campus, I realized I’d be early for my meeting with Steve. I had forgotten the parking lots would be relatively empty since the semester had ended.
I pulled my mom’s red Altima into a space near the bookstore. The car was new when she bought it, but now it was almost ten years old. Even with regular maintenance, it had reached the point where things kept breaking. Last week, the air conditioner went out.
It was hot, even for the first week in June. Every year it seemed the heat came sooner and lasted longer. As I paid for an iced latte at the Union, I spotted Steve outside through the window. He was talking to someone at a table in the courtyard. His back was to me, but his cropped black hair and disciplined straight posture were unmistakable.
I felt a twinge of irritation to see him interviewing someone else. I thought the job was already mine. It was tacky of me, I admit it, but I went out and sat at a table behind him, close enough to overhear the conversation.
The girl he was talking to looked a couple of years older than me. She wore a white lab coat and had gorgeous curly red hair stuck on top of her head with a pencil. Great idea. I could feel the sweat on my neck. I looked through my bag for a scrunchie to put my hair up in a ponytail.
“You did well,” Steve said to her, punching something into an iPad. “Your payment’s been transferred to your account.”
“Good.” The girl checked her own tablet. “I’m out of there. I’m never going back.”
“Oh, no, Nicole. You’re not finished yet,” Steve said pleasantly. “We need you to make sure the lab analysis goes the right way.”
“I won’t stay there. I can’t. It’s too humiliating.”
“You stay until we tell you to go.” Steve’s voice turned cold as ice, sending a chill up my spine, and Nicole’s eyes widened, as if his tone shocked her too.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to hear this. I got up quietly and went back into the Student Union, holding my breath all the way. I watched through the window until Nicole left.
I went outside again, and Steve greeted me with that million dollar smile—I should say $150,000 smile.
“Hi, Nora,” he said. “Ready to be briefed?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure—”
“Maybe this will help.” He handed me an envelope. “I convinced my superiors you deserved a gesture of good faith. Take a look.”
The envelope held a check made out to me. “$50,000. You’re joking,” I said. “This can’t be legal.”
“Look closer,” Steve said. “Would that information be on the check if it was illegal?”
It was a MolyMo Corporation check. In the remittance advice, it said Barton Dig Scholarship. I’d never heard of MolyMo Corporation, but that didn’t mean anything.
“We call it a scholarship so we can write it off. Call it a signing bonus,” he said. “Of course it comes out of your other bonus if you find what we’re looking for.”
“And if I don’t find what you’re looking for?”
“Keep it for your trouble—and your loans paid off too. We won’t forget.”
“What are you looking for?” I said. “And what makes you think I even know how to find whatever it is?”
“This.” He picked up an electronic device sitting on the table. It fit in the palm of his hand. “You stick this probe end into the dirt at four different places in the tunnel at Dr. Barton’s dig. While it’s set, push each of these four buttons. Twenty seconds each. That’s it. Meet me here in three weeks with the scanner, and you’re done.”
“Dirt,” I said. “You want to test the dirt?”
“What did you think?” He burst out laughing. “It was some terrorist plot? Not that exciting. We’re looking for what are called rare earth elements—though they’re actually minerals. It’s boring stuff, but the world turns on boring things more than people realize. These minerals are worth a fortune to those who know how to use them. What my company is paying you is nothing
I pulled my mom’s red Altima into a space near the bookstore. The car was new when she bought it, but now it was almost ten years old. Even with regular maintenance, it had reached the point where things kept breaking. Last week, the air conditioner went out.
It was hot, even for the first week in June. Every year it seemed the heat came sooner and lasted longer. As I paid for an iced latte at the Union, I spotted Steve outside through the window. He was talking to someone at a table in the courtyard. His back was to me, but his cropped black hair and disciplined straight posture were unmistakable.
I felt a twinge of irritation to see him interviewing someone else. I thought the job was already mine. It was tacky of me, I admit it, but I went out and sat at a table behind him, close enough to overhear the conversation.
The girl he was talking to looked a couple of years older than me. She wore a white lab coat and had gorgeous curly red hair stuck on top of her head with a pencil. Great idea. I could feel the sweat on my neck. I looked through my bag for a scrunchie to put my hair up in a ponytail.
“You did well,” Steve said to her, punching something into an iPad. “Your payment’s been transferred to your account.”
“Good.” The girl checked her own tablet. “I’m out of there. I’m never going back.”
“Oh, no, Nicole. You’re not finished yet,” Steve said pleasantly. “We need you to make sure the lab analysis goes the right way.”
“I won’t stay there. I can’t. It’s too humiliating.”
“You stay until we tell you to go.” Steve’s voice turned cold as ice, sending a chill up my spine, and Nicole’s eyes widened, as if his tone shocked her too.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to hear this. I got up quietly and went back into the Student Union, holding my breath all the way. I watched through the window until Nicole left.
I went outside again, and Steve greeted me with that million dollar smile—I should say $150,000 smile.
“Hi, Nora,” he said. “Ready to be briefed?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure—”
“Maybe this will help.” He handed me an envelope. “I convinced my superiors you deserved a gesture of good faith. Take a look.”
The envelope held a check made out to me. “$50,000. You’re joking,” I said. “This can’t be legal.”
“Look closer,” Steve said. “Would that information be on the check if it was illegal?”
It was a MolyMo Corporation check. In the remittance advice, it said Barton Dig Scholarship. I’d never heard of MolyMo Corporation, but that didn’t mean anything.
“We call it a scholarship so we can write it off. Call it a signing bonus,” he said. “Of course it comes out of your other bonus if you find what we’re looking for.”
“And if I don’t find what you’re looking for?”
“Keep it for your trouble—and your loans paid off too. We won’t forget.”
“What are you looking for?” I said. “And what makes you think I even know how to find whatever it is?”
“This.” He picked up an electronic device sitting on the table. It fit in the palm of his hand. “You stick this probe end into the dirt at four different places in the tunnel at Dr. Barton’s dig. While it’s set, push each of these four buttons. Twenty seconds each. That’s it. Meet me here in three weeks with the scanner, and you’re done.”
“Dirt,” I said. “You want to test the dirt?”
“What did you think?” He burst out laughing. “It was some terrorist plot? Not that exciting. We’re looking for what are called rare earth elements—though they’re actually minerals. It’s boring stuff, but the world turns on boring things more than people realize. These minerals are worth a fortune to those who know how to use them. What my company is paying you is nothing
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