Only the Good Spy Young
Page 7
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Four things came to mind as I took my regular seat at the junior table. 1) Being on the run in a foreign country is enough to make a girl seriously miss our awesome chef's cooking.
2) The windows of the Grand Hall had been upgraded to a substance that could probably survive a direct hit from a missile. 3) The packets of sweetener on the table now bore the words "The contents of this packet have been certified psychoactive-free."
But it was the fourth thing that I hadn't really been expecting: silence. As soon as I sat down, it felt like the entire table - the entire hall - stopped talking.
Only Bex seemed to be immune to the silence as she threw one leg over the bench and took her place next to Macey. "Everyone have a good holiday?" She reached for the pitcher of water at the center of the table and filled her glass. And still the silence drew longer.
"I said," Bex repeated slowly, "did everyone have a nice holiday?"
"Yes."
"Sure."
"Uh-huh," everyone hurried to say, but the eyes of my classmates . . . the eyes still stayed on me: Cameron Ann Morgan, Chameleon no more.
And then, just as quickly, their gazes passed to Tina Walters.
"So, um . . . Cammie," Tina started, "how was your break?"
"Our holiday was lovely, Tina," Bex answered for me. "Thank you for asking."
Her back was perfectly straight as she said this. She gently shook out a linen napkin and laid it across her lap. Madame Dabney would have been so very proud, but of course Madame Dabney wasn't there - none of our teachers were - so maybe that's why Tina felt safe putting her elbows on the table and leaning closer.
"But did they . . . you know . . . catch them?" she asked, maybe because she's the daughter of both a spy and a gossip columnist and she wasn't going to rest until she heard the full story. Or maybe she was just hoping for a different story from the one that should have obvious to every girl in the (recently reinforced) Grand Hall.
"No, Tina," I said carefully, "they didn't. Not yet."
"But they have a lot of good leads, don't they?" Eva Alvarez asked.
"Of course they do." Bex's gaze found mine, the unspoken words coursing between us: And his name is Joseph Solomon.
"Yeah. I bet your mom and Mr. Solomon are going to find something any day now,"
Anna Fetterman said, and I glanced around the Grand Hall, processing, thinking, realizing that no one had heard a rumor. Not a single one of my classmates had overheard their moms and dads whispering about a rogue operatives and sleeper agents in the middle of the night.
"Yeah," Anna said again. "Mr. Solomon will catch them."
She nodded and smiled and sounded so sure.
I nodded and smiled and wanted to cry.
To them, Mr. Solomon wasn't a sixteen-year-old boy who had joined the Circle. He was still was man who had walked through the double doors at the back of that very room a year and a half before.
I turned and looked at the doors and almost jumped out of my skin when they swung open - as if I'd willed it to happen, traveled back in time. I half expected to see Joe Solomon among the long line of teachers making their formal entrance down the center aisle. I felt the room around me changing as, one by one, my classmates counted heads, scanned the line, and realized someone was missing.
I was staring down at the table, unable to look, as Tina asked, "Hey where's Headmistress Morgan?"
Buckingham had said she wasn't back yet. That she was detained . . . delayed. And delayed meant running late. Delayed meant "back in a flash."
Buckingham hadn't said gone.
"She's got to be here," I said flatly, certain Tina had missed her. "My mom has to be back by now," I said, despite that fact that Professor Buckingham was moving to my mother's place behind the podium at the front of the room.
I was standing, desperate for a better look, when Buckingham asked, "Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" and every girl in the room stood there too.
The hall echoed. "We are the sisters of Gillian."
"Why do you come?"
"To learn her skills. Honor her sword. And keep her secrets," my classmates replied, but I didn't say the words. I was too busy staring at Professor Buckingham, who as standing proudly behind the Gallagher Academy crest as if that were her place - her job.
"Welcome back, ladies. I have a few announcements," she said with no more emotion than when we'd stood in the Hall of History and she'd told me my mother had been detained.
"Headmistress Morgan is not able to be with us tonight, so it's my duty to inform you that Joe Solomon will not be teaching our Covert Operations courses this semester."
She said it just like that - no excuses, no explanations - as a gasp went through the room.
"Fortunately, the Gallagher Academy has a long list of alumni and friends from which it can choose its faculty. Therefore, I am pleased to welcome an operative who has excelled on many continents, working in some of the most challenging circumstances that one can experience in the clandestine services."
I knew what she was going to say, of, course. A part of me had known it as soon as I had felt the hand on my arm and heard the voice - long before Liz asked her questions. When I turned, I saw those blue eyes staring back me. I heard Professor Buckingham say,
"Please join me in welcoming Agent Edward Townsend."
Watching the man from London make his way down the center aisle, a hundred thoughts rushed through my mind: Who is this guy, really? What does he want with us? Can a suitcase really do that much damage? But Liz was the one who asked what my roommates and I were all thinking.
"We don't like him, do we?"
"No," Bex answered for me as our new CoveOps teacher made his way to the front of the room. "I don't think we do."
He looked directly at me as he passed, but he didn't wink - didn't smile. (Of, course, technically, he probably just didn't want to turn his back on Macey.)
"This is probably a good thing, Cam." I could feel Liz staring at me. "The only way your mom and Mr. Solomon would miss the start of school is if they're really close to finding something big. They'll find it and then they'll be back."
"I bet Mr. Solomon is this close to catching the Circle." She looked at me. "Right?"
I know this is going to sound crazy, but when you're a spy, your life isn't defined by the lies you tell, but by the truths. A lie wouldn't change anything. I sat there, numb, knowing that the truth . . . the truth could set me free.
And that was how I found the strength to whisper, "Mr. Solomon is the Circle."
Chapter Eleven
In our room an hour later, Bex was the one who told the story. About the Tower and the Circle and the mad look in our teacher's eyes as he stood shaking on the bridge. It sounded like a dozen other crazy tales she'd brought back after break, but this one, I knew, was true.
"He was sixteen?" I watched Liz plug that number into some formula in her mind, then shake her head as if it didn't compute. "No, he couldn't have been bad. I mean he can't be.
He is . . . I mean, he was . . ."
"Our age," Macey finished for her.
One of the downsides of going to a school where they teach you that you're capable of anything is that eventually you start to believe it. But none of us had ever thought ourselves capable of that.
"How does someone our age end up working for Circle?" Macey asked in disbelief.
"Blackthorne," I said simply. "The Circle recruits at Blackthorn."
"Cammie, no," Liz started, already knowing where my thoughts had gone. "Zach can't be . . ."
"But he might be. These are the facts: We know Zach was in London. And D.C. And Boston. Zach knew the Circle wanted me before we even knew the Circle existed." I looked down at my hands. "And we knew Zach's always been close to Mr. Solomon.
They've both always known too much."
"Cam, no," Macey ordered. "Stop it. Even if Mr. Solomon is a double agent or whatever, that doesn't mean Zach is too."
"Bex's mom said that having someone at the Gallaher Academy - having someone close to me - would be a high priority." I laughed sadly. "And Zach got pretty close."
"Cam, that doesn't mean anything." Liz rushed toward me. "Maybe Mr. Solomon used to work for the Circle, but now -"
"He's the good guy?" I guessed.
"Yeah," Liz said.
"Good guys don't jump into rivers in the middle of winter to get away from other good guys," I answered. "Besides, I don't think the Circle really offers early retirement."
"Okay, so Joe Solomon's a traitor . . ." Macey said as simply as if she'd said "So Joe Solomon looks good in turtlenecks." "Do you really think he'd be stupid, too?" she stepped closer. "Think about it, Cammie. Why was Mr. Solomon there?"
"He said I had to follow the pigeons."
"Follow the what?" Liz asked.
"He was talking crazy, okay?" I took a deep breath. "One second he was telling me to run, and then . . . you know."
"So you're saying that one of the CIA's best undercover operatives - not to mention one of the most wanted men in the world - walked through an MI6 surveillance detail just to tell you to follow the pigeons?" Macey didn't try to hide her disbelief.
"Yeah," I said. He said he had to see me before I got back to school. And he said when I got back to school I had to follow the pigeons."
"Tell me this, Cam." Macey placed her arm around her shoulder. She seemed so much taller than me then. "Do you believe Mr. Solomon is working for the Circle?"
"Abby and the Baxters say he is."
"What do you say?" Macey asked.
"It's true," Bex answered for me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "My mum and dad have been taking me on missions since before I could walk. They've never lied to me before. They wouldn't start lying to me about this." She turned and looked right at me.
"Abby would never lie to you about this."
Sometimes I hate it when my friends are right. Unfortunately, it happens a lot.
"But, Bex, your parents weren't there on election night," Macey countered. "Abby was there, but she was half dead. Cam, you were drugged and practically knocked unconscious, so you won't remember either - but I do." She shivered a little.
"I remember everything. Everyone was worried that night, but Mr. Solomon was terrified. He was as worried about you as your mother was."
"Mr. Solomon's been working for the Circle since he was sixteen! He's pretty good at faking things," Bex challenged.
Macey shook her head. "He wasn't faking."
"You can't know that," Bex said.
Macey laughed softly. "I know fake love when I see it."
I didn't know what to say, so I sank to the floor and rested my arms on my knees, suddenly far too tired for the first day of school.
On the other side of the room, Liz sat perfectly still on her bed, weighing options, waiting to cast the tie-breaking vote. When she spoke, her voice was so low. "Cam, where's your mom?"
"Buckingham said she's been temporarily detained. Whatever that means." I sighed. "She didn't even some to England after . . . everything."
Four things came to mind as I took my regular seat at the junior table. 1) Being on the run in a foreign country is enough to make a girl seriously miss our awesome chef's cooking.
2) The windows of the Grand Hall had been upgraded to a substance that could probably survive a direct hit from a missile. 3) The packets of sweetener on the table now bore the words "The contents of this packet have been certified psychoactive-free."
But it was the fourth thing that I hadn't really been expecting: silence. As soon as I sat down, it felt like the entire table - the entire hall - stopped talking.
Only Bex seemed to be immune to the silence as she threw one leg over the bench and took her place next to Macey. "Everyone have a good holiday?" She reached for the pitcher of water at the center of the table and filled her glass. And still the silence drew longer.
"I said," Bex repeated slowly, "did everyone have a nice holiday?"
"Yes."
"Sure."
"Uh-huh," everyone hurried to say, but the eyes of my classmates . . . the eyes still stayed on me: Cameron Ann Morgan, Chameleon no more.
And then, just as quickly, their gazes passed to Tina Walters.
"So, um . . . Cammie," Tina started, "how was your break?"
"Our holiday was lovely, Tina," Bex answered for me. "Thank you for asking."
Her back was perfectly straight as she said this. She gently shook out a linen napkin and laid it across her lap. Madame Dabney would have been so very proud, but of course Madame Dabney wasn't there - none of our teachers were - so maybe that's why Tina felt safe putting her elbows on the table and leaning closer.
"But did they . . . you know . . . catch them?" she asked, maybe because she's the daughter of both a spy and a gossip columnist and she wasn't going to rest until she heard the full story. Or maybe she was just hoping for a different story from the one that should have obvious to every girl in the (recently reinforced) Grand Hall.
"No, Tina," I said carefully, "they didn't. Not yet."
"But they have a lot of good leads, don't they?" Eva Alvarez asked.
"Of course they do." Bex's gaze found mine, the unspoken words coursing between us: And his name is Joseph Solomon.
"Yeah. I bet your mom and Mr. Solomon are going to find something any day now,"
Anna Fetterman said, and I glanced around the Grand Hall, processing, thinking, realizing that no one had heard a rumor. Not a single one of my classmates had overheard their moms and dads whispering about a rogue operatives and sleeper agents in the middle of the night.
"Yeah," Anna said again. "Mr. Solomon will catch them."
She nodded and smiled and sounded so sure.
I nodded and smiled and wanted to cry.
To them, Mr. Solomon wasn't a sixteen-year-old boy who had joined the Circle. He was still was man who had walked through the double doors at the back of that very room a year and a half before.
I turned and looked at the doors and almost jumped out of my skin when they swung open - as if I'd willed it to happen, traveled back in time. I half expected to see Joe Solomon among the long line of teachers making their formal entrance down the center aisle. I felt the room around me changing as, one by one, my classmates counted heads, scanned the line, and realized someone was missing.
I was staring down at the table, unable to look, as Tina asked, "Hey where's Headmistress Morgan?"
Buckingham had said she wasn't back yet. That she was detained . . . delayed. And delayed meant running late. Delayed meant "back in a flash."
Buckingham hadn't said gone.
"She's got to be here," I said flatly, certain Tina had missed her. "My mom has to be back by now," I said, despite that fact that Professor Buckingham was moving to my mother's place behind the podium at the front of the room.
I was standing, desperate for a better look, when Buckingham asked, "Women of the Gallagher Academy, who comes here?" and every girl in the room stood there too.
The hall echoed. "We are the sisters of Gillian."
"Why do you come?"
"To learn her skills. Honor her sword. And keep her secrets," my classmates replied, but I didn't say the words. I was too busy staring at Professor Buckingham, who as standing proudly behind the Gallagher Academy crest as if that were her place - her job.
"Welcome back, ladies. I have a few announcements," she said with no more emotion than when we'd stood in the Hall of History and she'd told me my mother had been detained.
"Headmistress Morgan is not able to be with us tonight, so it's my duty to inform you that Joe Solomon will not be teaching our Covert Operations courses this semester."
She said it just like that - no excuses, no explanations - as a gasp went through the room.
"Fortunately, the Gallagher Academy has a long list of alumni and friends from which it can choose its faculty. Therefore, I am pleased to welcome an operative who has excelled on many continents, working in some of the most challenging circumstances that one can experience in the clandestine services."
I knew what she was going to say, of, course. A part of me had known it as soon as I had felt the hand on my arm and heard the voice - long before Liz asked her questions. When I turned, I saw those blue eyes staring back me. I heard Professor Buckingham say,
"Please join me in welcoming Agent Edward Townsend."
Watching the man from London make his way down the center aisle, a hundred thoughts rushed through my mind: Who is this guy, really? What does he want with us? Can a suitcase really do that much damage? But Liz was the one who asked what my roommates and I were all thinking.
"We don't like him, do we?"
"No," Bex answered for me as our new CoveOps teacher made his way to the front of the room. "I don't think we do."
He looked directly at me as he passed, but he didn't wink - didn't smile. (Of, course, technically, he probably just didn't want to turn his back on Macey.)
"This is probably a good thing, Cam." I could feel Liz staring at me. "The only way your mom and Mr. Solomon would miss the start of school is if they're really close to finding something big. They'll find it and then they'll be back."
"I bet Mr. Solomon is this close to catching the Circle." She looked at me. "Right?"
I know this is going to sound crazy, but when you're a spy, your life isn't defined by the lies you tell, but by the truths. A lie wouldn't change anything. I sat there, numb, knowing that the truth . . . the truth could set me free.
And that was how I found the strength to whisper, "Mr. Solomon is the Circle."
Chapter Eleven
In our room an hour later, Bex was the one who told the story. About the Tower and the Circle and the mad look in our teacher's eyes as he stood shaking on the bridge. It sounded like a dozen other crazy tales she'd brought back after break, but this one, I knew, was true.
"He was sixteen?" I watched Liz plug that number into some formula in her mind, then shake her head as if it didn't compute. "No, he couldn't have been bad. I mean he can't be.
He is . . . I mean, he was . . ."
"Our age," Macey finished for her.
One of the downsides of going to a school where they teach you that you're capable of anything is that eventually you start to believe it. But none of us had ever thought ourselves capable of that.
"How does someone our age end up working for Circle?" Macey asked in disbelief.
"Blackthorne," I said simply. "The Circle recruits at Blackthorn."
"Cammie, no," Liz started, already knowing where my thoughts had gone. "Zach can't be . . ."
"But he might be. These are the facts: We know Zach was in London. And D.C. And Boston. Zach knew the Circle wanted me before we even knew the Circle existed." I looked down at my hands. "And we knew Zach's always been close to Mr. Solomon.
They've both always known too much."
"Cam, no," Macey ordered. "Stop it. Even if Mr. Solomon is a double agent or whatever, that doesn't mean Zach is too."
"Bex's mom said that having someone at the Gallaher Academy - having someone close to me - would be a high priority." I laughed sadly. "And Zach got pretty close."
"Cam, that doesn't mean anything." Liz rushed toward me. "Maybe Mr. Solomon used to work for the Circle, but now -"
"He's the good guy?" I guessed.
"Yeah," Liz said.
"Good guys don't jump into rivers in the middle of winter to get away from other good guys," I answered. "Besides, I don't think the Circle really offers early retirement."
"Okay, so Joe Solomon's a traitor . . ." Macey said as simply as if she'd said "So Joe Solomon looks good in turtlenecks." "Do you really think he'd be stupid, too?" she stepped closer. "Think about it, Cammie. Why was Mr. Solomon there?"
"He said I had to follow the pigeons."
"Follow the what?" Liz asked.
"He was talking crazy, okay?" I took a deep breath. "One second he was telling me to run, and then . . . you know."
"So you're saying that one of the CIA's best undercover operatives - not to mention one of the most wanted men in the world - walked through an MI6 surveillance detail just to tell you to follow the pigeons?" Macey didn't try to hide her disbelief.
"Yeah," I said. He said he had to see me before I got back to school. And he said when I got back to school I had to follow the pigeons."
"Tell me this, Cam." Macey placed her arm around her shoulder. She seemed so much taller than me then. "Do you believe Mr. Solomon is working for the Circle?"
"Abby and the Baxters say he is."
"What do you say?" Macey asked.
"It's true," Bex answered for me, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "My mum and dad have been taking me on missions since before I could walk. They've never lied to me before. They wouldn't start lying to me about this." She turned and looked right at me.
"Abby would never lie to you about this."
Sometimes I hate it when my friends are right. Unfortunately, it happens a lot.
"But, Bex, your parents weren't there on election night," Macey countered. "Abby was there, but she was half dead. Cam, you were drugged and practically knocked unconscious, so you won't remember either - but I do." She shivered a little.
"I remember everything. Everyone was worried that night, but Mr. Solomon was terrified. He was as worried about you as your mother was."
"Mr. Solomon's been working for the Circle since he was sixteen! He's pretty good at faking things," Bex challenged.
Macey shook her head. "He wasn't faking."
"You can't know that," Bex said.
Macey laughed softly. "I know fake love when I see it."
I didn't know what to say, so I sank to the floor and rested my arms on my knees, suddenly far too tired for the first day of school.
On the other side of the room, Liz sat perfectly still on her bed, weighing options, waiting to cast the tie-breaking vote. When she spoke, her voice was so low. "Cam, where's your mom?"
"Buckingham said she's been temporarily detained. Whatever that means." I sighed. "She didn't even some to England after . . . everything."
