Spy School Goes South

by Stuart Gibbs

  Ashley and Warren were now well past the Coco Loco Lounge. They didn’t appear to have seen us. But then, they weren’t looking at anyone but each other.

  I wondered if I had ever looked like they did while I was mooning over Erica. If so, I was retroactively mortified.

  Ashley and Warren reached the beach and crossed the sand toward the water.

  “I really think we should tail them,” Zoe said. Though she was trying to hide it, something in her voice made me think this was about something else besides the mission. She wasn’t jealous of Ashley, exactly, but seeing Warren mooning over someone else was obviously bothering her.

  “Erica told us to wait here,” I said. “If she comes back and finds us gone, she’ll be upset.”

  “Erica isn’t the boss of us,” Zoe replied.

  “She kind of is,” I shot back. “She’s a better spy than us, she has more experience—and frankly, I have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing on this mission.”

  “We’re supposed to be finding out what SPYDER is up to.” Zoe pointed after Ashley and Warren. “And those are two SPYDER operatives right there!”

  “There’s no cover out on that beach,” I said. “What if they see us tailing them? We’ll reveal ourselves and screw up the whole operation. Then it won’t only be Erica who’s upset with us. It’ll be the entire CIA.”

  “Then what’s your plan, exactly?” Zoe asked, annoyed. “Sit here with the Farkles and stuff ourselves full of food all night?”

  “That sounds good to me,” Murray said.

  “I just think we should wait until Erica gets back,” I said.

  “Ashley and Warren might be gone by then!” Zoe argued. “For Pete’s sake, Ben, show some initiative! You’re a good spy. You ought to be able to do things without worrying about what Erica will think of you for once!”

  “I don’t make all my decisions based upon what Erica will think,” I said hotly.

  “Yes you do,” Zoe said. “You’re more terrified of upsetting her than you are of SPYDER.”

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  “Ha. You can’t even say anything bad about her, even if it’s the truth.”

  “Yes I could.”

  “Then do it.”

  “Fine. Erica can be cold and overbearing sometimes.”

  “She’s also right behind you,” Zoe said.

  I yelped in surprise and spun around, mortified that I had just insulted Erica in her presence. To my relief, Erica wasn’t there. Although a couple Farkle teenagers were now looking at me curiously. And Mike was snickering into his hand.

  I spun back around to face Zoe, who was now smiling smugly.

  “That wasn’t funny,” I said.

  “It sure looks like you’re terrified of upsetting Erica to me,” Zoe observed. “The Ice Queen has way too much power over you than she ought to.”

  At which point, Erica stepped out of the crowd behind Zoe.

  Zoe didn’t notice. Instead, she kept right on ranting. “In fact, the Ice Queen has way too much power over all of us. . . .”

  “Uh, Zoe,” I said. “Erica’s right behind you.”

  “You think I’m really going to fall for that?” Zoe asked. “Right after I got you with it? Fat chance. We all have to be able to stand up to Erica. Yes, she’s a great spy, but she’s a lousy human being. She has terrible people skills, she’s mean, and she has the emotional range of a tuna fish sandwich. She doesn’t care about anything except the mission, even if it means sacrificing her friends to do it.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. In truth, Erica had used me to further a mission plenty of times, but I didn’t want to upset her by saying this.

  As it was, Erica was staring coldly at the back of Zoe’s head. Although, I had no idea if she was angry or not. Erica always stared coldly at people. Zoe had also been right about her having the emotional range of a tuna fish sandwich. More or less. (Occasionally, when Erica had been drugged, she had revealed some emotional depth to me that she had managed to hide from others.)

  “It is true,” Zoe went on. “I know you like her, Ben, but she’s practically a robot. A good team leader needs to care about more than just the mission. They need to care about the team. They need to understand people. And Erica doesn’t. Which makes her leadership skills questionable at best.”

  “My ability to sneak up on people is quite good, though,” Erica said.

  Zoe wheeled around, saw Erica, and screamed. Even though she had just chastised me for being afraid of upsetting Erica, she obviously was too. In fact, her scream was so loud that several Farkles dropped their platters of food in surprise.

  “It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Erica told the Farkles. “Cousin Sally here just heard the news about Cousin Hubert losing his arm in the wheat thresher.”

  The Farkles all nodded knowingly and went back to their business. Apparently, this was a true Farkle story that Erica had picked up from the crowd.

  Still, Erica didn’t trust them all to mind their own business. She grabbed Zoe by the arm and dragged her back to the buffet. Murray, Mike, and I obediently followed in their wake.

  A good number of Farkles must have seen Murray dipping bacon into melted chocolate and decided it was a good idea, because they were now doing it. Others were experimenting with dipping bacon into caramel sauce, sprinkles, and nacho cheese.

  Erica found a quiet spot far from any Farkles and doled out key cards to the rest of us. “These are for our lodging. Now, what’s going on here?”

  “We saw Ashley Sparks and Warren Reeves,” I reported. “Zoe thought we should tail them, but I thought we should wait for you to get back.”

  “Oh, here’s a fun fact,” Murray added. “Ashley and Warren appear to be a couple.”

  He was obviously expecting Erica to register surprise. Instead, she barely showed any reaction at all. “That makes sense. She desperately craves attention, and he’s so pathetic, he’ll slavishly devote himself to anyone in return for the slightest bit of recognition. So if you think about it, they’re perfect for each other.”

  Murray blinked at her, stunned. “How on earth can you know so much about other people’s emotions when you don’t have any of your own?” he asked.

  “Which way were Ashley and Warren heading?” Erica asked.

  “Down to the beach,” Mike reported.

  “I think they were just heading down there to make out,” Murray said.

  Erica looked at him curiously.

  “A lot of people find moonlit beaches romantic,” Murray explained. “Ask someone who’s human. They’ll explain it to you.”

  Erica ignored this and turned to Zoe. “You should tail them,” she said.

  “Ha!” Zoe said to me triumphantly. “Told you so!”

  Erica looked to Mike. “You go as backup.”

  “C’mon, Romeo,” Zoe said, grabbing Mike’s arm and dragging him toward the beach. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “Have fun!” Murray said to them, then turned to Erica and me. “I’m gonna get something else to eat. I’m starving.” He headed toward the dessert bar for round four.

  “Why aren’t we tailing Ashley and Warren?” I asked Erica. “I’m surprised you trust anyone else to do . . . well, anything, really.”

  “Ashley and Warren are small potatoes,” Erica told me. “You and I have more important things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Breaking into SPYDER’s penthouse.”

  I gagged on a bite of hamburger. “You want to break in there? We’ve barely done any recon on the place! It’s probably heavily guarded and filled with people who want us dead.”

  “We’ve done as much recon as we can. Breaking in is the only way to find out what SPYDER’s plotting. In fact, we better go get ready.”

  “Now?! When are we going?”

  Erica turned to me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “First chance we get.”

  12

  SLEEP DEPRIVATION

  Lux
ury Villa 11

  Aquarius Resort

  March 30

  0300 hours

  Erica thought we should get some rest before infiltrating SPYDER’s penthouse. Thanks to Edna Farkle’s credit card, she had scored us some extremely nice accommodations: a luxury villa right on the beach. Erica claimed it wouldn’t be conducive to our mission to have us all sharing a single room, and besides, this was the only lodging Aquarius had available. It was actually a house, one of a dozen on the resort property, for large (and wealthy) groups of people to stay in.

  It was the kind of place you saw on the cover of glossy travel magazines. There were six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, two balconies, four hammocks, and a private walled garden with a hot tub. The living room alone was nearly the size of my house. Thankfully, there was also a small laundry room, which we put to work right away cleaning our clothes. (There were incredibly plush complimentary robes for us to wear in the meantime.) The ocean was only a few steps across the sand from our door. There were beautiful paintings on the walls, a huge home entertainment system in the living room, and the bathrooms were all polished granite and gleaming fixtures.

  My bed was the most comfortable I had ever lain on, the climate control system was set to the perfect temperature, and I could hear the soothing roar of the surf from my room. Unfortunately, I barely got a wink of sleep all night.

  I was too keyed up about the mission. When I had originally signed up for Operation Tiger Shark, the plan had sounded far less dangerous: keep an eye on SPYDER and wait for the grown-ups to come do the dirty work. Yet here I was, about to actively infiltrate SPYDER’s lair. Yes, Erica would be with me, and she had always been an incredibly competent partner, but SPYDER had a history of being several steps ahead of everyone, Erica included, and my previous attempts to infiltrate their lairs had always ended in disaster.

  So I tossed and turned, plagued by visions of things going horribly wrong.

  Erica had taken the room next to mine. I hadn’t heard a peep from her after she’d shut the door around ten p.m., indicating that she was likely sound asleep. I figured she needed the rest. (After all, she had only pretended to sleep on the jet that morning, lulling the SPYDER operatives into thinking she had dropped her guard.) Then again, she might have still been wide awake, quietly plotting our infiltration. Whatever the case, it was clear she wanted to be alone.

  Murray was downstairs in one of the smaller bedrooms. Erica had duct-taped him to the bed to make sure he couldn’t run off during the night. Murray had briefly protested this, but then lapsed into a food coma and passed out cold. Evidently, consuming several pounds of bacon and chocolate after a month of trying to be healthy had taken a toll on him.

  At eleven thirty, I heard Mike and Zoe return from their reconnaissance mission. Since I was still wide awake, I went downstairs to greet them.

  They were checking out the villa, impressed. Mike already had the minibar open and was halfway through a ten-dollar can of Pringles. “Nice digs,” he said appreciatively.

  “Those are your bedrooms,” I said, pointing them out. “Murray’s in that one.”

  “I figured,” Zoe said. “The snoring gave it away.”

  Indeed, Murray was snoring like a chain saw trying to cut through petrified wood.

  “What happened with Ashley and Warren?” I asked.

  “They didn’t go down to the beach for anything romantic,” Zoe reported. “There’s a little pier down there, for scuba boats and such. Someone met them with a little dinghy and then took them out to that yacht.”

  “How long were they on it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mike replied honestly. “We fell asleep.”

  Zoe wheeled on him, upset he’d revealed this. But she didn’t contradict him.

  “You fell asleep?” I repeated, failing to hide my annoyance.

  “Sorry,” Mike said. “But it’s been a really long day, and, frankly, surveillance is boring. All we were doing was watching a yacht bob up and down on the waves in the dark. That’s as dull as dull gets.”

  “So you don’t know if Warren and Ashley are still on the boat or not?” I pressed.

  “No idea,” Mike admitted—to Zoe’s deepening chagrin. “We were out cold for over an hour. That was plenty of time for them to come back.”

  I looked at Zoe accusingly. “This whole thing was your idea. You do realize what the whole point of surveillance is, right?”

  “Obviously not,” she said curtly. “I guess we can’t all be amazing spies like you.” With that, she stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door on me.

  Mike gave me a disapproving look. “She was already upset at herself for blowing this. You could have gone a little easier on her.”

  I sighed. “Sorry.”

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to. I’m gonna take another shower before bed. While I was asleep, I got a ton of sand down my pants.” Mike shuffled off toward the closest bathroom, scratching his bottom. Sure enough, a cascade of sand spilled out down his pants leg and piled on the floor.

  I knocked on Zoe’s door. “Hey,” I said through it. “It’s Ben.”

  “I know it’s you,” Zoe replied from inside. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Oh. Right. I’m sorry if I upset you. Can we talk?”

  “Not now, Ben. It’s late, and if it wasn’t evident when I blew the surveillance, I’m really, really tired.”

  After that, I had little choice but to return to my room and try to go to sleep again.

  Now not only did I have my mission to fret about, but I was also upset about how things were going with Zoe.

  Before I’d known about her crush on me, Zoe and I had always got along great. She’d been my best friend at spy school. But now, things were often awkward between us. It seemed to me that, a month earlier, I could have made a crack about Zoe blowing the surveillance and she wouldn’t have taken it personally. She would have teased me back—or put me in a headlock until I begged for forgiveness. But she wouldn’t have been hurt and angry.

  Then again, maybe I was totally wrong about that. Maybe I had actually upset Zoe before, but hadn’t realized it. I found myself wishing people were less complicated, like math. In math, you always knew what the right answer was. Pi was always 3.14159 no matter what, whereas you could say the same thing to the same person at different times and get two wildly different responses. She might think you were funny—or she might think you were an idiot. Or she might think you were the world’s biggest jerk.

  The hours ticked by. The villa was silent. Everyone else was asleep but me. I tried going out onto the balcony and watching SPYDER’s yacht bob up and down on the ocean, since Mike had told me how soporific it was. It didn’t make me tired at all. Instead, I found my head full of questions about SPYDER, which woke me up even more.

  Who was sequestered on that yacht—and what did they want with Warren and Ashley? Was SPYDER plotting something nefarious again this time, or were they merely lying low? And if they were plotting something, what was it?

  At three in the morning, I simply gave up. I pulled on my comfy robe and shuffled downstairs again, figuring I could at least watch some TV and distract myself for a while.

  Someone else was doing the same thing.

  Zoe.

  She was also swaddled in one of the complimentary robes, though hers was so big on her, it made her look as if she’d fallen into a snowdrift. She had the TV on, but she’d kept the sound off to avoid waking everyone. She was watching Spanish CNN with subtitles.

  This was an extremely awkward moment.

  Finally, because I felt I needed to say something, I said the only thing I could come up with: “I thought you couldn’t read Spanish.”

  “I can’t,” Zoe said. “But I can read French, and they’re related, so I can kind of put things together. From what I can tell, two people drowned in a freak scuba accident.”

  I watched the TV for a few moments, reading the subt
itles. “Actually, this says two people were eaten by a crocodile.”

  “Really? Oh. I guess I can’t really put things together. Add that to the growing list of things I can’t do. Like proper surveillance . . .”

  “You’re not that bad at it. . . .”

  “Yes I am. I screwed up, didn’t I? Like always. That’s why I never get selected for missions like you and Erica. I have to sneak onto them. And then I fail miserably.”

  I started to contradict Zoe, but something on the TV caught my attention.

  Zoe grew even more annoyed. “Ben, this is the part where you’re supposed to say something reassuring, like No you don’t. Or We all make mistakes. Or I was an idiot for making you feel bad tonight.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just . . . The people who got eaten by the crocodile today . . . They were parachutists. According to the news, they landed in a lake and the croc got them.”

  Zoe forgot all about being irritated at me and grew worried instead. “Were they the pilots of our plane?”

  “There wasn’t enough left to identify them, but I’m guessing that’s the case.”

  “So what do you think really happened? SPYDER killed them and fed them to the croc to make it look like an accident?”

  “Probably. SPYDER doesn’t like to leave loose ends. And Dane Brammage is here. His job is to get rid of loose ends. Like anyone causing trouble for SPYDER.”

  “So if SPYDER finds out we’re alive, we’ll end up crocodile chow too.”

  It wasn’t a question. Zoe knew the answer as well as I did. I changed the channel, looking for something lighter. All I could find was a rerun of some bizarre Spanish game show, but it was better than seeing footage of the gruesome fate of the agents who had betrayed us. I sank onto the couch beside Zoe without really thinking about it.

  “Why do you like Erica?” Zoe asked suddenly. She no longer seemed frustrated with me. Facing your own mortality can have that affect. I got the sense this was a question she’d been wanting to ask for a long time.

  Still, it caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I just don’t get it. It’s not only you. Every guy at school has a crush on her. I mean, I understand that she’s beautiful and talented and all but . . . shouldn’t there be more to it than that? Don’t you guys ever think about a girl’s personality? Because Erica doesn’t really have one.”