The two officers laughed.
“The CIA?” Flat-face asked. He turned to his partner. “Did you hear that? The CIA.”
“We have ourselves a genuine spy,” the younger officer said. “A Swedish one, at that, only I didn’t hear any accent when he spoke.” He raised his eyebrows as if he’d just pointed out a mistake.
“So, you would like to speak to someone in the CIA?” Flat-face asked again. “Not a lawyer? Not your parents? Just the CIA?”
Definitely not my parents, I thought, but didn’t say. “The CIA,” I repeated. “It’s important.”
“Obviously,” Flat-face said. “It must be very important if you want to talk to the CIA. We don’t usually get requests like that unless it’s very serious.” He leaned over my bed smelling of sweat and coffee, and I had to try very hard not to gag. “Did the CIA tell you to do it? Did they hire you to try to blow up the station?”
“What?” I shook my head and just about passed out from the pain that exploded behind my eyes. After a couple breaths, I added, “I didn’t do that. I stopped it.”
The younger officer raised his eyebrows. “If that’s what you think ‘stop’ means, you need a new dictionary.”
“I tried to stop it. I tried to get everyone out before—” Stop talking, I told myself. Just keep your mouth shut about anything that happened at the station. “CIA,” I said again. “I need someone from the CIA.”
For the next couple hours, the officers tried to get me to talk. When I wouldn’t, they’d switch tactics and try something else. They’d leave for a while and then come back and pepper me with questions. Sometimes they’d be friendly; other times they’d yell and get right in my face. It was annoying more than it was intimidating. These guys were amateurs compared to Butler. I smiled at the fact that I’d managed to survive his interrogation. That had to count for something once the CIA got here and had to decide what to do with me.
“Something funny?” Flat-face asked.
I wiped the smile off my face.
“People were hurt today, Gunnar. A lot of people.” He pointed a stubby finger at me. “We have you on the security tapes. You’re the one we see carrying that exploding tube. You’re the one we see throwing that bomb onto the tracks.”
Yaakov, you idiot. Why didn’t you erase the … I let out a slow breath. He probably did erase it. He erased the footage from the tracks he was supposed to erase. I wasn’t on the right track. I had followed Becca, and because of that, they had me on camera.
“But we know you weren’t working alone. So just give us some names and—”
“Enough,” I said, surprising myself with my defiance. “You both are giving me a headache. I’m not intimidated by either of you. I won’t be answering your stupid questions. For the hundredth time, I want to speak to someone from the C – I – A.” I emphasized each letter.
The officers left, and a little more than an hour later, the doctor came in. She was young and had chin-length brown hair and red-rimmed glasses. It was a pretty nice change from the nurses who had come in from time to time during the interrogation. They’d all looked like they could be very close relatives to Flat-face. From the same litter perhaps.
The doctor scanned my chart and then sat down on the edge of the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“I hurt,” I said.
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Everywhere.” I reached up with my free hand and touched the side of my head. “But especially my head.”
She shone her little penlight in my eyes, one at a time. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Yeah, I know.” I jerked lightly on my handcuffed hand. “Real lucky.”
She studied me for a moment. “You don’t seem nearly as worried as I would be if I were you.”
That made me feel pretty cool. Here I was, handcuffed to a hospital bed by police who thought I was some kind of insane-Unabomber-type psycho, and I had a smoking-hot doctor telling me she thought I was brave. She was saying that, wasn’t she? I felt my smile widen. The crazy thing was that once the CIA showed up, I had a good shot at being a hero, too. My friends back home would never believe it.
Things were looking up. Chase was a freaking psychopath, but I’d stopped him, and I was sure the CIA would make him disappear. It didn’t even matter if everyone found out I wasn’t supposed to be at the camp and that somehow my dad had weaseled me onto the roster. I belonged there now. I was going to be a CIA operative. Agent Matt Cambridge. I was going to be James freaking Bond. Well, not really, since he’s British, but I was going to be the American version of James Bond. I tried to think of an American equivalent of James Bond and couldn’t. They really need one of those.
“You’re smiling?” the pretty doctor said. “I don’t think I could be as collected as you if I were facing the charges they’ve levied at you.”
“Let’s just say that when the truth about what happened gets out, I won’t be in any trouble at all.”
“So you didn’t blow up the station?”
I shook my head. “If I hadn’t been there, it would have been a lot worse.”
Shut up, Matt!
“But you know who did it?” she asked. “And the other attacks around the city too?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, I—wait. What do you mean attacks around the city? You mean the one at the station, right?”
She studied me for a moment and then reached across my bed to grab the remote control. She pointed it at the small TV mounted against the opposite wall. “There were attacks at a few places,” she said, flipping through the channels. Every channel seemed to be playing the news, and each had scenes of destruction and panic, people crying, buildings on fire, and crowds huddled outside of buildings. A few of the scenes were of the station, but many weren’t.
“The university was evacuated because of anthrax,” the doctor continued.
“What? An anthrax scare?” I wasn’t sure exactly what anthrax was, but I knew it scared the heck out of people and it was pretty deadly. Jason and I had wanted to have a long weekend once and considered filling an envelope with flour and sending it to the school with the word Anthrax on the inside. But we decided, on the off chance we got caught, we’d get in less trouble if we called in a bomb threat instead.
“Not a scare,” the doctor said. “It was real anthrax. There were a few exposures. Those people might die.”
My jaw dropped. That didn’t make any sense. Chase was the one who’d lost his mind. He was the one trying to kill people, and his team had been at the station. Hadn’t they? Maybe only some were, and the others were doing crazy things in other parts of the city. Becca and her team might have been responsible too. I mean, they must’ve put their plan in motion before getting to the station. They certainly hadn’t looked like they were in any hurry, and by then, they only had a few minutes before the three o’clock deadline. But real anthrax? It had to be Chase. Becca was crazy, but not that crazy.
Something on the screen caught my attention as the doctor flipped through the channels, and I jerked my cuffed hand, trying to point. “Wait,” I said. “Go back.” She flicked back a couple stations. “There,” I said. I only recognized the sign at first. The giant plastic waffle was partially melted and charred, but it was definitely Rick’s Waffle House. Kalvin with a K’s house.
“Do you know that place?” the doctor asked.
It was a coincidence. It had to be. I mean, the kid did have an entire storage locker of fireworks. Those things are dangerous.
“Do you know that place?” she asked again.
I nodded slowly. “I don’t get it. Chase wouldn’t have gone there. He wouldn’t know that place. And that means …” It came to me all at once. Amara hadn’t been trying to steal anything. He’d been rigging something to go off in that room. He knew explosives. He’d have known the fire would take the building down, but he’d done it anyway. Why would he do that?
“That means what?” the doctor prodded. When I didn’t respond
, she added, “It hasn’t been released yet, but they’re saying that place was part of the attack. It was one of the first targets.”
“They are?” I asked. “They think it’s one of the first attacks?” I jerked my head around to the doctor. “Wait a minute. How do you know? How do you know any of this stuff? If it hasn’t been released, then where are you getting your information?”
Her expression turned to ice. She tossed the clipboard to the foot of my bed, stood up, and shrugged off the white lab coat. There was a gun on her hip.
She walked over and opened the door, and two men wearing dark suits marched in. One of them closed the door behind him, set the lock, and then put his back against the door while the other man closed the curtains in the room and then took a position beside my bed.
“What’s going on?” I said, looking frantically between my gun-strapped doctor and the new dangerous-looking men in the room. “Who are you guys?”
She turned and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “My name is Agent Knox,” she said. “That is Agent Chen, and the man by the door is Agent French.”
Agent Chen was tall and lanky but looked mean. He reminded me a bit of Bruce Lee, only older and with less hair. He sat down on the small chair beside my bed and opened a laptop. Agent French had dark hair cut really short and was about six feet tall. He wore a scowl that made him look really angry, like he wanted to hurt someone. Like he wanted to hurt me.
“Agent?” I asked. “Then you’re not a doctor?”
She shook her head. “No, Gunnar, I’m not a doctor. I’m with the Domestic Operations Division.” She paused and then added, “CIA.”
Chapter 48
“You’re CIA?” I should have been able to relax at that moment, but instead, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I’d been so cool a moment ago, and probably would have told her everything if she’d kept prodding me. She probably thought I was just some stupid kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut about national secrets.
She nodded. “That’s right. And I want you to tell us what happened out there, or we turn you over to the half a dozen FBI agents waiting just outside the door.”
I jerked my head to the door. “The FBI is out there? Why?”
Agent Knox sighed. “Look, kid. We don’t have time for stupid questions. A train station was blown up today. A school was exposed to anthrax. An entire section of the city was without power for about two hours. It was chaos, and estimated damages are in the tens of millions of dollars. And best we can tell, you had something to do with it.” She glared at me. “We have footage of you heaving something onto the tracks, and then a minute later, the tunnel explodes.”
“Look,” I said. “I was following the rules. I was only going to cause a disruption. It was Chase, that crazy lunatic. He lost it out there. I don’t know how to explain it. He’s been kind of nuts all along, but come on, who tries to blow up a freaking train platform?”
Agent Chen was typing as I spoke, and I got the impression he was writing every word I said. I had to be careful. I bet Chase had already blamed me for everything, and they were trying to decide who they’d believe.
“So you were told to cause a disruption at the train station?” Agent Knox asked.
I shook my head. “No. The station was my idea. It’s a prank a buddy and I had been planning for years.”
“Jason Cole?” Agent Knox asked.
I sighed. “Okay, I shouldn’t have called him. I know cell phones are prohibited at the camp. I’m sorry about that. But before you kick me out of the program, please, just look at what I accomplished.”
Agent Knox raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“I planned and executed an amazing disruption. I identified Chase’s psychotic break, and his crazy plan to blow the place up. I intercepted the bomb and threw it onto the tracks so no one would get hurt. Then I cleared the platform.” I was going to mention that Becca had helped me, but after I got her out, she’d left me unconscious on the floor, so she wasn’t getting any credit for this. “I deserve to be at the camp,” I said. “I deserve to be a CIA operative.”
Agent French had his hands in tight fists, and he kept looking at me like I’d just farted really, really loud. Agent Chen just kept typing with a face that didn’t change. I bet he was a really good poker player.
Agent Knox rubbed the back of her neck.
“I’m going to show you some pictures. You tell us if they’re the ones responsible, or if you know them.”
I felt my brow furrow. “I know exactly who’s to blame. I told you—”
“Just,” Agent Knox cut in, “look at the pictures.”
I shrugged. “Fine.”
Agent Chen tossed a yellow folder onto the bed, and I opened it up.
“Dalson?” I asked, holding up the first picture. “How could he be responsible? He runs the whole camp.” I flipped quickly through the next dozen or so pictures. “Half of these people I’ve never seen,” I said, “and the other half are counselors at the camp. How could they be responsible when the challenge was for the campers?”
“Because,” Agent Knox said, speaking very slowly, “all the campers are … kids.”
I wasn’t sure if that had been a question or a statement, so I just nodded.
“Keep flipping,” she said. “There are some youth in there, as well.”
After another half dozen adult pictures, there were some of the campers. I recognized a few from just spotting them around the grounds, or during activities, until I hit Juno’s pictures. “Juno?” I asked. “He’s on my team. Why would you even suspect anyone from my team?” Agent Knox didn’t answer, and I kept flipping. I pulled out Amara’s picture, as well as Yaakov’s. “Both of these guys are on my team.” I shook my head. “You have pictures of my team in there, and not one of Chase’s team?” I shoved the folder away with my free hand. “You’ve already talked to him, haven’t you? I don’t know what Chase told you, but he’s lying. He’s responsible. He’s probably responsible for the anthrax too.”
“And the fire at the waffle house?” Agent French asked.
I felt my face heat up. “Maybe.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. I didn’t know if Amara had done it. Chase had all but admitted he’d followed us, and for all I knew he’d gone into the basement of the waffle house after we’d left, to see what supplies we’d gotten from Kalvin. He could’ve set the place on fire as punishment for him helping us out. Actually, as I thought that scenario out, it sounded entirely possible. If that wasn’t what happened … if Amara had been responsible, what did that mean? That he was as crazy as Chase? That Rylee was wrong, and it had been him, not Angie, who was the team psychopath?
“He’s lying,” Agent French said.
“About what?” I asked. That was probably the wrong thing to say, since it sort of implied that I had lied about something.
“About everything,” Agent French snapped back.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Agent Knox held up her hand. “You’re good, Matt. If you’re telling the truth, you’re quite brave, and you saved a lot of people. If you’re lying, you’re a sociopath.”
“You guys really don’t know about the camp?” I asked. “You don’t know about Camp Friendship?”
“Camp Friendship?” Agent French asked. “You have to be freaking kidding me.”
I looked at Agent Knox, and fully intended to double my efforts to explain myself, but something in the way she looked at me sent my stomach on a downward slide to my toes. It was as if she was watching a puppy about to be put down. She didn’t have the slightest idea about Camp Friendship. She didn’t know who Dalson was, or Mr. Smith. She didn’t have a clue about any of it.
The morning’s events played out in my mind again, and it hit me again how I’d been congratulated in the dining room after my interrogation with Butler. How they said he hadn’t broken me even though he most certainly had. I’d spilled my guts. I’d told him Camp Friendship was a CIA camp for kids, I’d told him my real name �
�� I’d told him everything. It had been a passing thought at the time, but now it was an amber flashing sign in my head. The only reason they’d congratulate me on not breaking was because in their mind I hadn’t. Because what I’d said hadn’t been true.
When Dalson had played that particular scene, the one where I shouted that I was part of a CIA camp for kids, the campers, especially those in my team, had cheered. Cheered and laughed.
I swore and muttered under my breath. “It’s not a CIA camp, is it?” If that were true, if it was all a lie, then what kind of camp did that make it? And what about Butler? There had been no misunderstanding that he was one of the head CIA interrogators. But maybe that’s why his presence was so awe-inspiring to the other campers.
There was a knock on the door, and Agent Knox hesitated a moment before she stood up and dusted her hands together. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” she said. “I’m not sure if you’re crazy, or if we’ve stumbled onto a very, very dangerous situation. It’s not my call to make. We need a professional to tell us that.”
Agent French opened the door, and there he was. Standing there in a three-piece suit, his face bearing a couple days of stubble, looking very similar to how he’d looked in the underground interrogation room.
I didn’t mean to speak at that moment, but the realization of what kind of situation I was in overwhelmed my senses. The word just fell out of my mouth.
“Butler.”
Chapter 49
Agent Knox looked between Butler and me. “Do you two know each other?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Butler said at the exact same time.
Agent French closed the door and stood in front of the doorknob.
Butler gave me a quizzical look. “I’m afraid we’ve never met, young man.”
That did it. His insistence that we hadn’t met was the final bit of information I needed to fully appreciate how very wrong I’d been about everything I’d experienced in the past three weeks. There was no reason to lie about it unless it was something he didn’t want the CIA to know.
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