“We hope to return with our classmates,” said Annika. “If not today, then someday soon.”

  They reached the lobby of the building.

  And saw two suspicious men in black suits lurking under the covered breezeway outside.

  One was staring at his phone, reading its screen. The other looked like he was waiting for someone to exit the building.

  “Do you know the phone number for the CMI?” Max whispered to Annika.

  “Yes. I have it programmed into my smartphone.”

  “Good. We need to call Charl. No, wait. Isabl. She’s a much faster driver.”

  29

  Annika speed-dialed Isabl.

  “She suggests we stay right where we are,” said Annika.

  Max took a step forward and looked out at the two men in suits.

  Big mistake.

  That one step forward put her directly in a blazing shaft of sunlight.

  The man eyeballing the doorway nudged the man working with his phone. Then he pointed. Straight at Max.

  “Um, staying right here may not be such a good idea,” she said. “Come on.”

  Max led the way back into the building. Annika followed.

  They reached the reception desk where they had been granted access to the Archives.

  “Excuse me,” Max said as politely as she could so she wouldn’t sound panicked. “Is there a back door?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, uh, we’ve already seen the front door. We’re both visiting Jerusalem for the first time and, um, we want to see as much new and interesting stuff as we can. It’s like Dr. Einstein said: ‘The important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.’”

  “So true,” said the receptionist. She pointed down a hallway. “Go up this corridor and take a right. You’ll be outside on the campus. The Bloomfield Science Museum is just across the lawn. Follow the footpaths. They have a fascinating exhibit about Professor Einstein.”

  “Thank you!”

  Max grabbed Annika by the hand and practically dragged her up the hallway.

  Behind them, they could hear heavy footfalls followed by two brusque men speaking roughly to the receptionist.

  “Where did those two children go?” said one.

  “Tell us. Quick,” said the other.

  “Have you gentlemen made arrangements to tour the Archives?” the receptionist replied calmly.

  “No! We’re simply looking for those two missing children.”

  “Gentlemen, this is an institute of higher learning. The Hebrew University. The only ‘children’ we allow in here are college freshmen…”

  The voices faded. Max was pretty sure the receptionist (who seemed like a pretty tough cookie) would call the police if the two men persisted in barging into the building.

  Max and Annika raced out an exit that took them into what looked like a small pocket park—a lawn dotted with shade trees and slender evergreens.

  “The museum’s over there,” said Annika, who had Google-mapped a walking (or running) route to their destination because it was, of course, the logical thing to do. “We should be there in six minutes.”

  “Five if we run like our lives depend on it,” said Max, breathing hard.

  “Do they?” panted Annika.

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. I’m like ninety-nine percent sure those two men in the black suits are related to some bad guys I met back in New York City.”

  “Based on?”

  “The New York goons were wearing black suits, too.”

  “That is a logical conclusion, I suppose,” said Annika. “Although it may not be wise to harbor prejudices based on suit colors.”

  “Trust me on this one, Annika.”

  “Of course.”

  Annika picked up her pace and led the way. They were running down a tree-lined cobblestone path that took them to a street.

  “There’s the museum!” said Max. “Text Isabl. Tell her to meet us there.”

  “On it.”

  Annika’s thumbs danced across the glass screen on her phone while she jogged up the winding road ahead of Max. Annika was an awesome multi-tasker.

  “Isabl texted back,” Annika reported. “She’ll be here in ten minutes!”

  “Good.” Max chanced a look over her shoulder.

  She didn’t like what she saw.

  One hundred yards behind them, the two men in black suits were rounding a bend, pointing at the two girls who had foolishly paused to catch their breath on the terrace outside the science museum’s main entrance.

  “What’s inside?” Max asked Annika.

  Annika consulted her phone again. “Child-friendly, hands-on exhibitions,” she read from her search results.

  “So there will be lots of little kids?”

  “A logical assumption,” said Annika. “Especially near the ‘Blue Blocks Station’: a large area to ‘play, build, and experiment with huge blue blocks in various shapes and sizes.’”

  “Let’s go,” said Max. “If there are a bunch of kids, there’ll also be a bunch of parents. The men in the black suits won’t dare make a move on us in front of so many witnesses.”

  And that’s how Max and Annika ended up leading a group of museum-going kids in the ten-minute construction of a twisting, spiraling DNA model made entirely out of interlocking giant blue blocks.

  30

  It was seven a.m. in Boston.

  Two p.m. in Jerusalem.

  Dr. Zimm stared anxiously at his satellite phone, as if, by staring, he could somehow make it deliver the message he’d been waiting for about Max Einstein’s whereabouts. He’d made a deal with an agent who had weaseled his way inside the Change Makers Institute’s Israeli headquarters and, for the right price, was willing to betray everything he had sworn to defend.

  The undercover informant had confirmed that a young girl named Max was among the nine “child prodigies” undergoing rigorous testing and evaluation inside the CMI building. The girl had shown a keen interest in all things related to the late Albert Einstein.

  Of course she had, thought Zimm. How could she resist, given who she is?

  But why had Charl and Isabl taken the girl to Jerusalem?

  And why were they treating Maxine Einstein as if she were just another, run-of-the-mill genius?

  Didn’t they know who she was? Where she had come from?

  Apparently not.

  Otherwise, they would have taken much more stringent security precautions. How could they let her go, unguarded, into a public place like the Einstein Archives at Hebrew University? Why hadn’t they screened their “security personnel” more carefully?

  Because, Dr. Zimm thought with a grin, they have no idea who they are up against. Me. And the Corp, of course.

  The confirmation that the girl was in Jerusalem had bought Dr. Zimm some time with the Corp’s fretful board of directors. Now his two operators—former special forces officers who liked the Corp’s salaries better than their country’s armed services’—simply had to nab the girl, transport her out of Israel, and deliver her back where she belonged: with Dr. Zimm.

  The phone thrummed.

  Dr. Zimm snatched it up.

  “Yes? Status update, please.”

  “We lost her,” said the voice on the other end.

  “How?”

  “Her friends have friends.”

  “What?”

  “The science museum is swarming with Shabak security officers. I think some of her protectors might also be Mossad.”

  Mossad. The Israeli national intelligence agency. Their CIA.

  “What about Yahav?”

  “He is with them. He plays his role well. Came screeching up to the museum in a minibus filled with seven children. Different races. Different nationalities. However, at this moment, the curly-haired girl you’re looking for is surrounded by a small army of security guards.”

  Dr. Zimm considered this new development.

  The involvement of Mossad meant that, perhaps, Charl and Isabl did have an inkling as to who Max Einstein truly was. It also seemed that the Israel Defense Forces would be guarding her the same way they would protect any extremely valuable human asset.

  He reached a decision.

  “Stand down,” he told his operators. “Head for the border. Israel has too much security. If Yahav has not blown his cover, as I must assume you two have blown yours, he will be able to continue tracking Miss Einstein’s movements. If she leaves Jerusalem, we’ll have a better chance to grab her—far from the protection of Mossad. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a little longer. Enjoy your time in Lebanon.”

  Dr. Zimm disconnected the call.

  It was now 7:05 a.m.

  He would wait to make his next call. It was too early in the morning.

  The news about Max Einstein would make the Chairman of the Corp grumpy enough.

  He’d be even grouchier if the call came before his first cup of coffee.

  31

  Security guards swarmed through the Bloomfield Science Museum.

  They formed a human barricade around Max, Annika, and Isabl.

  “We’re secure,” shouted several men and women decked out in what looked like full riot gear: helmets, body armor, and serious weaponry.

  “Why did you two wander off from the group like that?” demanded Isabl. She sounded angry.

  “We didn’t ‘wander off,’” said Max. “Annika and I just wanted to skip lunch and visit the Einstein Archives as soon as we could.”

  “Without your chaperone?” said Isabl. Now she sounded exasperated. “Why do you think we had a Shabak officer driving the minibus? The Shabak is the unseen shield here in Israel. Yahav is a highly skilled security officer.”

  “Yahav and the others were scheduled to join us at the Archives,” said Annika coolly. Her logical mind failed to fathom how she and Max could be at fault in this situation. “Why did it take them two hours to complete their lunch? Falafel is considered fast food in most cultures…”

  “The other kids voted to go to the bazaar,” said Yahav, pushing his way through the phalanx of armed security personnel. The seven other contestants were right behind him.

  “Actually,” said Keeto, the American from Oakland, “that was mostly your idea, dude.”

  “Because Tisa had her heart set on visiting the souk,” Yahav explained, sounding very defensive, especially for a big, tough security guy.

  “I would’ve been happy to go there after we toured the Einstein Archives,” said the girl from Kenya.

  “It would’ve been too crowded,” said Yahav. “Too much traffic.”

  Now he sounded even more defensive.

  “This is exactly why we need autonomous automobiles controlled by robots,” said Klaus. “There would be no traffic jams with robots…”

  While Klaus blathered on about the beauty of driverless vehicles, Max noticed Isabl subtly arching an eyebrow as she studied Yahav’s face. Was she silently questioning her decision to entrust him with the safety of her nine CMI charges? She should be, because Max sure was.

  “Natan? Rifka?” Isabl called out to a man and woman on the security team. “I want you two to drive the bus back to the Institute. Yahav?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You are relieved of your duties. Please report to your commanding officer. He will advise you of your new assignment.”

  “But it wasn’t my fault,” he insisted. “The two girls wandered off.”

  “With your permission,” said Annika.

  Max smiled. This was another good thing about having a friend, she realized. They could say the things she wished she’d said.

  Isabl turned to Max. “You’re riding back with me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The car ride back to CMI was tense. Not because Isabl drove like a maniac. In fact, she didn’t. She drove very, very slowly. She also didn’t say a word. For five full minutes.

  Finally, she spoke.

  “You scared us all.”

  “We were fine,” Max told her. “The two men never really threatened us. Well, they did. Sort of. But we ran away. Don’t forget, I’m a city kid. I have street smarts. I know how to handle myself in tough situations.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Annika and I are safe, right? Besides, we got to tour two amazing museums. The Einstein Archives and the Bloomfield. The Archives are so awesome. Since Annika’s from Germany, she could read all of Dr. Einstein’s letters and postcards and she recognized some of the places in the photographs…”

  Max babbled about her adventures in the wonderland of Einstein-abilia for the whole ride.

  Isabl let her.

  By the time they reached the CMI building, they were both smiling and laughing.

  It’d been a good day. A little scary, but good.

  But that’s what life was all about. Taking risks. Facing challenges. And if you did those things with someone, if you survived together, you became friends rather quickly, Max had discovered.

  “You need to be more careful, Max,” remarked Isabl. “If you try to navigate unknown waters, you run the risk of a shipwreck.”

  “True,” replied Max. “A ship is always safe at the shore. But that’s not what it was built for.”

  “Touché,” said Isabl. “You win. But remember, Max—not everybody is interested in changing the world in the same way we want to. Others would prefer to change it in a way that makes them wealthier.”

  They parked in the garage underneath the CMI building and made their way to the elevator.

  “You’ll want to make it an early night tonight, Max,” Isabl suggested.

  “How come?”

  “In light of today’s incident, we’re accelerating the schedule.”

  “For the contest?”

  Isabl nodded. “Tomorrow morning, you will all be taking one more, final exam.”

  “Another test?”

  “Yes. And this one will take eight hours.”

  32

  “This final written exam will help us determine which one of you wins this competition,” Ms. Kaplan told the group of nine when they assembled in the dining hall the next morning.

  “Will it really take eight hours?” asked Toma.

  “Yes,” answered Ms. Kaplan. “And you’ll probably wish you had eight hours more. I won’t sugarcoat this. The questions are extraordinarily difficult. I will be surprised if any of you actually finish the entire test. Do your best. Answer as many questions as you can.”

  “I wish I’d built a robot to take this test for me,” groused Klaus. “A robot could finish it in six hours.”

  “A quantum computer could finish it even faster,” remarked Vihaan, the student of quantum mechanics.

  “Yeah,” cracked Keeto. “Too bad nobody’s invented one of those.”

  “To build one,” offered Max, “you’d have to stretch your mind beyond where Albert Einstein stretched his.”

  “We’re still young,” cracked Siobhan. “Maybe one of us will!”

  Max smiled. “Maybe.”

  “Indeed,” said Ms. Kaplan. “But before you go off and invent anything, you need to take this test!”

  “When I ace it and win the contest,” said Klaus, “will there be a party? If so, I’d like to request kielbasa and bratwurst.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind, Klaus,” said Ms. Kaplan, rolling her eyes. She turned to several CMI staff members. “Proctors? Kindly escort our guests to their testing rooms.”

  The nine contestants were shuttled off to private testing rooms. They were completely on their own with only the questions, a pen, and a blue answer booklet.

  Max looked at the long list of questions. A speed reader, she flew through all fifty in about three minutes. While she was at it, she went ahead and memorized them, too. That would make it easier for her to strategize her attack on the exam.

  The questions covered so many topics and required complex, detailed answers about advanced algebra, very advanced algebra, multi-variable calculus, wave mechanics, quantum physics, and everything in between.

  Max knew that Professor Einstein probably would’ve done very well on this exam, especially the questions about his most famous equation, Energy equals Mass times the speed of Light (C) squared.

  She also knew Dr. Einstein hated tests. He called the rigorous exams he was forced to take in high school “a nightmare.” In his papers, he argued that pursuing work with intellectual curiosity was a more effective way to learn than to study and memorize things for an exam. He once remarked that it’s a miracle that curiosity can survive a formal education.

  Max agreed.

  She pondered the list of fifty questions.

  What would Einstein do? she wondered.

  The answer hit her.

  She would only answer two of the questions.

  The final two: 49 and 50.

  Twenty minutes after being sent to her testing room, she turned in her exam booklet.

  Ms. Kaplan looked shocked.

  “You’re already finished?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I want to thank you for the very thorough and difficult test. It was really challenging. So much to think about. Some fascinating areas of inquiry. And, not to brag, but, well—I think I nailed it!”

  33

  Test completed, Max wanted to go outside and explore the streets and neighborhoods of Jerusalem some more.

  “I’d really like to visit Yad Vashem—the World Holocaust Remembrance Center,” she told the guard barring the exit out to the street.

  “You are to remain inside,” said the man, who was wearing wraparound sunglasses even though he was indoors. He was also wearing a bulletproof vest and had a stocky machine gun slung over his shoulder.

  “But it’s such a lovely day.”

  “No one leaves the building. Orders from Charl, Isabl, and the benefactor.”

  “Who, exactly, is this benefactor?”

  “The one who is paying for you kids to be here. The one who sponsors everything the Change Makers Institute has done and will do. The one who pays my salary.”

  “Right. I know that. But who is he?”

  “Who said it’s a he?” asked the guard.