I take the bar from Doug and turn it over to examine it. It’s gold all right. It has words and numbers stamped into it. 100 grams. 999.9 Fine Gold.

“999.9? What’s that mean?”

Zoe takes the bar from me. “It means this gold is as pure as you can get it. It’s scientifically impossible to remove all the impurities.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I say. “If they know how to get rid of all the other impurities, why not just finish the job and get that last speck out?”

Doug takes the bar back from Zoe. “Where do you think that last speck is hiding?”

A loud shout comes from one of the men in the room. “Boss! Come quick!”

The familiar woman with the Quality Control badge rushes over. We follow. “Have you found something?” She wrings her hands.

“We left this one in the fire a little longer. It’s registering one-hundred percent. Do you want to test it yourself?”

The woman nods, takes a stick out of her coat pocket, and dunks it in the fiery liquid. She waits, and appears to hold her breath, while something registers on the side of the stick. She gasps. “One-hundred percent. I KNEW it was possible!”

The man holding the handle of the container begins to shake.

The woman puts a calming hand on his arm. “Careful now, follow me to the mold.” She leads him to a side door of the big warehouse. She takes a key out of her other coat pocket, unlocks the door, and we all walk in.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” she says. “Go ahead and pour it in.”

The man approaches the small table that holds a small, round mold, but stops short of pouring in the liquid. “Are you sure? I mean . . . you’re gonna waste the power of pure gold on some kid?”

The woman smiles. “It won’t go to waste. Not when it finds the right kid.”

The man hesitates a moment more. “Okay. You’re the boss. You sure it won’t spill over in this tiny mold?”

“It will all fit just fine. Pour away.”

The man does as he’s told. Zoe, Doug, and I watch as the red-hot liquid streams into the mold.

I poke Zoe with my elbow and whisper, “What were you saying about things being scientifically impossible?”

Zoe focuses in on the gold, now forming in the mold.

“Arcade . . .” Zoe’s mouth drops open.

“Because if it was scientifically impossible then—”

“Arcade!”

“Stop trying to change the subject, Zoe. When you’re wrong you’re—”

“ARCADE!” Zoe’s eyes are bugging out of her head. She just points at the table, the mold now filled to the top with gold.

“It’s . . .”

My heart leaps in my chest and goosebumps form on my arms. “Yeah. I know. It’s my Triple T Token.”

“And it’s looking for the right kid.”

*  *  *