by Stuart Gibbs
“Leave me alone,” I told him. “This doesn’t concern you.” I wasn’t faking authority anymore. I could feel it.
Lousy Sideburns sensed it in me as well. His eyes went wide with fear, and he held up his hands in surrender. “All right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
I spun around and raced for the farmhouse, feeling a bit less useless.
The hostages were streaming out the front door, racing in my direction, so thrilled to be free that none of them had noticed yet that Erica wasn’t with them. I waved my arms violently at them, signaling them to stop and turn around.
Most of them misunderstood what I was doing and cheerfully waved back.
I reached the edge of the battlefield, darted across the road, and leapt the white picket fence.
Zoe reached me first. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. “We’re free!” she shouted. “Thank you! Thank you!”
“Erica’s still in there!” I told her—and everyone else. “They got her!”
Everyone’s expression went from joy to concern in a second. They all spun back toward the house.
An engine roared. A minivan that had been hidden behind the house peeled out down the driveway. I raced after it, but didn’t stand a chance. The van skidded into the road and sped away. There was no way I could follow it. The only other vehicle close by was the minivan I’d just blown up.
There were several SPYDER agents inside the getaway van that was speeding away, though not a single one looked back at us. They couldn’t have cared less about me and the hostages. They’d gotten what they’d really come for.
It only took a cursory sweep of the house to confirm this.
Erica and Cyrus Hale had been captured.
DEBRIEFING
Maynard Farm
Winchester, Virginia
June 15
1630 hours
The six hostages—Chip, Hank, Claire, Zoe, Warren, and Jawa—were fine. Alexander Hale, on the other hand, was a wreck.
He’d finally arrived at the farmhouse a minute after SPYDER had fled, gasping for breath after running all over the battlefield. I met him on the front porch. “What happened?” he wheezed. “Where’s my family?”
“SPYDER has them,” I said. “We need to commandeer a car and go after them.”
Instead of leaping into action, however, Alexander glazed over. He simply sat on the porch swing and stared off into space.
“Alexander?” I said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Did you hear me?”
Alexander didn’t answer. He didn’t even blink. He’d gone catatonic in shock.
And I’d thought I was useless.
I went back inside. My fellow students were ransacking the kitchen. SPYDER hadn’t fed them since breakfast and they were starving.
“We need to get moving,” I said. “Now.”
“No,” Hank told me. “First, you need to debrief us.”
“There’s no time!” I protested. “SPYDER is getting away with Erica and Cyrus. Every minute we waste is another mile between us and them!”
“They’ve already got too big a head start for us to catch them,” Hank said. “So if we want to rescue them, we need to figure out where they’re heading. And that’s not going to happen until you tell us what on earth is going on.”
I was annoyed at Hank for saying this—every fiber of my being was telling me that we should be racing after SPYDER at that moment—but I reluctantly realized he was right. “Okay,” I said.
“Bingo!” Chip yelled. He’d found a cache of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer. Claire grabbed spoons, and while everyone dug in hungrily, I tried to bring them up to speed.
“I’m still working everything out,” I said, “but I believe that all of this has been a plot devised by SPYDER to capture Cyrus Hale.”
“Hold on,” Zoe said. “I thought they were trying to capture you.”
“No,” I said. “That was all a ruse. They never wanted me at all. I was just a pawn. That’s why they were so obvious about coming after me: sending me notes, having Murray Hill show himself in broad daylight, delivering a contract. They had two motives. First, they wanted me to freak out. They knew I’d go to Erica for help—and they knew Erica wouldn’t be able to pass up the chance to prove herself against SPYDER.”
“And the second motive?” Chip asked.
“I think they wanted the CIA to freak out a little too,” I said. “The Agency sent their top man, Alexander Hale, to keep an eye on me. So now Cyrus Hale’s son and daughter were on the mission. And then the CIA asked Cyrus to reactivate—which he did to protect his family.”
“So, when SPYDER attacked our bus, they weren’t trying to capture us?” Jawa asked. “They were trying to catch Alexander and Erica?”
“I think so,” I said. “The whole point was to put them—or at least Erica—in jeopardy. Because Erica is the only person Cyrus would come out of retirement to help. When Erica thwarted their attack, though, they changed their tactics. They took you all hostage, knowing that they could force her to attempt the rescue mission—and that Cyrus would come along as well.”
Claire asked, “So SPYDER was expecting all of you to attack just now?”
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe not at that exact moment. Erica might really have gotten the jump on them by showing up a day early. But they were still prepared for us. They’ve been one step ahead of us all along. They even knew we’d go to Apple Valley to try to figure out how Murray had escaped . . .”
“How did he escape?” Warren asked.
“He didn’t have to,” I replied. “He never even went in. SPYDER had double agents in the CIA. They swapped the real Murray out with a fake Murray, who agreed to be placed in the facility in return for cash.”
Everyone looked pretty shocked at that. Except Claire, who looked disgusted. “Multiple double agents?” she sneered. “Wow, that is some shoddy internal affairs. MI-6 would never let something like this happen.”
Zoe wheeled on her, furious. “Do not start down this road, Princess. From what I understand, MI-6 has more moles than the White House lawn. And for all we know, you’re one of them.”
“I certainly am not!” Claire gasped.
“Really?” Warren asked, always quick to back up Zoe. “This trouble with SPYDER didn’t begin until you showed up.”
“Back down,” Hank said. “Claire’s not a double agent.”
“How do you know for sure?” Chip asked.
“Because I vetted her myself,” Hank said. “Back when I was studying in London. So drop it. Remember what Woodchuck told us on the bus? The first step in any emergency situation is to figure out how to work together. Well, this is an emergency situation all right. So we are going to work together. No more inter-agency rivalry garbage, no more arguing, no more petty disagreements, got it?”
Zoe glowered at Claire awhile longer, but then said, “Got it.”
Hank looked to Claire.
“Me too,” she agreed, though she returned Zoe’s glower with her own.
“Okay, that’s settled,” Jawa said. “So let’s face the big question here: Why did SPYDER want Cyrus Hale so badly?”
None of us had an answer to this. So everyone looked out the window toward the one person they figured would know.
Alexander still sat on the porch swing, staring ahead. If he’d heard any of our conversation, he didn’t show it.
“What’s up with Agent Hale?” Jawa asked. “What’s he doing out there?”
“He’s obviously thinking,” Zoe said, before I could come up with an answer. “Look at that concentration on his face. He’s probably devising a comprehensive strategy to track down SPYDER, thwart their plans, and rescue his family right now.”
Apparently, I wasn’t the only person whom Zoe always assumed the best about.
Almost everyone else nodded, buying this. None of them knew Alexander the way I did. They only knew him by his reputation.
The only person who seemed remotely suspicious was Clair
e, who’d never heard of Alexander until recently. “He doesn’t seem to be thinking,” she said. “He looks more like he’s zoning out.”
“That’s a look of focused concentration,” Zoe snapped. “Alexander Hale is a zen master. And besides, the man’s daughter and father just got kidnapped by the bad guys. Zoning out a bit under the circumstances is understandable.”
Claire started to protest, but a sharp look from Hank made her back down. “Okay,” she said, raising her hands. “Sorry.”
“I hope Alexander’s come up with something,” Chip said. “Because I have no idea how to track SPYDER down.”
Everyone else nodded. “Yeah,” Jawa said. “Thank goodness he’s here. We’re definitely going to need his help on this.”
“What about the rest of the CIA?” Warren asked. “Shouldn’t we notify the Agency?”
Chip thwacked him on the back of the head with an open palm. “Haven’t you been listening? The CIA’s full of double agents for SPYDER. We can’t trust anyone there.”
“For now, the only agent we can trust is Alexander,” Hank agreed.
“Um,” I said awkwardly. “You know, if we really had to, I’m sure we could handle this without him.”
Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy.
“Are you kidding?” Zoe asked. “That’s Alexander Hale! The greatest agent in CIA history! We’re just a bunch of kids who’ve never had a field assignment before. If anyone’s deadweight here, it’s us. Alexander can probably handle this whole mission on his own.”
“Of course, we’re willing to lend whatever support we can,” Hank said. “But Alexander certainly ought to be team leader.”
Everyone chorused agreement.
Chip looked to me. “So, can you go find out what he’s come up with?”
“Me?” I asked.
“Yes, you,” Chip said. “You’re the only one here who’s worked with him. He doesn’t know the rest of us from a bucket of spit.”
I sighed in resignation. Even Chip Schacter—who barely respected anyone—respected Alexander Hale.
I considered my options. I was certainly wary of letting Alexander spearhead any operation; he’d screwed up almost much everything I’d ever known him to be a part of. And yet, everyone was now expecting guidance from him. I could have told them all the truth about Alexander—that the man was a fraud who didn’t deserve an ounce of their respect—but what would happen afterward? Everyone would be even more devastated—if they believed me. And they still wouldn’t know what to do next.
So that was out. We were all mere students who’d found ourselves in way over our heads. And in that moment, everyone needed someone to look up to, whether he was afraid or not.
“Give me a few minutes,” I said, and then walked out onto the porch.
Alexander didn’t even look up.
“Alexander?” I said.
There was no response.
“Alexander,” I said again. “We need your help.”
“No, you don’t,” Alexander replied sadly. “My help is the last thing anyone needs right now.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “None of us has any idea why SPYDER even wanted to capture your father. . . .”
“Well, neither do I,” Alexander sighed. “See? I’m of no use at all.”
“Come on,” I pleaded. “Think. Maybe your father knows some sort of classified information that SPYDER wants. . . .”
“My father knows tons of classified information that SPYDER might want,” Alexander said. “The question is, which information? The secret entrances to the White House? The launch codes for NORAD . . . ?”
“Your father knows the nuclear launch codes?” I gasped.
“I don’t know,” Alexander said. “I was merely being rhetorical. But he might know them. It’s not like he’d tell me. He never told me anything . . . except what a disappointment I am.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said.
“Oh, it is. And he was right. I’m a failure. A disgrace to the Hale family name.”
“So you’re not going to help us rescue him?” I asked. “Because he was tough on you?”
“No, I’m not going to help because I’m a bad spy,” Alexander replied. “How am I supposed to pull off a rescue? I couldn’t keep my family from getting captured in the first place! I should have been there to protect them. Instead, I got lost, like a moron.”
I completely agreed with all of this, but I still tried to be supportive. “Everyone makes mistakes,” I told him.
“Well, I make them constantly,” Alexander said. “That’s all I do. I’m a sham. A fake. A charlatan. My entire career has been built on lies.”
It has, I thought. But then something occurred to me, something important about Alexander. “No,” I said. “That can’t be true. That’s Erica talking. I mean, I know you’ve lied. I know you stole the credit from me for capturing Murray Hill. . . .”
Alexander turned away, embarrassed.
“But you can’t build an entire career on that,” I went on. “You couldn’t possibly have the reputation you do without some talents.”
Alexander considered that for a moment. A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps,” he said.
I pointed toward the house. “There are six students in there willing to do whatever it takes to help Erica and Cyrus. But they don’t know where to begin. They need something to believe in right now, and what they believe in is you. If you give up, they’re going to give up—and then your family is as good as lost. So are you going to wallow in self-pity here, or are you actually going to get off your butt and do something?”
Alexander turned toward me. There was now a flicker of determination in his eyes. “What do you need me to do?” he asked.
“Be Alexander Hale,” I said. “Not the real Alexander Hale. Just the Alexander Hale everyone thinks is real. The man who can take out twenty terrorists with six bullets and defuse a bomb in his sleep. The best spy in the entire CIA.”
Alexander got to his feet. He looked through the window into the house.
Everyone inside had been watching us, though they quickly turned away and pretended like they hadn’t been.
Alexander patted my shoulder. “All right,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”
He walked into the farmhouse. I followed.
Everyone stood respectfully.
Hank actually snapped to attention and saluted. “Hank Schacter, sixth year. This is Chip Schacter, Claire Hutchins, Jawa O’Shea, Zoe Zibbell, and Warren Reeves. I think I speak for all of us when I say it is an honor to have the chance to serve under you, Agent Hale.”
Faced with adoring fans, Alexander quickly morphed back into his old self. It was almost a reflex. He straightened his back. His eyes gleamed brightly. “Oh, no,” he said graciously. “It is my honor to serve with such a fine-looking troop of students.”
“There’s no need to be diplomatic, sir,” Zoe said. “I’ve read every one of your case files. Or at least, the ones that haven’t been classified. You’re the most talented spy in the whole CIA! You once disarmed a nuclear warhead while flying a helicopter!”
Alexander flashed Zoe a grin that made her turn pink. “Well,” he said, “that story has been slightly blown out of proportion. . . .”
“How about the time you took out an entire terrorist nest in Afghanistan with only a Swiss army knife?” Warren asked.
“Or when you prevented the assassination of the premier of China at the very last second by using a tea tray to deflect the bullet?” Jawa added.
Alexander chuckled. “My goodness, you all know my own files better than I do.”
“Of course they do,” I told him. “You’re a legend.” Then I lowered my voice to add, “And legends, no matter how preposterous, are usually based on fact, right?”
Alexander met my gaze and nodded agreement. “Right.”
Hank stepped forward. “I’m sure we could go on flattering you all day, but right now, time is of the e
ssence. We are willing to do whatever it takes to rescue your family from the evil clutches of SPYDER. So, what’s your plan?”
Alexander’s smile faltered. It was evident that, after all I’d gone through to get him to step up, he had no idea what to do next. But then, he noticed my fellow students looking at him expectantly and rallied to save face. “Well,” he said, “this may sound a bit unorthodox, but . . . Sometimes the best way to figure something out is to see if someone else has already figured it out before you.”
“You mean, like copying someone’s homework?” Claire asked suspiciously.
“In a way,” Alexander admitted. “Only, in real life, that’s not always such a bad thing. Why should we waste time trying to determine where SPYDER has taken my family if someone else has already done the legwork? Now, does anyone here know of anyone who might already know where SPYDER’s hideout is?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. After all I’d done to beef his ego back up, the only plan Alexander could devise was to get someone else to do the work for him. I was just about to express my annoyance when something astonishing occurred to me: Alexander’s lousy idea could actually work. “I think someone might,” I said.
Everyone’s gaze shifted to me. “What do you mean?” Chip asked.
“When I got the first note from SPYDER, Erica found an extremely tiny piece of grit on it,” I explained. “She thought it might be a lead to where the letter had been written and was going to get someone to analyze it for her.”
“Who?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Probably Chester Snodgrass,” Alexander said. “He’s a forensic geologist in the Department of Evidence Assessment. He’s always been a big fan of Erica’s.”
Everyone turned to Alexander, impressed, as if he’d actually deduced something.
“Can you call him?” Zoe asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Alexander sighed. “The International Forensic Geology Convention is in Orlando this week. Chester never misses it—and I lost all his contact information along with my phone in the river.”
