The Checkmate Hero

The Checkmate Hero

Tom Lee

Copyright 2012 by Tom Lee

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

Warm Santa Ana winds from the Southern California deserts blew into San Diego, bringing relief from the unusually cold January weather. The thermometer at the lifeguard building overlooking the cove in Solana Beach read eighty degrees. It was only eleven o'clock in the morning, but the small strip of sand below had already been turned into a quilt of beach towels and boogie boards. The sun worshipers weren't about to miss this winter gift.

But in the hills a half mile away the day's beauty was wasted on Bryan Matthews. For the last three hours, Bryan had sat in his room, the shades drawn so the morning sunlight didn't reflect off the screen of his new notebook computer.

A sudden knock on his door made him jump slightly. He forced his eyes away from the computer screen and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses to the top of his head where they disappeared into a mass of blond, curly hair.

Come in, he said quietly while rubbing his tired eyes. He recognized the knock. It was his mom coming to tell him to go outside on such a beautiful Saturday morning.

The door opened and a tall, thin woman with a pretty smile stepped in. Bryan, honey, --

I know, Mom, I didn't realize it was so late.

Jake's here.

Jake? Bryan pushed his glasses back over his green eyes as if that would somehow make him believe what he had just heard. You're kidding!

Don't be so surprised. He is your next-door neighbor.

Yeah, but since we started seventh grade he only hangs out with the cool guys. What's he want?

I don't know. Why don't you ask him?

Mrs. Matthews stepped aside, and Jake, a wide shouldered, dark-haired boy walked into the room. He wore baggy brown shorts and a T-shirt.

Hey, Bry, Jake said. His usual smile was missing from his face.

Hey. Bryan stood up at his desk. He was three inches taller than Jake, but much skinnier. Bryan felt awkward and tried to remember how he used to greet Jake Lawson before Jake became the most popular seventh-grader in their junior high. Did they shake hands? Slap five? Touch knuckles the way the guys on the flag football team did? Bryan played it safe and jammed his hands in his pockets.

His mom pulled the shades up. There. At least now you can see so you won't trip over the mess in here. She started to leave and then stopped at the door. Can I get you a soda, Jake?

No thanks, Mrs. Matthews.

I'll leave you two alone. If you guys get hungry, let me know.

Thanks, Mom.

After the door closed behind Bryan's mother, a silence filled the room. Jake looked around at the familiar walls. They contained the same posters, one of Junior Seau, and one of the solar system. The bookcases contained the same books and the same soccer trophies. Even the same Nerf gun target hung on the back of the bedroom door. Everything about the room looked the same, and yet it all seemed so strange, so foreign. It was hard for Jake to believe that he had spent so much time in this same room.

Jake had moved to Solana Beach in the second grade and had quickly become good friends with Bryan. Bryan, with no annoying brothers or sisters around, had the perfect room for a hangout. Jake looked around again, remembering how he and Bryan used to lay around for hours in this same room, just talking about nothing, playing games, reading Mad magazines together. But now he felt like he didn't belong here anymore.

What's up, Jake?

Nothing. Jake picked up a model of a Tyrannosaurus skeleton.

How come you're not surfing with your friends?

I don't know.

Bryan plopped down on the edge of his bed. So you want to do something?

Jake put the skeleton down and looked Bryan in the eyes. You ever talk to Jennifer Kerwin?

Sometimes. She's in my Math class. She's really smart.

She's the cutest girl in school, too. And I think she likes me.

Cool, Bryan said with no enthusiasm in his voice, hoping Jake wouldn't notice that just the mention of Jennifer's name had sent a rush of red into his cheeks.

Did you know she might have to move?

Why?

I can't tell you unless you promise to . . . you can't tell anyone. I mean it. Well, maybe Jimmy, and maybe --

Tell me what?

Jake tightened his jaw. You have to swear you'll keep it a secret.

Okay, okay, I'll keep it a secret.

As he eased himself down into Bryan's desk chair, Jake looked around as if someone might be eavesdropping. I'm in Jennifer's History class.

Bryan's mouth curled up. That's no big secret.

Just listen. I was at her house about a month ago working on our semester project. We took a break and went out into her back yard and sat on the lawn drinking cokes. We were right below the open window of her dad's den. That's when we heard him. He was talking to Jennifer's mom. And we heard him say . . . Jake looked around again and lowered his voice. Someone broke into his computer at work -- and stole some plans.

Plans? Bryan leaned forward. What kind of plans?

Secret plans. His company makes military stuff, you know, like really high-tech weapons.

Bryan scratched his head once. How did they steal his plans? They must have had a ton of security.

I don't know. Jake stood and circled the room while he talked. All I know is that Mr. Kerwin said that he was lucky -- that the whole country was lucky. The plans that were stolen were old ones, or they didn't work or something. But if they had stolen any part of the current plans, his whole project would be shut down, and he'd have to move to Oklahoma. Jennifer told me later that the thing he's working on is a really big secret -- some kind of super-weapon.

Bryan flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. You said all this happened a month ago. Why are you telling me this now?

Jake stopped his circling and stared at Bryan for a moment. Jennifer thinks it's going to happen again. And no one will believe her. That's why I came here. She needs your help.

She told you she needs my help? Bryan leaned up on his elbow.

No. But she needs help from someone like you.

Bryan sat up and cocked his head. What could I do?

You and the Brainiacs can --

Don't call us that. Bryan rolled onto his stomach so he wouldn't have to face Jake.

Why? Isn't that the name of your computer club?

It's called the Brain Trust Computer Club.

Sorry, man, Jake said with a little laugh and slapped playfully at Bryan's shoulder. At least I didn't call you `computer geeks' like most of the guys do.

Bryan jumped off the bed and stared out the window. Just because my friends and I aren't as cool as you, doesn't mean --

Hey, I don't think you're a geek. I mean, like, how could I? We used to be friends.

But I'll bet you don't tell the other guys that, do you?

Jake rubbed his neck. His mouth twisted slightly into a guilty frown. They wouldn't understand.

Bryan sat back down at his desk, focusing on the computer screen.

Jake ran his hand through his long hair. I'm sorry, Bry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

Bryan shrugged, but said nothing.

Jake rested his hand on Bryan's shoulder. Remember when we used to play detective? We'd make up some mystery and leave clues around our yards. I hardly ever solved yours, but you always solved mine. I used to get mad and swear I'd never play again, but I always did, and I always thought that you were smarter than Sherlock Holmes.

Yeah, well remember when we used to play super-heroes with Eric? You guys would always ditch me.

No we didn't. You just were afraid to climb up in our tree fort.

That's because I wasn't strong enough to climb the rope, and you wouldn't let me use a ladder.

Super heroes don't go around using ladders.

You'd better get someone else to help. I never was good at being a hero.

Okay, so here's your big chance. What do you say?

Even if I wanted to, this is stuff for adults. I'm just a kid.

Maybe that's what we need. Jennifer told me she has a hunch that could explain how the plans are being stolen. But she wouldn't tell me what it is. All she said was that there aren't any adults who will listen to her. So what could it hurt if you and your friends try and prove that she's right?

Bryan leaned forward, the challenge of solving a mystery starting to bubble deep inside him. But you don't know what her hunch is?

No. Jake motioned with his head to follow him. His smile had finally returned. So let's go find out.

Chapter 2

As Jake stepped out of the bedroom and walked toward the family room, Bryan followed slowly, his head suddenly preoccupied with a dozen questions. Like a master detective, his mind began thinking like a criminal. How would he steal plans from a top-secret computer? How would he get the proper IDs and passwords? What would he do if the computer files were encrypted?

Bryan stopped and shook his head once when he found himself walking out his front door. The detective in him blinked away. Where are we going?

Jake answered without looking back. Jennifer's.

Jennifer Kerwin's house? Bryan took a step back inside.

Jake smiled, walked back and then tugged on Bryan's upper arm. Yeah.

Now?

Now. Jake squinted against the bright sun, then stepped over to the garage and lifted the heavy one-piece door. If you're helping, she'll talk to us about the theft, so get your bike.

Bryan stopped after stepping into the garage. But she won't talk to me.

Why wouldn't she? Jake said as he pushed Bryan gently toward the mountain bike propped up against an old refrigerator. You've talked with her before.

Bryan walked slowly, as if in a trance, until he touched the bike's handlebars. But that was in school, not in her house.

You'll be with me. She'll talk to you.

But I . . . But I . . .

Look, Jake said patiently. I know you want to solve the mystery. I know you want to help Jennifer. So what's the problem?

Nothing, Bryan forced his voice to say, but his shaking legs barely carried him out of the garage.

Three minutes later both boys were pumping their mountain bikes up a steep, narrow asphalt road. The hot sun and hard climb helped Bryan forget his nervousness. But as they turned right at the top of the hill, he saw a large, white house halfway down the block, and once again his legs turned to spaghetti.

Everyday after school Bryan rode out of his way to go past the large, white house that sat on the high bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. And everyday he hoped for and feared the same thing -- that Jennifer would see him and wave. The thought that within minutes he would actually be inside her house filled his stomach with butterflies -- big, mean, gut-kicking butterflies.

Bryan pulled alongside Jake. Maybe we should just call her. Her mom probably doesn't want us hanging around.

Don't be a wimp.

I'm not.

Yes, you are.

Okay, I'm a wimp. Let's go back.

No. Besides we're here. Jake pedaled ahead and then turned into the brick driveway that looped by the front door before it wound around toward the three-car garage.

Bryan followed, stopping his bike next to Jake's.

Just let me do the talking, Jake said as he swung his leg over the bike seat.

I've got no problem with that.

After Jake rang the doorbell, he looked at his reflection in the tall, narrow window next to the double doors. He pushed once at his hair, then nodded his approval of his own looks.

Bryan started to peer in the same window, but suddenly it was filled with the body of a large man. He raised his eyes slowly, then froze when he saw the man's bearded face frowning down at him. The man moved out of his sight, and then Bryan heard the door open.

Hi, Mr. Kerwin, Jake said while flashing his biggest smile. Is Jennifer home?

Mr. Kerwin's bald head nearly reached the top of the door. His stomach hung slightly over his belt. He looked to Bryan like a bald Grizzly bear.

I'll get her. The man's voice was surprisingly soft and gentle.

When he turned to go, Bryan tugged at Jake's T-shirt, hoping for one last try at convincing Jake to leave. But then Jennifer appeared in the entryway. Bryan could only stare. She wore a white tennis skirt and blue polo shirt, and her long jet-black hair was braided and tied off with a white ribbon.

Jake. Hi. Hi, Bryan. What are you guys doing here?

We just came to talk.

I've got to go to a tennis lesson in a little while.

It won't take long.

Sure, okay. Come on out to the back patio.

Jake started to follow before noticing Bryan was standing still. He grabbed Bryan by the shoulder. You, too, buddy.

The three kids sat at a patio table next to a small swimming pool. Jennifer's mother, a petite woman who was also wearing a tennis skirt, served cokes, and then left.

"This is really a rad