CODE ORANGE CANCUN (COVERT KIDS Book 1)

by S. D. BROWN

  Pretend-Mum looked at me, and when she spoke she sounded like the real article. "Stop making that ridiculous face. If you're not careful, it'll get stuck and you'll live out your life as a miserable hag. You do realize, the handsome ones often go through an awkward stage."

  "He's definitely got the awkward stage down."

  "Your drinks, mademoiselle, Madam." Max set the gold filigree and silver tray on a side table. Not only had he brought our beverages, he'd included a plate of sweet biscuits, sliced cheese and luscious looking green grapes.

  I knew the tempting snack was intended for me. Max often commented that my slight frame was the result of a lack of proper nourishment. Which was patently untrue. I'd just replicated my real Mum's petite figure. My appetite was fine.

  "Anything else?" Max asked.

  "Looks wonderful," I said and popped a grape in my mouth. I bit down and its juice flooded my palate with sweet nectar worthy of the gods. "These are marvelous. Thank you, Max."

  Pretend-Mum held out her small empty glass to him. "A refill please and then we'd like some privacy, if you don't mind."

  I frowned.

  Once he'd refilled her glass and retreated to the plane's galley, I said, "You do realize, Max is Uncle Monte's oldest and most trusted employee."

  She gave me a pained smile. "So you say."

  "He's completely trustworthy. You shouldn't speak to him like he's just the hired domestic help." I was the one in control here. I shouldn't have to pull out trump cards, but I did anyway. "Uncle Monte wouldn't like it." Emphasis on "uncle."

  Her pained smile momentarily froze. "Very well, but may I remind you, on this mission I am your mother. As such, I don't want to hear that tone of voice. You will show me respect. Understood? I'm sure Mr. Santana has informed you that I am lead operative on this assignment."

  "Yes, Mummy Dearest," I said sweetly. She may think she was in control of the mission, but I'm not sure she realized my personal stake in its outcome. Still, I would play her game until it ceased to suit my objective.

  "Now that we have the pecking order established," she said. "You will make friends with the boy. His name is James Thomas Chapman III. His friends call him J.T. He likes all sports, but is especially attached to the American game basketball. He lives the majority of the year with his mother in Arizona and visits his father sporadically. His father's cooperation in a delicate matter is the target of this mission."

  "What has the father done?" I asked, wondering how much she knew about his involvement in my parents' death. Or had Uncle Monte spun a different mission objective to my pretend-parents? I'd ask him at the first opportune moment.

  "He's a spy working for Madison Hunter Corporation. He's kidnapped two of Mr. Santana's top scientists. It's imperative that we retrieve them A.S.A.P."

  "As soon as possible," I echoed.

  "Yes," she said. "They are staying in suite 1234. You need to get the boy to trust you. When the time is right, we'll use that trust to put leverage on the father."

  "What exactly do you plan to do?"

  "That, young lady, is on a need-to-know." She smiled. "And you don't. Just do your job. Use your charm and make friends with him. When we arrive at the resort, Harry will equip you with some useful equipment. Now I'm going to take a nap. I suggest you do the same."

  I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep until I heard her soft snores. I opened one lid. She was slumped in the chair, her neck canted at an awkward angle. She'd be sore when she awoke.

  I slipped from my chair and went back to the galley. Max was polishing silver. He smiled when he saw me.

  "Hungry?" he asked.

  "I just munched through that plate of cheese, biscuits and grapes," I said. "I'm full."

  "I could make you a watercress sandwich."

  I shook my head.

  "Then what can I get for you? Another Lemon Squash?"

  "No. Do you think you could put through a call to Uncle Monte? I need to ask him a question."

  "I'm sorry. The call is possible, but he left express instructions not to contact him. Maybe I can answer it for you."

  "Pretend-Mum says we're going to use the boy to get his father to release a pair of scientists. How does that punish the man responsible for my parents' deaths?"

  He shrugged. "Mr. Santana does nothing without purpose. I'm sure this mission is twofold. For his benefit as well as yours."

  The plane dipped to the starboard. I reached out to steady myself.

  "Go buckle in," Max said. "We'll be landing soon."

  4: J.T.

  The wicked watches the righteous, and seeks to slay him.

  Psalm 37:32

  CANCUN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

  LOCAL TIME: 12 NOON

  The engines whined in protest as the plane touched down on the runway.

  My first glimpse of Cancun through the small window sped past in seconds. I'm not sure what I expected, but I was a little bummed. The brochures from the Aztec Palace Resort didn't look anything like the low green jungle that surrounded the airport. Where were the resorts? The stellar turquoise waves breaking on white sand beaches? The wind surfers? The bikini squads?

  Not that any of those things really mattered at the moment. What mattered was that I get off the plane, through customs and find my dad before Hot Chick and Blazer Guy figured out I was the guy they were looking for. It'd been easy to avoid them on the plane. They sat in coach overpaying for dried up soggy sandwiches while I'd wolfed down the complimentary smoked salmon and shrimp pesto pasta in first class. I even managed to score seconds, which was awesome. Ever since I started getting taller, I have what Mom calls a hollow leg.

  The plane shuddered to a stop. Suddenly warm moist air blasted the cabin as the plane taxied to the terminal. I stood up and pulled down my carry-on from the overhead bin.

  "Please remain seated until the plane comes to a full stop and the seatbelt sign is turned off. Thank you for flying Mexico Air," a voice announced. "Enjoy your visit."

  Oops. The announcement was a little late. Oh well. I sat back down, but not before the stewardess shook her finger at me like I was in big trouble. Great, just what I needed. I mouthed sorry and grinned like I meant it. It must have worked because she winked and then laughed. Why couldn't girls my age appreciate my charm like this old lady?

  As soon as the seatbelt sign flipped off, I leaped up and managed to be the first one off the plane. Compared to Arizona, the air felt thick, almost like when you're in a shower. And it smelled a little musty like white bread when it turns green.

  "Welcome to Cancun, hope you enjoyed your flight," the stewardess called after me.

  "It was great," I yelled back at her without breaking my stride. "Muchos gracias."

  Sprinting, I threaded my way through the clusters of travelers like a star quarterback heading for the end zone. I could hear the cheers from the crowd. Of course most of them were shouting in Spanish, so I had no idea what they were saying. I only knew two phrases: Muchos gracias and Donde esta el baño?

  A man stepped out from behind a pillar and I slammed into him.

  "Watch it, kid," he said in English, but with a thick Spanish accent. "Slow down."

  "Sorry," I said and then realized he was dressed in a black uniform with a badge pinned to his shirt pocket. Over it, and stitched in silver thread, was the word Policía. Under it a nametag: Officer Gomez. My mouth went dry. Didn't need to look that up in my Spanish-English dictionary. "I really am sorry. I didn't see you."

  "What's your hurry?"

  For a second I debated if I should tell him about Blazer Guy and Hot Chick. He was a police officer, but he didn't look too friendly. Plus it looked like he'd had a major zit attack when he was young and his face was marked with craters. Even if he did believe me, what could he do? It made more sense to stick to my plan and hope the two spies were still looking for a little kid.

  "My dad's waiting for me," I blurted.

  The officer frowned.

  "I guess I'm just excited.
I haven't seen him in six months." I swallowed, hoping he'd hurry it up. Let me go. That's when I spotted Blazer Guy and Hot Chick headed my way. I turned sideways as they passed. They were too busy arguing to notice me. That gave me a brilliant idea. Maybe I could slip up behind them without them noticing me and listen in on their plans.

  "I promise to be more careful," I said, watching them hurry down the hall toward immigration. "I just have a carry on." I tried the same sheepish grin I'd given the stewardess. He looked as impressed as the girls at school do when they pretend that I don't exist. Or worse, that I'm some form of slug slime.

  "Have a nice vacation," he said.

  "Thanks." I spun round and started off at a slow jog to catch up with Blazer Guy and Hot Chick.

  "Walk!" he barked.

  "Yes, sir." I slowed to a fast walk.

  Immigration was a huge room of roped off lines of people. There must have been at least ten planeloads of travelers waiting to get their passports stamped. The lines snaked around the room in some mysterious plan. It took a couple of minutes to spot the spy couple. I pulled sunglasses and my red Diamondback baseball cap from my bag. Fully disguised, I stood tall and started toward them.

  There were already four people behind them, so I chose the line next to theirs. Good choice. My line moved while theirs stood still. Keeping my back to them I leaned closer to listen. Not that I needed to. They were arguing loud enough for everyone around them to hear exactly what they were saying. That surprised me. I'd always thought spies were supposed to be secretive. Discreet. Invisible. Not them.

  "We're going to my plan B," she said. I could imagine her face was red with anger.

  "It's a stupid idea." His voice sounded disgusted like he'd just stepped on a ripe and juicy dog log.

  "Like you have a better one?" I could imagine her crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  "Read my lips. It won't work."

  "We have to try."

  "I say we contact the powers that be. It should be their call."

  "Next!" a voice called out.

  I looked up. Wow. I'd reached the front of my line. I was a little disappointed. I hadn't learned anything. Maybe they weren't such bad spies after all.

  The woman behind the little counter motioned to me to step forward.

  "Passport?" she said holding out her hand. "Please remove your hat and glasses."

  I handed it to her and took off my disguise.

  "Purpose of visit?"

  "Vacation."

  She typed into her computer, handed me back my passport as a signal for me to move on. She waved at the next man in line.

  Blazer Guy and Hot Chick were handing their passports to another immigration officer to my right.

  I walked straight through baggage and on to customs. The officers were waving almost everyone through without even checking their bags. I was next. In a few minutes I'd be high-fiving my dad.

  There was a tap on my shoulder. It was the police officer I'd run into earlier. This guy must have it out for me, but then I heard the cops in Mexico weren't like the ones back home.

  "Follow me," the man said.

  "Why?" I stupidly asked.

  He glared at me and pointed to a table. "Put your bag there and open it, por favor."

  He slipped on a pair of gloves and began pulling out my stuff and setting it on the table. A pair of my briefs fell on the floor. The man was a sadist. He reached down and used his index finger to pick them up by the waistband so they dangled for everyone to see.

  Skin torch time; my face blazed. For once I was thankful Mom had insisted I pack only clean clothes even though Dad said we had a washer and dryer in our condo at the resort.

  Another officer nabbed an old lady and soon her stuff was spread out on a little table next to mine. While our bags were searched, Blazer Guy and Hot Chick sailed through customs, bags unsearched. Life was totally unfair.

  "You may go." And he just walked away.

  I stuffed everything back in my bag. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was seconds away from seeing my dad and this would all seem like a bad dream. I headed for the exit.

  The doors opened on a roped runway through a mob of people; all waiting for someone. I searched the crowd for my dad. Like me, he's tall, 6-4, and should be easy to spot, but he wasn't there. I scanned the crowd and read the signs held up with people's names on them.

  SENOR HERMAN ELIZA DALY THE AZTEC PALACE SHUTTLE

  M. SIIPOLA FIESTA TOURS JACK EICOLTZ BROWN PARTY

  JAMES THOMAS CHAPMAN II

  I did a double take. That last one was my name. Dad must have been delayed and sent someone else to meet me. I headed for the sign held up high in someone's hand. I couldn't see them yet. The crowd was too thick, like one big anchovy swarming ball of fish I'd once seen in an aquarium. Shifting. Constantly changing.

  A gap opened and I locked eyes with Hot Chick. She held the sign with my name on it in both hands stretched high over her head.

  I did the only thing I could think of at the moment. I bolted.

  5: Serena

  A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.

  Charles Darwin

  CANCUN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

  LOCAL TIME: 12:05 PM

  Mexico was hot. And sticky. And smelled, not at all like England. I wiped several beads of perspiration from my brow. Not that it helped. The tarmac continued to release waves of unbridled heat.

  "Keep your head low," Pretend Mum shouted over the sound of the helicopter's engines. She scrunched down as she scurried to get on board the aircraft.

  "This isn't my first whirly bird excursion," I muttered and ducked beneath the lethal spinning rotors. Not that I needed to stoop. I doubt that even if I wore a pair of platform shoes, I would have been tall enough to be decapitated.

  Once we arrived and got settled at the resort, I'd be making a call to headquarters. Uncle Monte and I needed to have a serious talk. Soon. Mum's condescending attitude was beginning to wear a bit thin and was a total waste of time. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to tolerate her attempt at faux motherhood. He needed to give her a reality check if this mission was going to run smoothly.

  Thankfully, she climbed into the backseat, which left the space next to the pilot for me.

  I hopped in.

  He handed me a headset, motioned for me to put it on and climbed out. Presumably to perform one final safety check before we lifted off. A giganticus must have worn the headgear last. By the time I adjusted the straps to fit my head, Pretend Mum had already started lecturing me.

  "You will keep in contact at all times. And remember to wear sunscreen. I don't want a sunburn to handicap the mission. Speaking of the mission, I expect you to ask before you agree to any night escapades."

  Who did she think she was? Babbling to me such nonsense.

  I took the only sensible option and tuned her out. Preferring to think about the privileges of being Uncle Monte's niece. Not just because he was rich, but because of him I could walk again. Those horrible months when I was trapped in a useless body still haunted my night dreams. Even though he couldn't bring my parents back, at least my independence and mobility had been restored. I owed him everything.

  And the perks were nice.

  Like flying on the private corporate jet. It made clearing customs a breeze. We didn't even have to go into the airport proper. A customs official had hurried out to the plane in his black uniform. A polite man who sported a distinguished black mustache and dark sparkling eyes. Too bad his face was pock scarred. He hand-canceled our passports with an official seal and our in-country processing was completed in seconds.

  It had taken longer for Max to transfer the thirty pieces of leather-bound luggage from the jet to a transport cart. After that, he was officially off duty and had a planned week's vacation in the sun.

  I was surprised when Pretend Mum sidled up to the customs man and whispered into his ear. She even fondled his arm, which was revolting
. At first he looked more shocked than I'd felt. Then he smiled a little too broadly and gave her an exaggerated worldly wink. Eeew. It made him look positively icky. Next she handed him a wad of American dollar bills, which he shoved into his pocket. Creepy, but maybe I was jumping to an illogical conclusion. She'd probably hired him to make arrangements to transport our bags to the resort. That made the most sense.

  Just because I didn't like her, it didn't mean I had to expect the worst of her. Hopefully Pretend Stepdad Harry would be a little more . . . What? Not so fatherly, but professional. Yes, that is what I wanted. A professional operative focused on the job at hand and not on trying to control my every move like I was a child.

  "Are you listening to me?" Mum said, her voice razor sharp. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer."

  "Could you repeat that? Slower." I turned and gave her a wistful smile. "Please? I don't think this headset is working properly."

  I don't think she bought the excuse. And I don't think she liked flying in a helicopter. Under her makeup her skin held a tinge of green, which did nothing to improve her looks.

  "I asked," she said through gritted teeth, "how much has Mr. Santana told you about the mission?"

  "Uncle Monte." I paused for effect and then lied. "Laid out the entire plan to me before I left England."

  "And your understanding of the plan is?"

  I shrugged. "Just the risks. The desired objective."

  "What about the details?"

  "Like you pointed out on the flight down, the details of the mission are on a need-to-know basis. And you don't need to know."

  From the look on her face, I think she would have liked to slap me, but knew better. "Don't push it. I'm not in the mood."

  "That makes two of us." I'd had enough of her berating. The sooner the pecking order of our working relationship was established the better. "You are not in charge of this mission."