Perfect Cover
Page 48
I walked up to my front door, and when I reached for the doorknob, the door flew inward. Noah stood there, smiling at me.
“Ask me how my night was,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder. Chloe was gone, but wherever she was, I was positive she was smirking in victory.
“Toby, just ask me,” Noah ordered. “Or better yet, touch me.”
“Noah, I’m not going to—”
“Just touch me.”
I reached my hand out to thwap some sense into him, but he jumped back. “Careful,” he said. “Don’t burn yourself, ’cause I’m on fiiiiiiiiiiire!”
And then he broke into a victory dance, moonwalk and all.
When I got my hands on them, Brittany and Tiffany were dead girls.
CHAPTER 34
Code Word: Halftime
“Hello, girls.”
This time, I had my “good morning, Charlie” impulses well under control, but really, my response had nothing to do with control and indeed nothing even to do with the fact that the cheerleading uniform I was wearing was highly uncomfortable. It had everything to do with the fact that hearing the Voice again sent me flashing back to that night, to the kiss, to everything.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“I know you girls have a big game today, so I won’t keep you, but we wanted to express our sincere appreciation for your work on this case. Heath Shannon is currently in custody and has agreed to provide us with information on his terrorist contacts in exchange for a light sentencing.”
I noticed that there was no mention of Heath Shannon similarly betraying Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray, which I took as signifying that somehow, Mr. Playboy found the law firm more intimidating and potentially lethal than his terrorist contacts. Try that for mind-boggling.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“Infotech has been effectively shut down. Coincidentally enough, they’ve also had a major turnover in management. Apparently, several of their lead executives have fled the country.”
Given Heath’s decision, I wondered what the executives were more afraid of: the government or Peyton’s undoubtedly unpleasant methods for tying up loose ends.
“Toby.”
The Voice spoke my name, and I bit back the urge to speak back, to yell out that I knew who he was and to demand to know why he wanted to talk about Jack.
“The bug you planted at Peyton has been up and operational for the past two days. Though we don’t expect it to last indefinitely, it will be invaluable until we can find an alternative means of collecting intel inside the firm.”
An alternative means like, perhaps, being related to the guys who own it?
Tara gave me a look that told me I should reply, and though I managed to refrain from voicing my silent question, I couldn’t stop a smart-mouthed one from leaving my lips instead. “Does that mean I get a gold star?”
The Voice didn’t show a single sign of chuckling. “It means,” he said, “that we’ll keep you.”
I hadn’t known that not keeping me was even an option. It was a testament to how far I’d come in the past couple of days that I somehow found the idea of not being on the Squad anymore incredibly aversive.
“We’ve analyzed the information that you confiscated from Heath Shannon,” the Voice continued, and I tried not to think of what exactly that “confiscation” had entailed.
“And we’ve reassigned our operatives accordingly. Any information Peyton got from these hacks is now obsolete.”
We’d stopped the metaphorical sickness from spreading. We’d assessed the damage, and we’d treated the symptoms. To put it in cheerleading terms, we’d gone, we’d fought, and we’d won. And because I’d had the words to our cheers and chants burned into my cranial region by that blasted iPod, I knew for a fact that after the Bayport Lions made big with the go-fight-win, the first thing we did was do it again.
And now for the words I never thought I’d say: Go Bayport.
“As always, girls, we’ll be in touch.” The Voice paused slightly, and I waited for another cryptic announcement.
“Good luck with your game.”
And then, there was silence.
So that’s it. My first mission. I broke a code that sent Brooke and Zee into the line of fire (literally) in Libya. I hacked Infotech’s secured system, acquired their files, destroyed their system, and helped the guys upstairs safeguard their system against future attacks. With Lucy’s help, I took down a freelance heartthrob/operative and retrieved the stolen data. I seduced the school’s most eligible bachelor, infiltrated an evil law firm, and bugged it like a pro. I found out that one of our superiors was more than he appeared, and I wore hideously uncomfortable boots and indecently short skirts. I got Stage Sixed, became one of those girls, photocopied my butt, and partook in what, in all honesty, was my very first kiss. And then I punched the guy and ran.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad showing, except, perhaps, for the last part.
As the ten of us left the Quad and filed out onto the football field, I found myself at the center of conversation. The twins combined their dating expertise to conclude (in the absence of any knowledge about the kiss) that I was sending Jack mixed signals. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Zee, after dissecting Jack’s psyche a bit more, told me that, if anything, I’d increase my chances with him by playing the intrigue card.
I tried to tell them that I wanted nothing to do with him, but for some strange reason, nobody believed me. I also couldn’t convince them to change the topic of conversation, even as we took our positions on the sidelines. We’d safeguarded national security and captured a playboy who’d ratted out terrorists, our Squad captain now owed her life to a bulletproof push-up bra, and the first football game of the year was officially starting, but somehow, my alleged love life was still the topic of conversation.
That’s pretty much how my first mission concluded. I still didn’t know anything about Jack’s uncle, or about why the CIA needed cheerleaders to infiltrate Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray when Peyton blood ran in one of their own. I didn’t know what “Uncle Alan” wanted with Jack. I didn’t even know what I wanted with Jack.
That’s almost how my first mission ended, anyway. There was one other tiny thing.
“You ready for this, Toby?” Brooke asked me an hour later, in a tone that suggested I probably wasn’t.
I’d just spent a record amount of time on the sidelines, cheering and chanting with a huge, fake smile on my face, and she was still doubting me.
“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”
The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).
We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.
I smiled.
“Ready? Okay!”
“B to the A to the Y to the Port…”
It was official: there was no turning back.
If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as I cheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.
“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”
“Ask me how my night was,” he said.
I looked over my shoulder. Chloe was gone, but wherever she was, I was positive she was smirking in victory.
“Toby, just ask me,” Noah ordered. “Or better yet, touch me.”
“Noah, I’m not going to—”
“Just touch me.”
I reached my hand out to thwap some sense into him, but he jumped back. “Careful,” he said. “Don’t burn yourself, ’cause I’m on fiiiiiiiiiiire!”
And then he broke into a victory dance, moonwalk and all.
When I got my hands on them, Brittany and Tiffany were dead girls.
CHAPTER 34
Code Word: Halftime
“Hello, girls.”
This time, I had my “good morning, Charlie” impulses well under control, but really, my response had nothing to do with control and indeed nothing even to do with the fact that the cheerleading uniform I was wearing was highly uncomfortable. It had everything to do with the fact that hearing the Voice again sent me flashing back to that night, to the kiss, to everything.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“I know you girls have a big game today, so I won’t keep you, but we wanted to express our sincere appreciation for your work on this case. Heath Shannon is currently in custody and has agreed to provide us with information on his terrorist contacts in exchange for a light sentencing.”
I noticed that there was no mention of Heath Shannon similarly betraying Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray, which I took as signifying that somehow, Mr. Playboy found the law firm more intimidating and potentially lethal than his terrorist contacts. Try that for mind-boggling.
John. It’s Alan. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jack.
“Infotech has been effectively shut down. Coincidentally enough, they’ve also had a major turnover in management. Apparently, several of their lead executives have fled the country.”
Given Heath’s decision, I wondered what the executives were more afraid of: the government or Peyton’s undoubtedly unpleasant methods for tying up loose ends.
“Toby.”
The Voice spoke my name, and I bit back the urge to speak back, to yell out that I knew who he was and to demand to know why he wanted to talk about Jack.
“The bug you planted at Peyton has been up and operational for the past two days. Though we don’t expect it to last indefinitely, it will be invaluable until we can find an alternative means of collecting intel inside the firm.”
An alternative means like, perhaps, being related to the guys who own it?
Tara gave me a look that told me I should reply, and though I managed to refrain from voicing my silent question, I couldn’t stop a smart-mouthed one from leaving my lips instead. “Does that mean I get a gold star?”
The Voice didn’t show a single sign of chuckling. “It means,” he said, “that we’ll keep you.”
I hadn’t known that not keeping me was even an option. It was a testament to how far I’d come in the past couple of days that I somehow found the idea of not being on the Squad anymore incredibly aversive.
“We’ve analyzed the information that you confiscated from Heath Shannon,” the Voice continued, and I tried not to think of what exactly that “confiscation” had entailed.
“And we’ve reassigned our operatives accordingly. Any information Peyton got from these hacks is now obsolete.”
We’d stopped the metaphorical sickness from spreading. We’d assessed the damage, and we’d treated the symptoms. To put it in cheerleading terms, we’d gone, we’d fought, and we’d won. And because I’d had the words to our cheers and chants burned into my cranial region by that blasted iPod, I knew for a fact that after the Bayport Lions made big with the go-fight-win, the first thing we did was do it again.
And now for the words I never thought I’d say: Go Bayport.
“As always, girls, we’ll be in touch.” The Voice paused slightly, and I waited for another cryptic announcement.
“Good luck with your game.”
And then, there was silence.
So that’s it. My first mission. I broke a code that sent Brooke and Zee into the line of fire (literally) in Libya. I hacked Infotech’s secured system, acquired their files, destroyed their system, and helped the guys upstairs safeguard their system against future attacks. With Lucy’s help, I took down a freelance heartthrob/operative and retrieved the stolen data. I seduced the school’s most eligible bachelor, infiltrated an evil law firm, and bugged it like a pro. I found out that one of our superiors was more than he appeared, and I wore hideously uncomfortable boots and indecently short skirts. I got Stage Sixed, became one of those girls, photocopied my butt, and partook in what, in all honesty, was my very first kiss. And then I punched the guy and ran.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad showing, except, perhaps, for the last part.
As the ten of us left the Quad and filed out onto the football field, I found myself at the center of conversation. The twins combined their dating expertise to conclude (in the absence of any knowledge about the kiss) that I was sending Jack mixed signals. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Zee, after dissecting Jack’s psyche a bit more, told me that, if anything, I’d increase my chances with him by playing the intrigue card.
I tried to tell them that I wanted nothing to do with him, but for some strange reason, nobody believed me. I also couldn’t convince them to change the topic of conversation, even as we took our positions on the sidelines. We’d safeguarded national security and captured a playboy who’d ratted out terrorists, our Squad captain now owed her life to a bulletproof push-up bra, and the first football game of the year was officially starting, but somehow, my alleged love life was still the topic of conversation.
That’s pretty much how my first mission concluded. I still didn’t know anything about Jack’s uncle, or about why the CIA needed cheerleaders to infiltrate Peyton, Kaufman, and Gray when Peyton blood ran in one of their own. I didn’t know what “Uncle Alan” wanted with Jack. I didn’t even know what I wanted with Jack.
That’s almost how my first mission ended, anyway. There was one other tiny thing.
“You ready for this, Toby?” Brooke asked me an hour later, in a tone that suggested I probably wasn’t.
I’d just spent a record amount of time on the sidelines, cheering and chanting with a huge, fake smile on my face, and she was still doubting me.
“Brooke, it’s a halftime routine. It’s not rocket science.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“And now, for your pleasure, the nationally recognized heart of Bayport—the Bayport High Varsity Spirit Squad!”
The announcer’s voice rumbled out of the loudspeakers, and the crowd burst into applause, hoots, and hollers (in that order).
We took our positions on the field. I ignored the way my cheerleading skirt rubbed uncomfortably against my legs. I thought about my last mission and my next one and the importance of never letting anyone see more than you wanted them to see.
I smiled.
“Ready? Okay!”
“B to the A to the Y to the Port…”
It was official: there was no turning back.
If you’d told me at the beginning of my sophomore year that I was going to become a government operative, I would have thought you were crazy, but if you’d told me I was destined to become a cheerleader, I would have had you committed, no questions asked. Then again, if you’d told me right after our halftime performance that our second mission would be more lethal, more scandalous, and more filled with kisses than the first, I wouldn’t have believed you.
It just goes to show how wrong I can be, because as I cheered, my smile forcing the world to view me as nothing more than a girl in a skirt, the beginnings of my second mission, more dangerous than I could have imagined, were already headed my way.
“Go, fight, win! We’ll beat you again. BAYPORT!”
