'll take being invisible over being justifiable any day.
His footsteps echoed like thunder in the empty hallway.
I didn't want him as I whispered, "It's time."
At 0135 hours, The Operatives proceeded to the small stairway beneath the Grand Stairs, but they didn't stop at the mirror that concealed the elevator to the sublevels.
At 0136, Operative Morgan's stomach began to growl, and the entire team realized the importance of not skipping meals prior to incredibly important covert operations!
Bex led us to the small closet at the base of the stairs and pulled out a backpack stocked with utility belts, cables, and a very handy gadget that Macey had made in her Intro in Accessories class (which is never what the new students think it's going to be about).
And as we stepped outside, I realized that it was warmer. Spring was coming, but I had barely noticed.
"Look." I stopped and looked at my three best friends in the whole world. "We've only got three minutes until the guards are going to patrol this sector, and I totally understand if you don't want to go. I don't know if this is going to work, and even if it does, we don't know exactly what we're going to face down there."
From the look on Bex's face, I knew there was no way she was going to be left out of anything covert. And dangerous. And utterly gray in the black-and-white spectrum of right and wrong.
Still, I had to go on. "If anything happened to any of you . . ." I started, but then I couldn't finish.
"So if there's a computer down there that we've got to hack into in sixty seconds, you're going to do it?" Liz asked, strapping a belt on over her pajamas.
"And you really think I'm going to miss this?" Bex pulled her belt from the top of the pile.
We all looked at Macey. "You need me," she said reaching for her belt like a queen taking her scepter.
As I leaned down and disabled the security devices around the small grate, I felt Bex watching over my shoulder.
"I always thought the elevators to Sublevel Two put us somewhere over there." She pointed in the opposite direction. I smiled up at her. "But we're not going to the elevators, are we?"
At precisely 0147, The Operatives tested their theory that the mirrors in the new compacts from McHenry Cosmetics are the appropriate sixe to slide over and deflect the laser beams that cover the opening of all ventilation points.
(The Operatives were correct.)
At precisely 0207, The Operatives tested the new Electromagnetic Signal Reallocator (Official Name and Patent Pending) that Operative Sutton had developed for the occasion.
(It was successful.)
At precisely 0208, Operative Baxter said a prayer. And jumped.
The airshaft was small. Crazy small. I'm-really-glad-I-skipped-dinner-after-all small.
There was no way a grown man could have fit. It was an entrance that was only suitable for a girl. A Gallagher Girl, I thought as I slid down the cable like it was a fireman's pole, the clamp in my hand growing hot, searing into my gloves as I zoomed into the depths of the ground.
I knew Bex was below me, but I couldn't see a thing, Macey and Liz were above me, and I hoped that was why I couldn't see even the faintest hint of light above me as I hurtled into what felt like the world's tiniest volcano.
Deeper and deeper I went. Faster and faster I fell. I felt the air rushing past me, my hair blowing away from my face, the cable burning hotter in my hands until . . .