Cape

by Kate Hannigan

  “Wait. Look a little closer,” said Mae, taking the blank paper from Akiko’s hand. “It looks stiff in some places, almost like there was a spill that dried.”

  She passed the paper to me, and right away I knew we had something. “I think this is a secret message!” I whispered, scrambling out of the booth as fast as I could. “Clever Emmett!”

  I dashed through the diner to the kitchen, with Akiko and Mae trailing close behind. Thankfully, Harry was in the stockroom in the far back, so the three of us had a quick moment alone with the stove. And that was all we needed.

  “You guys, make sure nobody comes over here,” I said, my knees like wet noodles as I turned on the gas burner. I could hear Gerda at the cash register, ringing up a ticket.

  Holding the paper above the flame—far enough away that I didn’t set the paper on fire but close enough that the heat reached it—I held my breath and watched. And as if by magic, letters began to appear on the page:

  SOS

  HISSLER

  DUKE

  “How . . . ?” choked Akiko.

  Mae was equally stunned, staring closely at the light brown words.

  “What are you doing in here, pal?” came a voice from behind us. “Shall I put you to work making poached eggs, Josie? Your friends too?”

  It was Harry! Akiko and Mae leapt toward him, blocking his view of the stove and Emmett’s note.

  “We’re not doing anything, sir,” squeaked Mae. “Akiko here was just curious about how the kitchen worked. So Josie took us on a tour.”

  “But we’re done now,” Akiko exclaimed, and I felt a swift kick to my ankle as she signaled me to get moving. “Your kitchen is fascinating!”

  Just as I was about to step away—as I moved the lower part of the paper over the flame—one more word suddenly appeared beneath the others:

  HARRY

  I swooned as if the floor beneath me had opened up and I were falling.

  I steadied myself, turned off the flame, then quickly folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of my dungarees. By the time we climbed back into our booth, my hands were trembling. Mae and Akiko were panting.

  “How in the world did you know to do that?” marveled Mae.

  “I knew Emmett would tell us something if he could,” I whispered, my mind still stunned by the thought of Harry’s name on the note. Harry, my friend. Now Harry, as bad as the Duke and Mr. Hissler. I tried not to let on—I wasn’t ready to share this news with Akiko and Mae.

  “We were always passing notes back and forth at school,” I went on, “usually with the letters scrambled so no one else could make sense of them.” And tapping my pocket, I added, “I won’t pull it out in case somebody sees it. But sometimes at lunch we’d write these kinds of notes.”

  “But where in the world do a couple of kids get invisible ink?” asked Akiko, still flabbergasted.

  “We didn’t have to use invisible ink from a bottle or anything,” I explained. “We used milk from our lunches!”

  Akiko smacked her forehead. “I should have remembered! I’ve read about this sort of thing, only not in a comic book.” She sniffled, reaching into her bag and rummaging around for her hankie. “I read it in a magazine story about spy tricks!”

  Mae gasped and touched her heart. “You don’t think Emmett is the spy—”

  “For Pete’s sake, no,” I said, snapping back to the moment. I tried to push thoughts of Harry’s betrayal from my mind. “Emmett Shea is not a spy! He’s just clever. Now, let’s forget about how he did it. Let’s figure out what he’s telling us!”

  We fell quiet as we thought hard about what Emmett’s note said.

  “SOS. That’s the signal for distress,” I began. “It’s what ships use at sea when they’re in danger.”

  “Next it said Hissler, ” whispered Mae, darting her eyes to the tables around us to make sure nobody was listening. “We’d already suspected he was up to no good, from Emmett’s little sister yesterday. But now—”

  “Now we know Hissler snatched Emmett,” interrupted Akiko. “And with the Duke’s name on that note too, he’s just as big of a rat!”

  And Harry right along with them.

  Suddenly a plate appeared above us, held by a long arm that lowered it onto the center of our table. “For you, Fräuleins.” I clutched my pocket where Emmett’s note was tucked, the knowledge of Harry’s betrayal searing my mind. “Pancakes. And eggs will be coming up in a few minutes. As I’m always telling Josie, pie just isn’t enough for breakfast. Right, pal?”

  “These smell delicious, Harry,” said Akiko with an excited bounce. “You’re a real gem!”

  “Akiko’s right,” agreed Mae. “Thank you, sir. You’re so kind.”

  Their compliments were like ice on a raw tooth. I felt myself jump.

  “Delicious,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible despite the shouting that raged inside my head. On my feet now, I signaled for Mae and Akiko to get moving too. Immediately. “But we’re in a hurry this morning. So we won’t be taking anything more from you. Thanks—”

  Trying to shape the last word, I could barely push it from my mouth.

  “—pal.”

  Twenty-Four

  WE MADE OUR WAY OVER to the carson Building as quickly as we could, despite the complaints from Mae and Akiko about their empty stomachs. “Emmett is missing,” I urged. “SOS is a distress signal. We can’t just sit around sipping milkshakes and eating pie. We’ve got to find Mrs. B and Room Twelve.”

  The morning was hot and muggy already, and the summer sun was bright despite the early hour. When we reached the seventh floor, the smell of smoke and charred wood from yesterday’s fire was strong. The hallway was blocked off with wooden barricades, and I could see crews cleaning up the damage.

  “How are we going to find Mrs. B?” I asked, turning to gaze down the other hallways spreading out from the bank of elevators. I put my fingers to my mouth and whistled, which clearly embarrassed Mae and Akiko. “Hey, Astra might hear that! And he could lead us to her!”

  We headed down another corridor, pressing our ears to doors along the way. But nothing seemed promising. We retraced our steps back to the elevators, then set out down a new hallway.

  Finally we reached one doorway that gave us hope. We heard voices on the other side, the quiet drone of a radio program, and a bark. Though the brass numbers read 708, I had to remind myself that Room Twelve was a spy network, not a single location.

  “Turn the knob,” urged Mae nervously. “That’s definitely her voice.”

  “You do it,” insisted Akiko, adjusting the strap of her Hauntima bag. “What if that dog jumps on me? I hate dogs.”

  “I knew it!” said Mae, sounding as if she’d caught Akiko in the act of stealing a diamond. “You’ve got a thing against all animals!”

  “If you had this nose and these allergies,” Akiko protested, “you’d hate pets too. And flowers and perfume and dusty hiding places.”

  “Would you two can it?” I whispered. “You’re going to get us thrown out of here. Now, let’s find Mrs. B and ask her what we should do to rescue Emmett!”

  With an exasperated huff, I knocked on the wooden door, wondering what we’d see on the other side. Would Mrs. B open the door in her pajamas? Nibbling on her breakfast toast? Would Astra be curled up on a cushion, still snoozing?

  But when the door swung wide, we were definitely not looking at a sleepy scene. The room was teeming with activity as men and women rushed by, this way and that, and Mrs. B stood at the center of it, giving orders.

  An official-looking secretary nodded his head like he recognized us. He stepped aside to let us in as Astra barked a greeting and trotted over. Mae scooped him up in her arms and rubbed her cheek on his curly hair. Akiko let out a little pfft noise and tried to ignore them.

  “Josie, Mae, Akiko,” Mrs. B said without even a hint of surprise. “We’ve been expecting you. Come right over. We have a great deal to discuss!”

  An att
endant wearing a radio headset ushered our trio into the wide, desk-filled room. Mrs. B carried a clipboard, and reading glasses dangled from a chain around her neck. Today, instead of a skirt, she wore trousers like me—and my favorite actress, Katharine Hepburn. I liked her immediately. I wasn’t exactly sure how old she was. Maybe thirty? Or fifty? Anyone older than Kay looked the same to me. Her eyes were sharp and seemed to catch everything. Her brown hair was swept back from her face, and her mouth was set—not angry, but not exactly smiling. Again I noticed she walked with a limp. Her left leg seemed to be weaker than the other.

  Busy workers bustled past in either direction, and Akiko, Mae, and I tried to step out of their way. The curtains were drawn together at the windows, and maps hung on all the walls. The room smelled of coffee and ink, and I could hear the tapping of typewriters as well as the sounds of news reports broadcasting on a few different radios. One announcer sounded British, another German, and even one Japanese. I counted maybe ten people moving about, but I suspected there were more.

  “Sit down, young ladies, please,” she said, waving toward a table along the far side of the room, where three wooden chairs sat waiting side by side. Astra jumped up to sit nearby. When I looked closer, I realized he had perched on the brown steamer trunk I’d carried on my shoulder yesterday.

  I stared at it for a moment, wondering what was inside.

  Mae slid silently into the seat closest to the dog. But Akiko made a commotion by dragging her chair away from the table, then sitting down and scooting it forward across the wooden floor with noisy hops. I took my place between the two of them and tried to look calm.

  “You have made enormous sacrifices,” began Mrs. B. “What Room Twelve wants to know is, are you willing to go further?”

  I gulped. Mae sat up a little straighter in her chair.

  “Yesterday was spent protecting innocents from danger,” she went on, “learning a bit about your various powers—”

  “I only have one,” interrupted Akiko, “and they each have two. I mean, if you don’t count flying.”

  Mrs. B smiled patiently. “I do count flying. I count it very much. Don’t you?”

  Akiko stared at her for a few beats, then seemed to have second thoughts about any more complaining. Thankfully, she dropped the subject.

  Still wearing a pleasant expression, Mrs. B looked just over our heads and signaled that papers or pencils or something be brought to our table. Moments later, I was stunned to see three milkshakes placed in front of us instead.

  “How did you know Josie likes brown cows?” gasped Mae. “We never said anything about that!”

  “And that Mae gets the chocolate malted,” added Akiko. She sipped the drink in front of her, then sputtered, “And that I like egg creams?”

  “We know a lot about you girls,” answered Mrs. B casually, nodding again to the helpers. This time they slid plates of fresh-baked pie onto the table before us. “Josie, you prefer blueberry. Akiko likes apple. And for Mae, cherry.”

  The aroma of gooey fruit made my mouth pool with saliva. I quickly wiped at my lips, hoping I didn’t give Mrs. B the impression I was soft in the head or anything. After walking away from Harry’s breakfast at the diner this morning, I was ready to eat. So I dove into my pie with gusto, and Akiko did too. But out of the corner of my right eye, I could see Mae, and she was sitting perfectly still.

  “Mrs. Boudica, ma’am,” she began, “my granny Crumpler says I shouldn’t take food from strangers. Now, I’m not trying to be ill-mannered. But if you don’t mind, could you tell us something about yourself? That way you won’t be a stranger anymore, and I won’t have to surrender my cherry pie and my malted.”

  Mae stared up at Mrs. B patiently, her big brown eyes as irresistible as a puppy’s. Akiko’s fork was halfway to her mouth, but she stopped it in midair. I did too, though it took more willpower than I wanted to admit.

  “Well, I . . . er . . . ,” began Mrs. B, a little flustered.

  Mae blinked her thick lashes a few times, her fingers still threaded neatly together and waiting.

  “I suppose I owe it to you girls to explain about myself and what’s going on, especially since I know a good bit about each of you.”

  “That would be lovely,” Mae said. And she finally reached for her fork. “Proceed.”

  Twenty-Five

  THERE ARE LIMITS TO WHAT I can say, OF course,” Mrs. B explained. “Not only for the security of Room Twelve, but for your own safety as well. You see, until yesterday Hank Hissler was a crucial part of our operation. If he were to catch up with you and discover that you knew too much, he might . . . well . . .

  “Things could get unpleasant.”

  I shuddered. Mr. Hissler gave me the creeps. To think about Emmett in his clutches made my heart climb right up into my throat.

  I had a hard time swallowing my pie.

  “But what can you tell us?” pressed Akiko, as hungry for more information as she was for her apple pie. “Who is Mr. Hissler? And who or what is Room Twelve?”

  “Let’s begin with Room Twelve,” Mrs. B said patiently, her gaze steady as she studied us. “Our league of secret heroes is the most sophisticated military intelligence operation in the history of the world, to put it directly.” She squared her shoulders just a bit as she spoke, which made her seem that much taller and grander.

  “I’ve been a part of Room Twelve since the First World War—both my sister and I. We developed a few skills over the years: masters of disguise, you might say, and certain powers of the mind. And while my friends grew older and moved on, I never tired of the work. Nor did my sister, Dolores—we both loved it.

  “Originally I started out as a code breaker, working under the leadership of my dear friend Elizebeth Friedman. You might come to know her. Lovely woman. Remarkable puzzler.”

  “We’re puzzlers too,” blurted Akiko, accidentally knocking her bag. A few newspapers spilled out. “Despite what Mr. Hissler thought of us.”

  Mrs. B nodded knowingly. “It may be that Hank Hissler rejected you,” she said slyly. “Or it may be that we saw a better use for your talents. And we had just begun to suspect him of being a Nazi spy.

  “Until the puzzlers went missing,” she went on, pacing the floor near our table, “we’d trusted him unconditionally. But now”—she crossed her arms and stared at our faces, her eyes moving from Akiko to me to Mae—“after what was done to the Stretcher, as well as the fire, well, now we know Mr. Hissler is no longer part of Room Twelve.”

  She paused for a moment, and I saw her jaw clench.

  “Let me make it clear: Hank Hissler shall not get away with this.”

  The way she carried herself—chin out, shoulders square, spine straight—Mrs. B looked like she meant what she said. I wondered if this sister she talked about, Dolores, radiated the same sort of strength.

  “And what about us?” Akiko asked, her eyes wary as she watched Astra approach her chair, tail wagging. He was just tall enough to rest his wiry head on her lap. Rather than scratch his ears, Akiko scowled at him before looking up. “You said something about a better use for us. Where do we fit in?”

  Mrs. B reached a hand up and tugged on a cord dangling from a curtain rod behind her. She unfurled a white screen, then pointed at the helpers behind us. Suddenly a film projector whirred to life, and a movie played on the screen for us. It was a reel showing men coming and going from a downtown building. We watched in silence for a few minutes until a familiar figure crossed the screen.

  “That’s the Duke,” I shouted, pointing with my fork. “We know him from Gerda’s Diner!”

  “And some of those thick-necked ones are his henchmen,” added Akiko. “They’ve been in the diner too.”

  “That lady on the right, with her hair in a bun,” said Mae. “She’s called Ursula. We’ve seen her with the Duke as well!”

  Mrs. B nodded her approval.

  “You girls were chosen for our project for a variety of reasons,” she began. “The peop
le you know, the abilities you have demonstrated as puzzlers, the traits you possess as unique individuals. But mostly, Room Twelve is interested in your participation because of what the three of you bring together.”

  Akiko shook her head, her bobbed hair swinging. “I don’t get it. The three of us have only known each other for twenty-four hours. What could we possibly bring to Room Twelve? Together, as you say?”

  “Other than a love of superheroes,” I added.

  “Oh, and animals, too,” offered Mae brightly.

  “No,” said Akiko, her eyes darting back down to Astra’s furry face. “I hate dogs.”

  Mrs. B used a pointer to tap the screen and the images of the bad guys displayed up there. While Mae and I were paying close attention, I couldn’t help but notice that Akiko, to the left of me, was not. She had pushed aside her milkshake and pie, and now she was hunching over the table to read one particular newspaper she’d brought from the diner. She had a notebook out too, and her pencil made a scratching sound as she jotted quick scribbles onto the paper.

  “We have reason to believe Mr. Hissler, the Duke, and the Duke’s men are planning to sabotage important sites around the city as part of a Nazi plot,” Mrs. B said. She used a wooden pointer to note familiar buildings around town as the film reel played on. “And they plan to make these brilliant young boys—the puzzlers—help them do it.”

  Mae and I gasped, but still Akiko stayed focused on her newspaper.

  “Our intelligence gathering here has also uncovered a location that appears to be one of their newest targets,” she went on.

  The image of a two-story building appeared, taking up the entire screen. Redbrick and stretching nearly a whole block, it looked vaguely familiar. “It seems that the government is working on a top secret military project,” Mrs. B continued, “in the basement of the University of Pennsylvania’s Moore School of Electrical Engineering.”