The Doublecross (24 page)

“No,” Ben said. “She's actually running back to the dorms, I think. Hale, you'll have to take a left up ahead, because there's a group of senior agents at the end of the hall. They have their backs toward you, but go fast.”

“Got it,” I said, taking the left. I wanted to look back over my shoulder and check where the senior agents were, but no, I had to trust Ben and keep moving. I heard the bus squeal forward over my com, followed by cheering from the recruits; the sound made something in my chest melt a little. If everything else went wrong, at least we got them—and Beatrix, Walter, and Kennedy with them—out.

“Hang on, Hale, take another left here,” Ben said.

“If I take a left, I go farther from the exit,” I said.

“I know, but Fishburn is headed back toward his office. And then—wait, Hale. Mrs. Quaddlebaum just kicked down the door to your bedroom. She sees the BENoculars! She's—”
Ben took a sharp breath. “I've lost my feed,” Ben said. His voice was dead for a second, and then he repeated himself, panicked. “I've lost my feed! Hale? She unplugged the BENoculars. I can't see the cameras anymore. I have no idea where you are or where anyone else is—”

“It's fine,” I answered, even thought it wasn't. I froze in the hall and tried to listen back to the sounds of voices.
Focus
,
Hale
, I told myself in a voice that sounded a lot like my Dad's. I wanted to do anything
but
focus. I wanted to freak out and run and hide. But that wouldn't help me right now. Spies existed long before computers and Right Hands and cameras and BENoculars. I could do this.

I cut right, jogging down past the secretary's office. There were people in there, but they were preoccupied with sneaking up to a door in the back where I guess they thought I was hiding. More footsteps ahead, and I recognized the sound of Fishburn's fancy shoes on the tile. I hung another right and circled the hall block to pass just a few yards behind him. I could hear the breathing of my friends over the com, but no one was speaking, like they were all afraid a single sound would break my concentration. I dared to peek around another corner—there was Ms. Elma, walking my way.

“Walter, Kennedy,” I whispered into the com. “I'm in the back of the admin hall. Ms. Elma is coming toward me. Fishburn is already back in his office. I need an out. Help me think.” I had to move—I dropped to my knees and crawled
under the Disguise Department's front window. I could hear more voices now, younger voices. The other junior agents, probably still in their SRS cheerleading uniforms, were starting to filter down to this part of the building.

“Oh, what about through the shooting range?” Kennedy asked.

“Give me the com,” Oleander said, apparently snatching Kennedy's. “Hale? I'm coming in to get you.”

“What? No, you'll get caught,” I protested. “Don't.”

“You're the most valuable asset we have, and I'm not letting you get trapped in there. I need to know exactly where you are.” I heard the bus air brakes exhale over the com.

“I'm in the Disguise Department—”

“I've got an idea!” Walter interrupted, his voice a little shaky. “Dr. Oleander, don't go in after him—wait, where'd she go?”

“I'm already inside. I'll be the backup plan,” Oleander whispered through her—well, Kennedy's—com. “What's your idea, Walter?”

“Okay, Hale—there's an emergency stairwell near my mom's office in the admin hall, not too far from the Disguise Department.”

“What? I've never seen a stairwell there.”

“You'd never know it was there if you didn't go into her office all the time—just trust me! It should be a straight
shot from where you are. The door's locked, but it gives if you shove it hard enough—Cameron and Michael and I used to sneak out that way all the time. We'll park the bus right outside—just make it down the hall and up the steps. Come on!”

I paused. “I'll have to pass Fishburn's office. And there're other agents down there helping him by now, and I think a few of the junior agents would see me at the hallway intersection.”

“It doesn't matter! We're
right here
. You just have to stay a little ahead of them on the stairs.”

I exhaled. “I can't do that, Walter.”

“What? Why not? It's perfect! Look, Clatterbuck says he and Ben put some sort of fancy engine in this bus. They'll gun it the moment that you hit the door and
boom
, we're gone. You can do it!”

“No, Walter.
You
can do it, maybe. But I won't be able to stay ahead of them on the stairs. I'm not fast enough. Hale the Whale, remember?”

I didn't want to say it out loud any more than my friends wanted to hear it. Walter made a few halted sounds like he wanted to argue, but he stopped himself. Beatrix and Clatterbuck began shouting other suggestions, panic rising in their voices. Oleander chanted over and over that I should stay put, that she was making her way to me.

I sighed and then looked down at the stack of
Groundcover papers in my hand. Once I was caught, I'd never have the chance to look. Never have the chance to learn whatever my parents had known that had forced them into hiding. Never have the chance to pass all of it along to The League, so they could stop SRS.

I couldn't escape SRS, but at least I could get some answers. I reached up and pulled the com earring off, then slipped into the archive room, where I dropped to the ground and began to read.

Project Groundcover
Mission Start Date: 01-01-84
Projected End Date: Indefinite

Objective:

Project Groundcover seeks to place young agents into deep cover across the globe, where they will be able to infiltrate government, cultural, and religious agencies, assuring SRS's control of said agencies.

[Operation Evergreen, sub-program, will seek out potential candidates for these missions, as well as replace absent SRS students who are assigned to Groundcover.]

 

I stared. SRS was planting kids across the world. Of course they were—it made perfect sense. It was genius, even. A few kids here and there, and boom, suddenly they controlled the planet. This was what my parents meant, when they said Project Groundcover would give SRS too much power—it would give them
all
the power, practically,
and with more kids coming in through Operation Evergreen, they'd continue growing and growing until they ruled
everything.
The next few pages included maps, diagrams, blueprints, and information on the places SRS planned on sending junior agents. Then there were dozens and dozens of junior agent files, and from the looks of it, Groundcover involved kids from different SRS facilities all over the world.

Eleanor, from my class, was supposed to go to a stodgy boarding school in France, where she'd be able to befriend diplomats' children and spy on their parents. Michael would, in two years, be sent to Russia, where he'd work his way up the ranks of its navy. Walter was going to Spain, where he'd be put in place to—oh, gross—impress the president's daughter, who had a thing for shoulder muscles, and hopefully start dating her. I flipped another page and was surprised to see my own file—I guess Fishburn was serious about letting that whole physical exam thing go. It appeared I was slated to go to Norway, where I'd be . . .

I rolled my eyes. Where I'd be helping out a butler in the royal household. Walter gets a Spanish girlfriend and I get to deliver the paper. Some junior agent.

I shuffled through the papers till I got to the section where senior agents were listed. There were plenty I didn't know, but it didn't take me long to find my parents. Their sections were thick, full of long mission reports and transcripts. The cover pages were the most informative.

[Senior Agent Assignments]
Katie Jordan

Role:
Research

Shallow Cover - French Embassy

Shallow Cover - Home of French President

Shallow Cover - House of Lords

Shallow Cover - Russian Parliament

New Agent Placement

 

Mom was supposed to take kids and set them up in their undercover roles. No wonder she didn't like it. There was an official SRS photo of her on the last page, and underneath it, smaller photos of her in various disguises.

Joseph Jordan

Role:
Research

Shallow Cover - French Embassy

Shallow Cover - Home of French President

Shallow Cover - House of Lords

Shallow Cover - Russian Parliament

Opposition Removal

 

And Dad was supposed to stop anyone or anything that got in Mom's way.

I tried not to think too hard about what that might mean. I looked at Dad's photo longer than I should have,
seeing as how I could still hear running in the halls, and then I turned the page.

Alex Creevy

Role:
Research

Shallow Cover - French Embassy

Shallow Cover - Home of French President

Shallow Cover - House of Lords

Shallow Cover - Russian Parliament

Deep Cover - The League

 

I read it again.

And again.

What?

I flipped the page, to where the photo of Alex Creevy should have been. There was a pretty woman with black hair looking back at me, though the photo looked a little old. I was surprised—Clatterbuck had made me think Alex Creevy was a man, but I suppose he'd just assumed, and Alex was one of those names that could go either way. I looked down; underneath the official photo were dozens of photos of her in disguise, just like Mom's page. Here she was as a redhead or wearing a hijab or with blue contacts in or with her eyebrows overpenciled. Here she was with blond hair.

My stomach flipped. There she was with blond hair.

I knew Alex Creevy. Only I knew her as Pamela Oleander.

My hands shook for a moment before I forced them to be still. How could I have missed this? There were clues, clues that screamed at me in hindsight. She hadn't just guessed the name Agent Smith in the car with Walter and me that day; she
knew
Agent Smith worked in Tactical Support. She hadn't pressed so hard about Groundcover because The League needed to know; she'd done it so she could find SRS's security weaknesses. She hadn't even asked me how to get to the Disguise Department only a few moments ago when she was breaking in to “rescue me.” Why would she ask? She knew where the department was. She was an SRS agent.

“Guys, Alex Creevy. She's—”

The door to the archive slammed open. Someone punched at my arm and the com bracelet went flying. I
whirled around, but another hand struck the side of my temple. It didn't knock me out, but the world went sideways for a minute, and I couldn't tell where the ground was. There were voices, I was caught, but I had to warn the others about Oleander. I mean . . . Creevy.

“You mean me,” Oleander/Creevy said, and I looked up. “You were mumbling out loud. It happens sometimes with a blow to the head,” she added.

“You just punched a kid in the head, Alex,” someone else said. I was surprised to see Otter standing in the doorway.

“I just punched a rogue agent who is double-crossing us,” Creevy corrected. Otter shrugged and collected my fallen com. Then he dropped it into his pocket and shuffled all the Groundcover papers together.

“Let's go, Jordan,” Creevy said, hauling me to my feet.

“You're not really Oleander,” I said dizzily. “How can you . . . How could we . . .”

“I'm very, very good at my job, that's how,” Creevy said.

My vision was becoming clearer, but my mind wasn't. It felt like my entire brain had been tossed around until everything I knew was true was mixed up with everything I knew was a lie. Oleander was Creevy. Creevy was Oleander.

Villains don't always look like villains.

I felt sick.

In the hall outside the archive room were Fishburn and dozens of agents—junior and senior—staring. I couldn't get
away with this many people watching, even if I could somehow overpower Creevy—who was obviously pretty willing to hurt me. Fishburn walked in front of me with Creevy and Otter just behind. Everyone was looking at me with shock and disgust, and I heard mutters like “How could you?” and “This would break your parents' hearts.”

Fishburn gave his broken office window a dismayed look when we walked inside. “Ah, here we go. Agent Otter, would you mind watching the door while Agent Creevy, Hale, and I speak?” he said. His voice was still calm, like this was some sort of bizarre parent-teacher conference rather than my doom.

Otter nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Thanks for helping us find him. I can't believe you were right. I didn't peg him for a hider,” Creevy said, smiling as she passed Otter. She gave him a look that made me think they didn't like each other very much, and made me know that they went way back. They were about the same age; I guessed they were in SRS classes together when they were kids.

“I've known Jordan longer than you have,” Otter answered. “The key with a kid like that is remembering that he's not going to do what the other kids will do. He's not fast enough or strong enough to actually make it out of here past all the search parties we had. All he can do is hide, really.”

I gave Otter the nastiest look I could muster, but I wasn't
sure how much good it did. We moved into Fishburn's office, where I was forced into the chair across from his desk, the same chair I sat in when Fishburn had told me that my parents had been compromised. I assessed the situation. Dozens of agents outside, Otter at the door, and no way to contact anyone at The League. I still had on the utility belt Ben had made for me.