by James Ponti
It was also their training center.
This was where they learned martial arts like Krav Maga and Jeet Kune Do and where they studied code breaking, intelligence gathering, surveillance techniques, and all varieties of spycraft. Recently, they’d started Saturday Match Day, a weekly competition designed to make the training fun. Recent Match Day events determined who was fastest at completing an obstacle course in near-total darkness, who could build the most powerful explosive out of ordinary household objects, and who could memorize the longest string of numbers and letters.
In addition to bragging rights, the victor also received one-week ownership of an old football trophy Mother won in primary school, and with it the right to pick that week’s dessert.
“I’m thinking carrot cake,” Rio said.
“Blech,” Paris said, sticking out his tongue. “I hate carrot cake.”
“All the more for me,” Rio said with a huge smile.
The trophy was bent and ugly and affectionately known as the Wretched Goalkeeper. Kat, who’d won the memorization challenge a week earlier, was presenting it to Rio when Monty entered the room.
Alexandra Montgomery, or Monty, was a world-class cryptologist, and the agent in charge of the FARM. She was also the other adult in their lives and shared the parenting responsibilities with Mother.
“There’s been an incident on the Sylvia Earle,” she said, trying to mask the panic in her voice. “We don’t know what happened yet. We just know that the emergency signal was activated.”
“Where’s Mother?” asked Rio.
“On a plane to Shetland,” she answered. “That’s where it happened.”
This was the part of spy work that wasn’t fun: the moments of worry and concern about people who meant everything to you.
“We knew there might be trouble,” said Paris, trying to sound reassuring. “That’s the reason MI6 sent Brooklyn and Sydney. But they were well prepared. They’re going to be fine.”
The next few hours were excruciating as they waited for any information. BBC News had breaking reports, but all they knew for certain was that a distress signal had been sent and that British military scrambled to the scene. One journalist passed along the fact that the ship had been on an educational expedition “designed to encourage girls to pursue careers in the sciences,” and another said there’d been reports of two explosions. While worrisome, this particular bit of news was oddly comforting.
“Explosions?” said Kat with the hint of a smile. “Sounds like Sydney.”
Rio nodded and added, “Definitely.”
Soon after, Mother called to say that both Sydney and Brooklyn were safe, as were all the passengers and crew on the ship. The team let out a cheer and Rio did his victory dance again, although this time the others joined in. After closing her eyes and saying a silent prayer, Monty started doing what she always did when she needed to burn off anxious energy.
She started baking.
In addition to being one of MI6’s top cryptographers, Monty was an exceptional baker. Her mother owned an Edinburgh dessert shop, and growing up, she’d spent countless hours helping out in the kitchen. She was so skilled that the kids had come up with what they dubbed a Montyism: Codes are for breaking; cakes are for baking.
“We’re starting with lamingtons,” she said as she headed toward the kitchen. “Then we’re going to make pineapple upside-down cake and millionaire’s shortbread.” She stopped and looked back at them. “Well, don’t just stand there. Grab some aprons and get to work. They’re not going to bake themselves.”
They baked all afternoon, and by the time they were done, they’d also managed to make a double batch of snickerdoodles and a deep-dish apple pie in addition to the cakes. The air was filled with an intoxicating aroma of coconut, pineapple, and cinnamon, and the dining room looked like a bakeshop. But as sumptuous and tempting as it was, no one was allowed to take a single bite until Mother and Sydney and Brooklyn were home.
They went back into the living room, and by that time all the channels were covering the hijacking. Multiple reports confirmed that there’d been a failed attempt to seize the ship, as well as two unexplained explosions. There were also rumors that among the young passengers were a member of the royal family and the daughter of an MP, although both Buckingham Palace and Parliament refused to confirm anything. Additionally, there was a police sketch of Emil Blix, although at this point he had not been identified.
“He looks guilty,” Kat said.
“No doubt,” added Paris.
Just then the front door opened, and Mother called out, “We’re here.”
There was a mad dash to greet them, and the first to make it was Kat, who wrapped Brooklyn and Sydney in a three-way hug. “We were so worried,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Sydney assured her.
“Absolutely,” said Brooklyn.
“All hail the conquering heroes!” Paris exclaimed as he traded fist bumps.
Everyone was so happy to see them safe and sound that nobody noticed their expressions were not at all celebratory. The tension between Sydney and Brooklyn had followed them home. They were exhausted from the ordeal and irritable toward each other, which became apparent when Rio made a grand gesture.
“I won this today, but I’m giving it to the two of you to share,” he said as he presented them with the Wretched Goalkeeper. “You can decide how you split it up between you. You get to pick this week’s dessert, although I think you’ll find we’re already off to a good start in there.”
“Just give it to her,” Sydney snapped. “She’s the real hero. I only messed things up.”
“No need to humblebrag to us,” Paris said, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s have cake and you can tell us all about it. We made lamingtons, millionaire’s shortbread…”
“Here it is in a nutshell,” Sydney said tersely. “Total botch job by me. Brooklyn saved the day.”
“No, no!” Brooklyn said. “That’s not it at all—”
Sydney cut her off. “Listen, Brook. I don’t need you to defend me. I can speak for myself.” Sydney turned to the others. “I appreciate it, but it’s been a day and I’m exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”
She moved past them toward the stairs as the others watched, unsure of what to say or do. Monty traded a look with Mother, and he nodded that things would be all right.
“What about you?” Rio asked Brooklyn. “The news has been sketchy. Want to fill us in on what happened?”
“Villains tried to seize the boat, but Sydney saved the day with some well-timed explosives.”
“I knew it,” said Kat. “I knew that was Sydney’s handiwork.”
“Give us the details,” said Paris. “We’re on tenterhooks.”
Brooklyn gave a long sigh and said, “You know, I’m pretty tired too. I can tell it to you better in the morning. I haven’t slept much this week. Our roommates were obnoxious snorers.”
And with that, she headed toward the stairs and up to her room. “Good night, everyone.”
Once she was gone, Paris turned to the others and said, “Well, among our many missions, I’d say that Operation Welcome Home was an epic fail.”
“Is everything all right?” Kat asked Mother.
“It’s been an emotional day for them,” he answered. “A lot of drama. I think everyone will feel better in the morning.”
After a week of living on a ship, both Sydney and Brooklyn were relieved to be back in their own rooms. Here, with no snoring roommates to keep them awake and no hijackers to fill them with fear, they each fell into deep, dreamless sleep. They slept for nearly twelve hours until Mother came and knocked on their doors.
“Ten o’clock, time to wake up,” he called to them. “Meeting in the priest hole in twenty minutes.”
The priest hole was a secret room deep beneath the house. It had been built hundreds of years earlier as a hiding place, but was now the command center for the team. MI6 had tricked it out with the la
test gear and gadgets, including a virtual reality station, interactive touch-screen tables and monitors, and a massive Cray XC40 supercomputer that was the sixteenth fastest in the United Kingdom. This was where the team came for mission briefings and to do their most top-secret work.
Sydney was the last to arrive, having taken a quick shower. She sat at the end of the conference table next to Kat and assumed that Mother wanted to do a thorough breakdown of what happened on the Sylvia Earle.
“Good morning, everybody,” he said, more businesslike than usual. “Did you two sleep well last night?”
“Yes,” said Sydney.
“Me too,” answered Brooklyn.
“I didn’t,” said Mother. “In fact, I didn’t sleep at all. Something happened yesterday that had me tossing and turning all night, and I think we need to address it. Right now. All of us.”
“Are you talking about the hijacking?” Brooklyn asked.
“No, not that,” he said. “We need to address that too. But first we need to clear the air about something that Sydney said.”
Sydney couldn’t believe he was going to make her apologize about hurting Brooklyn’s feelings in front of everybody. She would’ve much preferred to keep that between her and Brooklyn. “Listen, I didn’t mean to—”
Mother held up a hand, and she stopped. “Please. Let me say this.”
Sydney was confused but nodded. “Okay.”
Now all eyes were on Mother, and he was trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject. “I think the five of you are amazing. I think you are talented. Kind. Intelligent. Intuitive. Like I said, amazing.”
“We think you’re amazing too,” Paris said, trying to add a little levity to the serious tone.
“If I have ever given any of you a reason to believe that I favor one of you above the others, then that is a huge failing on my part.”
Sydney sagged in her seat. This wasn’t about her and Brooklyn. It was about her and Mother.
“I love and care for each one of you deeply, and equally,” he continued. “And I value what you bring to this team equally. I hope you realize that.”
Suddenly the mood in the room changed.
“I don’t doubt that you care for us the same,” said Paris. “And I don’t know what Sydney said. But it’s hard to argue with the idea that you do think of us differently when it comes to what we can do as spies.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Mother.
“Well, for one, the secret project that you and Brooklyn have been working on for the past couple of months.”
Sydney didn’t say anything, but she felt vindicated. And now that the topic was out in the open, the others chimed in.
“Yeah,” said Rio. “We’re trained at surveillance. We do notice little things like the private meetings and hushed conversations you two have.”
“We’ve all seen it,” said Kat.
Brooklyn looked straight down at the table. For her this was an impossible situation. She didn’t want to keep a secret from them, but she also didn’t want to violate Mother’s trust. She was still new to the group and was worried that something like this might make it harder for her to be fully accepted.
“Okay,” Mother said, “it’s true. Brooklyn and I have been working on a project that I’ve not told any of you about. Not even Monty.”
He shot a look at Monty, and she forced a smile, realizing that he was wrestling with this.
“But the reason I haven’t told any of you is because I want to protect you,” he continued. “This is the type of information that is well beyond top-secret.”
“But don’t you see?” Sydney said, her frustration coming through. “That only proves our point. This is some super-secret project that you don’t even tell Monty about, but you tell Brooklyn. How does that not make us feel second-rate?”
“But I didn’t tell Brooklyn,” he said.
“Really, then who did?”
Brooklyn looked up and directly at Sydney. “Clementine.”
No name could have been more surprising.
“Clementine? As in Mother’s wife?” asked Sydney.
“Yes.”
“Clementine as in the agent who turned on her country and left MI6 to join Umbra?” said Rio.
“Maybe not,” answered Brooklyn.
“So you’re not sure it’s her?” asked Sydney.
“I’m sure it was her,” said Brooklyn. “We’re just not sure she turned on her country.”
“Really?” said Paris, jumping into the conversation. “Because I am. I was there. I saw it.”
Five years earlier, Mother and his wife were both MI6 agents trying to infiltrate Umbra. But, in a shocking turn, she joined forces with Umbra and abandoned Mother, leaving him to die in a warehouse fire. He only survived because Paris saw what happened and braved the fire to save him.
“When did you meet Clementine?” asked Monty.
“In Paris,” Brooklyn answered, referring to her first mission with the team. “At the hotel, she was the one who saved me. She was the one who helped me get to the embassy.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Rio.
“I didn’t tell anyone because at first I didn’t know for sure that it was her,” she answered. “I wanted to check with Mother.”
“There’s a chance she’s a double agent still working for MI6,” said Mother. “That she has fully infiltrated Umbra. And if that’s the case, the more people who know, the more endangered she is.”
“Wait a second,” said Paris, disbelieving. “Are you trying to protect us, or are you worried about her safety?”
“Both,” Mother responded.
“Well, how do you even know for sure that it was her?” Sydney asked Brooklyn. “You’ve never seen her before.”
“She gave me a thumb drive,” said Brooklyn.
“And on that drive was this,” said Mother.
He clicked a button on his computer, and a picture appeared on the big screen in front of them. It was a picture of a boy and a girl smiling at the camera.
“Is that?” asked Monty.
“Yes,” Mother said. “It’s Annie and Robert.”
The team all stared at the image of Mother’s children, and the room fell silent. Suddenly the secrecy made sense.
“You see,” said Mother, “if Clementine is in danger, so are they. And I can’t have that.”
8. Caterpillar Logic
WHEN SHE’D FOUND THE LIMPET mine attached to the side of the Sylvia Earle, Sydney knew exactly what to do. Her MI6 training had given her step-by-step instructions for disarming an extremely sensitive explosive device. But here in the priest hole, as she looked at the photo of Robert and Annie, she was at a total loss. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel, and she certainly didn’t know what to say. It turned out spy training was fairly useless when it came to situations in which the sensitive device was somebody’s heart.
The people in the picture weren’t suspects or spies. They were Mother’s children. Children he hadn’t seen in five years. Sydney had always known about them, but seeing them made it different. And seeing Mother look at them was completely gutting. Suddenly the situation was real, and Sydney didn’t know how to disarm any of it.
She wasn’t alone. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room while everyone waited for somebody else to talk first. Sensing that, Mother tried to make things easier.
“I know this is awkward,” he said. “But while this picture is new to you, it’s not for me. I’ve had a couple of months to wrap my head around it. Brooklyn and I have racked our brains, and all we’ve come to are dead ends. So please, share your observations. Give me your thoughts. Find something we’ve missed.”
He pressed a button that projected the photo onto each of the wall monitors. That way all seven of them could study it without having to crowd around a single screen. In the picture, both kids flashed goofy vacation smiles that seemed to say, We’ll pose for you, but just this once. Annie was tall, wit
h braces and sun-bleached hair. She hugged her little brother around the shoulder and comically rested her head on top of his. Robert had pudgy cheeks, thick glasses, and wore a number eleven Liverpool jersey. Both seemed happy.
“He’s got good taste in football,” Paris said approvingly. “Unlike his father.”
“He picked Liverpool for the same reason you did,” Mother replied with a chuckle. “Because I love Everton, and they’re our dreaded rivals.”
Monty stepped up to one of the monitors and studied Robert’s face. “Has he always worn glasses?”
“Since he was four,” answered Mother. “Although Annie’s braces are new.”
“New braces,” Sydney said eagerly, seizing on a potential clue. “That means there should be orthodontist appointments and medical bills.” She thought for a moment and sagged. “Although we don’t know what name she’s using, where she lives, or when in the last five years she got them, so that only narrows it down to any girl with braces in the entire world. Sorry. It’s a stupid idea.”
“It’s not stupid,” Mother said. “That’s exactly the type of thing we need to think about. That’s what will lead us to them. We need to look at this like it’s a jigsaw puzzle. No single piece gives us the picture, but if we can snap a few together, then suddenly the image might start to come into focus.”
Rio pointed to where the edge of the photograph cut off some writing painted on the storefront window behind them. “That’s Chinese, right?”
“I think so,” said Mother. “Although with only part of the character visible and no others to go by, it could also be Japanese or Korean.”
“Do you think that means they’re in Asia?” Paris asked.
“It could,” said Mother. “Although there’s a Chinatown in virtually every major city in the world.”
“We even set up a spreadsheet and tried to count them all,” Brooklyn said. “We found more than fifty in the United States alone.”
Everyone went back into thinking mode for a moment until Rio asked, “How old are they again?”
“Annie’s fourteen and Robert’s eleven,” Mother answered. “Although when this picture was taken, he was still ten.”
