The Deceivers

by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  And then she took off, dashing for the stairs.

  Thirty-Nine

  Natalie

  Natalie reached Other-Dad just as he was opening a door under the stairs in the basement. She saw his bald spot first, and that made her heart pound. Just like Real-Dad, how he tries to comb his hair to hide that. . . . But the way this man stood was so wrong—too puffed up, somehow, with too much bulk in his chest. This wasn’t Dad. It was the Mayor.

  Natalie slammed into him, knocking the door shut again. She tried to make it look like she was only hugging him.

  “Dad, what’s going on?” she asked. “I thought you were at work! Why are all these guards here?”

  She tilted her head back to gaze worshipfully up at him, batting her eyes for good measure. She tried to make the expression on her face say, You’re my daddy and I love you and I know you love me and would do anything for me. . . . To achieve that look, she had to clear her brain of thinking, You’re not actually my father and you’re married to a horrible person, so you might be horrible, too. But right now I just care about protecting Chess, Emma, and Finn. And finding Mom. And you—you’re just an obstacle to all that. . . .

  This version of her father was just as deeply tan as her real father, and his teeth were just as perfectly white. But his blue eyes held a hardness that Natalie hadn’t expected. And the way he looked down at her, it was like he didn’t quite see her—or didn’t want to see her.

  Well, fine. That way he won’t see that I’m not actually his daughter, Natalie told herself. But it hurt to have someone who looked so much like Dad gaze at her as if he’d rather see past her.

  As if he, like Almost-Grandma, didn’t have time for her.

  She went back to telling herself how much she loved him.

  “Natalie!” the Mayor scolded. “Go back to your room! This is just a . . . minor security issue. The guards are here as a precaution. Nothing to worry about! It’s all being taken care of!”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. . . .

  “But if it’s only a precaution . . . I’m feeling better now, and it’s so boring staying in my room by myself. Can’t I hang out with you? Please?” Natalie smiled as sweetly as she could. “Why don’t you send the guards away, and we can have some daddy-daughter time?”

  Natalie saw a flicker of emotion on the Mayor’s face. It was almost like a look her own father got sometimes, a combination of pride (Look what a great dad I am, that my daughter loves me so much!) and something more like insecurity (I am a great dad, aren’t I? Natalie’s a great kid—doesn’t that prove I’m great, too?). But there was something deeper on the Mayor’s face, something Natalie couldn’t decipher. It was too disorienting, because this wasn’t her father, wasn’t anyone she knew at all.

  “Oh, honey,” the Mayor said, flashing a smile that was fake, fake, fake. He glanced around, as if he wanted the nearest guards to hear every word. “That’s so sweet, you wanting bonding time. But Daddy’s a little busy right now. Keeping you safe.”

  “Daddy”? Natalie thought, barely managing to keep the disgust off her face. Is that what Other-Natalie calls him?

  It threw her off so much, she didn’t know what to say next. The horde of guards in their dark uniforms flowed across the basement like so many ants. The ones in the front reached the back wall and whipped aside an odd velvet curtain that seemed so out of place—Natalie’s own basement back in the real world held nothing like it. Then Natalie gaped—there wasn’t a wall on the other side of the curtain. Instead, the basement went on and on, as broad and vast as a football field. One of the guards pressed a button on the wall, and both the floor and the ceiling of that extra space began to pull away, revealing a soaring glass roof overhead and levels of terracing below. The floor at the far end of the regular basement began to slide away, too; cabinets opened in the wall to swallow up some of the furniture.

  Natalie blinked. This wasn’t a basement anymore. It was more like a party hall. Or perhaps a cathedral—one designed to make everyone who walked into it feel small and powerless.

  Just like the Public Hall where Mrs. Greystone’s trial had been held.

  “Roger? What’s wrong?” It was Almost-Grandma. She spoke from the top of the stairs, and Natalie heard a smacking sound, as if Almost-Grandma had hit some control button up above. The moving floor at the other end of the room froze in place, and the guards seemed to freeze, too, as if waiting for their next command.

  Natalie heard a click-click of heels; Almost-Grandma was descending the steps. As soon as she came into view, Natalie had to correct herself—this was Wowza-Grandma. Boss-Grandma.

  Grandma had always been someone who took care with her appearance—she’d once made Natalie promise that if Grandma ever got so infirm that she couldn’t put on her own lipstick, Natalie would do it for her. Every day. But Grandma’s style had always been understated and classy. Not about showing off.

  This version of Grandma was extra-everything. She wore a regal bright orange silk dress that seemed to say, I have money, and I’m not afraid to use it. And Natalie was pretty sure that the huge diamonds of her tiered necklace were real.

  Her outfit seemed overpowering even in this newly huge space.

  “You’re dressed for the fund-raiser already?” the Mayor asked, barely concealed contempt in his voice. “It’s not until tonight!”

  “I was trying on my clothes to see if they needed further alterations, when I heard the all-call for guards. I came right away.” Almost-Grandma punctuated her last word with a stiletto heel stabbed into the carpet at the bottom of the stairs. She turned to face the Mayor head-on. Too late, Natalie realized she should have scurried out of sight rather than gaping. From behind the Mayor’s back, Natalie tried to signal Almost-Grandma with one raised eyebrow and a finger on her lips. She also tried telepathy: Please, Grandma, don’t ask how I got out of the locked bedroom, or whether I’m real or fake Natalie or . . . But Almost-Grandma’s gaze just skated coldly across Natalie’s face before she went back to glaring at the Mayor. It was like Natalie was completely beneath Almost-Grandma’s notice.

  Fine. That’s what I want right now. Isn’t it?

  But when the Mayor turned to the side, Almost-Grandma gave an almost-imperceptible shake of her head to Natalie. Was she telling Natalie to stay quiet? Why would she do that?

  “These guards are too loud, and they don’t seem to be trained very well,” Almost-Grandma said dismissively. “Are you certain they’ve all been screened for duty in the house, with full access to your family? And your daughter?” Almost-Grandma darted another glance at Natalie, but this one was even more painful. It was like Natalie wasn’t a person, just a thing. An object that needed to be kept behind glass. Almost-Grandma sniffed and waved her hand imperiously. “Send these guards away immediately.”

  Oh, yes, please send them away, Natalie thought. Now, before they find Chess, Emma, and Finn . . . wherever they are. And then you go away, too, so I can find the Greystones. . . .

  “But—” The Mayor seemed baffled about what to do next.

  Almost-Grandma sighed and stepped close enough to whisper in the Mayor’s ear, “If you’re afraid of losing face, pretend you’ve just heard that the intruders have been caught, and no one is in any danger any longer. Pretend you’ve solved the problem.”

  “But if there really is a threat, if any of the cleaners are traitors, then—”

  Wait a minute—they’re looking for cleaners who are traitors? Natalie thought. Not the Greystone kids? Relief flowed through her. She could fix this.

  “Dad, don’t you know Grandma was—” she began, ready to spill everything about how Almost-Grandma had disguised herself to spy on the cleaners.

  Subtly, without even seeming to move, Almost-Grandma stepped on Natalie’s foot. It felt like a warning—but why? At the same time, Almost-Grandma took the Mayor’s arm and turned him to the side, away from Natalie.

  “Trust me, you and your family are in no danger from any cleaner,” Almost-
Grandma said, rolling her eyes, as if suspecting a cleaner was the most ludicrous thing ever. “I was right there when my daughter hired this crew. Are you doubting Susanna’s judgment now?”

  “N-No, no, of course not,” the Mayor stammered. He cleared his throat, then shouted, “Men! False alarm. Thank you for your assistance. Now—back to your assigned stations!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As you say, sir.”

  “So noted . . .”

  The guards turned and began streaming out the sliding glass door at the far side of the room, their movements almost robotically obedient. Natalie tried to make sense of what she’d just witnessed.

  Even if the guards weren’t looking for the Greystones, they would have found them if they’d kept searching, she thought. So Almost-Grandma just helped me, even though she didn’t want me to talk. . . .

  Why hadn’t Almost-Grandma wanted Natalie to talk?

  That didn’t matter as much as figuring out what to do next.

  Get rid of Almost-Grandma and the Mayor, find the Greystones, make sure Other-Natalie hasn’t come out of the office yet and doesn’t reveal me as a fake. . . .

  How could Natalie do all that at once?

  Then Natalie heard a voice from the top of the stairs.

  “Roger? Mother? Natalie? I was informed I needed to come home immediately. . . . What are the three of you doing down there?”

  It was so wrong, how Natalie’s heart could jump at the sound of her mother’s voice—even as her brain cautioned, No, that’s not Mom. Not, not, not. It’s the Judge. Be careful.

  “Resolving a security issue, dear,” the Mayor called, taking a few steps back to peer toward the top of the stairs.

  Don’t listen to how he still calls the Judge “dear”; don’t think about how they’re still married and still happy together. . . .

  But did he actually sound happy? The Mayor’s voice had an edge to it. Even before Natalie had learned that her parents were getting divorced, she’d started listening closely to how they talked to each other, how they talked about each other. Mom saying, “Dad has to work late, so it’s just you and me for dinner,” sometimes meant that Mom and Dad had had a terrible fight and couldn’t stand being in the same room together. Other times, it really was about Dad’s job. Natalie had once prided herself on instantly being able to tell the difference. Sometimes, during the worst of her parents’ fighting, that had felt like the only power she possessed. Now she was out of practice—ever since Mom had vanished, Dad actually did sound like he missed her and worried about her constantly. But Natalie still knew her own parents so well she rarely needed more than one syllable of any word to figure them out.

  Everything was different with the Mayor and the Judge. It felt like more than just Natalie not knowing them as well. The Mayor and the Judge seemed to be talking from behind guard towers, or through locked doors—even their simplest statements seemed to hide undercurrents that Natalie needed to decode.

  Either that, or Natalie just couldn’t think straight because she was too panicked about being in this dangerous world and too worried about everyone she loved who had vanished here.

  “You shouldn’t speak of security issues in such a public area,” the Judge said icily.

  Public? Natalie thought. The Mayor’s standing in his own basement. Or, well, his party hall. But there’s no one nearby but family. How is that public?

  She remembered the way she and the Greystones had watched the basement from the Judge’s office; she remembered the guard towers visible from the first-floor windows. What if guards there were watching security footage from inside the house? Natalie moved closer to the Mayor so she could peer up at the Judge as well. The Judge’s face looked so much like Mom’s and so wrong all at once—her expression was hard as rock.

  Mom isn’t even capable of looking that heartless, Natalie thought. And then she had to stop herself from thinking about Mom, before it made her cry.

  “I just—” the Mayor began. He sounded as helpless as Natalie felt.

  “We should discuss this someplace else. Privately,” Almost-Grandma said quietly, stepping up behind the Mayor and Natalie, and herding them toward the stairs. “Perhaps in your office, Susanna?”

  “Excellent idea,” the Judge said.

  Her voice was once again so chilling that Natalie’s brain went numb. Or maybe Natalie just didn’t want to put together all the possibilities:

  Other-Natalie was undoubtedly either still standing in the Judge’s office where Natalie had left her, or on her way to find out what Natalie and the Mayor were up to in the basement.

  The Judge was already turning back toward her office; Almost-Grandma was already nudging Natalie and the Mayor toward the stairs.

  No matter what Natalie did, there seemed to be no way she could stop the Judge, the Mayor, and Almost-Grandma from running into Other-Natalie.

  In a matter of minutes, everyone was going to find out that Natalie was a fake.

  Forty

  Finn

  Finn snuggled close to Chess and Emma in the darkness of the secret compartment behind the closet. He could hear footsteps overhead—two pairs of high heels, perhaps, clicking against the tile; one set of footfalls that sounded like a kid in sneakers; and one that sounded heavier, as if they belonged to a tall man. Finn tugged on Chess and Emma’s arms wrapped around him.

  “I think they’re gone now,” Finn announced. “Shouldn’t we . . . uh, what should we do?”

  He didn’t have a clue, but that was the great thing about being the youngest: He didn’t have to. He could let Chess and Emma figure everything out.

  Neither Chess nor Emma answered.

  “Hello?” Finn said, daring to switch his flashlight back on.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a great idea. Finn could remember playing around with flashlights back home with his best friend, Tyrell. They always laughed at how the dim light and shadows made their faces look spooky and ghoulish.

  Now that there was actual danger and Mom was missing, it wasn’t the least bit funny to see how the flashlight glow made Emma’s and Chess’s faces look too pale, and as though they had no eyes, just dark, empty eye sockets.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to do,” Chess said, and this was worse than no answer at all.

  “Emma?” Finn said, because surely she would be brimming with ideas. She’d been quiet for whole minutes; she’d had loads of time to figure out all sorts of plans.

  But Emma still didn’t answer. Finn shone the flashlight directly on her face, straight into her eyes. Emma put her hands up, blocking the light.

  “Oh no,” she moaned. “Noooo . . .”

  “Okay, I won’t shine it right in your face,” Finn said, lowering the flashlight even though this made Emma look eyeless and ghostly again.

  “No—it wasn’t the light,” Emma muttered. “It was . . . oh, this is so great, this is so terrible . . . why didn’t I see this last night?”

  She really wasn’t making sense.

  “Emma, what are you talking about?” Chess asked. “How is anything great right now?”

  Emma reached for the sliding panel that sectioned them off from the front of the closet.

  “We’ve got to go back to the Judge’s office!” Emma cried. “I’ve got to get my computer!”

  Chess pulled Emma away from the panel.

  “Are you nuts?” he asked. “Weren’t you listening? That’s where the Judge and the Mayor are headed. Along with Natalie and someone I couldn’t hear very well . . .”

  “Shouldn’t we go rescue Natalie?” Finn asked.

  Chess was already frowning and shaking his head.

  “Believe me, I’d like to, but . . . we’d just blow her cover,” Chess muttered. He clutched his head as if the light hurt his eyes.

  “If I’d just figured this out sooner, we’d have all the answers now!” Emma moaned.

  “If you figured out anything, doesn’t that mean you have some answers now?” Finn asked hopefully.r />
  “I would if I had my computer!” Emma practically shouted.

  She brushed past Chess, as if she was going to try again to open the sliding panel. Chess responded by grabbing her hands and clutching them tightly in his.

  “Emma, shh!” he begged. “Are you trying to make the guards find us?”

  “No, Chess, but . . .” Maybe it was just the eerie effect of the flashlight beam across her face, but Emma seemed dazed. “I finally figured out how to decode the rest of Mom’s letter! That’s why we have to go back for the computer. It’ll tell us everything!”

  “You did?” Even Chess forgot to whisper for a moment. He clutched Emma’s hands even tighter. Then he sagged, his back hitting the wall behind him. “Are you sure? You’ve thought you’d figured out the key a couple hundred times before and . . .”

  “I’m sure! I translated the first line in my head—I had it memorized. It says, ‘If you got this far . . . ,’ And that’s all I know right now, but—”

  Chess let go of Emma’s hands and went back to clutching his head. In the dim glow of the flashlight, it almost looked like he was holding his hands over his ears, trying not to hear. Or just trying to hold his head together.

  “It’s not safe to go back to the Judge’s office,” Chess said. “And we were locked out, remember? We can’t do anything without Natalie. And Natalie’s with the Judge and the Mayor on the way to the Judge’s office, so . . .”

  Chess—big, strong Chess—sounded like he was about to cry.

  “But I have to solve Mom’s code!” Emma insisted. “Now that I know how!”

  Finn loved how Emma could still sound so determined, so single-minded. So stubborn. He actually touched his hand to his heart. Something crinkled in his shirt pocket, and he almost gasped with laughter.

  “Emma!” he cried. “You don’t actually need the computer to solve the code, right? Don’t you just need to see the code Mom left behind?”

  “Right, but—” Emma began.

  Finn drew a folded-over paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it to his sister.