Forever Begins Tomorrow Read Free Page A

us nearly died in the process, and all we managed to find out from it was that B.G., whoever he or she is, has black hair!”
    â€œShhh!” said Hap. “I’m reading!”
    I am sorry I am not able to reveal myself to you. It is impossible at this time. I can, however, tell you this: I am fairly certain I know Black Glove’s identity. Unfortunately, I cannot act without positive proof. You must continue to be wary. The enemy is desperate—and dangerous.
    I want to share a clue I uncovered recently—a scrap of paper with the following symbols:
    !A@ @% ## )!$ #& @(
    I am sure this is significant, but I can’t make head or tail of it. Perhaps you will have more success with it than I have.
    Good luck.
    A friend
    â€œLooks like a bunch of comic-strip cuss words,” said Wendy, squinting at the screen.
    â€œCould be a substitution code,” said Ray.
    â€œCould be,” agreed Roger. “Let’s feed the symbols into Sherlock. After all, that’s the kind of thing we initially intended him for.”
    â€œAlready done,” said Rachel. “It happens automatically with anything that goes into the scanner.”
    â€œGreat,” said Wendy. “Now if we can just ask Sherlock the right questions, we might actually get somewhere with this.”
    â€œI have a possible solution,” said Sherlock, about forty minutes later. The computer spoke through a voice simulator programmed to sound like Basil Rathbone, the actor who had played Sherlock Holmes in so many movies.
    â€œDisplay!” said Roger.
    A red light began to flash on the monitor as Sherlock listed the results of its long series of calculations.
    Wendy scanned the screen and let out a low whistle. “Sherlock, you are a plasmagoric genius. In fact, you’re almost as smart as me!”
    â€œThank you,” said the computer. “Actually, it was elementary.”
    Paracelsus was sitting on a shelf above the computer. Now the bronze head opened its eyes and muttered, “Smart-aleck machines give me a headache.”
    â€œThank you,” repeated Sherlock. “Actually, it was elementary.”
    No one heard. The gang had already barreled out of their headquarters and was sprinting toward the trio of dune buggies they had checked out of the motor pool.
    â€œI don’t get it,” said Ray, scrambling over the side of the buggy he shared with Trip. “How did the code work?”
    â€œLater!” yelled Wendy, from her own duner. “If Sherlock is right, Black Glove’s probably got a transmitter in place already. It could be spilling Project Alpha’s secrets to G.H.O.S.T. right this minute!”

    Â 
    The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
    â€œTake the west beach, Roger,” called Hap Swenson as he settled in beside Wendy. “Then cross the island when we get past the motor pool.”
    â€œGot you,” said Roger. “Hang on, Sis,” he added to Rachel as he switched on the duner’s electric engine. He slammed his foot onto the pedal. Current flowed into the silent engine and with a spray of dust the dune buggy shot forward.
    Rachel, the wind whipping through her outrageous flame-red hair, clutched the side of the buggy. It looks like there might be a real storm brewing , she thought, glancing at the sky. Her stomach was already jumping with that peculiarly pleasant excitement that accompanied the chase. A good storm, if not too severe, would add to the fun.
    The dune buggy bounced over a rock and Rachel tightened her grip. A grim smile touched her lips. Where else could a pair of twelve-year-olds have this kind of vehicle at their disposal?
    She glanced over her shoulder. The others were close behind, with Wendy in the lead. The look of fierce joy that lit the Wonderchild’s face made Rachel laugh.
    â€œWhat’s up?” asked Roger.
    â€œI was just remembering how Wendy drove her parents’ Volkswagen through the doors of the