Sister Spy

by Laura Peyton Roberts

  Even so, starting from this overgrown backwater fifty yards off a public roadway was safer than infiltrating a base, where she'd be a hundred times more likely to arouse suspicion. A boat was still out of the question, though—too likely to be spotted.

  I'll get an underwater scooter, she decided. She had practiced with the propeller-driven devices as part of her SD-6 scuba training. On land, a scooter was heavy, but once in the water, it would save both her energy and her oxygen by towing her to the dive site. She would travel underwater, so no one could track her from shore, and when she arrived she would have all her strength left for the dive.

  Her decision made, Sydney hurried back up the gentle slope to her rental car. The place she had chosen to park, a packed-dirt turnout on the harbor side of the road, wasn't invisible, but the surrounding vegetation provided a good screen. At night, her black compact car would be impossible to spot.

  Okay, here's what I need, she thought, making a mental list as she steered back onto the pavement and headed toward the nearest dive shop. The scooter, mask, fins, tank, dive light, dive bag . . . Should I get a knife?

  It couldn't hurt, in case she encountered something she needed to cut. Or pry. Or kill.

  Like a shark.

  She shuddered at the idea. At night, in such murky water, a shark would be on top of her before she even saw it. Not that she'd be able to outswim it if she did . . .

  Maybe sharks don't like the harbor, she comforted herself. They're probably all out in the ocean, harassing the fish.

  Wait. I think they eat seals.

  She shuddered again, the fine hairs rising on the back of her neck. The black wet suit she'd be wearing would give her a definite seal-like quality. . . .

  I've got nukes, spies, and an angry roommate. I refuse to think about sharks!

  “Where have you been?” Francie demanded the second Sydney stepped into their room. She was sitting on her unmade bed wearing a pink miniskirt and halter top, a straw hat tilted back on her head. “We're going to be late to breakfast!”

  “No, we aren't,” Sydney promised, pulling the door closed behind her. “I'll just rinse off, put on some clean shorts, and be ready. Five minutes, tops.”

  “Half the girls are already down there,” Francie complained. “We have that poolside buffet this morning, remember?”

  “Then go down without me. I'll catch up.”

  Rushing to her suitcase, Sydney pulled out a fresh tank top. The “sweat” on the one she was wearing had come straight from a bottle of Evian, but Francie didn't know that.

  “I don't want to go without you,” Francie said. “I've been doing everything without you.”

  “That's not true.”

  “It feels that way. You've been bouncing all over the place ever since we got here.”

  Sydney grabbed the rest of the clothes she needed. “Maybe. A little. But there are all these other girls, and so many things to do. Aren't you having fun?”

  “I guess. It's just . . . We're still going sightseeing after breakfast, right? Just you and me?”

  “And the sooner I get in the shower, the sooner we can leave.”

  Francie gestured for her to hurry, and Sydney ran into the bathroom. Standing under a flood of hot water, soaping as fast as she could, she tried to figure out what was going on with her best friend.

  Francie hasn't been herself since I mentioned AKX.

  All the complaints—about snootiness, about money, about Sydney's activities—none of that was like Francie at all. And if Sydney had been a bit more outgoing than usual, Francie had been twice as clingy.

  It's almost like . . . She's jealous! Sydney realized.

  Aside from her buddy Todd on the track team, Sydney hadn't made any other close friends at school. She and Francie were best friends, roommates, confidants. In fact, they'd been pretty much joined at the hip ever since they'd met during the summer.

  “I'm almost ready!” Sydney called out, filled with sudden understanding.

  “Yeah, sure,” Francie called back grumpily. “You're going downstairs with wet hair?”

  “Yes,” Sydney answered immediately. “If it makes you happy, you bet I am!”

  Sydney's was the only wet head at the sorority's private poolside buffet. Her white tank and denim shorts comprised the least dressy outfit, and she was the only girl there whose face was completely free of makeup. While she hadn't felt self-conscious leaving her room that way, she was starting to think that she'd made a mistake.

  “Maybe I should have dried my hair,” she whispered to Francie as they grabbed plates and joined the line for food. “Geez. I thought people would be down here in their bathing suits.”

  Francie shook her head disbelievingly. “Are you kidding? Have you been paying attention at all?”

  “To what?”

  “The uniforms!” Francie whispered. “These girls have a uniform for everything—they just don't tell us what it is.”

  “That's crazy!” said Sydney, making a face. Then she looked around her. With the exception of her and Roxy—who always went her own way—every sister there was wearing a short skirt and wide-brimmed sun hat.

  “Who tipped you off?” she asked Francie.

  “I'm getting the hang of it now, that's all.”

  Sydney gave her a skeptical look.

  Francie smiled sheepishly, caught. “And I might have overheard some girls talking last night.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  The line moved forward and Sydney started filling her plate. Bypassing the scrambled eggs, bacon, and pastries, she loaded up on fresh tropical fruit.

  “I'll get us a table,” she told Francie.

  Grabbing a fork, she turned around and nearly walked right into Ashley.

  Miss Perfect was wearing another of her immaculate all-pink ensembles. Her lip curled disapprovingly as she looked Sydney up and down.

  “Late night?” she asked sarcastically. Her snobby tone was so L.A., it was almost too L.A. Sydney had noticed that before, but now she suddenly wondered if Ashley might be covering another accent—a foreign accent.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she replied.

  Ashley blanched. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that I saw you leave the hula lesson. And I didn't see you after. Hot date?”

  “None of your business!” snapped Ashley. Spinning on the heel of one designer sandal, she stalked off past the pool and sat at the farthest table.

  “Whew!” said Francie. “I think you made her mad.”

  “Yeah,” Katie piped in behind them. “Overreact much?”

  Sydney shrugged slightly, her gaze fixed on her new foe. “I'm getting the impression that's how Ashley gets through life.”

  Katie laughed, delighted. “Gee, you catch on fast!”

  “Sydney!” Francie scolded nervously. “It won't help us get initiated if you start a war with Ashley.”

  “What did I do?” Sydney protested, feigning innocence. “I just asked a simple question.”

  Not that she'd expected an answer. Still, it couldn't hurt to shake Ashley's tree a little. A properly worded innuendo might even goad her into making a mistake.

  “Don't worry about it,” said Katie. “Ashley can moan all she wants to, but if Roxy likes you, you're in.”

  They had just returned from sightseeing and Francie was still in the shower when Sydney's untraceable SD-6 cell phone rang. Lunging for her suitcase, she dug it out from under her clothes and pressed the Talk button.

  “Hello?” she whispered, hoping the running water would keep Francie from hearing.

  “Hey,” said a male voice on the other end. “It's me. Noah.”

  “Noah?”

  She sat down hard, absolutely stunned.

  “Listen,” he said. “I don't know what happened the other night, but it's all I've been thinking about.”

  “I just . . . you didn't . . .” She was so surprised by the sound of his voice that she could barely remember
either. “You made me mad.”

  “Yeah. I got that part.”

  “Oh.” Maybe she had been a little touchy.

  “You could have told me it was a mission,” he added. “That would have pretty much cleared things up.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “It's just . . . a lot of things.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” she asked, wondering if he might actually be admitting something.

  “Hey, I just found out you're in Hawaii,” he said, switching subjects. “I'm totally jealous!”

  “It is pretty nice. Francie and I just took the bus to Diamond Head, then went swimming at this beautiful place called Hanauma Bay. The fish are protected there—practically tame.”

  “How come you get all the cushy assignments?” he asked.

  “Right. The sewers of Paris. That was real cushy.”

  “What sewer? That was a tunnel.”

  “Call it whatever you want. It's just a desperate attempt to forget all that stuff floating in the water.”

  Noah laughed, and so did she. It felt good to talk openly about her job. The shower was still running full blast, and Noah was the only other person in the world who knew—really knew—this secret side of her.

  “So where does this fancy sorority of yours bunk up?” he asked. “The Royal Hawaiian?”

  “We're in a new place. Waikiki Princess.”

  “I've heard of it. I've heard it's nice.”

  “You mean I'm actually someplace you haven't already been?”

  “The thing is,” Noah teased, laughing, “I've never joined a sorority.”

  “I miss you,” Sydney blurted out, immediately wincing at her own stupidity. That was the last thing she should have admitted!

  But Noah amazed her again.

  “I miss you too,” he said.

  6

  “What's this meeting about?” Francie asked as she and Sydney rode the hotel elevator down to the floor below the lobby.

  “I don't know,” Sydney replied. “Roxy just said to meet in the Aloha Room at four o'clock.”

  Francie checked her watch. “She didn't give us much warning.”

  “You know Roxy. Not big on ceremony.”

  In fact, Sydney had barely hung up with Noah before their room phone had rung and Roxy had informed her of the previously unscheduled event. Francie had had to rush to get her hair dried, and neither of them had any idea what the proper AKX uniform for a surprise meeting was. They had finally decided to go with flowered dresses and crossed fingers.

  The elevator doors opened on the Blue Pacific floor. A brass sign indicated that the Aloha Room was to their left.

  “Maybe we're going to play more games,” Francie suggested as they walked.

  “Maybe.”

  Sydney hoped not. They had played games after breakfast that morning, cutesy bare-your-soul stuff, exactly as Wilson had promised. Luckily for Sydney, the deep and meaningful mysteries her new sisters had wanted to explore had included highly guarded secrets like her favorite type of cookie—chocolate chip—and the name of the first boy she'd ever kissed—Brian Peters, in fourth grade. A game of no-holds-barred Truth or Dare would have been a lot more interesting. Truth was out of the question, but she could have kicked butt on the dares.

  “I think Emily cheated to win that crown,” Francie said in a low voice.

  “I think so too. But since it's made of suckers, let's let her have it.”

  The friends exchanged smiles, back on the same wavelength, but Sydney's heart was somewhere else. Ever since they'd said good-bye, she'd been yearning for Noah.

  It's so like him to be nice when there's nothing I can do about it, she thought unhappily. Why can't he be nice in person?

  Still, he'd finally come dangerously close to admitting his feelings for her. That had to be progress.

  Inside the Aloha Room, most of the girls had already taken seats. Roxy stood up front, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. She looked ready to burst with good news, and the moment Sydney laid eyes on her, she felt her spirits rise.

  “Okay, who's still not here?” Roxy demanded of Kira, who jumped up with a list in her hands. Kira read four names, one of them Ashley's.

  “What time is it?” Roxy asked her.

  “Five minutes after four.”

  “Okay. They're late and I'm not waiting anymore.” Roxy looked hopefully to the sisters already in seats, inviting them to agree with her.

  “Yeah, get it over with,” Keisha said. “In case you haven't noticed, it's a lot nicer outside than down here in the basement.”

  “All right, then. Here it is,” Roxy said, her blue eyes round with excitement. “I booked us all on a cruise!”

  Pandemonium greeted this unexpected announcement, everyone exclaiming and shouting out questions at once.

  “Where are we going?” several voices called in unison.

  “Not that type of cruise,” Roxy said, laughing. “A catamaran dinner cruise tonight! We're really lucky, because there are so many of us, and it was such short notice. But I got forty-five places on a boat that carries two hundred. We'll have dinner out on the ocean, with a bar and dancing. It's going to be so much fun!”

  The girls began talking excitedly, most of them in agreement that a catamaran ride was a big improvement over the original evening schedule, which had them eating on their own with free time afterward.

  “One more thing,” said Roxy, happy to see her plan so well received. “We used Kira's credit card to reserve all those spaces, so everyone owes her another hundred and fifty. How do you want them to pay you, Kira?”

  “Check, I guess. I could take cash from a few people, but if everyone wants to pay that way it'll be too much money to carry around.”

  “I'll let you guys work that out with Kira,” said Roxy. “In the meantime, the hotel shuttle is taking us to the dock at five forty-five and the boat is leaving at six-fifteen. Everyone needs to be ready and in the lobby by five-forty at the latest. Any questions?”

  No one raised a hand.

  “Okay, then. Meeting dismissed!”

  Everyone jumped up, eager to pump Roxy for more details or hand their money over to Kira. Sydney and Francie exchanged less thrilled looks and drifted into the hall.

  “More money,” Francie griped. “At least when we were eating on our own I had the option of skipping dinner.”

  “It is adding up,” Sydney admitted.

  But she had a much bigger problem. As soon as it got fully dark, she had planned to slip away to carry out her mission in Pearl Harbor. Now she'd be stuck on a boat somewhere—and she didn't even know for how long.

  “The thing about this sorority,” Francie said glumly, reading her mind, “is that our lives aren't our own anymore. I feel like I'm scrambling all the time just trying to keep up. With the money, the clothes, the schedule, the girls . . .”

  “We're new. It'll get easier.”

  “Hope so,” Francie grumbled.

  “This is pretty nice after all,” Sydney said, her elbows planted beside Francie's on a side railing. In front of them, the Pacific stretched out to meet another spectacular sunset, and beneath their feet, the hi-tech catamaran rocked just enough to let them know they were on a boat.

  “All I can say is, they'd better serve dinner soon,” Francie replied, glancing back over her shoulder.

  Sydney followed her gaze to the aft-deck bar, where many of the sisters were already working on their second or third pineapple-garnished drinks. Once the men on board had discovered a sorority in their midst, the mai tais and blue Hawaiis had begun flowing freely, in both senses of the word.

  “Those blue ones just look . . . wrong,” Francie added. “Like drinking Ty-D-Bol.”

  “Go tell Ashley. She'll be thrilled,” Sydney suggested, imagining her reaction to having her cocktail compared to toilet cleaner. Ashley had knocked back more of the blue drinks than anyone; Sydney knew, because she'd been keeping an eye on her rival spy ever since they'd boarded t
he boat. She didn't expect any forays from Ashley that night—the girl was as trapped as she was—but it never hurt to pay attention.

  Strings of tiny white lights had begun to twinkle around the bar and in some of the potted palms ringing the dance floor before dinner was finally announced. The passengers moved into a low-ceilinged salon with a buffet set up along one side and three very long, narrow tables for dining. Roxy made no attempt to separate the sisters from the rest of the guests; everybody helped herself to a plate of food and grabbed the most convenient seat. Conversations and laughter echoed off the walls in the tightly enclosed space, making people talk even louder. Waiters bustled back and forth, keeping the drinks flowing—a task they carried off admirably, considering the demand. Sitting beside Francie, Sydney spotted Ashley near the end of the next table, flirting drunkenly with a man at least fifteen years her senior. She had just decided that the room was becoming uncomfortably hot when a burst of dance music sounded on deck, yanking people up out of their seats.

  A passing guy stopped to smile at Francie. “Want to dance?”

  “How did you know?” she asked happily, jumping up before remembering Sydney. “Oh. You don't mind if—”

  “Go!” Sydney told her. “Have fun.”

  She barely noticed her friend leaving, her attention was so fixed on Ashley. Did she know that older man? Was it possible he was a contact?

  Maybe she's not even drunk!

  Sydney could fake intoxication too, although all those drinks Ashley had downed had to be going somewhere.

  Maybe she's ordering virgins. The possibility gave her a sick little jab at the pit of her stomach. It made sense; no sane spy would get that impaired in public. But why would Ashley pretend? What was she trying to cover?

  Ashley's dinner partner rose abruptly, passing within twenty feet of Sydney as he left the room. His khakis and Hawaiian shirt couldn't quite erase the businessman from his demeanor, and threads of silver glinted in his dark hair.