The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,127

their encounter with Artemis. When Cortland spoke of the latter, Landon remained silent and turned away, trying to pass as a humble hero, when in reality he was hoping to move past the subject.

Once Cortland was done, Jeremiah turned around in his seat and from two rows up, regaled the team with his version of what happened while Cortland and Landon were on the forty-seventh floor. Landon didn’t pay him much attention. He was too distracted by what he had learned. He just didn’t know what he was going to do about the Celia/Artemis situation. He played through the sequence of events over and over again in his head as he looked down at the blue folder of information on Project Herakles. Why was she doing it? he thought. How had he not seen it before? She was obviously working undercover, so why had she risked being found out to stop them? Was there something more about Project Herakles they weren’t telling him?

“ . . . and then I picked up this other guy and threw him into the pool!” Jeremiah explained with exuberance.

“Do not boast too much Pollux. We were lucky tonight,” Dr. Brighton interjected from the front of the aircraft. “It’s a wonder we managed to escape, let alone succeed at our mission. Something went terribly wrong this evening. They knew we were coming. So be grateful . . . nothing more, nothing less.”

Dejected, Jeremiah dropped his head and turned back in his chair. The rest of the team followed suit and sunk down in their chairs, silently awaiting their final descent into the Olympic Tower.

Landon continued to stare down at the folder, his finger running over the embossed image of the owl holding the branch. What could be so important she’d risk everything? Unable to withstand his curiosity any longer, Landon turned the folder around on his lap and pulled back the cover. The page was covered in illegible handwriting, obviously the work of a scientist, where poor penmanship is a requirement of the profession. The next-to-nonexistent lighting of the Alpha Chariot didn’t help in deciphering the text, but through some of the lines and familiar symbols, Landon understood that it contained the workings of some complex formulas amidst a hodgepodge of notes jotted in the margins and every available bit of space. He stared at it intently, squinting to read it, but he couldn’t make out a single word.

Continuing his search, he lifted the page up from the stack so he could peek at the next. It was covered in more illegible text. He pulled that page off the stack and then the next and the next. None of it seemed to make any sense. It was infuriating. He wanted an answer, but he was too unlearned to understand the science laid out across the numerous pages; however, after pulling off another sheet, Landon saw a page much different than the others. It was on a different paper, college-ruled and crinkled as if water had spilled on it then dried.

It can’t be, he thought as his eyes widened.

“Landon, what are you doing?” From her seat next to him, Peregrine’s voice startled Landon.

He hurriedly shut the folder and sat straight up in his chair. A strange sense of numbness flashed through his body, and he felt his ears get red as blood rushed to them. It was that feeling one gets when they’ve been discovered doing something they know is wrong, like being caught in a lie.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at that.” She leaned over in her chair as far as she could and whispered it to Landon.

“I know,” he replied soft enough so only she could hear. “I couldn’t help myself, you know?” Landon leaned over toward Peregrine and added in a remorseful tone, “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want to get in trouble on my first mission.”

Peregrine nodded in understanding. “So—” she sounded mischievous and overtaken by her own curiosity “—did you find out what was in the test tubes?” She motioned her head toward Landon’s pocket.

Landon pulled the three samples he’d found in the lab out of the pocket on his shoulder and held them loosely in his hand. As he stared down at them and slid his thumb down the edge of one of the labels, he replied, “No. I’m not even sure we needed two of them.”

“Oh,” Peregrine replied. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out back at the base. Good idea though. We wouldn’t want to leave