amp gusts tugged at my flimsy Gap poncho. A steady drizzle tapped techno beats on the hood drawn over my head. Once more, I wished I’d worn my North Face jacket. Too late. I was soaked.

Sodden hair clung to my face and shoulders, wilted by the rain, humidity, and stifling heat. My sweat faucets were working overtime.

Ignoring my discomfort, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Surveillance.

Crouched behind a boulder on Turtle Beach, Kit’s binoculars in hand, I studied the back entrance to the Loggerhead compound. Inside the fence, forty yards distant, the grounds appeared abandoned.

“All clear,” I called.

The boys emerged from the rocks, one by one.

The early morning sky and roiling Atlantic were both the color of pewter. The sun had yet to penetrate the low-hanging fog.

Lousy weather, but excellent cover. Perfect for espionage.

Choppy surf had nearly scrubbed the mission. But the weather channel had predicted only passing squalls and ruled out the possibility of a major storm. If we hadn’t gone that day, it meant a week until our next opportunity.

My curiosity was far too pumped for that.

Shelton had agreed, which swayed Ben. Hi, outnumbered, had relented. The barf bag he brought had been put to use. Twice. Rough ride.

We bypassed the main dock, churning instead to a little-used equipment platform off Tern Point. At times, turtle researchers used the location to observe breeding activity on the beach. After nesting season, the area was empty and forgotten. The platform wasn’t visible from the buildings, and no one would go near it on a day like this. Our stealth was assured. Hopefully.

The rear gate to the LIRI complex was locked, as expected. Sunday was an off day so the shuttle ran only at noon and dusk. Few worked, usually those with patients requiring care. We’d arrived a little past nine, hoping to find the complex empty.

Despite the ghost-town appearance, one of two souls was certain to be present. Sam and Carl, security guards extraordinaire, alternated weekends. One or the other would be manning the security booth, perhaps with one eye on the monitors. Perhaps with both shut.

In any case, we knew how to avoid detection. At least, we thought we did. This caper was the first time we’d put theory into practice.

Breaking in should be easy. We were about to find out.

Our target was Lab Six in the rearmost building of the cluster. Hi had overheard his father griping that Karsten had closed the building several weeks earlier, giving no explanation. The doors were now locked at all times.

Odd, that. The Loggerhead labs usually ran at full capacity, with waiting lists. The closure would burden operations, cause logjams for equipment, and rankle staffers.

Whatever Karsten’s reason, I wasn’t questioning our luck. I wanted a name from that dog tag and intended to get it.!!!Sneak in, sneak out. Don’t get caught.

Hi read my mind. “We can still back out. My parents will flip if we’re busted. My mother may even drop dead.”

“We don’t need another reaming from Karsten,” Shelton said. “He’d ban us forever.”

“We won’t get caught.” I tried to sound firm. “Our plan is solid.”

Though Shelton and Hi radiated apprehension, neither would back down in front of the other.

Ben looked stoic. As usual.

Dropping the binoculars to my chest, I turned to bolster my troops. Captain. Squad leader.

First, my entry-man. “Shelton, you can pick locks in a heartbeat.” I patted his shoulder. “You know you can. I’ve seen you practice hundreds of times.”

Uneasy nod.

“Ben, the digital recorder for the security cameras is broken, right? You said your dad is bringing the replacement next week.” Temple tap. “That means no tape.”

This was key. There wouldn’t be a recording for Karsten to review. We just had to avoid live detection.

Ben gave a tight smile, mocking my “master criminal” imitation. I nodded back.

Raising the binoculars, I ran a quick recheck of the compound. Nothing stirred.

“The ferry’s not due for two and a half hours. The island is deserted, except for security, and those bozos never pay attention. We’re only in the open a few seconds, tops.” I squared my shoulders. “Our plan will work.”

Rain ticked the rocks, the leaves, and branches overhead. Still sensing doubt, I attempted the Jedi mind trick, willed them to agree.

“I could watch the boat?” Hi suggested hopefully.

“We need you.” Shelton was back on board. “You’ve been inside Lab Six. We haven’t.”

“Once,” Hi whined. “One time. My dad grabbed something and we left.” A raised hand waved off my response. “I know what you’re going to say! I’m the only one who can work the sonicator. Lucky me.” Big sigh. “Fine. I’ll sonicate.”

“Then let’s go,” I said, allowing no time for a wimp out.

“I should’ve written a will.” Hi dropped to a squat, tightened his sneakers, then bounced into a sprinter’s pose. “Okay. Just yell ‘go.’”

“Don’t crowd me at the fence.” Shelton was gripping his tools so tightly I thought he might break them. “I need space to work.”

I turned to Ben. “Ready?”

Ben nodded. Had he spoken since we’d set foot on the island? Maybe not. But I was damn sure he was ready.

One last peek up the trail. All clear.

“Go!”

We shot along the path, water pluming from our sneakers.

Twenty seconds to the enclosure.

The chain-link fence was covered with green nylon sheeting and topped with razor wire. Climbing it wasn’t an option. The gate consisted of a pair of fence sections hinged and set on wheels. A stout padlock secured the segments when closed. Basic, but effective.

Shelton dropped to one knee to assess his target.

Being the smallest, yours truly was the designated lookout. Pressing one eye to the fence, I peered into the enclosure. Ben and Hi took cover behind a stand of bushes.

Shelton unwrapped his kit, purchased months earlier on eBay. He practiced with the tools daily, boasted he could pick any lock in under thirty seconds. Faced with the actual task, he looked a tad less confident.

Chewing a thumbnail, I watched Shelton insert and jiggle a small, L-shaped torsion wrench until it fit. He then pushed a half-diamond pick into the lock and gently applied pressure with the wrench.

Though the rain eased back to a sprinkle, the temperature showed no such mercy. Sweating from heat and trepidation, I promised myself a dozen showers.

I could hear a clock ticking in my head. Someone could spot Shelton or me at any moment. Or Sam/Carl, in an uncharacteristic burst of responsibility, could glance at the security monitors. We’d be dead ducks.

“Hustle!” I whispered. “You’re over one minute!”

Tongue between his teeth, eyes half-closed, Shelton focused on his task. I watched him wiggle the wrench, then push back on the lock. Wiggle. Push. Wiggle. Push.

Click.

Shelton smiled. “Got it!” He yanked downward and the lock popped free.

I eased open the gate. Hi and Ben materialized from the shrubbery and bunched behind me. I hung the padlock from the chain-linking, ready for re-locking on our way out.

Next came the dangerous part.!!!Deep breath.

After a thumbs-up, I raised my fingers and mouthed the words. One. Two. Three. We shot through the breach and darted left along the fence line.

For five terrifying seconds we were on wide-open grass, exposed to security cameras and to anyone in the main yard. Unavoidable. No cover. Like frightened mice, we scurried toward safety.

Adrenaline pumping, we rounded the corner of the building containing Lab Six, and squeezed behind it.

Hearts pounding, we listened for sounds to suggest that we’d been spotted.

Silence.

After counting to sixty, we bumped fists, pleased with ourselves for clearing the first hurdle. We were off the camera grid.

Taking the lead, I crept along the rear of the building until a small alcove came into view. The service door.

Phase two.

Shelton kicked into gear. Though the door lock was cake, the deadbolt was tricky. Wrench. Pick. Shelton raked the pins, coaxing them into proper alignment.

Minutes ticked by.

“Bingo.” Shelton slid back the bolt.

The door swung inward, revealing blackness beyond.