Free Code by Kathy Reichs Page A

embrace.
    Though the isle sat a mere thousand feet from the downtown peninsula, the ruined battlements seemed lost in time. No one ever went there.
    “At first, the British hanged pirates out there.” Hi was back on camera, skimming some sort of military encyclopedia. “Then, in 1781, George Washington ordered the construction of a fort.” Page flip. “The Confederate Army used Castle Pinckney as a POW camp. After that, the island became an artillery position, eventually a lighthouse.”
    “Now, mothballs.” Shelton made a wipe-away gesture. “Ghost town.”
    “I’ve cruised by there dozens of times,” Ben said. “Dumpsville.”
    “The perfect hiding place.” Hi clicked his tongue. “Well played, Señor Gamemaster.”
    “Fine.” Shelton sighed from the depths of his toes. “Put a visit on our to-do list.”
    My eyes drifted back to the images on my screen. Castle Pinckney had a brooding, ominous feel. Lonely. Foreboding.
    I was hooked.
    Watch check: six fifteen p.m. Plenty of daylight left.
    “Meet me at the dock in ten,” I said.
    “Done!” Hi swiveled his chair, propped a foot, and started lacing his Adidas.
    “Wait! What?” Shelton raised both hands. “Tonight? Why?”
    “We’ve got over an hour before dark.” I yanked my hair into a ponytail. “Let’s show Mr. Gamemaster how quickly Virals solve puzzles.”
    Ben took a moment to consider, then shrugged. “I’ll get
Sewee
ready.”
    “We’ve
got
to work on our decision-making process.” Shelton was shaking his head. “Right now, we just follow Tory over every cliff.”
    “Oh, boohoo,” I mocked. “Get moving.”
    “You’re going
down,
clown!” Hi slapped his hands together. “Tory, don’t forget the clue. We still don’t know how that image factors.”
    “Got it.”
    Three faces winked out as I slapped my laptop shut.

    “I’m taking Coop for a walk!”
    Kit’s head popped from the kitchen. “Now?”
    I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t ask more questions.
    Kit didn’t disappoint. “Okay, but be back before dark. It’s a school night.”
    “Promise, bye!”
    Coop and I shot down the front stairs and beelined to the dock. I heard another door open, turned to see Shelton hurrying from his unit.
    “I’m serious, Brennan.” Shelton had changed into white Nike gym shorts and a black
Walking Dead
hoodie. “My foot’s coming down. No more last-minute hijacks of my evenings.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    “Believe that.” He let the matter drop.
    I didn’t take Shelton too seriously. Though none of them would ever admit it, I think the boys secretly liked me bossing them around. Most of the time. Every snake needs a head.
    Hi and Ben were already aboard. We cast off, rounded Morris Island, and entered Charleston Harbor.
    The evening was pleasantly warm. Seagulls rode the thermals high above our heads, mirroring
Sewee
’s progress as we passed Fort Sumter and headed toward downtown.
    A tiny islet materialized just short of the peninsula. Low and rocky, its shore consisted of a dismal stretch of sand running a few hundred yards before melting into the waves. A weathered stone structure occupied a stretch of high ground at the island’s north end. Castle Pinckney.
    What was left of it, anyway.
    Loose stones littered the uneven ground. Whole trees grew from the crumbling mortar of the outer wall. Everything was soaked in pelican poop, and looked on the verge of collapse.
    “What a dump,” Ben grunted as he eased the runabout closer to shore.
    “How come no one ever restored it?” I asked. “Aren’t you Southerners crazy for preserving Civil War monuments?”
    “I think you mean the War of Northern Aggression,” Hi deadpanned in a prim Southern voice. “When ruthless Union troops invaded our sacred homeland to rob poor Dixie of her freedom. Being from Boston, it’s mostly your people’s fault.”
    My eyes rolled. “I lived in Westborough. All of New England isn’t Boston, like everyone down here thinks.”
    “All