I moved back to Devin and Anavi, putting a hand around each of their waists. “We’ll just be leaving now,” I said.
“You’re not going anywhere,” the head of security countered, smiling coldly.
That was when James’s shout rang out. He and Maddy stood inside the entrance, having shown right on schedule, and he had his phone raised over his head. “I have to hit one button to transmit this entire thing live, immediately. I think I’ll call it Security Lady Attacks Defenseless Student Journalists.”
Gadget broken, Security Lady had no way to prevent him from broadcasting. I returned her smile, just as coldly.
Or almost. My smile might have included a hint of gloating.
Maddy added a threat to James’s. “In case you don’t know, that feed is showcased on the Daily Scoop’s homepage, but that means all the visitors to the Daily Planet site will see it too,” she said. “Live.”
The nearby elevators binged and people poured off them, including the sympathetic man from the experiment and the rest of the Warheads.
They didn’t look so warlike anymore. They looked . . . dazed. Best of all, when they walked into the lobby, it wasn’t in any kind of sync. The man nodded to me, a thanks in it.
The head of security turned away from me to James and Maddy, “What do you want?”
I spurred Anavi and Devin forward. “They’re here for us. Like I said, we’ll just be leaving.”
The head of security and her team growled at that, but what could they do? Nothing. Especially when the research man stepped up and said, “Let them go.”
Maddy came forward to meet us, and James backed to a door and held it open, his phone still overhead until everyone else made it outside.
James shut the door, and breaking into a jog, said, “We’d better run.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I was already broadcasting,” James said, “the entire time. We need to get a story up fast. Might take longer if they come after us.”
“Excellent point,” I said, smiling.
A taxi sat at the curb and I wasn’t surprised at all to see my grinning friend behind the wheel. “Need a ride, big tipper?” he asked.
I climbed in the passenger side. The others piled into the back.
Security goons were pouring out the front door, and even the CEO’s mother-slash-assistant and the front desk receptionist were with them. I pressed the button to roll down the window.
“Your CEO can email me any statement of response,” I called out to them. “He’s got my address.” Then I told the cab driver, “Earn your money. Get us out of here.”
He floored it away from the curb with his typical screech, and asked, “Where to?”
“The Daily Planet Building,” I said, “and make it fast.”
My phone buzzed in my bag, and I bit back another grin. The message was a question mark.
Fill you in later, I tapped out, right now I’ve got a story to write.
CHAPTER 26
I already had the story half-composed in my head by the time we got to the Morgue. I banged it out as quickly as I could, while James pumped Devin and Anavi for details, and Maddy helped Devin design the graphics to go along with it.
James also edited his video to embed within the text. This time, he did want an also-contributed credit. He was going over my copy now.
We’d turned off our phones and taken the receivers for the office’s dinosaur landlines off the hook, not wanting to risk any cease-and-desist calls. I had to admit I was a little surprised Perry hadn’t been by to check in on us yet. But I could be thankful for small favors. This would be a coup for the Daily Planet—and an even bigger one for the Scoop.
The story it told was of a principal in bed with industry. Of students privileged above others because they were taking part in a secret experiment started without their consent, one that shouldn’t have taken place on living subjects, or at all. Anavi hadn’t yet turned in the permission form they’d sent home for her parents to sign, which only gave approval for her to leave school property and gave no details on the experiment itself, so in the story it went. Exhibit A.
The story also said that the company in question had been days away from demonstrating the entire thing to the military-industrial complex, an ethical breach its shareholders should not reward unless they supported the idea of black ops projects that violated international law and used children.
So what if my rhetoric was heated? They’d almost stolen the selves of two of my friends.
Friends.
I had friends, plural, friends who knew more about me than I’d ever let anyone see. Except for SmallvilleGuy.
I still couldn’t believe he’d come through by finding a way to send Daisy into the sandbox in his place. He didn’t break the rules and take the risk himself, but he had been there for me like he’d said he wanted to be. Maybe I should make hoping for things a habit.