by Ron McGee
Old-fashioned neon signs assaulted Ryan from both sides of the street. The garish colors and blinking lights reminded him of a carnival. Locals were everywhere, eating, drinking, and chatting at a variety of small cafés and food stands. Dressed in jeans and T-shirts, they didn’t look that different from people hanging out anywhere else in the world.
Ryan slowed down and tried to blend in, but being the only American around, he stood out in the crowd. Still, he received hesitant smiles from most of the people he passed as he made his way to the far end of the street. He nodded and smiled back. The distraction almost got him caught.
Ryan stopped short. Less than thirty feet ahead, blue-uniformed soldiers shoved people out of the way. A woman was pushed to the ground, but the soldiers just stepped right over her. Ryan lowered his head and turned around. Moving as quickly as he could without rousing suspicion, he headed back the way he’d come. He didn’t get far before he saw another group of soldiers fanning out as they roughly pushed their way through the crowd from the opposite end.
Ryan was trapped.
Desperate, he looked frantically for an escape route. He stood in front of a crowded café open to the street, where patrons sat at plastic tables so low to the ground they seemed better suited for little kids than adults. The soldiers closed in from both sides, and Ryan made his move.
Three men looked up in surprise as Ryan plopped himself down in a red plastic chair opposite them. “Hi,” he said, keeping his back to the sidewalk.
The men exchanged curious looks. One of them looked toward the door and his expression darkened. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan could see the blue uniform of a soldier on the sidewalk. The man spoke a few words to his friends, and they saw the soldier as well. Their gazes all turned to Ryan.
Were they going to give him up? Ryan tried not to let the anxiety show on his face, but he knew if they did, he’d be toast. Glancing down, he had a sudden inspiration. He loosened the string bracelet the monk had given him at the Ashoka Temple. Taking it off his wrist, he took the hand of the man across from him.
“Tasmati ca niva,” Ryan said, trying to imitate the sounds of the words the monk had spoken to him.
For a breathless moment, Ryan thought the stranger was going to jerk his hand away. Instead, a smile spread across his face.
“Tin ba dai,” he replied.
One of the other men suddenly laughed, throwing an arm out and draping it over Ryan’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion. The other two joined in, smiling as if nothing was out of the ordinary and talking loudly among themselves once more.
Ryan couldn’t understand a word, but he nodded as if he belonged here. He could practically feel the eyes of the soldier on the back of his head.
After a moment, the men’s chatter subsided as they looked beyond him. One of them nodded to him, his face serious. Ryan checked, and, sure enough, the soldier had moved on. The man next to him pointed toward the back of the café, making it clear Ryan should leave that way.
Ryan thanked them again and then weaved his way out through the crowded tables. A long hallway led past the kitchen, where the smell of curry and garlic made him realize how hungry he was.
Ryan pushed open the door at the back, disappearing quickly into the night.
CHAPTER
23
NEW YORK,
USA
An airborne French fry smacked into Danny’s laptop screen. The guys at the table behind him were goofing off, but he didn’t have time to get distracted. Cleaning the greasy smear with his T-shirt, he went back to reading.
The school cafeteria wasn’t the best place to be researching the most feared military dictatorship in Southeast Asia, but Danny didn’t have much choice. History class started in twenty minutes, and he was using every spare second to help Ryan.
So far, he’d managed to locate sixteen blog posts written by Myat Kaw. They were difficult to find because the website where they were originally posted had been shut down. Danny assumed Andakar’s government was responsible for that, hoping to limit the damage Myat Kaw was causing. Fortunately, people who cared about Andakar’s future had copied the posts before they were removed and put them up on other sites.
Danny was seriously impressed by what he read. He suspected Myat Kaw might be a world-class hacker who had infiltrated Andakar’s most secure networks. That would explain how this anonymous blogger had access to information the military dictatorship desperately wanted to remain secret. There were reports of Andakar covertly purchasing missiles from the Chinese that had made headlines around the world, proof that some German tourists had mysteriously gone missing, and an exposé of the lavish lifestyle enjoyed by Andakar’s top generals while much of the country went hungry. The revelations in the blog posts were creating huge problems for the government. Myat Kaw was doing what no one had been able to accomplish for over thirty years—making the country’s iron-fisted rulers sweat.
“Daniel.” Danny looked up to find Principal Milankovic approaching his table. With nimble fingers, he cleared his screen, replacing Myat Kaw’s blog posts with a map of the thirteen colonies. “Have you spoken to Ryan in the last couple of days?”
“Um, yeah—he’s really sick.”
“That’s too bad.” The principal regarded Danny with skepticism. “The school emailed his parents but didn’t get any response. You’re sure they’re not off somewhere?”
“No, sir.” Danny tried his best to sound convincing. “He has the flu—the Samoan flu. So does his mom, supercontagious. Ryan’s dad is spending all his time taking care of them.”
“The Samoan flu?” Principal Milankovic raised his eyebrows.
Danny had a feeling he’d gone too far, but he couldn’t back down now. “Fever, hives—not pretty. Trust me, you’re glad he’s not here.”
The principal nodded. “If you speak to him, please have Ryan remind his parents that the school needs to be notified about all absences.”
“Will do, sir! I’m sure it’s just an oversight.” Danny waited until Principal Milankovic was out of the cafeteria, then grabbed his backpack from under the table. He pulled out John Quinn’s laptop and flipped the cover open. One email excuse from Ryan’s dad, coming up!
As he was typing, Kasey sat in the chair next to him. “Hey, Danny, whatcha doing?” Danny slammed the lid closed. Smooth, he chided himself, very subtle.
“Nothing much. Just hanging.”
“Two laptops? Isn’t that a lot, even for you?”
“Sometimes I’m just too much for one computer to handle!”
Kasey laughed. “I bet you are.”
So often, Danny didn’t know where the cocky things he said came from. He certainly wasn’t as confident inside as he acted. The truth was, for years he had felt much more comfortable lost inside digital worlds—video games, the web, challenging hacks—and so he didn’t even bother much with Real Life. When he was younger, that had worked well for him. At the small elementary school he attended, Danny had only a couple of friends and spent most of his free time alone.
But everything changed in middle school. Suddenly, he had to deal with an eclectic variety of students in a school with well over a thousand kids. Danny had been overwhelmed at first, not fitting into any particular group and not really knowing how to make friends. People seemed to look right past him, hardly noticing he was even there. He’d had a few tough months and then, one night as he was listening to The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven,” Danny decided he’d had enough of being ignored.
Taking down his concert poster of Robert Smith, the eccentric and brilliant lead singer of The Cure, Danny had gone to his bathroom. He grabbed a tube of hair gel and squirted a glob of it into his hand. Looking between the poster and his own reflected image, Danny spiked his hair up in every direction just like his musician hero. It was wild, but he loved it. Whoever this new kid looking back at him in the mirror was, Danny liked him.
The next morning, he ripped a few strategic holes in his jeans, then put on a T-sh
irt and a burgundy sport coat his mom had made him buy for the occasional opera they attended. Danny slipped out of the apartment before his mom saw him, and headed to school, excited but scared.
Nobody had ignored him, that’s for sure. For the first time, people paid attention. It wasn’t always good—Danny got picked on some, the way anybody does who’s different. But he also met some interesting kids who’d never really noticed him before. He wasn’t entirely comfortable in his new role, but he faked the confidence he didn’t feel. Danny started making friends for the first time. It wasn’t until he and Ryan connected a couple of months ago, though, that he found someone he could totally relax with and just be himself. He never had to put on an act with Ryan. And now that his best friend was in trouble, Danny was going to do anything he could to help.
“So I texted Ryan a couple of times, but I didn’t get any response,” Kasey said. “Is everything all right?”
“He’s sick.”
“Too sick to answer a text?”
“His, um, hands are swollen. You should see his thumbs—they’re like cucumbers.”
Kasey wasn’t buying it. “Look, if he doesn’t want to go to the dance with me, I’m not gonna be mad or anything.”
“He asked you to the dance?” That was news to Danny.
“No, I asked him. He didn’t tell you? I thought you were his best friend.”
“I am, yeah, but he’s been superbusy lately—and sick. Really, really sick.”
Kasey seemed genuinely disappointed. “Whatever. He doesn’t want to go. It’s fine—but he doesn’t have to avoid me.” She stood as Danny’s phone dinged with a text message. He opened it instantly when he saw it was from Ryan. “That’s him, isn’t it? Guess his cucumber thumbs suddenly got better.”
“Kasey, wait—it’s not what you think.” Danny glanced at Ryan’s text, a photo of a red-and-gold shield with a white pyramid floating over it and the message: Can you find out what this is?
“It’s okay. Maybe my brother is right about you two. I just thought you guys were different. Tell Ryan not to bother about the dance. I’ll ask somebody else.”
She turned to go when Danny blurted out, “His dad’s missing, his mom’s been kidnapped, and Ryan used a fake ID to sneak into one of the most dangerous countries on earth!” Danny was surprised by his own outburst. “So he’s been a little busy.”
Kasey stared at him a beat. “Wow. When you lie for someone, you really go for it, don’t you?”
But Danny’s expression was serious. “I know it sounds crazy. I wish I was lying.”
CHAPTER
24
PANAI,
ANDAKAR
Are you insane?” Tasha got right in Ryan’s face. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
She’d been waiting for him when he snuck back in the window and was reading him the riot act. Ryan knew she had a point, but he didn’t like being treated like a child. “I didn’t get killed. Or caught. And I got information we can use.”
“A name of some random person who might know something about your father, given to you by a stranger in a jail cell.”
“It’s more than you’ve found.”
Tasha looked like she wanted to clobber him, but Ryan stood his ground. They stared each other down a moment, and then she turned away, struggling to get her temper in check. “You said he’s a student?”
“At the Panai Teaching College. Ashin Myek.”
“And how do we contact him?” Tasha asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where does he live? Does he have a phone number we can call? An email address—anything?”
Ryan realized it wasn’t much to go on. “We can check at the college. They must have a directory or something.”
Tasha looked out the window past the fire escape. “And you’re sure you weren’t followed?”
“Positive,” Ryan said. “I was careful—that’s why it took so long.”
Unfortunately, he had more bad news for her. While he was hiding out, Danny had sent him the information he’d uncovered on the logo Ryan had found at the hotel. “This hotel where I went, it’s run by the Army Services Intelligence division.”
“The ASI? You snuck into a command center for the ASI?” To his surprise, Tasha laughed. “You really are insane.”
“I didn’t know what it was when I went in.”
“Well, let me educate you. The ASI is one of the most feared, hated, and ruthless spy agencies in the world.”
“I saw what they’re capable of,” Ryan said, remembering the brutality of the riding crop striking the prisoner’s bare back. “They torture people.”
“They do worse than that. They learned from the KGB and China’s MSS. And now, they’ve probably captured your handsome face on numerous security cameras. Congratulations—by tomorrow, you’ll be the most wanted man in Andakar.”
Ryan leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Tasha was probably right; with all the monitors he’d seen at the compound, at least one of them likely got a good image of him. His fake identity would be blown soon, and he had no other way to travel. The half-finished puppets hanging around the workshop seemed to stare at him, taunting. Who was he kidding? There was no way he could pull this off. He was in way over his head.
“You need to sleep.” Tasha’s tone had shifted, becoming gentler. “The adrenaline’s wearing off. You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” Ryan muttered, knowing it was a lie.
“Will you just shut up and do what I say for a change?” She came over, grabbing some of the fabric as she approached. As she had done for herself, Tasha bunched it into a ball. Forcing Ryan to lie on the floor, she placed it under his head like a pillow. “You’re no use to anyone like this.”
“I can’t …” Ryan protested. But he never finished, falling instantly into a deep slumber.
CHAPTER
25
PANAI,
ANDAKAR
Tasha had been busy.
Since Ryan had zonked out a few hours ago, she had gathered materials to create disguises, found some food, and even tracked down an address for Ashin Myek. She had thought hard about taking the opportunity to ditch Ryan. But the kid had actually done pretty well by getting them a name. He might still prove useful.
She shook him awake, and he stirred groggily. “Rise and shine. Unless you want to hang around here and wait for me all day.”
Ryan sat up, rubbing his eyes, his mop of brown hair sticking out in all directions. He looked outside. “It’s morning.”
“Your powers of observation are astonishing. Here, eat this. And drink the tea, whether you like it or not. Your body needs it.” She set down a bowl of cold noodles and a wooden cup of steaming, cloudy tea. Ryan gulped a large bite of noodles and made a face.
“Those are awful,” he said.
“They flavor them with fish sauce.”
“For breakfast?”
“It’s an acquired taste. But it’s all we’ve got, so eat up.” Tasha held out a long cotton shirt and one of the traditional sarongs Ryan had seen on the streets of Panai. “When you’re finished, change into these. You’ll have to leave your backpack. Put your clothes and high-tops into one of the cloth bags.”
Ryan took the sarong. “But this is a skirt.”
“And you’re man enough to wear it well,” she teased. “They’ll be looking for an American teenager, so we’ll hide you in plain sight. You’ll look like a local.” At the workshop table, she held up a jar of black liquid. “I found some acrylic paint. We’re dyeing your hair, too.”
Tasha observed Ryan’s confusion as he wrapped the sarong around his waist, trying to figure out how it worked. “Don’t tell me in all your travels, you’ve never worn a sarong?”
Ryan looked at her with concern. “I get to keep my underwear on, right?”
“That depends on how wild and funky you’re feeling. But yeah, keeping it on is probably a good idea.”
When he’d finished
the noodles, Tasha pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, and they got busy dyeing Ryan’s hair at the sink. As she worked the black liquid through his untamed mane, he admitted, “I nearly got caught last night.”
Tasha tugged his hair roughly, eliciting a yelp of pain. “Would’ve served you right for sneaking out.”
“The only reason I got away is because these strangers helped me—some prisoners at the ASI headquarters and then three men at one of the cafés. They didn’t have to.”
“You seem surprised. The citizens here hate the ASI.”
“But they could’ve been killed. Why would they risk getting caught?”
“Life is full of risk. Sometimes doing what’s right is the riskiest move of all.” Tasha picked up a paintbrush. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”
Thirty minutes later, they left through the back door. Considering their limitations, Tasha thought she’d done a good job disguising Ryan. Wearing the traditional sarong, long shirt, and sandals, he definitely looked less American. The acrylic paint had turned his hair jet-black. Not as natural as she would have liked, but it helped him blend in a little better.
Tasha had ditched the red wig and sewn a simple, floor-length skirt for herself from fabric she’d found in the workshop. It covered her feet, which allowed her to wear pants and boots hidden underneath. She wrapped an embroidered silk scarf around her head, covering her hair.
“Look down as much as possible so people can’t see your face,” she told Ryan.
“Are we going to the college?”
“Yes, but we have to hurry. We need to catch Ashin Myek before he leaves his apartment.”
“How did you find him?” Ryan asked, as they crossed the street.
“I called my contact. He sent me everything he could dig up on short notice.”
