by James Ponti
“What about you?” Paris asked Rio. “What do you hope she’s like?”
“I’m with Kat,” he said. “I don’t think we should add anyone so close to a mission. But, if we’re going to do it, I just hope she’s younger than me. I’m tired of being the youngest.”
“Why?” asked Kat. “What’s bad about that?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Every. Single. Thing. I get leftovers. I get hand-me-downs. And most of the time, I get overlooked.”
Paris scoffed. “That’s rubbish.”
“Is it?” asked Rio. “Take today, for example. Why are you the alpha?”
“Because I’m the …” Paris thought about the right phrasing before saying, “… most experienced.”
“That’s just another way of saying ‘oldest,’ ” said Rio. “Coming here was my idea, but I bet you never considered letting me plan it.”
“I would’ve,” he said defensively. “But it’s a tricky mission.”
“This isn’t a mission,” Rio protested. “A mission’s nicking files from the Russian embassy without getting caught. Which we both did even though you got most of the credit. This is … sightseeing. We’re just going to follow a girl.”
“Hey,” Kat said, offended.
“I’m not saying it because she’s a girl,” he responded. “I’m saying it because she hasn’t had any training. We’re not even going to come into contact with her. It’s easy-peasy. But you still wouldn’t let me be the alpha. And it’s too bad, because I’d ace it.”
Rio liked to joke, but Paris could tell this was different. This was something that had been building up inside him.
“I even solved the problem,” Rio added.
“What problem?” asked Paris.
“The one you haven’t mentioned because you don’t know what to do about it,” he answered.
Paris waited for more, but Rio didn’t elaborate. “All right, enlighten me. What problem haven’t I solved?”
Rio shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not the alpha. I’m just a helper. I’ll do what I’m told and keep my mouth shut. Even when this whole thing goes pear-shaped.”
Paris turned to Kat, who rolled her eyes and nodded her approval.
“Okay,” said Paris. “You can be the alpha.”
“Really?”
“I’m handing you the reins, mate. Now, what’s the problem?”
“This bus,” Rio said, eager to share his thinking. “When she exits the airport, she’s either going to take the bus or the tram into the city.”
“What’s the problem with that?” asked Kat.
“Following her means we need to get on board,” he said. “That’s fine on the tram because there’re seven cars. But if she rides the bus, she’ll likely see us. And then she’ll recognize us tonight at dinner.”
Paris nodded. “You’re right. I was worried about that. What’s your solution?”
“Three positions,” Rio said. “First, a lookout right outside International Arrivals. The lookout identifies Sara and describes her to the others. Second, someone in the terminal to see if she takes the bus or the tram.”
“And third?” asked Paris.
“Already waiting back in the city,” Rio said with a sly grin. “No matter which way she goes, the third person has time to get to the bus stop or the tram station and follow her from there.”
“That’s clever,” said Paris.
Rio grinned and kept going. “The key position is going to be the lookout. Mother always makes us split up as soon as we get through passport control. That means she’ll be by herself when she comes through the door. The lookout has to pick her out of the crowd.”
“Got it,” said Kat.
Rio stopped and looked at her. “What do you mean, got it?”
“I mean I’ll have no problem spotting her,” she said, as if it were obvious.
“What makes you think you’re the lookout?” asked Rio.
“Common sense, past experience,” she replied. “The fact that I’m better at it than either of you.”
Paris went to protest, but Kat held up a hand to stop him. “Just stating facts.”
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong,” replied Rio. “It’s the hardest job. It’s the most important job. And since I’m the alpha, I’m the lookout.”
“But I’m …”
“No buts,” Rio said, cutting her off. “There’s no way I’m changing my mind.”
“I’ll give you the other half of my sandwich,” she said, holding it up.
“Deal,” he said without hesitation as he snatched it from her hand. “Kat’s the lookout.”
“Oh, you’re some alpha,” said Paris.
“You bet I am,” Rio said as he unwrapped the sandwich and took a huge bite. “I was always going to make Kat the lookout. I was just hungry.”
“That’s okay,” she replied. “I was always going to give you the sandwich.”
“Where do I fit in this plan?” asked Paris.
“You’re in the terminal,” Rio said with a swallow. “I’m going to ride back to the city center and wait for her there.”
Paris smiled. “Which gives you just enough time to run back to the pasty shop and get a pie.”
“Traditional Cornish steak with beef, potatoes, and onions in a golden-brown crust,” Rio replied, savoring the thought of it. “Like I said, it’s the perfect plan. At least it is if you spot me the five quid.”
The bus reached the airport, and the passengers started to get off. Paris reluctantly handed Rio a five-pound note and said, “That makes twenty-five you owe me now.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m good for it.”
“Okay, is that everything?” Kat asked.
“Yes,” answered Rio.
“Then say it,” she told him. “It’s the alpha’s job, and we can’t start without it.”
Rio grinned from ear to ear. “This operation is hot. We are a go.”
7. Chaos Theory
MOTHER LIKED TO MAKE UP little sayings, called Motherisms, to help his team remember key principles of spycraft. One of his favorites was You can’t look out if you stand out. This was a reminder that an essential element of surveillance was disappearing into the background.
Kat often found this challenging in Scotland, where it seemed like everyone was fair-skinned. She was Nepali and had a dark complexion that most people mistook for Indian or Pakistani but was impossible to confuse with Scottish. Luckily, with travelers from around the world, the airport gave her plenty of places to blend in.
She found a perfect spot in the coffee shop near customs and immigration. Rather than solid walls, it had angled wooden slats designed to let in plenty of light. This gave her an ideal vantage point where she could hide from view but still see everyone passing through the International Arrivals gate.
Kat was an excellent lookout because she saw the world differently. The complex math that continuously ran through her head tended to make her socially awkward, but also let her identify patterns where everyone else saw chaos.
“I still don’t understand how you do it,” said Rio, talking to her through the tiny earpiece she was wearing. “What’s the trick?”
“You think everything’s a trick,” she whispered into the microphone hidden in her coat’s lapel. “But it’s not. It’s just maths.”
Even though Rio had ridden the bus back to Edinburgh, and Paris was waiting in another part of the terminal, they were able to talk to each other using a custom-made communication app on their phones.
“How many passengers are on an international flight?” asked Rio.
“At least two hundred fifty,” Paris answered, joining in the conversation.
“And how many have landed in the last half hour?”
Paris checked the arrivals monitor and answered, “Four: Bangkok, Amsterdam, Istanbul, and New York.”
“That means there are at least one thousand people coming through Passport Cont
rol,” said Rio. “How is finding one person out of a thousand not a trick?”
“Your first mistake is thinking of it as one thousand people,” Kat answered. “It’s easier to calculate as four groups of two hundred fifty. Each group acts as a single unit. They get off the plane together. They get their baggage together. They go through customs together. And you can instantly eliminate three of the groups.”
“How?”
“Bangkok, Amsterdam, Istanbul, and New York have different ethnicities and styles of dress,” she explained. “My only concern is the group that’s predominantly American.”
“That makes sense,” said Paris. “But it still leaves you with two hundred fifty people.”
“No, it leaves me with a single group made up of two hundred fifty people,” she replied. “And one person in that group won’t fit in with the other two hundred forty-nine. That’s your one in a thousand.”
“I still don’t get it,” said Rio.
“I’d love to explain it in more detail,” she replied. “But I just spotted Sara, so we should probably start following her.”
“How confident are you that it’s her?” asked Rio.
“I didn’t say I think I spotted her,” replied Kat. “I said I spotted her. That means I’m one-hundred-percent confident. She looks about twelve years old. Latina. Brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Jeans and a blue sweatshirt with white trainers. I’m sending a picture.”
Kat pretended to text someone but actually snapped a photo of Sara and sent it to the others.
“How can you be positive it’s her?” pressed Rio.
“I could go through the maths again,” she replied. “Or you could just look at the picture and see that she’s carrying Sydney’s purple rucksack.”
The key to spotting Sara had been simple. The pattern she didn’t fit was that she was a twelve-year-old girl by herself instead of with her parents. Kat knew to look for that because Mother always insisted they separate in an airport. He said the combination of queues and cameras made it the easiest place for a spy to be photographed and identified.
Between airport security, government surveillance, and tourists taking vacation snaps, you were bound to have your picture taken multiple times. And, with the advances in facial recognition software, there was always a danger he could be identified, which is why he didn’t want any of the kids on the team to risk having their picture taken with him.
Mother also saw this as a chance for Sara’s RV test. He gave her detailed instructions to an RV, or rendezvous point, in the city. They were stored in a new mobile phone along with an emergency number in case she got lost. Sara was determined not to use the number. She wanted to ace her tests. Her first instruction was to find the sign marked AIRLINK BUS.
“Paris, she’s moving toward you,” said Kat.
“I got her,” he replied.
“Roger that,” Kat answered as she left the coffee shop and disappeared into the crowd. She needed to make sure Mother and Sydney didn’t spot her when they came through the gate.
Paris stood by a Visit Scotland kiosk trying to blend in with a group of students on a school trip. As Sara walked toward him, he got a good look at her face. He noticed her eyes were darting side to side, trying to take everything in.
“She looks nervous,” he said to the others.
“That’s understandable,” said Kat. “I was terrified when I arrived.”
“Not me,” Rio said confidently.
“Really?” Paris retorted. “Because I could’ve sworn that was you crying yourself to sleep the first few nights at the farm.”
There was silence on the other end, and Paris felt bad for bringing it up.
Sara checked the directions on her phone right before she passed Paris. He gave her about ten feet before he started following. Once they exited the terminal, he closed the gap enough to eavesdrop on her conversation with the attendant at the Airlink ticket window.
“Is this the bus to Waverley Bridge?” she asked.
“Yes,” answered the man. “It’s four and a half pounds.”
She gave him a confused look. “Four and a half pounds of what?”
“That’s the price of the fare.”
It took a moment, and then Sara flashed an embarrassed smile. “Right. Because here pounds are money and not how much something weighs.” She handed him one of the five-pound notes Mother had given her and boarded the bus.
Paris chuckled to himself and kept walking. “I can already tell that I like her,” he said to the others. “She just got on the one hundred bus and should be there in twenty minutes, Rio. Kat and I will take the tram and catch up with you.”
“Roger that,” mumbled Rio, his mouth full of Cornish beef pasty.
“Sounds like you’ve already spent my money,” said Paris. “How’s the pie?”
“Delicious,” Rio answered, contorting his body so no gravy dripped on his shirt. “Absolutely delicious.”
The pie was an appropriate reward for what had been a good morning. Not only had Rio stood up for himself but also now his plan was working perfectly. This was the first time he’d been an alpha for anything other than practice. Although Mother wouldn’t know about it, at least Paris and Kat would see what he could do.
His problem wasn’t just that he was the youngest. He felt like he was overlooked because he wasn’t as good a student as the others. School was a struggle, and this was a chance to show that his street smarts more than made up for it.
He finished the pasty and took a position on Waverley Bridge, which connected the old part of the city and its medieval streets to the new, modern section. He spotted Sara as she got off the bus and walked toward New Town.
“I’ve got her,” he told the others. “She’s heading toward Princes Street.”
“It’ll take another fifteen minutes for the tram to get there,” Paris responded. “So you’re on your own until then.”
“I can handle it,” he answered cockily. “Like I told you, easy-peasy.”
Princes Street was the city’s main shopping avenue. One side was lined with stores and boutiques while the other ran beside a mile-long park that provided postcard-perfect views of Edinburgh Castle. Sara stopped several times to make sure she was following the directions properly, once making a U-turn only to spin around and head back in the original direction a few feet later.
“There’s no way she’ll be ready for a mission in three weeks,” Rio said to the others. “She’s totally lost.”
“It’s a new city,” Paris said, defending her.
“We go to a lot of new cities and can’t afford to stop and ask directions,” Rio replied.
He followed her into Jenners, a large department store that filled an entire city block. It had operated out of the same location since 1838, and its three-story atrium was ideal for spy work. Rio would’ve looked out of place following Sara through women’s fashions on the middle level but was able to watch her from the balcony of home furnishings one floor above.
“We’re in Jenners,” he said. “This may be the RV location.”
“Careful,” said Paris. “Mother and Sydney could be nearby.”
“Yes, I know that,” answered Rio.
“Keep your distance, and make sure they don’t see you,” Paris continued.
“I know that, too,” Rio replied, exasperated.
“We’re off the tram and headed your way,” said Paris. “As soon as we get there, we can take turns tailing her.”
Rio tried to ignore the fact that Paris was giving instructions like he was the alpha. “Roger that.”
“Think it’s the RV?” asked Kat.
“Don’t know,” said Rio. “Right now, she’s looking at watches.”
“Any sign of Mother or Sydney?” asked Paris.
“Don’t you think I would’ve mentioned that when Kat asked me if I thought this was the RV?” Rio replied. “Letting me be the alpha means not treating me like I’m a total plank.”
“Sorry, mate,
” Paris said. “Old habits.”
Rio watched intently as Sara tried on several watches. The salesperson helping her was distracted when another customer asked a question. When she looked away, Sara slyly slid one of the jewelry boxes off the counter and into her backpack.
Rio was so stunned, it took him a moment to react. “I don’t believe it!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!”
“What?” asked Paris.
“She just nicked a watch.”
The salesperson turned her attention back to Sara, who was once again admiring the watch she had on. The woman obviously had no idea that one of the boxes was missing.
“What do you mean?” asked Paris.
“I mean she nicked a watch,” said Rio. “It was on the counter, and she slipped it into her backpack when the saleswoman looked away.”
Sara handed the watch she was trying on back to the woman and left the counter. Once she was about fifteen feet away, she picked up her pace.
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Kat. “Why would she do that?”
“I’ll make sure to ask her,” Rio replied as he tried to keep up. “But right now she’s doing a runner.”
Rio bumped into a couple looking at living room furniture, and by the time he got around them, Sara had disappeared into the crowd. He sprinted to the stairs and tried to close the gap, but when he reached the ground floor, there was no sign of her.
He couldn’t believe it. He took a deep breath before admitting to the others, “She’s gone. I lost her. I am a total plank.”
Moments later Paris and Kat arrived to find Rio standing on his tiptoes looking for Sara among the people on the sidewalk. He was frustrated and embarrassed. He’d blown his first chance as an alpha. The others were more concerned with the idea that Sara was a thief.
They crossed the street and sat on a park bench next to the statue of David Livingstone, a famous Scottish explorer.
“What are we going to do?” asked Paris.
Rio gave him a look. “If we tell Mother, then we have to admit we skipped school and spied on her. He’ll be brassed off.”
