by James Ponti
“Welcome, girls,” Somersby said. “In the United Kingdom, people of any age are permitted to provide testimony, but those fourteen and older must be sworn in. So before we ask any questions, Alice and Eleanor,” she said, referring to Sydney by her cover name, “I’d like each of you to raise your right hand and repeat this oath. ‘I promise before Almighty God that the evidence which I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’ ”
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Sydney took an oath that she knew she was going to break instantly. The MPs questioned the girls in order from left to right, starting with Judy and then Alice. The questions were general at first, asking them how they happened to go on the trip and what the experience had been like. They got more specific when it reached the events of the day of the hijacking.
That’s when the questions got tricky. Mary Somersby knew it would be inappropriate for her to ask questions of her own daughter, so she yielded to another MP from her party.
“How did you know the ship was under attack?” the woman asked.
“Alice and I were awoken when Emil Blix started speaking over the intercom to inform us that they’d taken control of the ship,” said Judy in a well-practiced answer.
“And how did it come to pass that you hid in the…” The MP went to read the name of the room in his notes, but Judy filled in the answer for him.
“Stern thruster machine room,” she answered as though she were now a nautical expert. “It was instinct, really. Considering that I had a mother in Parliament and that Alice is a member of the royal family, it only made sense that we’d be targets of the hijackers.”
“That’s very quick thinking,” said the MP.
“Thank you, ma’am,” answered Judy. “In preparation for the trip, I had studied the Sylvia Earle extensively, and I knew our best chance was to look for a place to hide down on the engine deck.”
“Very brave,” said the MP. “Brilliant and brave.”
Even though it was exactly what they needed Judy to say, the testimony drove Sydney crazy. Here Judy was, getting all the credit that Brooklyn deserved. Brooklyn was the one who had been brilliant and brave.
There was a similar line of questioning for Alice and then for Brooklyn. Although after a basic introduction, Mary Somersby asked Brooklyn something surprising, more accusatory than inquisitive.
“Why weren’t you on the marine mammal observation platform?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t understand.”
“It’s not that difficult a question,” Somersby said. “According to the testimony we’ve heard today, all of the other girls were on the marine mammal observation platform, but you weren’t. Why not?”
Monty, Tru, and Sydney all paid close attention to how Brooklyn handled this question. They were about to find out how quickly she could talk on her feet.
“That testimony’s not accurate,” Brooklyn said.
“Are you calling the other girls liars?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then are you calling me a liar?”
“No, ma’am,” Brooklyn answered. “It’s that all of the girls weren’t on the platform. Alice and Judy were both hiding in the machine room. And Eleanor was hiding in our cabin.”
And with that, the others relaxed. As she had been with many other aspects of spying, Brooklyn seemed well-suited to handle this one.
“Of course,” Somersby said, scrambling. “But, unlike them, you were actually up on the main deck. You were close to the platform. But instead of putting you with the others, Emil Blix took you, and you alone, to the bridge. Why was that?”
At this point, Brooklyn had to make a quick judgment. She had to assume that one of the girls on the platform had overheard her conversation with Blix and had testified about it. That meant she had to tell the truth about what happened. At least, most of the truth.
“He took me there because I promised to tell him where Alice and Judy were hiding.”
Suddenly the tone of the room changed.
“And did you know where they were hiding?” asked the MP.
“No, ma’am,” Brooklyn said.
“Then why did you tell him you did?”
“Because he was threatening me and I wanted to make him stop.”
Bloody Mary eyed her suspiciously. “And what happened on the bridge?”
“There are detailed maps of the ship on the bridge, and on one of them I pointed to the forecastle anchor room,” said Brooklyn.
“And why did you tell him that?”
“Because I wanted to send him on a wild goose chase.”
Monty realized that the answer was a mistake and could tell by Bloody Mary’s reaction that she did too.
“Then I’m confused,” Somersby said. “Moments ago you said you didn’t know where they were hiding.”
“That’s right, I didn’t.”
“Then how did you know that you were sending him on a wild goose chase?” Somersby asked, pouncing on the slip-up. “How did you know that the girls weren’t actually in the anchor room?”
Brooklyn didn’t even miss a beat. “I saw them heading toward the rear of the ship.”
“Wait a second,” Somersby said. “I thought you just said you didn’t see them.”
Brooklyn was unflappable. “No. I said I didn’t know where they were. But I did know that they’d headed to the stern of the boat, which is precisely why I selected the place farthest from the stern.” She paused for a beat and added, “I was trying to help your daughter.”
Bloody Mary deflated a bit, disappointed that she hadn’t been able to trap Brooklyn. But her big prize was yet to come.
She didn’t even bother with cursory questions to establish the baseline of Sydney’s story. She just went straight for the strike. “Why was your hair wet?”
“I beg your pardon,” answered Sydney.
“According to testimony, nobody saw you during the assault, but afterward, when everyone was together, your hair was wet,” she explained, as focused as a laser. “But in your statements to the police you said only that you were hiding in your cabin. Although neither Judy nor Alice saw you there. So I ask again, why was your hair wet?”
“I… um… don’t…,” Sydney started to say as she looked for an answer.
“And I remind you that unlike your friend, you are under oath,” Somersby stated.
Sydney hadn’t even given an answer, but Mary Somersby had knocked her off guard and she was already scrambling. She gave a somewhat desperate look toward Tru, but there was nothing she could do to help her.
“I lied to the police.”
This stunned the room, and every MP was now fully engaged in the testimony.
“You did what?” asked Somersby.
“I lied to the police. I didn’t tell them because I was doing something I shouldn’t have been,” Sydney said haltingly, her eyes shooting another sideways glance at Tru.
“What were you doing?” asked the MP.
“Taking a shower,” said Sydney. “There’s only one shower on the Sylvia Earle, and it was reserved for the officers and scientists. After nearly a week at sea I couldn’t take it anymore. My hair was greasy and disgusting so I snuck into the shower for a quick rinse. When I came out, I heard what was going on, and I hid, right there in the captain’s stateroom. That’s why my hair was wet. That’s why the others didn’t see me.”
“And you felt this was worthy of lying to the authorities?”
“Looking back, I think that was pretty stupid of me,” Sydney said. “But hijacking or no hijacking, I was breaking a rule, and I was worried that might lead to me getting in trouble at my school. I’ve already maxed out on demerits for the term.”
Somersby looked unconvinced, but she moved on. “I notice your parents aren’t here today.”
This question was really harsh, and it triggered all of Sydney’s antiestablishment tendencies. “And that’s relevant how?”
“
It’s just that the Duke of Covington made time to be here with Alice,” she said. “And my ex-husband was able to break free from his legal duties to be here with Judy. But your parents aren’t here.”
“I’m here as her guardian,” Monty said.
“Excuse me,” Somersby said, glaring at Monty. “You’ve not been sworn in, and you will not speak unless directly spoken to.”
“I am here as her guardian and advocate to protect her from treatment like this,” Monty said, not backing down. “She’s a child and you’re making insinuations that are wholly inappropriate.”
“It’s okay, Monty,” Sydney said, looking at her over her shoulder. “I can explain.” Sydney turned back to Bloody Mary and smiled. “I appreciate that both the duke and your ex-husband were able to make time to be here with their daughters,” she said. “I’m sure one of my parents would too if they weren’t both dead. That makes it kind of hard, unless you’ve got a crystal ball or a Ouija board back there. So Ms. Montgomery is going to have to do.”
This brought chuckles from some of the other MPs and members of the gallery.
“It’s interesting you say that,” she responded. “Because there is no mention of your parents anywhere. The record trail for Eleanor King starts fresh three years ago with your enrollment at Kinloch Abbey. It’s as if you just materialized out of thin air. Or perhaps there’s a different identity tucked away in there somewhere.”
Sydney looked first at Monty and then at Tru, completely unsure what to say next, so she just sat quietly, trying to come up with an answer.
“What?” Somersby said sarcastically. “No clever reply. Well, we’ll get back to that, because I feel like this next question is going to open up the floodgates.”
Sydney’s eyes opened wide as she braced for whatever might come.
“Two months ago, did you or did you not order the ingredients necessary to manufacture an explosive device from a chemical company in Southampton?” the MP held up a receipt. “And once again I remind you that you’re under oath.”
This is when Sydney realized the depths of where the MP was willing to go. She was trying to implicate her in the hijacking. First the sketchy alibi. Then the undocumented past. And now explosives. Sydney had bought them for a Saturday Match Day training exercise on the FARM, but Bloody Mary was going to say that she was part of the terror team. She was accusing her of being a criminal. Yet, if Sydney told the truth, she would actually become a criminal.
Never before in her life had she felt more vulnerable. She had no idea what she could say in her defense.
“This is absurd!” Monty said, leaping to her feet.
“Bailiff, silence that woman,” Somersby thundered as she pointed at Monty. She focused on Sydney and continued, “Tell us the truth. You’re connected to all this, aren’t you? You’re a mole that was placed by foreign agents determined to—”
“APPLE JACK!”
The interruption was startling and caught everyone by surprise.
“APPLE JACK!”
Sydney turned to look down the table and saw that it was Judy.
“Judy, what are you doing?” Somersby asked her daughter.
“Before I went on the trip, you told me about apple jack,” said Judy. “Just like the duke and duchess told Alice.”
Alice nodded her confirmation.
“You told us that if anyone said ‘apple jack,’ we had to stop what we were doing and follow their instructions,” she continued. “Well, I’m saying ‘apple jack’ to you for the same reason. To tell you to stop what you’re doing.”
“Apple jack has nothing to do with this,” the MP said crossly.
“Apple jack has everything to do with this,” her daughter replied firmly. “Apple jack is the reason that Alice and I weren’t locked up in some tiny closet on a ship sailing to Iceland. It’s the reason the two of us are still alive. And it’s the reason you should stop accusing these two girls and start thanking them. Because they’re not suspects. They’re heroes.”
“And how’s that?” roared the mother.
“I can’t tell you how,” Judy replied.
“Because?”
“Because you don’t have a high enough security clearance.”
Tru tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Somersby said. “But I am here not as a mother to be spoken to petulantly by her spoiled rotten daughter. I am here as the representative of the government and the people of Southgate, and I will question as I see fit.”
“Well, I’m going to lay it out for you, Mum,” Judy said. “You’ve got two options, and I’m going to let you pick which one to pursue.”
“How generous of you.”
“Option one, stop your ridiculous questions, thank these two girls for saving your daughter’s life, and go out to the members of the media who you’ve been feeding information to and announce that after a thorough investigation it is evident that MI6 made no lapses with regard to the hijacking of the Sylvia Earle.”
“And option two?”
“You continue your ridiculous questions, and I go out and address those same members of the media,” Judy said coolly. “And I tell them all about our family. I tell them about the late-night phone calls you make when you think I’m asleep and can’t hear who you’re doing business with. And of course, I explain to them why it is I live with my father and not with my mother.” The color drained from Bloody Mary’s face. “I don’t know how the fine people of Southgate will like what they hear, but I’m sure the press will be fully entertained by the pathetic soap opera that is our family.”
The room fell into stunned silence until Alice stood up and pointed directly at Judy. “What she said!”
22. The Doughnut
MAGPIE HAD ALWAYS BEEN OVERLOOKED. First, it was growing up in a family that focused its praise and attention on the oldest son. Then it was boarding school, where the children of the rich and powerful were given the best opportunities. Now, it was MI6, where spies with the right connections got all the flashy assignments and hero treatment.
At each of these stages, Magpie had been successful, but never too successful. A likable child, a good student, a well-regarded agent. Solid but not special. Certainly not spectacular.
This pleased Magpie intensely.
Stars got all the attention, which meant their every move was scrutinized. Understudies could scurry around in the shadows, which is exactly where Magpie wanted to be. The shadow world was rife with opportunity for anyone who had talent but lacked morals.
One person who did not underestimate Magpie was Le Fantôme. Their collaboration had been very profitable, and he found the agent to be incredibly skilled, which is why he wanted them to work together on a special project. A few months earlier, an Umbra plan had failed miserably in Paris. The organization intended to release a deadly virus during a youth summit on the environment, but the man responsible for executing the plan suddenly disappeared. Le Fantôme suspected MI6 had something to do with it and tasked Magpie with finding out.
Rather than dig into files about the summit or Umbra, which could attract attention, Magpie devised a more devious scheme and orchestrated the hijacking of the Sylvia Earle.
“How will this help uncover what happened in Paris?” Le Fantôme asked.
“It might not,” answered Magpie. “But MI6 lacks creativity and is prone to repeat itself. Like the youth summit, this scenario features students in a scientific setting. They may try to repeat whatever worked for them in Paris; perhaps placing an agent on board as a scientist or crew member.” The double agent paused for a moment and added, “And even if they don’t, you’ll still make millions from the ransom.”
Le Fantôme laughed and said, “I think you may be the only person I’ve ever met who’s more deplorable than me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.”
At the time, the plan seemed brilliant. Magpie made sure MI6 inte
rcepted a communication about the hijacking and then got out of the way. At least one agent was placed on board, but there was no indication that she disrupted the hijacking at all. She didn’t need to. Emil Blix had bungled everything on his own.
Or had he?
When they met in Norway, Blix was adamant that someone had tampered with his bomb. Magpie thought this was a desperate attempt to salvage his reputation, but the investigation in Parliament had changed things. Despite the hearing’s “secret” status, Magpie had managed to get access to all the testimony. Originally, this was to make sure none of it led to Blix or helped connect him with Umbra. But now it had Magpie questioning whether perhaps MI6 had been clever enough to place more than one agent on board. Multiple agents working independently could explain Blix’s failure. Had the mole underestimated the Secret Intelligence Service?
“Who’s there?” asked the security guard making his hourly rounds.
“It’s just me,” Magpie answered innocently with a friendly wave. “The boss had some emergency late-night files that needed to be pulled for a meeting tomorrow morning.”
The guard shook his head and replied, “Isn’t it always that way? It’s the boss’s emergency, but you’re the one working late at night while he’s sound asleep.”
“Always,” Magpie replied, not bothering to point out that the boss was, in fact, a she and not a he.
“Take care and turn the lights out when you leave,” said the guard as he resumed his rounds.
“I will. Have a good night.”
That’s how easy deception was when people continually overlooked you. The guard was so used to seeing Magpie coming and going to perform menial tasks such as dropping off or picking up files that he didn’t think twice about the situation. Even in the middle of the night at GCHQ, the government communications headquarters. This was the building, universally known as the Doughnut, where MI6 stored its most sensitive records. Magpie had come looking for one in particular. A name had cropped up out of nowhere and suddenly seemed worth looking into.
