by Stuart Gibbs
“I’m here,” Erica said in response. “Good call with the coughing. We can’t risk you speaking at all, so let’s keep that up. One cough for yes, silence for no. Ready to go?”
I coughed.
“Good. You’re two minutes late, by the way.”
I wasn’t. But there was no way to argue that via coughing. So I had to just suck up the criticism.
“Move outside the house,” Erica told me. “Chirp like a cricket when you’re out.”
I pulled on my darkest clothes and sneakers, then peered under my door. The hallway was dark. I swung the door open quickly—doors tend to creak more when you try to do it slowly—and edged into the hall.
The door to Ashley’s room was closed. Murray’s too. I could hear him snoring like a chain saw on the other side. Nefarious’s door hung open, however. I glanced toward the stairs. A constantly shifting blue glow came from downstairs. The television was on.
I slunk down the stairs carefully, fearing Nefarious would be wide-awake on the couch, blocking my escape. Sure enough, he was there—but to my great relief, he was asleep. He was still sitting upright, but his head was lolled back, a strand of drool oozing from the corner of his mouth. The TV screen had gone into sleep mode, which meant he’d been out for at least ten minutes.
I slipped out the front door.
The night was alive with the chirping of crickets. Which was probably why Erica had asked me to imitate one. One cricket chirp among thousands wouldn’t stand out, while a cough would.
It occurred to me only then that I had no idea how to chirp like a cricket. It had never come up before. Mooing like a cow, I could handle. Or bleating like a sheep. After all, like most people, I’d been doing barnyard animal noises since I was barely able to talk. But crickets? Not so much. I gave it my best shot.
“You call that a cricket?” Erica sighed. “That sounded more like a sick chickadee.”
Again, there was no way to argue the point.
“Can you get to the northeast corner of the compound?” Erica asked.
I oriented myself with the stars. After my adventures fighting SPYDER the previous summer, I had resumed normal spy camp education, and Woodchuck Wallace had given an excellent seminar on nighttime navigation. Northeast was on the opposite side of the community from where I was, over where the construction was taking place. I cased the street. No one else seemed to be awake.
I tried the cricket again.
“That’s a little better,” Erica told me. “At least you’re in the insect spectrum now. How long do you think it will take? One chirp for each five minutes.”
It wasn’t far across the compound, but I didn’t want to rush myself, either. While I couldn’t see any guards at the moment, I knew they were out there somewhere, on patrol. I chirped three times.
“Okay. Talk to you then.”
I went the roundabout way, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. It was a relief when I got out of the area where the houses were finished—where any insomniac SPYDER agent might be looking out the window or returning home from a late-night session in the underground lair—and made it to the area that was under construction. There, I was able to move about more quickly, dodging among the bulldozers and skirting the septic tank pits.
Even so, I remained constantly on alert, aware that someone else was probably lurking in those shadows. And I didn’t say a word to Erica, even though I desperately wanted to.
I knew I had to tell her that SPYDER’s plans were launching the next evening, but I also knew that any word I said placed me in jeopardy. If a bad guy heard me scuffling across the dirt, they wouldn’t necessarily know it was a human doing that. It could have been a squirrel or a rat. But if I spoke, that was a different story. Squirrels and rats didn’t speak much. The enemy would know a human was out there in the darkness—and more important, they’d know I was in contact with someone else. So I kept the information to myself for the time being, not wanting to tank the operation until I had what I needed.
I reached the northeast corner of the compound in fourteen minutes. This area was the most barren in Hidden Forest: no frames of future homes, only a few cement foundations for homes-to-be with the occasional pit for a septic tank. There was little I could do to blend in save for keeping low to the ground.
I made another cricket chirp.
“You’re in position?” Erica asked.
Chirp.
“All right. I have a package I’m sending over. It’s a little bigger than a softball. Ready?”
I focused on the top of the wall at the corner of the compound and chirped again. My cricket imitation was getting much better with all the practice.
“Good. Then stay ready. I’m waiting for the right opportunity.”
Thirty seconds ticked by. Sixty. Ninety.
At ninety-four seconds, a truck rumbled down the road outside Hidden Forest. In the quiet country night, the sound carried far. It was enough to cover the noise Erica was about to make.
“Incoming,” she told me.
A black ball, barely visible against the night sky, sailed over the wall. It just cleared the barbed wire, then hit the ground a few feet away from me and rolled. I went after it, but before I could grab it, it tumbled over the lip of a septic pit and dropped inside.
“Got it?” Erica asked.
There was no way to say “give me a minute” in cricket. So I didn’t say anything. Instead, I sidled to the edge of the pit and peered inside. It was about a four-foot drop down to the cement lid of the septic tank.
“Is there a problem?” Erica asked.
I remained silent again, meaning “no.” Then I slid over the edge as quietly as possible until my toes touched the cement. It was even darker down in the hole than it was on ground level. The black ball had completely melted away. I had to fumble blindly in the shadows for a few seconds until I found it, nestled between the wall of dirt and a large metal hinge in the septic lid.
I chirped.
“Got it?” Erica asked.
Chirp.
Erica sighed with relief. “You had me worried there. Get that package back to your room ASAP. Your instructions are inside. Contact me tomorrow night at this time for further orders . . . .”
She was signing off. I didn’t have any more time to play it safe.
“Erica . . . ,” I whispered.
“Shhhh!” she hissed.
“SPYDER’s plans launch tonight at eight p.m.”
Erica was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Nuts.”
A flashlight beam suddenly sliced through the darkness above me.
I froze, terrified. In my hurry to tell Erica about SPYDER, I hadn’t checked to see if anyone was around.
The beam crossed over my head once, then went back the other way. Then another one joined it. If I hadn’t been in the septic pit, they would have lit me up like a theater marquis.
“What’s wrong?” one of the flashlight people asked. A male voice, a good distance away from me. It was deep and ominous. I didn’t recognize it.
“I thought I heard something.” This voice, I recognized. Joshua Hallal.
“I hear them,” Erica whispered in my ear. “Just stay still. Don’t move a muscle or make a sound.”
I’d already figured that out myself.
“What was it?” the voice I didn’t recognize asked.
“I don’t know,” Joshua replied.
The sound of footsteps crunching across the dirt came my way. The flashlight beams shimmied above my head.
If the SPYDER agents got to the edge of the pit—or even close to it—I was a sitting duck. But if I tried to run, they’d see me too. Which basically limited my options to one thing: praying for a miracle.
The footsteps were frighteningly close now. The beams were getting brighter as the SPYDER agents approached.
A loud feline yowl suddenly pierced the air. There was a soft thump on the ground nearby, followed by the sound of something dashing across the dirt.
&n
bsp; The flashlights swung away from me, toward the sound.
“It’s just a stupid cat,” Joshua muttered. “Sorry.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious,” the mystery man said.
The footsteps started again, but now they were heading away from me.
I realized I’d been holding my breath for the past minute. I blew it out, then inhaled quietly, unable to believe my luck.
“That wasn’t luck,” Erica said, reading my thoughts. “That was Granddad. He brought the cat in case of trouble. He got it at the pound today. Though I’m the one who threw it over the wall.”
There was no way to chirp “thank you.” I had to hope silence would suffice.
“And don’t get too upset about the cat,” Erica added. “We’re not abandoning it. It has a microchip ID tag so we can get it back.”
Joshua and the mystery man were now a good distance away from me. I could barely hear their voices once they began to speak again.
“How’s everything looking for tomorrow?” the mystery man asked.
“Perfect,” Joshua replied. If he added anything else, I didn’t hear it. They were out of range.
I chanced a look out of the pit.
They had turned off their flashlights, but I could make out their silhouettes against the lights of the rec center. They were heading directly toward it, probably going to the very same subterranean secret room I was supposed to break into. Which meant I couldn’t do the break-in that night.
“We’ve just changed the plans, given your new information,” Erica told me. “You’re still to proceed according to the instructions in your package and infiltrate the subterranean room at your first opportunity, but check in immediately afterward. It’ll be risky, but given SPYDER’s timeline, we don’t see that there’s any other choice. If anything goes wrong before then, one of us will always be on the radio, ready to respond—though I hope, for your sake, that isn’t necessary.”
I hoped so too. My heart was still pounding from the fright Joshua had given me.
“Understand your orders?” Erica asked.
I chirped. Although my mouth was so dry, it sounded like a cricket on its deathbed.
“Okay,” Erica said. “Good luck tomorrow. We’re all counting on you.”
And then she was gone.
INFILTRATION
SPYDER Agent Training Facility
Student Housing
September 17
0330 hours
It took me nearly an hour to work my way back to my room from the septic tank. I wasn’t sure if Joshua and the mystery man had actually gone into the recreation center or if they were still outside, on the alert. Maybe they’d notified security as well. So I moved as slowly and carefully as possible. At one point, a beetle passed me.
My caution paid off, though. I didn’t have another close call the whole way back.
By the time I returned, Nefarious wasn’t on the couch anymore. He’d apparently woken and realized he ought to be in bed. As proof, the door to his room was closed, as were Ashley’s and Murray’s.
I slipped inside my room, then went into the bathroom and locked the door.
For the first time since receiving it, I finally had a good look at the package Erica had delivered.
The ball was made of some kind of foam, painted black. Like Styrofoam, but lighter. And it smelled slightly like breakfast cereal.
A thin line ran around the circumference. I grabbed both halves of the ball and twisted them in opposite directions.
The package popped open. The inside was mostly more foam. There was a single, small rectangular gap carved in it with an electronic device nestled there.
The device was only four inches long, two inches wide, and a half inch thick. It had a screen like a smartphone and an on/off switch. Although I’d never seen a device like this in real life before, I knew from school that it was designed to break codes. Officially, the CIA referred to it as a Complex Algorithm Decryption Apparatus, but everyone just called it a “safecracker.”
Tucked beneath the safecracker was a creased piece of paper. I unfolded it to find my orders, printed in an extremely small font so that all of them would fit on the page.
Step one was: “The foam ball is biodegradable. Put it in the toilet and flush it.”
I did as ordered. The ball turned out to be made of some sort of wheat or corn foam. It quickly dissolved in the toilet bowl and easily flushed away.
The rest of the instructions were a bit more complicated.
The first part involved waiting until ten in the morning. No explanation was given for why this time was chosen, but I figured it had to do with when the secret underground room was easiest to infiltrate. As I’d already discovered, Joshua Hallal tended to haunt the place at night. Plus, my wandering into the recreation center in the wee hours would be suspicious, while showing up midmorning wouldn’t be unusual at all.
This time, however, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was too nervous. I’d never infiltrated anyplace alone before. Not in the real world, at least. I’d done simulations in Infiltration and Escape 101, but that had never been my strongest class. (I’d received a C in it.) Whenever I’d done any real-world infiltration, Erica had been with me. Or, more to the point, I’d been with her. She had done all the work while I’d tailed along.
I spent the early morning reading and rereading my instructions, committing them to memory so I could shred the paper and flush the evidence. I imagined every possible scenario where things could go wrong. How would I behave if I was caught in the act? What would I say if anyone asked me what I was doing there? And if things went really, really wrong, how would I escape?
By seven a.m., I couldn’t take it anymore. I got dressed and went downstairs.
To my surprise, both Ashley and Nefarious were awake. Nefarious was in his usual spot on the couch, already flying pretend fighter jets. Ashley was dressed for a workout in a purple leotard, blending a shake.
“Good morning!” she called cheerfully. “Want some?”
I didn’t want any, but I also didn’t want to get on Ashley’s bad side, so instead, I said, “Sure,” and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “Why’s everyone up so early today?”
“Couldn’t sleep! Too excited.” Ashley poured some shake for me. She’d put a lot of kale in it, so it was an unsettling vomit green. “I can’t believe the big day is really here!”
“Me neither,” I said, trying to sound just as upbeat. “Is Murray up?”
Ashley snorted with disdain. “Are you kidding? That kid makes sloths look hyperactive. He’ll probably be in bed till noon.”
I took a sip of my shake and almost gagged on it. Not only did it taste and smell terrible, it also had the texture of phlegm. It took a massive effort for me to force it down.
“Do you like it?” Ashley asked eagerly.
“It’s great,” I lied. “What’s in it?”
“Since we need to be extra amped today, I made my special mega-protein booster: kale, acai berries, almond milk, flaxseed, ginseng, spinach, fish oil, chia seeds, chicory, maqui, goji, mangosteen, pantethine, elasmodium, and amino blasters.”
“Are all those real things?” I asked. “Because a lot of them sound like Dr. Seuss characters.”
Ashley giggled. “They’re all real. My old coach designed it especially for me to focus my chi energy and provide extra vibrancy to my muscles. Can you feel the power churning through you?”
The only thing I could feel churning was my stomach. “I sure can.”
“Good. ’Cause we’re gonna need that energy today!” Ashley looked toward Nefarious to make sure he was immersed in his video game, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “If everything goes right tonight, you and I will be at Disney World soon!”
I forced a smile. “Can’t wait.”
“Me neither! I’m so happy I turned to crime. This is way better than gymnastics.” Ashley took another gulp of shake, humming “It’s a Small World” while she downed i
t.
I didn’t think I could stomach another sip of my shake, let alone drink the whole glass. And I was itching to get out of the house anyhow. “Mind if I take this to go?” I asked. “I was hoping to get a workout at the Rec this morning.”
“Not at all. I’m gonna work out myself,” Ashley said, then added confidentially, “I might as well use all this equipment while I’ve still got it. ’Cause after tonight, we’re out of here.” She flashed me a smile, unaware her teeth were filled with chia seeds, then trotted off to her private gym.
Nefarious appeared to have forgotten I was even in the room. He was in the zone, piloting his two virtual jet fighters at once on their run.
Once Ashley was out of sight, I dumped the shake down the sink and grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts instead. Then I ducked out the door.
I really did head to the Rec to work out. I hadn’t been lying about that. The way I figured, it would be easier to find an opportune time to infiltrate the underground lair if I was already hanging out close by. And besides, exercising beat twiddling my thumbs and watching the clock. So I swam laps, rode the Exercycle, shot baskets. I even did a little target shooting on the firing range. I didn’t manage many kill shots, but I at least winged the silhouette most times, which was enough to avoid the wrath of Mr. Seabrook. Then, at nine thirty, I shifted to the rock wall.
I tucked the safecracker in my pocket, strapped on a safety harness, and clipped into the automatic belay device. I opted not to use any of the loaner rock-climbing shoes available to us, because it was almost impossible to run in rock-climbing shoes, should that become necessary—and besides, they all were uncomfortably tight and smelled like foot fungus. Instead, I used my sneakers. I climbed for fifteen minutes, during which no one else even entered the recreation center. I scaled the fake pinnacle and scanned Hidden Forest from the top. Through the windows, I could see the entire community laid out below me. The construction zone was alive with activity: bulldozers shoving earth around, cement trucks pouring foundations, carpenters putting up frames with pneumatic hammers. However, the residential side was eerily quiet. Not a soul moved on the streets. There was no sign of Joshua or any of my instructors. I wondered if they were all sleeping in like Murray, resting up for the big day ahead.