Jonathan and Shelley stared at Oli, as they did any time they were unsure of what to do next.
“Of course they teach us history,” Jonathan finally responded. “They just prefer to focus on the United States.”
“Exactly!” Shelley concurred. “We’re just really into ourselves, so we don’t have time to study your dead kings and their wives.”
“I do loathe to interrupt this history lesson, but it’s been just over an hour since I picked up Nina’s cell signal,” Hattie said urgently. “We must move quickly or we’re liable to lose her.”
OCTOBER 23, 2:18 A.M. TOWER OF LONDON. LONDON, ENGLAND
Standing in front of one of the many service entrances to the Tower of London, Hattie, Darwin, and Oli carefully assessed the situation by scanning the area with infrared binoculars and checking for radio signals on their phones.
“We’re coming up clean. There aren’t any guards close by, making this as good a moment as any to break in,” Darwin announced to the group.
“Break in? Don’t we have permission to be here?” Jonathan asked.
“Permission really slows us down. We don’t see the point,” Darwin answered casually.
“Why am I always winding up in situations like this?” Jonathan mumbled under his breath.
“Because you’re a spy,” Shelley answered firmly as she grabbed hold of Jonathan’s arm.
“Right,” Jonathan reminded himself. “I’m a spy.”
“Hattie, we need the code,” Darwin said as he pointed to the number pad attached to the door’s lock.
“So it appears,” Hattie said as she removed her gloves, headband, and clip-on earrings before pulling out her cell phone and typing in nearly one hundred different numbers.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Oli whispered to Jonathan and Shelley. “All she talks about is clotted cream and partridges, and she can break into the government’s mainframe in less than thirty seconds.”
“What’s with Hattie taking off her gloves, earrings, and headband?” Shelley asked.
“It’s just one of her quirks. And much like her interest in tartan, we think it best not to ask,” Oli answered.
“Honestly, how dim can the security team be?” Hattie remarked as she disarmed the alarm. “It took me all of twenty-two seconds to retrieve the code. They ought to be ashamed of themselves. Utterly ashamed.”
Once through the door, the group met with yet another obstacle—a metal gate, secured with a thick lock and chain.
“It’s bomb time,” Oli said, motioning toward Darwin.
“Wait—did you say bomb?” Jonathan screeched.
“It’s not a bomb; it’s an explosive with a low volume,” Darwin corrected Oli.
“That sounds a lot like a bomb to me,” Jonathan mumbled.
“You needn’t worry,” Oli said to Jonathan. “Darwin knows what he’s doing. Blowing things up is his favorite pastime.”
The so-called explosive with a low volume detonated, creating a sound similar to a balloon bursting, which was immediately followed by a thick plume of sulfurous smoke.
“Glasses? Khaki? Are you sure you’re up for this?” Darwin asked. “Nina was our friend. She’s far less likely to lash out at us than you.”
“To put it bluntly, if she’s going to infect anyone, it will be one of you, if not both of you,” Oli clarified.
The thought of being more confused and less intelligent was nothing short of petrifying for Jonathan. And yet he knew that if he turned and hid in the boat, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“We’re coming with you,” Jonathan answered softly.
“See that, right there,” Shelley said proudly, pointing to Jonathan. “That’s why this guy is my hero eleven percent of the time.”
“And the other eighty-nine percent of the time?” Hattie asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
And on that note, Darwin motioned for the group to follow him down the cavernous black corridor into the Tower of London.
OCTOBER 23, 2:42 A.M. TOWER OF LONDON. LONDON, ENGLAND
Cold and drafty. The air thick with dampness and the faint smell of mildew. Soft scratching sounds reminded them that they were not alone. Scurrying through the corridors was nothing short of a parade of rodents. All in all, it was hardly a hospitable start to their journey.
“Good evening, sir,” Darwin called out upon spotting a fast-approaching security guard. “I’m sure you’re wondering what we’re doing here. The answer is simple. It’s none of your business.” And with that, he lobbed what appeared to be a water balloon at the man’s feet.
Splat.
The balloon exploded against the stone floor, mere inches from the guard’s shoes. Seconds passed. He swayed back and forth. He stumbled. And finally, he collapsed.
“CHCl3. The organic compound commonly known as chloroform knocks people unconscious rather rapidly,” Darwin stated proudly before turning to Oli. “Would you be a gent and tie him up for me?”
“Tie him up? Absolutely not. I’m a historian, not a thug,” Oli delivered dramatically.
“Such nonsense,” Hattie said as she once again removed her gloves, earrings, and headband. “Personally, I’ve always found tying people up quite enjoyable.”
“Um, I hate to break up the fun—” Jonathan interrupted.
“Total lie,” Shelley chimed in. “Jonathan loves being a fun killer; it’s part of his khaki personality.”
“First of all, Shelley, I’m not a fun killer. And second of all—”
“Anyone who starts a sentence with ‘first of all’… total fun killer… no question about it,” Shelley stated confidently.
“What I was trying to say is, are we sure we want to tie up the security guard? What if we need help with Nina?” Jonathan asked.
“You cannot be serious! This lump of a man would be utterly useless against Nina. She’s a trained operative; he’s just some nobody!” Hattie responded. “Honestly, the only thing he could do for us is fetch us a cup of tea, although on second thought, I doubt he could even do that. Very few people these days know how to make a proper cup of tea.”
“‘Tea is one of the mainstays of civilization in this country and causes violent disputes over how it should be made,’” Oli quoted George Orwell while looking expectantly at the others, eager for someone to acknowledge his statement.
“Don’t feel bad, it’s a tough crowd,” Jonathan whispered to Oli.
“I think it’s best we split up so we can cover as much ground as possible,” Darwin announced to the group as they approached an intersection of four hallways, each leading in a different direction. “Although, Khaki and Glasses should stay together. If they find Nina, they’re going to need two brains just to stand a chance.”
“I don’t mean to be annoying, but I’m not really feeling the nickname Glasses,” Shelley said with a playful shrug. “I’ve always been more of a Super Shelley or Shelltastic kind of girl.”
“Here’s the thing: I don’t really care what you want to be called. I’m calling you Glasses, got it?” Darwin said, and then pointed at a nearby hall. “I’ll take the northwest.”
“Very well, then. I’ll handle the southwest,” Hattie said before pausing to adjust her headband and then disappearing down a dark corridor.
“I suppose the northeast is as good as any,” Oli declared as he faded into the shadows.
“No problem, so I guess that means we’re taking the… Wait, what’s left? This is beginning to feel like one of those word problems that make my brain hurt,” Shelley grumbled.
“This is the only corridor left, which means it’s ours,” Jonathan said. “Although, if I’m honest, I’m hoping we don’t find Nina.”
“Retract that statement right now, Johno! This is our time to shine! To show those book snakes what we’re made of!”
“Bookworms, not snakes,” Jonathan corrected Shelley.
“I knew it was something that slithered.”
“But what if Nina uses
LIQ-30 on us?” Jonathan wondered aloud. “What would happen if we couldn’t focus? We would be even more confused than we already are!”
“We’d be fine, just fine,” Shelley lied as they started down the hall. “Is it just me or is it getting darker in here? Not that I’m afraid of the dark. Because spies can’t be afraid of the dark. Can they? No, of course they can’t! Although I’m starting to think you might be afraid of the dark. Don’t worry, I’ll slip my arm through yours to help keep you calm.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Shells. Your arm is bringing me more comfort than you’ll ever know.”
“Did you feel that?” Shelley yelped.
“What? Did something bite you?”
“Bite me? You mean like a vampire? Do you think there are vampires in here?” Shelley asked.
“I meant like an insect,” Jonathan clarified. “Vampires are not real.”
“I have it on good authority that President Arons eats two cloves of garlic a day, just in case.”
Jonathan sighed. “Please define what you mean by good authority.”
“Well, if you really want to know—wait! What about that?”
“What?”
“The burst of cold air. Or as it is more commonly known, a ghost!”
“Ghosts, like vampires, are not real. Rogue teenage spies, however, are, so will you please start paying attention to the here and now and stop imagining supernatural visitors?” Jonathan implored Shelley as two hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed him straight into a nearby pit.
“Shell—” Jonathan shrieked, although before he could even finish saying her name, she had landed on top of him.
Clink. Clink. Smash!
And just like that, a metal grate crashed down, imprisoning Jonathan and Shelley in a medieval pit.
OCTOBER 23, 3:17 A.M. TOWER OF LONDON. LONDON, ENGLAND
“Nina? Or should I say Friend-I-Haven’t-Met-Yet?” Shelley called out.
“If you’ll talk to us, I think you’ll realize that we’re not even worthy of being locked up,” Jonathan said, his voice echoing from the bottom of the deep stone pit, the sides smooth from centuries of hands clawing at them in a desperate attempt to escape. “We’re just two nobodies!”
The sound of water diverted Jonathan’s attention. One then two then three then four and finally five streams slowly trickled into the pit, the flow growing stronger with each second that passed.
“Where’s the water coming from?” Shelley shrieked. “We need to stop it or we’ll drown!”
That’s the idea, Jonathan thought. Nina, a girl he had never even met, was going to drown them. For what? For trying to stop her from poisoning ministers with LIQ-30. Did she really think them worthy of a watery grave? Jonathan began to shiver. His teeth chattered. His eyelids twitched. It was his body’s way of revolting, of fighting against the inevitable—death.
Next to Jonathan, Shelley was jumping up and down as water pooled around their feet. “Please don’t do this, Nina! We’re good people! We recycle! We even bring our own bags to the grocery store!”
A dark figure moved through the room, jumping from shadow to shadow until finally exiting.
“Nina! Come back! Please!” Shelley screamed before noticing that her friend was now shaking uncontrollably as the water passed their knees.
How are we going to get out of here? Shelley thought as she pulled at her hair, frustrated by the seeming impossibility of the situation.
“I’ve got it!” Shelley hollered, grabbing hold of Jonathan’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”
As the water neared his belly, Jonathan stammered, “I w-wish I could say that m-made me feel better, but your plans usually don’t work.”
“We’re going to wait for the pit to fill with water, pushing us to the top, allowing us to open the metal grate,” Shelley explained, eyes wide, anxiously waiting for Jonathan’s reaction.
“You’re a genius, Shelley Brown!” Jonathan exclaimed as he tried to give Shelley a hug.
“For real? Like they would let me into the genius club?” Shelley asked, her eyes alight with excitement as she imagined her parents’ and sister’s reaction to her becoming a certified genius.
“No, of course not,” Jonathan answered, prompting Shelley to drop her head in disappointment.
“Come on, Shells! Don’t be sad, you just saved our lives! Who cares if you’re not an actual genius?” Jonathan said as the water continued to rise, bringing them closer and closer to the grate.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re considered the smart one in your family!” Shelley responded.
“Can we put a pin in this conversation? Maybe it’s the water or the medieval pit, but I’m having trouble concentrating,” Jonathan explained as he extended his arm, his fingers grazing the metal grate. “Almost there!”
Second by second, the water brought them closer and closer, until they were finally able to grab hold of the cold metal bars.
“On the count of three. One…two…three,” Jonathan instructed Shelley.
The realization was instantaneous: They didn’t have the strength or momentum needed to push open something this heavy, not while treading water. Maybe not ever.
“It’s impossible,” Jonathan quietly admitted as he closed his eyes.
The water continued to rise, each drop bringing them closer to their deaths.
“I can’t die, not now, not with the nickname Glasses,” Shelley blubbered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I were some old person in a coma I wouldn’t complain, and not just because people in comas can’t talk! But this isn’t fair—I’m too young! I’ve barely done anything on my to-do list!”
“Nina! Somebody! Help!” Jonathan screamed as Shelley continued babbling.
“Something’s wrong…something’s wrong…”
“Of course something’s wrong—we’re about to die!” Jonathan exploded.
“No! People always say that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die, kind of like a movie,” Shelley said, her teeth chattering from fear.
“And?”
“It’s not happening. I only see my future; all the things I’m supposed to do. All the things we’re supposed to do,” Shelley explained.
“I can’t tell you how much I wish my head was filled with thoughts like that,” Jonathan said, his eyes tearing up. “All I can see is my funeral. The empty chairs. My parents crying. The priest calling me Jack. Talk about an unexceptional end to an unexceptional life.”
“Unexceptional? You’re going to drown at the Tower of London while working as a spy!” Shelley retorted.
“Yeah, but no one will ever know that.”
“I’ll know it,” Shelley responded.
“But you’re going to die too.”
It was a most unusual moment to smile, on the brink of death, and yet that’s exactly what Jonathan and Shelley did.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Shelley said as the sound of a match scratching, followed by a sudden burst of light, seized their attention.
“Dear, dear…this certainly does look like a pickle, now doesn’t it?” Hattie announced in a slow, uneven manner as she leaned down over the pit, a candle in hand. “I suppose you are interested in a bit of help.”
“Who, us? No way! We’re really enjoying waiting for our lives to end!” Shelley hollered ferociously.
“You are? How interesting?” Hattie responded dreamily. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I made shepherd’s pie? It was in August, which of course is a terrible month for vacationing, since everyone else is vacationing. Did we have dinner yet? I do loathe to skip meals. Although, it should be noted that I do not consider toast a meal. What was I saying again? Oh yes, marmalade. I make the best marmalade in England!”
“What’s wrong with her?” Shelley asked, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
“It appears our only hope for survival has been infected with LIQ-30,” Jonathan answered as t
he water reached his chin. “It’s not going to be easy, but we need to get her to focus.”
“Hattie? I need you to lean down and pull this metal grate up, okay?” Shelley asked as calmly as she could, water sloshing into her mouth.
“You’d like to get out? I guess you have been in there an awfully long time. Say, what is that? A pool? Did I ever tell you about the summer Grandma taught her poodle Mitzi to swim?”
“Please!” Shelley interrupted. “Get us out of here!”
“Very well. I suppose I can try,” Hattie answered, and then paused to remove her gloves, headband, and earrings. “Now then, what was I doing?”
“Opening the grate,” Jonathan reminded the girl. “If you let us out, we could all go and have a cup of tea. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Tea? What a wonderful idea! I’ll put the kettle on, but it might take me a while, as I’m not at home right now,” Hattie muttered, and exited the room.
“No! No! Come back!” Jonathan and Shelley yelled frantically. “Please! Don’t leave!”
“That stupid clay-pigeon-shooting, cucumber-sandwich-eating redhead just left us here to die!” Shelley shrieked, and then paused when she heard the sound of footsteps. “Oh, thank heavens! Sweet, wonderful Hattie has come back for us!”
Only it wasn’t Hattie.
“What’s going on in here?” Darwin asked as he ran into the room.
“Get us out of here!” Shelley cried.
And that is exactly what Darwin did, freeing Jonathan and Shelley from certain death.
“Thank you,” Jonathan uttered quietly as he and Shelley dragged themselves, soaking wet, from the pit.
“It’s freezing in here,” Shelley said, teeth chattering.
“Wait here. We’ve got dry clothes on the boat,” Darwin said, and then dashed out of the room.
“Shells?”
“Yeah, Johno?”
“I’m really glad we’re still alive.”
“Me too. I definitely wasn’t feeling the whole death-by-drowning part of my obituary.”
“But if we have to die, I think we should die together,” Jonathan added. “Then at least we’ll die in the company of someone who knows what we’ve done with our lives. Someone who knows we were more than a couple of faceless classmates in the hall.”
Get Smart-ish Page 4