by Stuart Gibbs
I broke open the seal and found several photographs inside. They were extremely grainy, as though they’d been taken from a long distance away with a telephoto lens. The first one was of a Chinese man with close-cropped hair wearing sunglasses.
“That is Leo Shang,” Cyrus told me. “He’s one of the richest men in China. Worth billions.”
“What’s he do?” I asked.
“We have no idea,” Cyrus admitted. “The truth is, we know almost nothing about him: where he grew up, how much education he has, what he owns. He simply appeared on the scene five years ago, loaded with cash.”
Erica shifted closer to me to get a better look at the photos. As usual, she smelled incredible, a combination of lilacs and gunpowder. She stared at the pictures in a way that suggested she’d never seen them before, which was unusual. Normally, Erica knew everything way before I did. I wondered why Cyrus hadn’t shared these with her yet.
“Anyone with an untraceable background and that much money is suspicious,” Cyrus continued. “So the CIA has tried to investigate him. However, the man has the tightest security I’ve ever come across. His organization is almost impossible to infiltrate. He keeps himself cloistered, interacting with only a few select people, each of whom is also extremely well protected. We’ve been trying to get an agent close to him for years with virtually no success.”
“Why?” Erica asked. It was only the second time she’d spoken since I’d entered the room. “If he’s a Chinese criminal, that’s China’s problem, isn’t it?”
“We have reason to believe his crimes are not merely limited to China,” Cyrus replied. “He seems to be plotting something in the United States. The last agent who investigated him reported he’s working on a scheme known as Operation Golden Fist.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Cyrus confessed. “Our agent was unable to learn any more before he was uncovered and the mission was terminated. However, in his final transmission to us, he did indicate suspicions that Golden Fist might be a Level Eleven threat.”
Erica stiffened slightly in response to this, which was her exceptionally calm way of expressing great concern. “Level Eleven?”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Well,” Erica replied, “a Level Ten threat would be extreme, causing the most chaos, danger, and destruction you can imagine. A Level Eleven threat is even worse.”
I gulped, unsettled by the thought of this.
“Given this, it’s of critical importance that we determine what Golden Fist is,” Cyrus said. “That’s where you kids come in.”
“Us?” I gasped. “How are we supposed to get close to this guy when the entire CIA hasn’t been able to do it?”
“Because everyone has a chink in their armor,” Cyrus explained. “No man is an island. And Leo Shang’s weakness is his daughter, Jessica.”
I shifted to the next photo. It was of a Chinese girl about my age. It was even grainier than the first photo, so bad that I could barely make out anything about her except that she had hair. She appeared to be either baking a pie or holding a cat.
“You want us to get close to her,” Erica said.
“Exactly!” Alexander cried. “Leo Shang might be suspicious of any adult who tries to get near him, but we doubt he’d ever suspect a teenager would be a CIA agent. And if you can get close to Jessica, you might be able to get close to her father.”
“All right, I’ll do it,” Erica said. “It won’t be easy, but I can handle it. With a few hours of extensive makeup, I can pass myself off as Chinese. If you give me the proper identification, I can then insert myself as a new student at Jessica’s school. . . .”
A flicker of unease passed between Cyrus and Alexander, as though there was a subject both of them were afraid to broach. Finally, Cyrus seemed to realize he would have to do it. He cleared his throat and said, “Erica, you’re not the one we’re assigning to get close to Jessica.”
Erica’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Ben is the primary agent on this? You must be joking.”
Cyrus signaled her to calm down. “Sweetheart, the objective here is to befriend Jessica. And the key to making friends with someone is actually being, well . . . friendly. You have a lot of wonderful qualities, but being nice to other people isn’t one of them.”
“Other people are usually idiots,” Erica muttered.
“See what I mean?” Cyrus asked. “That attitude is exactly what I’m talking about. Now, when it comes to espionage, I know you have tremendous talents, while Ben here doesn’t have many at all. . . .”
“Hey!” I said.
“But he is good at making friends,” Cyrus went on. “People like him. And that’s nothing to sneeze at. Which is why he’s going to be the primary agent on this operation, while you’ll be his main handler.”
“He was the primary agent last operation!” Erica snapped. “And I was his handler then! He’s barely had any training, while I’ve been studying for this since I was a baby!”
“I’ve learned some things,” I protested.
Erica fixed her angry gaze on me. “I can speak fluent Chinese. In Mandarin and Wu dialects. Can you speak fluent Chinese?”
“Er, no . . . ,” I confessed meekly. “But I can order dinner in a Chinese restaurant.”
“Great,” Erica growled. “When you meet Jessica Shang, you can ask her for some egg rolls. I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
“That’s enough,” Cyrus told her.
Erica fell silent. She was obviously still angry, though. Which was unsettling. Erica rarely displayed much emotion at all. She was normally as calm and relaxed as a person at a day spa, even in the midst of a gunfight. But now she was so upset, it felt as though the room was heating up around her.
“This decision was not made to be an insult to you,” Cyrus informed her. “It was made because it is in the best interests of this country. If you can’t handle that, I’m sure we could find another student willing to be Ben’s handler.”
Erica shifted her glare to her grandfather. “You know there’s no one here better than me.”
“Welcome aboard, then,” Cyrus said. “Now, here’s the skinny: In a few weeks, the Shangs are actually leaving China for the first time in as long as we’ve been tracking them. Better yet, they’ll be coming to the United States. Jessica Shang wants to learn how to ski.”
“They can’t do that in China?” the principal asked. “They have snow there, don’t they?”
“Of course they have snow,” Cyrus said curtly. “However, their resorts aren’t nearly as good as ours yet—so Jessica wants to go to Colorado. Vail, to be specific. They’ve already rented a hotel there and—”
“A hotel room,” I corrected.
“What?” Cyrus asked.
“You said they rented a hotel,” I told him. “Instead of a hotel room.”
“That wasn’t a mistake,” Cyrus snapped. “They rented the entire hotel.”
“For one family?” I asked, stunned.
“Actually,” Alexander said, “Mrs. Shang isn’t coming. We’re not sure why, but we suspect that she’s even more secretive than her husband. Or maybe she just doesn’t like cold weather.”
“So they rented an entire hotel for only two people?” I asked, even more stunned.
“Plus their security staff, which is quite large,” Alexander explained. “Leo Shang doesn’t like being around strangers. And like we said, he’s very rich.”
“Still,” Erica said, “if he’s so cautious, why’s he coming to America at all? He must suspect the CIA is tracking him.”
“We’ve been wondering that ourselves,” Cyrus replied. “Our best guess is that the ski vacation is a cover for Operation Golden Fist.”
“So this doesn’t have anything to do with SPYDER?” I asked.
“Why should it?” Cyrus replied, in a way that suggested my question had been idiotic.
“Er . . . ,” I stammered. “Well . . . SPYDER’s kind of our main ene
my, isn’t it? I mean, every time I’ve confronted an evil organization, it’s been that one. . . .”
“The United States has lots of enemies,” Cyrus informed me. “Including hundreds you’ve never heard of. And we haven’t heard a peep out of SPYDER since their headquarters blew up. That was a huge setback for them—financially and organizationally. So perhaps there’s a chance they’re out of the game.”
“I guess,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. SPYDER wasn’t the type of evil organization that quit being evil after a few setbacks. And we’d never captured most of the high-ranking members. Or even figured out the real identities of any of them.
“Now, Leo Shang might be only one man,” Cyrus told me, “but he controls an empire that appears to be just as powerful and dangerous as SPYDER. Perhaps even more powerful and dangerous. If he is truly plotting something with a Level Eleven potential for danger and destruction, there are many possible targets in the Rocky Mountains. The U.S. government has dozens of extremely critical facilities there: the headquarters for North American Aerospace Defense, Strategic Missile Command, the Air Force Academy. . . .”
“The Central Food and Seed Reserve,” Alexander suggested helpfully.
Cyrus frowned disdainfully at this, but he didn’t discount it, either. “Shang could be targeting any one of them. Or something else entirely. It is imperative that we find out what—and that we do it quickly. Which is why you need to get close to Jessica Shang, Benjamin.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I asked, unable to hide how daunted I felt. “I won’t even be able to get into her hotel.”
“You’ll be attending ski school with her,” Alexander explained. “Leo Shang originally enrolled her in private lessons—but those were recently changed to group lessons. We’re not sure why, but we assume that was Jessica’s doing.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Erica muttered. “Why would anyone not want private lessons? In public lessons, you have to be around other people.”
“We suspect that might be the whole idea,” Cyrus said. “Leo has kept Jessica very cloistered her whole life, so perhaps she’s chafing at that.” He gave Erica a pointed look. “Sometimes teenage girls like to challenge authority.”
Erica rolled her eyes.
“Whatever the case,” Cyrus went on, “we have an opportunity here. We’ve already been in touch with the Vail Ski School, and they’ve agreed to enroll both of you in the same class as Jessica.” He turned to me. “Do you have any experience snow skiing?”
“Uh . . . no,” I conceded.
“Excellent!” Cyrus said, to my surprise. “Neither does Jessica. You’ll both be beginners. That will give you something to bond over right there. Erica will also be enrolled with you, as she’s never skied either.”
“Really?” I asked, stunned. Erica could do everything from martial arts to safecracking to infiltrating enemy compounds; it was hard to believe there was anything she hadn’t tried, let alone mastered.
“It hasn’t been a priority,” Erica explained, then turned to her grandfather. “And what happens if Jessica decides to bond with someone else in the class other than Ben?”
“We’ve already taken that into account,” Cyrus replied. “The other students in the class will be under orders to not befriend her.”
“How?” I asked. “You can’t give a bunch of random kids orders like that. . . .” As I spoke, however, I noticed Erica sighing, as though I was being dense. It took me another moment to realize what she had figured out instantly. “Unless they’re not a bunch of random kids.”
“Exactly,” Alexander said. “Some of your classmates are going to be activated too.”
“Now, wait one second!” the principal barked. “Even more of my students are being put in the field?”
“Who else is coming?” I asked.
“We haven’t decided yet,” Cyrus told me. “We’d like input from both of you before building the team. We want to make sure you’re surrounded by people you trust.”
A smile spread across my face. Not only was I being activated as a primary agent for an official mission, but I’d get to bring some of my friends along as well. And Erica would be there too. Sure, she was upset at the moment, but once she cooled down, I was looking forward to working with her. And at a ski resort, no less. I’d heard those places were chock-full of hot tubs and roaring fireplaces, all of which sounded very romantic. “When does this mission begin?”
“Leo Shang scheduled the vacation over his daughter’s winter break,” Cyrus reported. “That coincides with our winter break as well. You’ll be enrolled in ski school at Vail for a week, beginning the day after Christmas.”
My smile spread even further. My family hadn’t made any plans for winter break; I’d feared I was going to spend it stuck at my house, staring at the walls. A ski vacation sounded a thousand times better.
“It’s not going to be a vacation,” Erica said, reading my thoughts.
I turned to her, trying to conceal my surprise. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“That’s exactly what you were thinking,” she said testily. “You were smiling like you just won the lottery. Well, this isn’t going to be fun. It’s going to be dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Grandpa and my father have been sugarcoating things. Leo Shang is far more vicious than they’ve let on. I know all about him.”
“How?” Alexander asked.
“I’m studying to be a spy. It’s my job to know things.” Erica turned back to me. “The reason Leo Shang is so hard to get close to is that he tends to kill anyone he’s suspicious of. Like the poor sap who learned about Operation Golden Fist. The reason that mission was terminated was because the agent got terminated. And he probably wasn’t the first we’ve lost.” She looked to Alexander and Cyrus accusingly.
Cyrus held her gaze, not giving anything away, but Alexander averted his eyes, indicating Erica had guessed the truth.
Erica returned her attention to me. “So while this might sound like a dream vacation, we’re being sent into the lion’s den here. And believe me, Leo Shang’s going to be doubly suspicious of anyone trying to get close to his only daughter. I’ll do all I can to protect you as your handler, but you better bring your A game to this mission. Because if you screw this up, you’re gonna end up dead.”
With that, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.
I looked back to the others in the cramped room. Cyrus simply nodded his agreement, displeased that Erica had spoken the way she had but not about to lie to me either. Alexander gave me an apologetic shrug.
Now the principal was the one smiling. Apparently, he was quite pleased by the thought that I might die.
Suddenly, being part of Operation Snow Bunny no longer seemed like such a great idea.
MEMORIZATION
The National Zoo
Washington, DC
December 9
1630 hours
“That stinks,” Mike Brezinski said.
“I know,” I admitted. “It does.”
“Not for you, it doesn’t,” Mike argued. “You get to go skiing. For the whole winter break. Meanwhile, I’m gonna be stuck here by myself. You said you were going to be around!”
“I thought I was. But something came up.”
Mike angrily snapped a twig off a tree and threw it into the panda exhibit. You weren’t supposed to throw things into the zoo exhibits, but Mike had never been one for following the rules. It probably didn’t matter, though. The pandas were inside because it was freezing.
I had just told Mike about my ski trip. Or at least, I’d told him as much as I was allowed to: that my school had approved an all-expenses-paid trip to Vail over winter break. The CIA had told my parents the exact same story. Neither Mike nor my parents—nor any civilians—even knew that spy school existed. Instead, they believed that I attended the St. Smithen’s Science Academy for Boys and Girls, an elite boarding school in Washington, DC. (For a few weeks, while I’d been undercover at
SPYDER’s evil spy school, everyone had been led to believe that I’d left St. Smithen’s for Wiseman Preparatory Academy, but now that Wiseman was a smoking crater in the ground, I’d been “reaccepted” at St. Smithen’s.)
We were at the National Zoo because it was close to my campus and it was free; neither Mike nor I had enough cash to even buy ourselves a slice of pizza. I’d hoped that breaking the bad news face-to-face would go over better than a call or a text, but that hadn’t been the case at all.
“How does a smarty-pants science school score a ski trip anyhow?” Mike groused. “You guys don’t even have any sports teams. And suddenly you’re taking up skiing?”
“There’s lots of science in skiing,” I pointed out. “Friction. Wind resistance. Aerodynamics. Plus, we’re participating in a survey of the snowpack to analyze climate change.”
“Wow,” Mike muttered. “You guys can even make something as cool as skiing sound dorky.”
I sighed. Not being able to tell Mike the truth about my training was one of the worst things about spy school. (Although it wasn’t nearly as bad as the fact that people had tried to kill me on a regular basis.) Throughout our lives, Mike had always been cool. I hadn’t. And now I was doing amazingly cool stuff like thwarting evil plots and saving the president’s life—but I had to keep it all a secret. I hated lying to my best friend. And I wasn’t exactly thrilled he thought I was a dork.
“Maybe we can see each other on Christmas Day,” I suggested.
“Ha. Like that’ll happen.” Mike threw another twig into the panda exhibit, then stalked off toward the elephant house.
I raced after him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re never around anymore. First you transferred from our school to St. Smarties. Then, instead of coming home for the summer, you went to nerd camp. And after that, you said you were transferring back to our old school, but you were only there a few hours before you transferred back out again. Now you’re ditching me over winter break, too.”
“At least Elizabeth will still be around,” I suggested, meaning Elizabeth Pasternak, Mike’s girlfriend and the hottest girl at my old school.