National Espionage, Rescue, and Defense Society

by Michael Buckley

  “How?”

  “Every time you tell a lie and I detect it, it’s going to send volts of electricity through your body. Ready to get started?” Jackson winced and nodded. “Is your name Jackson Jones?” Jackson smiled. “Yes.”

  “Very good,” Ruby said. “You’re telling the truth. Are you a student at Nathan Hale Elementary?”

  “Duh! I was only one of the most popular kids in the history of the school,” Jackson said.

  “Very good,” Ruby said.

  “Jackson, have you ever kissed a girl?”

  Jackson hesitated. “Of course I have.”

  Jackson watched as Ruby’s right arm swelled to the size of a watermelon. She scratched at it furiously. “You lied.” She pushed a button on the black box and a blast of electricity hit Jackson.

  “Ouch!”

  “Next question,” Ruby said. “Did you play for the school’s football team?”

  “Yes,” Jackson grumbled.

  “Good,” Ruby said. “Does your father write your name on your underwear?”

  “Of course not,” Jackson cried.

  Ruby face and neck broke out into bright red hives. A second later there was another shock.

  “Jackson, have you ever wet the bed?”

  Jackson blinked.

  “Do I need to repeat the question?”

  “I refuse to answer.”

  “You can’t. You have to say yes or no. I’ll shock you if you don’t.”

  Sweat dotted Jackson’s face, but he did what he could to calm down. He closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and relaxed his beating heart. Then, when he was feeling serene, he opened his eyes. “The answer is no.”

  Ruby stared at him for a long time, but she did not scratch herself. In fact, she looked perfectly comfortable.

  “You’re not lying.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’ve never wet the bed. Ever.”

  “Hmmmm,” Ruby said. “OK, let’s move on to the next question.”

  “Aha! I beat your lie detector,” Jackson bragged.

  Suddenly, Ruby’s eyes started to water and her feet swelled so much she ripped through her shoes. Her nose ran like a river and her lips puffed up so much that they looked as if they had been attacked by a swarm of honeybees.

  “Liar!” she shouted as her swollen thumb slammed the shock button. For three days after the test, Jackson felt as if he had been microwaved like a baked potato.

  WELL, WELL, WELL–YOU’RE STILL

  HERE. PERSEVERANCE IS A BIG

  PART OF JOINING THE TEAM.

  PERSONALLY, I WOULD HAVE BET

  MONEY YOU’D HAVE RUN HOME TO

  YOUR MOMMY BY NOW. ANYWAY,

  YOU NEED LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE

  TO READ FURTHER, AND TO GET

  LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE YOU NEED

  TO GIVE A SALIVA SAMPLE.

  PLEASE LICK THE SENSOR.

  UGH. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN

  EATING? IT SMELLS LIKE

  SOMETHING DIED IN THERE.

  TRY SOME MOUTHWASH.

  ACCESS GRANTED.

  The Hyena was surprised when Dumb Vinci told her that Dr. Jigsaw wanted to see her in his secret lab, where his henchmen still worked day and night on the giant satellite dish. She asked the goon what Jigsaw wanted, but he couldn’t elaborate, so she grabbed her warmest sweater and headed toward the scientist’s inner lair.

  Once inside, the Hyena wished she had worn a coat. Jigsaw, however, seemed oblivious to the cold. He was wearing just a thin lab jacket and a scarf. He smiled and gestured for her to follow him. He led her up a flight of stairs to a tiny room looking out over the lab. Inside was a chair, a desk, a computer, and thousands of jigsaw puzzle pieces, covering the floor. The box for the puzzle was tacked on the wall. It showed a map of the world. Jigsaw scooped up a handful of pieces and snatched a pair of scissors off the desk, then he stood by the window overlooking the lab and gazed down on his machine.

  “You have done well, Mindy,” he said. The Hyena bristled at the use of her real name, but kept her cool. Jigsaw was paying the bills. He could call her Señorita Monkeyface if he wanted. “Lunich’s invention is an essential element of my design,” Jigsaw continued. “Without it we might have suffered setbacks. Simon doesn’t like setbacks.”

  “Who is Simon?” the Hyena asked.

  Jigsaw ignored her. “Mindy, do you know the definition of beauty?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “Beauty,” Jigsaw repeated. He used the scissors to cut the jigsaw pieces into entirely new shapes, as if he was unhappy with the picture the puzzle was making. What he had completed so far didn’t look much like the Earth. “It’s a simple question.”

  “Beauty is something that’s visually appealing,” the Hyena answered.

  “A simple answer for a simple question. Some might argue that beauty is more than what you see, that it involves a variety of senses—smell, sound, and touch, as well as vision. All combining to represent what many people might label as beauty.”

  The Hyena was confused but said nothing. She could tell that Jigsaw was making his I’m-an-evil-mastermind speech. He would find it rude if she interrupted with questions.

  “Still others subscribe to a notion that beauty is defined by perfect symmetry,” the scientist continued. “Have you heard that word before?”

  The Hyena nodded. “That’s when things balance each other.”

  “Very true. Take a human being. What we often call beauty is no more than features that align; eyes that are just the right width apart, a nose that doesn’t sit too low on a face, high, perfectly matched cheekbones. Symmetry is what makes beauty possible. It creates the ideal. It’s at the heart of nature. But what happens when symmetry hasn’t been provided, or worse, has been broken? The beauty is distorted. It’s impossible to see clearly. When that happens, at least for the human animal, we turn to surgeons who can give us what nature has not provided. What a noble profession that must be—surgeon.”

  “Uh, yeah,” the Hyena said. She tried not to stare at Jigsaw’s face-lift. It looked as if someone had collected his loose skin and tied it into a knot on the back of his head. It was distracting.

  “I like to think of myself as a surgeon,” Jigsaw continued. “In many ways what my machine and I are doing is reconstructive surgery. I thought you might like to see a demonstration.”

  Jigsaw tapped a button on a speaker near his window. “Is the new tractor beam ready?”

  A crackling voice replied, “Yes, sir.”

  “Lock in coordinates.”

  “Coordinates are ready, sir,” the voice said.

  “You have a ‘go,’” Jigsaw replied.

  There was a loud blasting sound and the Hyena watched the giant satellite dish turn toward another part of the sky. Mounted on the dish was a huge peg-shaped object. The Hyena recognized it at once. It was a gigantic version of Dr. Lunich’s tiny invention. Jigsaw and the scientists had figured out how it worked! Jigsaw clapped like a happy baby and led the Hyena to the computer in the far corner of the room. On the screen was a satellite map of the world. He pointed to the Hawaiian Islands and grinned. “Have you ever been to Hawaii, Mindy?”

  The Hyena nodded.

  “Lovely place,” Jigsaw said. “Though it’s quite expensive to go there and the flight is very long. I’ve always wished that wasn’t the case.”

  Just then there was a loud rumbling sound from the lab below. The dish was glowing with energy, and when the Hyena was sure it was about to explode, a green beam shot into the air.

  “Watch the monitor, Mindy,” Jigsaw said.

  She turned back to the computer and watched as the satellite image revealed something that the Hyena was sure was impossible. The entire chain of Hawaiian Islands began to move. It drifted toward the coast of California and stopped somewhere near San Francisco.

  The henchman’s voice chirped through the speaker. “Sir, congratulations! The test was a success,” the voice replied.

&nb
sp; “I’m pleased, and Simon will be too,” Jigsaw replied.

  “Unfortunately, the fuel cell on the dish has been destroyed. To finish your plans we’re going to need a power source with nearly unlimited energy.”

  “And very soon I will provide you with the next element of the machine’s design. It will fix all of our problems,” Jigsaw said. Then he turned off the speaker box and faced his puzzle. He snatched his scissors and went to work cutting out new jigsaw puzzle pieces.

  “Mr. Jones, I’m sick of seeing your face in my office!” Mr. Dehaven shouted as Jackson sat in a chair before him.

  “I’m sick of being here,” Jackson grumbled to himself. Since he had joined the NERDS, Jackson had been in Dehaven’s office seven times.

  “You have been late for school every day for two weeks. Why is that?”

  Jackson rolled through a list of previously constructed lies: he was attacked by dogs, the power went out and his alarm clock didn’t go off, his house burned down, etc. Jackson wanted to tell Dehaven the truth. He wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep because he was busy learning to fight and be sneaky and to interrogate suspects, and reading through mountains of files and reports on every little squabble anyone had ever had for the last twenty years. He wanted to tell him everything so Dehaven would get off his back, but he couldn’t. He had been sworn to secrecy.

  “I know exactly why you’re late every day,” Dehaven barked.

  Jackson felt a bead of sweat roll down his face. “You do?”

  “I do. You’re late because you have no respect for anyone or anything other than yourself. You’re lazy and shiftless, and won’t amount to much. Unfortunately, I am required by law to keep trying to reach out to you so that you know what a wonderful gift an education can be. And I assure you, you’re going to appreciate it whether you like it or not. Now, what are we going to do about this problem, Mr. Jones? Hmmm?”

  “I’m not sure. I probably need to think about it,” Jackson said.

  “I couldn’t agree more. Thinking about it is exactly what you should do and the best place to do that is in detention. How about two weeks?”

  “Two weeks!” Jackson cried.

  “See, there’s an old saying, son. When you mess with the bull, you get the horns. I’m the bull, Mr. Jones.” Jackson watched as Dehaven made horns on the side of his head with his fingers.

  Jackson shuffled down the hall feeling as if the whole world were on his shoulders. Since joining the team, his grades had plummeted, his teachers looked at him like he was a degenerate, and his father was considering sending him to military school. On top of that, he was blowing it big time with his training. He was getting better at some things. He’d managed to avoid the tetherball for almost ten minutes and caught a few more Toyotas with his braces, but the kindergarteners were still beating him senseless, he hadn’t fooled Ruby’s lie detection once, and Matilda had pummeled him with an egg timer, a Whiffle ball bat, a ream of copy paper, and a jar of dill pickles in the span of a week. He was sure Agent Brand would kick him off the team at any moment.

  As he slipped Mr. Pfeiffer his tardy note, he wondered if he was cut out to be a secret agent. It was so much work and the team expected nothing but perfection. He wished he could go back to his old life, when he was popular and carefree. He sat down and listened to Pfeiffer prattle on about online dating and quietly envied the man. Pfeiffer had no idea what was happening at this school, and he was happy. Ignorance was bliss.

  At that moment, he felt a strong tingle in his nose, and let loose with an explosive sneeze. A second later, he was following the rest of the team toward the lockers that led to the Playground.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Duncan responded. He was the only one who would talk to Jackson outside of training. “Probably a mission.”

  Jackson stepped into the locker he’d been assigned by Brand.

  As usual, the floor disappeared and he was tossed around in the secret tubes, landing at last in the Playground, on his rump. The others, naturally, landed on their feet.

  “Please take your seats, agents,” Brand said as he gestured to the circular desk in the center of the room. As everyone was getting settled, Ms. Holiday arrived. She looked nervous and worried, and stood off to the side while chewing on a fingernail. When everyone was settled, Brand waved his hand over the blue orb, which brought it to life.

  “Benjamin, we’re ready for our briefing,” Brand said.

  Benjamin’s voice filled the room. “Of course, Agent Brand.”

  The orb sent flecks of light dancing around the room. After a moment, they came together to reveal a series of photographs.

  Brand spoke. “As you know, we’ve been tracking several kidnappings in the scientific community. The number of big brains that have been abducted is growing by the day. Dr. Robert Hill, a preeminent geologist; Dr. Judy Pray, an expert on tides and water movement; Dr. Francis Pizzani, a specialist in antigravitational devices; and, lastly, Dr. Joseph Lunich, who recently invented something called the miniature tractor beam.”

  “It’s truly a marvelous device,” Duncan said. “It has hundreds of practical applications.”

  “As usual, Gluestick is ahead of us all,” Brand said. “Yes, Dr. Lunich is missing, as is one of his prototypes.”

  Matilda took a hit off her inhaler. “Who is doing the kidnapping?”

  “We don’t have a clue,” Ms. Holiday said with a sigh. “But we did retrieve this at the scene of the last kidnapping. It was found next to an expensive black boot.”

  A copy of a yellow list appeared before them. The names Brand had just listed were crossed off, but there was one that still hadn’t been touched. “We believe whoever is doing the goon work left this behind.”

  “Could this have something to do with all the crazy moving islands?” Flinch said as he sucked the cream filling out of a cupcake with a straw.

  “My thoughts as well,” Brand said. “That’s why we’re taking over these kidnapping cases. Normally, this is a job for the FBI, but if the events are somehow connected, then it’s more than the feds can handle.”

  “So all the scientists have been crossed off but one,” Ruby said. “Who’s the lucky person?”

  Ms. Holiday ran her hand over the orb and a photograph of a middle-aged woman with dark skin and a thin face appeared. “Dr. Nashwa Badawi—a mineralogist who discovered a rare substance that can be used in supercharged solar power collectors. Her work has countless commercial and military applications. I’m told that one five-foot panel matches the fuel output of a nuclear power plant. It’s clean and cheap, too. Badawi may very well have created a fuel source for the next generation!”

  “Geology, solar power, tidal movement—whoever is behind this is obviously up to something big, and whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Ruby said.

  “We’ve got analysts trying to figure out what it might be, but for now we have to make sure that Dr. Badawi is safe,” Ms. Holiday explained.

  “So we’re bodyguards now?” Heathcliff asked.

  Brand ignored the sarcasm in the boy’s voice. “Our mission is to outmaneuver the bad guys. We’re going to kidnap Dr. Badawi before they can.”

  Ruby sat back in her chair, stunned. “Kidnap her?”

  Brand nodded. “If we pick her up and hide her, it puts a stop to whoever is behind this list. We did this many times when I worked for the Special Operations Bureau. Ms. Holiday has more about the mission.”

  Brand turned and walked away.

  “He’s not what I’d call a chatty guy,” Jackson said.

  Ms. Holiday gave a knowing smile. She straightened her glasses and skirt, and placed her hand on a panel near the spinning blue orb. The images faded and were replaced by a scene of a desert. “The Nile River Valley in Egypt is a dry one hundred and two degrees today—”

  “Wait! We’re going to Egypt?” Jackson cried. “I can’t go to Egypt! I’ve got detention.”

  The group stared at h
im as if he were a babbling idiot.

  “I’m serious,” Jackson said. “I’m in big trouble. My grades are falling and Dehaven has decided to make me his personal project.”

  Heathcliff shot him a disgusted look. “You’re going to have to figure out how to solve your school problems on your own, Braceface.”

  Ms. Holiday continued her presentation. “Your ultimate destination is Cairo, the capital city of Egypt. It has a population of nearly seventeen million, so it’s going to be pretty crowded. It’s also a dangerous place. The government is in a state of flux, and religious zealots are struggling for control. Westerners are still welcome, but they aren’t always respected or left alone. You’ll have to be careful.”

  “When do we leave?” Matilda asked.

  “Now,” a voice said from behind them. Jackson turned and saw the lunch lady. “Let’s get to the School Bus!”

  The children and Ms. Holiday followed the lunch lady down a hallway. Jackson had concerns. “Um, I don’t know a lot of about geography, but I know we can’t drive to Cairo in a school bus.”

  The others ignored him and stepped through sliding doors that led to a passageway. At the end of the passage, Jackson saw they were inside the school’s gymnasium. Agent Brand was waiting for them in the center of the room. He stood near a rope hanging from the ceiling. Jackson knew the rope well. He held the school time record for climbing. Brand pulled on it three times and a violent rumbling rose from beneath Jackson. A huge section of the gym’s floor slid aside, and from below an incredible machine rose. As it came into view, Jackson understood what it was—a rocket. It was bright orange and had small wings at the bottom. Once it was fully up, a dozen scientists in jumpsuits attached an enormous hose to its side. A moment later, the odor of fuel flooded Jackson’s nose. “What’s that?” Jackson asked.