Spy School Goes South

by Stuart Gibbs

  “Great!” Erica said. “We won’t let you down, Grandpa.”

  “Er . . . ,” I said.

  Cyrus and Erica both turned to me, looking as though they had forgotten I was with them.

  “You have a problem with this?” Cyrus asked.

  “No,” I said. “I have many problems with it.”

  Cyrus glared at me. Erica didn’t look much happier.

  I soldiered on anyhow. “For starters, neither of you asked me if I wanted to do this. . . .”

  “That’s not how spying works,” Cyrus informed me. “You get your mission and you see it through. End of story.”

  “I understand that in theory,” I said. “But I’ve gone up against SPYDER several times before, and things have never worked out the way we hoped.”

  “And yet we’ve always thwarted them,” Erica said impatiently.

  “Yes,” I conceded. “But before that happens, there’s always been an awful lot of me almost dying. Which I have never enjoyed. And now you and I will be confronting SPYDER alone, with Murray Hill, who’s as slippery as they come. It sounds awfully dangerous.”

  “This is the Academy of Espionage,” Cyrus said gruffly. “If you didn’t want danger, you should have enrolled at the Academy of Scrapbooking. Any other problems?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m worried that people might recognize me. Six weeks ago I was the most wanted kid in America for trying to assassinate the president.”

  “You just came here from walking around in public, didn’t you?” Cyrus asked. “Did anyone recognize you?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “How many people have recognized you in the last month?”

  I thought about that then gave my answer. “None.”

  “Exactly as suspected,” Cyrus said. “People have terrible memories. Most can barely recognize someone they’ve met a dozen times, let alone someone who was famous for fifteen minutes a month and a half ago. The chances of you being noticed are minuscule at best—especially because you’re going to be trying your best to not even be seen in the first place. The whole point of this mission is to lie low. Now, if there are no other issues . . .”

  “Actually, there’s one more,” I said weakly. “It’s spring break next week. I’m supposed to go home to see my parents.”

  “Not anymore,” Cyrus informed me. “If we want to get the jump on SPYDER, we can’t waste any time. So call your parents and let them know that plans have changed. You have a big science project, and you’re gonna need the whole week to finish it.”

  “They won’t be happy about that,” I said.

  “I’m sure they won’t,” Cyrus agreed. “But the fate of the free world is at stake here. We can’t put it on hold so you can spend the week with your mommy. Your spring break is now officially Operation Tiger Shark.”

  “Tiger Shark?” Erica asked, impressed. “I thought the CIA had run out of cool names like that.”

  This was true. The CIA had been naming operations for several decades, and the good options were running low. Our last mission had been dubbed Pungent Muskrat.

  “I made an executive decision,” Cyrus replied. “I’m not initiating ops with names like Mangy Weasel or Scrawny Chicken anymore. It’s bad for morale. So I recycled an old mission name. Now go get packing. I want you moving out at oh-two-hundred.”

  “That’s two in the morning!” I exclaimed.

  “I know when oh-two-hundred is,” Cyrus snapped. “The best way to catch your enemy by surprise is to get to them before they’ve even had their morning coffee. I’ll put everything in motion immediately.” With that, he spun on his heel and marched down the hall.

  “But we don’t even know where our enemy is yet,” I said to Erica.

  “We will soon enough.” Erica’s eyes were wide with excitement. “C’mon. Let’s get to the armory.” She started down the hall in the opposite direction her grandfather had gone.

  I stayed rooted to my spot.

  Erica turned back to me. At first she seemed to be annoyed, the way she would have been back when we’d first met, but then she seemed to think better of it. She shifted to a tone of concern. “Ben, I know we’ve ended up in danger every time we’ve gone up against SPYDER, but this mission is different. It’s easy. We’re only keeping an eye on SPYDER, not confronting them. They won’t even know we’re there.”

  “And what if something goes wrong? Something always goes wrong.”

  “Not this time. I promise. This is as simple as missions get.”

  I wasn’t sure if Erica was saying this because she truly meant it—or because she knew it would make me feel better to hear it. I hoped it was the former, though. After all, Erica liked me, which hopefully meant she wouldn’t lie to me. However, I knew she wanted to bring SPYDER down more than anything. It wasn’t merely about the credit. It was also personal; Joshua Hallal, the last spy school student Erica had liked, had betrayed her and defected to the dark side. He was certainly one of the higher-ups Murray was promising to hand over to us. And yet, while Murray might have respected Erica, he certainly didn’t consider her a friend. If I didn’t agree to go on the mission, Murray would probably kill it.

  So it was definitely possible that Erica was only sweet-talking me.

  Still, I fell in behind her and followed her through the tunnels. Partly because I really wanted to trust her intentions. And partly because, without her help, I probably wouldn’t be able to find my way out again. It was a real labyrinth down there.

  “I know you’re worried,” Erica said, “but this won’t turn out as badly as you fear. In fact, it might even be fun.”

  I realized that might be true. If the mission really did turn out to be easy, then going away with Erica for a few days could be enjoyable. Maybe even romantic. I found myself smiling at the thought of it. “Yeah, I suppose it could.”

  “Then let’s start packing.” Erica led the way through the tunnels toward the armory.

  I fell in beside her, growing more and more excited about the mission. Which was a mistake.

  As it happened, Erica was right about one thing: The mission didn’t turn out as badly as I had feared.

  It turned out far worse than I could have ever imagined.

  3

  DILEMMA

  CIA Academy of Espionage

  Armistead Dormitory

  March 28

  2015 hours

  “I have a problem,” Mike Brezinski said. “A big one.”

  “Join the club,” I told him.

  “You don’t understand,” Mike said. “This problem is huge. Bigger than anything you could possibly be dealing with right now.” He was standing in the doorway to my cramped dormitory room, wearing his customary shorts-and-T-shirt combo.

  “Wasn’t that door locked?” I asked.

  “Yes. But I picked it.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think you would answer if I knocked.” Mike pointed to the DO NOT DISTURB sign I’d taped to the door as evidence. “See? You apparently don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I don’t,” I agreed. “I’m in the middle of something very urgent here.” I was packing for my mission. Adam Zarembok had turned out to be a mole. Campus security had found thirty-six highly classified documents hidden in his room. They hadn’t busted him, though, as that would have tipped off SPYDER that something was wrong. But this had convinced Cyrus that Murray had truly turned. Only two minutes before, I had received a coded text from him: Tiger Shark approved and initiated. Be ready at 0200. Murray Hill says dress for warm weather.

  My knapsack was laid out on my spindly bed. (It didn’t seem right to take a suitcase on a mission. I had to be prepared for any eventuality, and the knapsack was far more versatile.) Luckily, I had only placed a few shorts and T-shirts in it so far, and not the cache of survival gear that Erica and I had procured from the school armory. I had quickly covered it all with my bed sheets when I’d heard Mike picking the lock.

  Mike closed the door an
d plopped himself into my desk chair. Either he was ignoring me, or he was too wrapped up in his own problem to have heard what I’d said. “It’s Jemma,” he groaned.

  “Your girlfriend?” I asked.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Mike said quickly. “She’s just a girl who’s a friend.”

  “The national news seems to think you’re her boyfriend,” I told him, then added, “And so does Jemma, I think.”

  “That’s the big problem.” Mike was my best friend from growing up. I had been recruited to spy school first and done my best to keep it a secret from him, but Mike had eventually caught on—and then proved he was potential spy material as well. So he’d been recruited too, although he’d had to start a year behind me.

  Mike was the kind of guy who breezed through life. Back in regular school, he had never really challenged himself, only taking classes he knew he could pass. Spy school had been tougher, but he was still doing fine, mostly because Mike tended to think rules were only for other people, which was an attitude that served him very well at the academy. At spy school, you could sometimes ace a test simply by coming up with a clever enough way to avoid taking it in the first place.

  Jemma was Jemma Stern, the daughter of the president of the United States of America. She had noticed Mike at my medal ceremony, and I’d made an introduction. The two of them had been hanging out ever since. Up until that point, though, I had thought Mike was enjoying his time with Jemma. Two nights before, he’d been her date to a huge gala at the White House and ended up meeting his favorite comedian and the quarterback for the Washington Redskins.

  “Jemma wants me to go to Hawaii with her family for spring break,” Mike groaned.

  “That sounds terrible,” I said sarcastically. “No wonder you’re so upset. And you’ll probably have to fly on Air Force One instead of a regular plane.”

  “It is terrible,” Mike insisted. “A girl doesn’t invite a guy to Hawaii unless she’s serious. And I don’t want to be serious with Jemma.”

  “So tell her you’re not that into her.”

  “It’s not that easy! She’s the First Daughter. You can’t just break up with the First Daughter!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s famous! She’s America’s Sweetheart. She has a hundred million Twitter followers! I just found out we might be in People magazine next week. If I break her heart, I’ll become the most hated person in the country.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “Oh. That is a problem.”

  “Plus, her father controls the Secret Service. He already isn’t a fan of mine. If I really upset Jemma, he might have them whack me.”

  “I don’t think the Secret Service does that for the president.”

  “Oh yeah? How many ex-boyfriends of First Daughters have you ever heard about?” Mike put his head in his hands. “This is a real dilemma, Ben.”

  “Yes. A Jemma dilemma.” I glanced at my watch. Although I felt bad for Mike, I really needed to get him out of my room and finish packing.

  “I don’t want to go to Hawaii,” he said. “I mean, I do. Especially on Air Force One. But once that happens, everyone’s going to think we’re a thing—especially Jemma—and then I’ll never be able to get out of this alive.”

  “So come up with an excuse,” I said. “One that doesn’t sound like you’re breaking up with her. Like you have to go to a family reunion or something.”

  “That’ll never work. I already told her everyone in my family hates each other.”

  “I’m sure you can come up with something else.”

  Mike lifted his head from his hands, looking at me suspiciously. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” I said. Though I’d probably hesitated a moment too long before saying it. Mike had caught me off guard.

  His eyes flicked to my knapsack. “What are you packing for?”

  “My week at home.”

  Mike sprang to his feet and snatched a pair of shorts out of the knapsack. “These are shorts! It’s only supposed to be forty degrees in Virginia this week.”

  “I’m hoping it warms up,” I said quickly. “And I still have pants at home.”

  Mike snatched a tube of sunblock out of the knapsack as well. “Aha! Sunblock! No one takes sunblock to Virginia in March. You’re going on a secret mission, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d expect someone who was going on a secret mission to say!”

  “As well as someone who wasn’t going on a secret mission. Which I’m not doing. Because I’m going home to see my parents.” I defiantly removed a pair of jeans from my dresser and threw them into the knapsack. “See? Pants.”

  “Where are you going?” Mike asked. “Does it have something to do with SPYDER?”

  “It couldn’t have less to do with SPYDER. I’m going to be helping my parents at the grocery store.”

  Mike dramatically yanked back the covers on my bed, revealing the cache of supplies. Then he grinned knowingly at me. “Exactly what do you need a grappling hook for at a grocery store?”

  “Some of the stuff on the top shelves is very hard to reach,” I said. But I couldn’t sell it. Mike had me figured out, and I had always hated lying to my friends. It was my least favorite thing about being a spy. After the nearly being killed by my enemies, of course.

  “What’s the mission?” Mike asked. “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  “Aw, c’mon! I’m your best friend! Take me with you!”

  “That’s not how these things work. I don’t get to invite whoever I want. It’s a top secret mission, not a birthday party.”

  The door to my room suddenly flew open, revealing Zoe Zibbell. “You’re going on a secret mission?” she asked excitedly.

  Zoe had been my best friend at spy school until Mike had been recruited. From the moment I met her, she had been my biggest supporter, believing that I had what it took to be a great spy even when I hadn’t believed it myself. Unfortunately, our relationship had grown awkward since I had discovered that she’d had a secret crush on me. Even worse, our fellow student Warren Reeves had had a secret crush on Zoe. Warren had been so upset with my stealing her attention from him that he’d defected to SPYDER and nearly gotten me killed.

  Zoe and I really hadn’t dealt with this since it had happened. Both of us had been too embarrassed. But avoiding the subject had only made things worse. Things had been weird between us for the last few weeks.

  “Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?” I asked. “Or pay attention to ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs?”

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Zoe said. “I swear. I merely happened to be passing by when I overheard you. The walls in this dorm are paper-thin.”

  “So you decided to pick the lock?” I asked accusingly.

  “Actually, that’s my bad,” Mike owned. “I didn’t lock the door after I picked it.”

  “Are you going after SPYDER?” Zoe asked me excitedly. “Can I come?”

  “No!” I went to the doorway, peered into the hall to see if any other fellow students were eavesdropping, then locked the door and lowered my voice to a whisper. “You’re not even supposed to know about this mission, let alone be invited to tag along.”

  Zoe frowned angrily. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are.”

  “Friends don’t go on missions without telling each other about it.”

  “They do if they’re secret missions,” I said. “If you got sent on a secret mission, you wouldn’t be allowed to tell me. And I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  “Yeah right.” Mike dug into the box of survival gear. “Wow. Night-vision goggles, telephoto scope, camo face paint. Looks like someone’s doing some surveillance!”

  Zoe peered into the box as well and grabbed a pack of gum. “Cool! Is this putty explosive that’s designed to look like gum?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s actual gum.”

  �
��Mint gum,” Mike said suspiciously. “So you’re thinking about keeping your breath fresh. Erica must be going!”

  Zoe glowered jealously, then tried to hide it.

  “She’s not,” I lied.

  “Of course she is,” Zoe said flatly. “Any time you go on a mission, Erica goes too. You two are the Wonder Twins. You get to go off and have all these amazing adventures while the rest of us are stuck back here doing homework.”

  “Adventures where people try to kill me on a regular basis,” I reminded her. “And you’ve been able to come on some of them.”

  “Only as backup,” Zoe muttered. “You and Erica always get to be the principals. No one ever frames me for the assassination of the president. Or forces me to defuse a nuclear bomb while hanging from a helicopter. . . .”

  “Most people would consider that a good thing,” I said.

  “Well I don’t!” Zoe huffed. “I’m a straight-A student here! I’ve proved myself on missions. And I have way better fighting skills than you do.”

  “There are slime molds with better fighting skills than Ben,” Mike put in.

  “But you’re the one who always gets the missions,” Zoe told me petulantly. “I never get to have any fun!”

  I signaled her to lower her voice before the entire dormitory heard about the mission. “I wish I could take you,” I whispered. “But it’s not my call.”

  “Then put in a good word for us,” Mike suggested. “Who’s running this op? Cyrus?”

  “No,” I said too quickly.

  “It’s definitely Cyrus,” Zoe said. “Yes, ask him. He likes you.”

  “Cyrus doesn’t like anybody,” I said.

  “He likes Erica,” Mike offered. “So ask her to ask him about us. Zoe and I have been with him before. We did good work. We kept all of Colorado from getting nuked. That has to be worth something.”

  “I can try,” I told them. “But I don’t think it’s going to get us anywhere. This mission is supposed to be pretty bare bones.”

  “Please,” Zoe pleaded. “You know we’d be helpful, right?”