I’m sure the guesthouse will have a “down there,” but it’s a completely empty, single-story building. There aren’t even any dust bunnies. We sit on the floor of the main room, on either side of the window, out of sight.
“I need to think,” Poppy says, pressing her palms into her eye sockets.
“We know they’re here,” I say. “We missed something.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “The place where they are being held.”
I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean into the wall. Tropical air floats in through the window. It’s not fair that the bad guys get to hang out in such a nice place. Evil lairs should not be on tropical islands. It’s just wrong.
“I wish I were back at Smith,” Poppy says glumly.
“Wait a minute. Did you just wish you were back at school?”
She nods. “School is like the old cars. It’s orderly. I know what’s expected, even if I don’t enjoy it. Out here, this, it’s just chaos. And I really don’t like chaos.”
Suddenly, I have an enormous, amazing thought. What if Mrs. Smith wants Poppy to be part of a team, like she was with Jennifer? In the 1980s, when my mother was a budding spy, Lola Smith was her best friend and handler. Lola did the planning. Jennifer did the running around trying not to get killed.
Yes! This makes perfect sense. Poppy is Mrs. Smith! She is probably being brought on to work with one of the older girls. I don’t know why I was so hung up on the idea that it was Poppy or us. We still have a chance of getting into spy school, especially if we can bring the Center a Ghostly head on a platter.
Hugging Poppy is weird and inappropriate in light of our current circumstances, but I do it anyway. She goes stiff as a board. I guess she’s not the hugging type.
“What was that for?” she asks.
“If things go badly,” I say, “and they probably will, I want you to know I’m glad you’re here with me.” Poppy’s lips flap in the breeze. Her cheeks flush. Her eyes water. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she stutters. “I just . . . well . . . never mind. Thanks for not leaving me behind in New York.”
“You’re welcome,” I say. It’s time to regroup, and we should do that somewhere beyond the reach of the dogs. “Let’s sneak back toward the road. We can strategize about what to do next from there.”
Poppy perks up at the mention of strategy. “I have ideas,” she says.
That figures.
Chapter 31
Candy Is Bad for You.
WE UNWIND OUR EFFORTS, moving past the garage, the barn, and the guesthouse, around the main house, across the lawn, and back toward the overgrown fields. All goes perfectly until there is a little yelp and Poppy vanishes. When I turn around, she’s gone.
“Poppy! Where are you?”
“Down here.” Her voice rises from near my feet. I flick on my phone flashlight to find I’m two inches from falling through a jagged fissure in the earth. Poppy, apparently, wasn’t so lucky. “Get me out!”
Flat on my belly, I shine the light into the crack, the beam catching Poppy’s panicked eyes about ten feet below me. She’s tumbled into a cave, with smooth rock walls and damp ground. But maybe it’s more of a tunnel because, shining the light in either direction, I can’t see the ends. This also means there is no way for Poppy to climb back out.
“Weird,” I say.
“Did you not hear the part where I asked you to get me out of here?” Anger has replaced fear.
“I don’t think I can,” I say.
“I am not staying down here alone!” she cries. “It’s freezing!” I roll over on my back, to think without her staring up at me. There is no one we can ask for help. I don’t have any rope, and I couldn’t pull her out even if I did. This leaves one option.
“Watch out that I don’t land on you,” I say, throwing my legs over the ragged edge of the opening.
“You’re coming down here?”
“Yeah. I think this is a lava tube system. We should be able to find a way out.”
“Should?”
“Would you rather I just leave you there and go for help?”
“No!”
“I figured. Now move.”
Poppy presses her back against the far side of the cave while I calculate the best way to fall ten feet without breaking anything. But Poppy did it, so I sure can. There is no way she’s better at tumbling into mysterious holes in the ground than I am. I close my eyes and shove myself into the darkness, landing with an undignified thud that echoes off the rock.
Poppy suppresses a smirk but just barely. “Graceful,” she says.
“I’ve been practicing,” I respond, dusting off my shorts and checking to make sure I have not inadvertently shattered the gold spy phone. My relief that it is intact is completely out of proportion with our situation.
I shine the light in both directions. I’m right. It’s a tunnel with a trickle of water running through it. And isn’t underground a good place to hide something you don’t want found?
Like the evil headquarters of the world’s most notorious criminal?
“You may have literally fallen into something here,” I say. Above my head, the smooth rock drips with moisture.
“We should go left,” Poppy says.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why left?” I ask.
“Because it’s the correct way to go,” she snaps.
“How do you know?”
Poppy puts her hands on her hips and glares. “Why do you think it’s wrong?”
“I don’t. Necessarily.” The truth is I’m not sure why I’m arguing. Left is as good as right when you have no idea where you are going. I’m wasting time.
“Fine. You choose,” she says.
I point my flashlight into the gloom. “Rock, paper, scissors,” I say. “I win, we go right. You win, we go left.”
“You’re not even kidding, are you?”
“Nope.”
“No wonder you are always in trouble. This is no way to make a decision.”
I win. We go right. Poppy sulks. The water grows deeper, sloshing around my ankles as I plow forward. My teeth chatter so aggressively I might bite off my tongue. I did not think Hawaii would be so cold. Of course, underground Hawaii is not exactly the beach.
The lava tube bends and curves. We encounter a beautiful green pool where the water reaches our knees. By the time we crawl out on the other side, Poppy’s lips are blue.
“This is like a labyrinth,” Poppy says, shivering. “Did you know that was where they held the first Minotaur hostage? Otherwise, he’d just go around eating all the people.”
That is a lovely thought. Thank you, Poppy. I’m about to point this out to her when she grabs my arm. “Hold on,” she whispers. In the distance is a flicker. An actual light at the end of the tunnel!
I click off my flashlight to conserve battery, and we proceed in total silence except for the splashing, which can’t be helped. The lava tube grows wider and taller. The flicker grows steady and bright, finally revealing a large cavern ahead. Built into the cavern is a room that looks like the one from the NASA mission to the moon: rows of desks and computers, manned by grim-looking adults in layers of warm clothing—the Ghost’s minions. He’s probably tucked away in some fancy penthouse in Paris or Tokyo while these cold, gray people do his bidding. He’s a bad guy who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, unlike Tinker Bell, who seemed to relish the idea of squeezing information from me.
Everything looks very new and shiny. There are even unpacked boxes. The Ghost must have relocated his headquarters here recently. Off to one side of the space, a ladder leads to an opening in the lava above. This must be the main entrance—much more civilized than the fissure Poppy fell through. If I had to guess, I’d say the plantation is right above us, providing the perfect camouflage. Beyond the room, the tube continues, bending out of sight.
“I’m betting they are over there somewhere,” Poppy whispers, gesturing to the d
isappearing tunnel on the far side. I agree. Which means all we have to do is get through this cavern undetected by all the people. No problem.
“Those exploding candies,” Poppy says. “You still have them?” I nod. “Great. We create a diversion and make a run for it.”
Oh, I like that. Why didn’t I think of it? I dump the contents of my backpack on the ground, picking out a few candies and the shoelaces. Mushed together, four caramels are roughly the size of a golf ball. I wrap the golf ball in a three-inch length of shoelace. Taking careful aim, I hurl the golf ball in a sweet arc over the workers to the front of the cave, where it hits the rock wall and explodes in a fury of light and smoke. The grim-looking adults drop what they are doing and panic.
“Code red!”
“Fire extinguisher.”
“Run!”
“Remain calm!”
“Do not abandon your posts!”
The caramels spit multicolored sparks and blue fire, plumes of smoke rising to the cavern roof. We sprint through the chaos for the other side, and no one comes close to noticing.
Chapter 32
Buy Time. Use it Wisely.
AT FIRST, I THINK POPPY is hysterical, but it turns out she is full-on giggling. “That was the best,” she gasps, collapsing against the rock wall. “Let’s blow something else up.” This is not what I expected.
“No,” I say sternly. “We only use the spy gear when we’re desperate.”
“Where is the fun in that?” she whines. If she can’t figure that out, she is not as smart as everyone thinks. The little stream is deeper on this side. My legs are fully numbed to the knees. At some point, we are going to sustain permanent damage, and I will have a lot of explaining to do to Poppy’s parents.
“Wouldn’t hot chocolate be good right now?” I ask as we slog along. “With marshmallows.”
“Warm apple pie,” Poppy replies immediately. “Skip the ice cream, please.”
“Mac and cheese. Still bubbling from the heat.”
“Oh, I’d like to stick my feet in that!”
“How about a pot of chicken soup?”
“I’m not picky.”
“Tea with honey.”
“Hot apple cider.”
Warmth flares in my stomach. I’m just about to add French fries, crisp and hot right out of the fryer, when the tunnel bends and I find myself face-to-face with Izumi. Her hair is wild and her T-shirt torn.
“Abby!”
“Izumi!
“What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you?”
She hugs me so hard and for so long that Poppy starts making impatient noises. “I am so glad to see you,” Izumi says, ignoring Poppy.
“What happened? Where are the others?”
“They separated us,” she says with a shudder. “And I got sick of sitting around some stupid lava cell freezing to death, so I left.”
“You just walked out of your cell?” asks Poppy.
Izumi glances at her. “Well, they hadn’t gotten around to adding bars or anything. So yeah, I kind of just left.”
“Should we be worried?” I ask, glancing over Izumi’s shoulder.
“It’s probably a few minutes before the guard regains consciousness,” Izumi says casually. It’s statements like these that make me realize how far off the normal curve we actually are.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” asks Poppy.
“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “We better get moving.”
“Wait!” Poppy steps between us. “Are there guards? Is there security? What exactly are we dealing with here?”
“She really likes to plan,” I say to Izumi, with a shrug.
“Wow. That’s different. Okay. There was the guard outside my cave and two farther down the lava tube. I figure that’s where the others are being held.”
Poppy processes this. She swipes my phone. “Here’s what we do,” she says. “We sneak up and take out the two guards with the bee thingy.”
Izumi glances at me. “You told her?”
“I had no choice,” I say defensively.
“Can you guys pay attention?” Poppy snaps. “Once we spring the others, we follow the water, which must flow out of the lava tubes at some point. That’s how we escape.”
“The bee will kill the phone charge,” I say, in the spirit of full disclosure.
Poppy is unconcerned. “Do we have any exploding shoelace left? Yes? Good. We can use it as a diversion. If they start chasing us.”
“Oh, they’ll definitely chase us,” says Izumi.
“They always do,” I add.
Poppy eyes us. “I’m not sure if I hate hanging out with you guys or if it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“The end tends to get messy,” Izumi offers. “I’d reserve judgment until then.”
“Any comments on the plan?” Poppy asks. “No? Good. Let’s move out.”
Spies do not “move out.” We aren’t soldiers. But we follow her anyway.
The tube narrows and shrinks. If I were any taller, I’d knock myself out. Poppy is just fine letting Izumi take the lead. We move slowly and cautiously, on the lookout for the random guards Izumi says float the tunnels. My left thumb rests just above the bee app. Ready as I’ll ever be.
“How much farther?” I ask Izumi.
“It’s just up here,” she answers. “I think. These stupid tubes all look the same after a while.”
“Hey!” A deep voice echoes off the walls. We stop short. Poppy, at the end of our parade, squeezes her eyes shut. “What are you kids doing down here?”
The guard is dressed in military-style fatigues, with a tight wool hat and heavy gloves. A rifle of some variety is slung over his chest, a walkie-talkie clipped to his jacket.
The gloves are thick enough that I calculate I have a split second before he can get a finger free to key the walkie-talkie. Or get to the gun. I aim the phone and tap the bee, hoping as hard as I can that I’m right.
The phone turns instantly hot, but I can’t let go. I lunge for Owen’s T-shirt, dangling from Poppy’s back pocket, and wrap it around the phone as tiny sparkling glass beads blast out of the front. The guard throws up his hands, but it’s too late. The swarm is upon him. He howls, flailing blindly as the glass beads continue to pelt him. It’s all I can do to hold the phone steady, heat working through the layers of T-shirt to my flesh.
The guard hits the ground, arms wrapped protectively around his head. A single bee sting is painful enough. I can’t imagine a swarm feels very good. But they aren’t real bees, just glass copies, and he will recover soon enough.
“Go!” I shout. The trick to buying time is spending it wisely. We do a mad dash down the tube. Right now, our guard is pulling off his gloves and calling his buddies. He’ll tell them he was attacked. He’ll say kids are running amok in the tubes. He’ll send a swarm of his own.
We have to hurry.
Chapter 33
How About a Swim?
WE DUCK INTO the first cell to avoid the two guards rushing past, summoned to help their friend, surprisingly attacked by bees, and there is Charlotte, twirling a length of hair and grinning. “I knew you’d show up eventually,” she says, jumping up and dusting off her shorts.
Toby, a little farther down the lava tube, does not seem surprised when we appear. “I heard screaming,” he says. “I figured the chances you were somehow involved were fifty-fifty.”
I’m feeling pretty positive about our rescue efforts until we find Owen Elliott, up against his wall, in fetal position, shivering. He wears a horrible bright blue–and-yellow Hawaiian shirt. His eyes, half-closed, drift over us.
“You definitely don’t want this guy on your team when the zombie apocalypse happens,” Charlotte murmurs, appraising the situation.
“No self-respecting zombie would eat that shirt,” Toby adds.
“Hey,” Poppy says to Owen Elliott. “Get up. Come on. We’re going.”
Owen Elliott shakes his head and closes his
eyes tightly, as if he can make us disappear. “I’m not going anywhere with you guys,” he says. “Not ever again.”
Oh, boy. This is going to take time we simply do not have. “Fine,” I say loudly. “Leave him. We are out of here.”
Poppy does a double take. “Are you suggesting—”
“In about ten seconds, this place is going to be swarming with guards,” Izumi says.
“Let’s go,” urges Toby.
Charlotte strides to the cell exit. We follow. Owen Elliott leaps to his feet, eyes now fully open and wide with fear. “Don’t leave me!” he howls.
“Well, then hurry up,” Poppy admonishes.
But we’ve taken too long. Two guards materialize before us. One is bald with a creepy tattoo of a snake crawling up his neck. The other has thick eyebrows that meet in the middle of his forehead, like a caterpillar is napping on his face. Neither looks happy. Fortunately, I still have the sticky caramel-explosive-shoelace device in my palm.
“Get behind me!” I yell. As Snake and Caterpillar charge in, I hurl the caramel ball at the ground in front of them and shrink back. It lands in a small puddle, fizzles briefly, and dies. The guards stare at it.
“It doesn’t work when it’s wet,” Toby whispers. This is absolutely a design flaw that must be addressed in exploding caramel 2.0. Now we’re in serious trouble.
Caterpillar kicks the hunk of caramel out of the way. It sticks to the sole of his boot. He tries to work it off with the other boot, but it’s all oozy, and that just makes things worse. He sits down hard and begins picking at the mess with a stray rock. Now the goo is on his hands. It migrates to his face, tangling in the woolly unibrow. His lips stick together. Toby watches, fascinated.
Snake, unaware of Caterpillar’s sticky situation, yammers into his walkie-talkie, confident words like “we got them” and “no big deal.” Adults. They always underestimate us. And this means we have a shot. I glance at Izumi and Charlotte, who offer a slight nod. I count down from three in my head and shout, “Hey, Snake!”
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