Page 76 of Offside Bride

“What?” I yelp.

Sawyer just smiles and plants a quick kiss on my nose before turning to Siobhan. It’s such a casual, affectionate gesture that it makes my heart do a little flip. Yeesh, I could never be one of those aloof Bond Girls.

“How do you read a microchip?” Sawyer asks, his brow furrowed.

Siobhan shrugs. “I dunno. A microchip scanner?”

“Well, do you have a microchip scanner in that pile of electronics in your makeshift lab?” Sawyer retorts, gesturing to the closed door of her home office.

“Do I look like a vet? No, I don’t have a microchip scanner,” Siobhan snaps back.

“Somehow I doubt it’sthatkind of microchip,” Sawyer mutters.

Siobhan launches into a barrage of technical jargon that makes my head spin. Words like “cryptographic systems,” “electromagnetic spectrum analysis,” and “quantum tunneling microscopy” fly past my ears, and I’m pretty sure my eyes are starting to glaze over.

I nod and smile, hoping I look somewhat intelligent, but inside I’m thinking this girl could probably build a time machine with a paper clip and some chewing gum. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out how to program my coffee maker.

It’s times like these I wish I’d paid more attention in high school physics instead of doodling in the margins of my notebook. But hey, at least I can craft a mean friendship bracelet. I’m pretty sure they didn’t cover “how to hack a mysterious microchip” between dissecting frogs and making baking soda volcanoes, anyway.

I’m about to lamely suggest we Google it when suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb goes off over all our heads simultaneously. I lock eyes with Sawyer, then Siobhan, and I can see the same realization dawning on their faces.

“You don’t think…” I start.

“It could be…” Siobhan continues.

“In all of them?” Sawyer finishes.

Without a word, we all dive for the pile of trinkets. Sawyer grabs a decorative egg and smashes it against the coffee table. I’m wrestling with a particularly stubborn music box, trying to pry it open with a butter knife.

Siobhan takes great pleasure in dropping the ceramic leprechaun onto the hardwood floor. “Take that, you sneaky little leprechaun!” she wahoos as it shatters into a million pieces.

We’re like kids on Christmas morning, except instead of unwrapping presents, we’re destroying them. The living room quickly becomes a disaster zone of broken knickknacks and glittery debris.

“Hey, I think I found something!” Siobhan shouts, holding up what looks like a tiny USB drive she’s extracted from a plush shamrock.

Siobhan bolts to her office, where I can hear her rummage through some stuff. She emerges with a laptop that looks like it’s seen better days. Probably back when dial-up was still a thing.

“This is our burner,” she announces, blowing dust off the ancient machine. “No way am I risking my work or personal computers with this sketchy USB.”

I nod, pretending I totally understand the intricacies of cyber-security. In reality, my idea of high-tech protection is using‘passw0rd123!’instead of coming up with something original.

Siobhan boots up the laptop, which makes concerning whirring noises. The ancient machine coughs and sputters to life, the screen flickering ominously. I half expect smoke to start billowing out at any moment.

“Um, Siobhan? Are you sure this thing isn’t going to spontaneously combust on us?” I ask, taking an instinctive step back. “Because I’m not exactly dressed for a tech fire today.”

Siobhan inserts the USB, and suddenly the screen fills with what looks like ancient Sanskrit had a wild night out with a calculator.

I whistle. “Whoa. Is that…Klingon?”

Siobhan snorts. “Close. It’s ciphertext. But we’re going to need a decryption key to read the actual message.”

Meanwhile, Sawyer is pacing behind us, muttering to himself. “No wonder he never helped me with my taxes,” he murmurs.

“What was that, honey?” I call over my shoulder.

“Just…processing,” he grunts. “One minute Dad’s this boring accountant who wears sweater vests and drinks decaf, and the next he’s Ethan Hunt.”

“Not the decaf!” I say.

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