by Stuart Gibbs
Cyrus steered the boat up against a small pier and cut the engine. Alexander leapt ashore and tied the mooring lines. Erica signaled me to move quickly.
Zoe asked, “Can you at least explain what’s going on?”
“It’d take way too long,” I said, scrambling off the boat. “You’ll just have to trust me. I need you to do this right now. Every second counts.”
“All right,” Zoe said. “I’ll turn you in.”
“Thanks. You’re a good friend.”
Just past our car, there was an enormous construction site where a huge section of the pier was being rebuilt. There were four cranes, mountains of steel beams, and a fleet of a dozen cement trucks.
And a large sign proclaiming: LEW BROTHERS CONSTRUCTION.
I froze in midstride.
Until that moment, I’d assumed that Lew Brothers was a tiny company created by SPYDER solely to build Hidden Forest. But now I realized what it really was: a huge corporation that did multimillion-dollar government projects.
“I have to go,” I told Zoe.
I had just figured out the rest of SPYDER’s plan.
SIEGE
SPYDER Agent Training Facility
September 18
0200 hours
Cyrus laid out his plans for thwarting SPYDER on the drive back to Hidden Forest. I had been hoping that my assignment would be something along the lines of “Wait in a nice, safe place while the rest of us infiltrate SPYDER’s compound and do all the dangerous work.” Instead, I was told I’d be playing a crucial role in the attack. It was my job to lead the way into the underground control center.
“Frankly, I’d prefer a greenhorn like you stay well clear of the action,” Cyrus admitted. “But you’re the only one who’s been inside SPYDER’s lair and the only one who knows all the people on the other side. That makes you our key asset. And we can’t just have you sitting on the radio, talking us through it. You need to be there in the thick of it in case things change—or we lose radio contact. Don’t worry, though. We’ll protect you as well as we can, seeing as you won’t be much use to us if you’re dead.”
I didn’t find that very reassuring, but I accepted my fate and girded myself for battle.
Thankfully, we now had some equipment: the weapons and walkie-talkies we’d liberated from the agents on Liberty Island. And Cyrus had left one last steel case in the car, filled with assorted other supplies he’d amassed over the past weeks: everything we’d need to infiltrate SPYDER’s compound.
By the time we arrived back at Hidden Forest, the CIA was already there. They’d moved faster than I’d expected, although we’d had to make a pit stop at a White Castle in Newark. None of us had eaten since lunch, and Cyrus said it was a bad idea to fight the enemy when you were hypoglycemic.
The CIA had shown up in full force, led by Agent Rafferty, who obviously had a chip on his shoulder as far as Cyrus Hale was concerned. There were more than sixty agents spread out around the perimeter of the gated community. We had to park well down the road and slip quietly through the fields so they wouldn’t notice our approach. However, they weren’t very focused on what was behind them; they were focused on Hidden Forest instead. We slipped into a clump of trees along the CIA’s line, not far from where Rafferty had set up his command center.
I couldn’t see any SPYDER agents on the far side of the wall, but I had no doubt they were there, watching the CIA closely. In an odd way, the whole setup reminded me of a medieval siege. SPYDER was holed up in the modern-day equivalent of a walled city, and the CIA was looking to breach it the same way an army of knights would. Beyond the wall, I could even see the rec center high in the middle of the compound like a glass-walled castle, complete with a dungeon beneath it.
The CIA was ready for battle, every agent bristling with guns and knives. Armored cars had towed in mortars as well. Once they were all in position, Rafferty got on a bullhorn and spoke to everyone at Hidden Forest: “This is Agent Harold Rafferty of the Central Intelligence Agency. We have you surrounded. Cease all hostile acts at once or we will have no choice but to take you by force!”
“Do you believe this guy?” Cyrus muttered. “Time is of the essence and he’s giving warnings like a hall monitor. We need to kick this assault in gear.” With that, he whipped out his gun and took a few potshots at the community wall.
SPYDER agents reflexively returned fire. The wall around Hidden Forest turned out to be more medieval than I’d thought; there were secret holes built into it to shoot through, the same way castle walls had slits for crossbows. The CIA agents immediately shot back. Rafferty shouted at everyone to stand down, but Cyrus blasted the bullhorn out of his hands, muting him. After that the assault spiraled out of control. Most of the activity took place at the weakest points in the community’s perimeter, where the CIA hoped to break through: the front gates and the spot where I’d driven the bulldozer through the wall that afternoon. SPYDER had hastily patched the hole in the wall with plywood and strung electric wire across the top, but it had been a rush job; they apparently hadn’t expected the CIA to show up.
Everyone was so busy trading shots, they didn’t notice us. During their days of observation, Cyrus and Erica had pinpointed the perfect place to breach the perimeter: a towering oak tree thirty feet from the wall. We scrambled up it as high as we could go, then unloaded the supplies Cyrus had amassed to create a homemade zip line. First, Erica fired a grappling hook over the wall. (It was amazing how handy those things were once you became a spy.) It caught in the upper story of an unfinished, framed house, after which we fastened our end of the wire around a tree branch, cinched it taut, then clipped onto it with carabiners and rock-climbing belts.
Cyrus and Alexander went first to make sure it was safe. No one from SPYDER or the CIA seemed to notice them as they glided silently toward the wall.
The moment they crossed over the wall, however, alarms went off. Sirens wailed so loudly they could even be heard over the gunfire.
“Shoot,” Erica muttered. “They must have some sort of laser system to detect intruders. We better move now.”
“Now?” I repeated, though in a much more frightened tone of voice. “But SPYDER knows we’re coming over the wall.”
“No. SPYDER knows someone just came over the wall. So they’ll be looking for invaders inside the perimeter. Not above it.”
“But won’t we be inside the perimeter soon?”
Rather than argue the point, Erica simply launched herself down the zip line and dragged me along with her.
The ride down the wire took only a few seconds, but it felt like weeks. En route, I could see SPYDER agents racing through the darkness, converging on the frame house where Cyrus and Alexander were now holed up. I kept waiting for someone to spot us on the wire, where we were sitting ducks—or at least, gliding ducks. But Cyrus and Alexander started shooting, grabbing SPYDER’s attention, and we slid to safety unnoticed.
We alighted in the upper story of the frame house. Cyrus and Alexander were on the far side from us, taking cover behind a stack of plywood. “Get going!” Cyrus ordered us. “We’ll draw their fire!”
“We will?” Alexander asked nervously, but Cyrus had already started shooting again.
SPYDER’s agents shot back at them, filling the stack of plywood with more holes than a loaf of Swiss cheese.
Erica and I went in the other direction, leaping out the back of the house and skulking away before anyone could see us. We then worked our way toward the rec center, moving in a wide arc around the SPYDER agents trading shots with Cyrus and Alexander.
Despite all the firefights around us, it wasn’t that hard to steer clear of the enemy now that we were on the inside. All of SPYDER’s men were busily fending off Cyrus, Alexander, or other CIA agents. Even so, we did our best to be stealthy.
Two helicopters raced overhead. They were unmarked, so it was impossible to tell whose side they were on.
As we crept through Hidden Forest, I managed to catch a glimp
se of some of SPYDER’s agents. I recognized a few of my instructors among them, like Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Seabrook. I didn’t see Joshua Hallal or any of my fellow students, but then, the compound was large and there were plenty of places they could have been.
Our route took us past one of the “septic tanks.” There was a loud, mechanical hum coming from inside the hole. I peered in to see that the cement lid was opening, raised by hydraulic pistons, revealing that there was, indeed, a missile silo hidden beneath it. The shaft dropped several stories down into the earth. The missile was a big, metallic Cold War relic with Soviet lettering on the sides. I’d been right; SPYDER had Russian missiles.
“C’mon!” Erica ordered. “They’re preparing to fire! We don’t have much time!” She dropped any attempt at stealth and bolted for the rec center.
I took off after her. We raced out of the construction zone and cut across the croquet lawn.
In the distance, some agents from SPYDER spotted us. They yelled something. We were too far away and there was too much other noise to hear it properly, but it was probably something along the lines of “Stop or we’ll shoot!”
We didn’t stop. So they shot.
We dove over a decorative hedge. Bullets whizzed over our heads and shattered the glass walls of the rec center, which saved us the trouble of going through the door. Erica shot back, laying down cover fire as I scrambled across the carpet of glass shards, racing for the rock wall.
It occurred to me that I wasn’t panicked. I wasn’t screaming, like I’d done while being chased by a horde of first-year students during the SACSA. Maybe this was because I’d matured into a better spy since then—or maybe it was because the simulations at spy school had prepared me well for a real-life action sequence—but I was impressed by how well I was handling the situation, all things considered.
I reached the rock wall and twisted the proper handhold.
The secret door hissed open. I held it that way while Erica raced for it.
In the distance, well past the croquet lawn, I could see the muzzle flares as our attackers opened fire again.
Erica slid through the doorway and spoke into her walkie-talkie. “Granddad, we’ve got some company en route to the rec center. Think you can hold them off?”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Cyrus replied. “I’m on it.”
Erica then led the way down the stairs. I knew it wasn’t very chivalrous of me to let her do this, but then, Erica was adept in all forms of combat while I had the martial arts skills of a bowl of Jell-O. She swept the hall at the bottom, then signaled to me that it was safe to follow while she moved on to the kitchenette and the conference room. There were no enemy agents in either one.
“You can stop poking around out there!” Murray called from the control room. “The party’s in here!”
Erica frowned, then led the way to the control room.
There were fewer people inside than I expected. Joshua Hallal wasn’t there—or any of the other adults. Instead, there was only Nefarious and Murray. Nefarious was seated on the main couch, staring at the TV screens, which were displaying dozens of security camera feeds from all over the property at once. Most of them were showing the battles outside, though a few were trained on the missile silos as their hatches opened—and one filmed the hall we had just come through. Nefarious was so focused on the screens, he didn’t so much as glance at us. From the doorway, I could see only the back of his head. He was holding the custom-made joystick I’d seen on my previous visit to the lair.
Murray was seated in a lounge chair to the side of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He had no weapon, only a half-eaten frozen yogurt sundae. Being Murray, he had raided the toppings bar, choosing everything from crumbled Oreos to sour gummy worms. “You didn’t really think you could sneak up on us in here, did you?” he chided. “We’ve got cameras everywhere. But then, I pretty much expected you to show up, Ben. That’s your standard move, isn’t it? SPYDER’s about to put a plan into action; you arrive just minutes before it happens and try to thwart it. Like clockwork.”
Erica aimed her gun directly at Murray’s smiling face. “Oh, we’re not trying to thwart your plans. We’re thwarting them. Shut off the missiles.”
Murray shrugged helplessly. “It can’t be done. Everything’s preprogrammed. And after that little stunt you pulled on the last mission, Ben, we’ve hardwired the electrical systems, so you can’t just yank the plug and be done with it.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Erica growled. “I know you’re not smart enough to control the missiles. I was talking to your pal on the couch. Nefarious, abort the missiles or I shoot both of you.”
“How about this instead?” Murray asked. “You drop your weapons, or Ashley shoots both of you.”
There were two foreboding clicks behind us.
I spun around to find Ashley there, holding a gun in each hand, one for me and one for Erica. She looked like she felt pretty bad about this, though. “Sorry,” she said. “I really don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”
“How did you . . . ?” I began.
“Get behind you when you’d already swept the area?” Ashley finished. “There’s a secret hiding place behind the sundae bar. I guess you never got the full tour of the complex.” She looked to Erica. “You’re still holding your gun.”
Erica released her weapon, letting it clatter to the floor.
“Much better!” Murray said, scooping more yogurt into his mouth.
“You’re pathetic,” Erica told him. “I can’t believe you’re using missiles again. Where’s the creativity in that?”
“Well, we got a good deal on them,” Murray admitted. “They’re cheaper when you buy in bulk. And after we’d gone through all the trouble to smuggle them into the country, we figured we might as well use them. Plus, we’ve learned from the mistakes we made last time. Sorry, Ben, but there’ll be no thwarting our plans tonight.”
At that moment, the room began to shake. There was a tremendous rumble from behind the walls. On the TV screens, the ten missiles each blasted off, streaking toward New York City.
We were too late.
NEGOTIATION
SPYDER Underground Lair
September 18
0230 hours
The flares from the missiles’ rockets were so bright, they bleached out the TV screens and bathed the entire control center in a pale, eerie light.
Erica looked to me. I wasn’t used to seeing her worried, but she was worried now. “How long will it take those to hit their targets?”
“The first will strike in eight minutes,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach. After all, the reason I knew this was because I’d done the math that had allowed Joshua to program the missiles. When they struck and did their damage, I would be partly responsible. I had naively gone undercover, hoping to defeat SPYDER, and had instead been manipulated by them into doing their dirty work.
This wasn’t a very good feeling.
But then, I still had eight minutes to fix things.
On the TV screens, cameras mounted on the missiles themselves tracked their progress across New Jersey. The landscape flew past beneath them at rocket speed: farms and suburban communities and clumps of forest. It looked weirdly like the images from the video games Nefarious had spent all of his time playing: the view from a pilot as his plane hurtled into battle.
I turned my attention to Ashley, because unlike Nefarious, she was making eye contact with me. And because I suspected she wasn’t really evil at heart. “Put down your guns,” I said. “Please. You can still abort the missiles. If you don’t, you’re going to have the blood of thousands of innocent people on your hands.”
Ashley shook her head. “Innocent people aren’t going to die. You don’t know what we’re really doing here . . . .”
“I know exactly what you’re doing,” I replied. “You’re blowing up all the major bridges around the city so that you can get paid billions to rebuild them.”
; Ashley’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Holy cow!” Murray cried from the couch. “You figured out our evil scheme again! Every time I think we’ve got you fooled, you still work it out. How’d you do it this time?”
“I saw a Lew Brothers construction site in New Jersey,” I told him. “A big one, rebuilding an entire shipping pier. Which meant SPYDER’s construction company was much bigger than I realized. So we Googled the company. With the exception of this community, Lew Brothers only does government work. Mostly large infrastructure projects. Like bridges.”
“Nice work, as usual.” Murray grinned, revealing several rainbow sprinkles stuck in his teeth. “To be honest, SPYDER didn’t even see the potential of the construction company at first. We originally started Lew Brothers as a money-laundering scheme, but then found that being evil was standard procedure in the large-scale construction business. In fact, we were shocked by how corrupt and deceitful some of our rival companies were—and we’re terrorists! To get jobs, everyone uses bribes, blackmail, kickbacks, and threats. We started to do the same thing, and we were good at it. Before you knew it, Lew Brothers was bringing in more money than our illegal schemes. So then we started thinking, why wait for the government to come to us with construction jobs? Why not create the jobs ourselves? I mean, if some shady international organization paid us to blow up a bridge, we’d get paid a few million, tops—while some lucky construction company would get billions to rebuild it. The real money isn’t in knocking things down; it’s in putting them back up again. So why should we let some other sleazeballs make big profits from our terrorism when we could be the sleazeballs making the big profits ourselves?”
“You’re creating a fake terrorist attack just to cash in on the emergency rebuilding funds?” Erica asked.
“Yes!” Murray crowed. “And a real doozy of an attack, too. The ten major bridges and tunnels into Manhattan all going down at once! The way we figure it, if you only knock out one route into the city, it’s a crisis, but New York can still get by. But if you take out ten routes at the same time, you cripple the place. Doomsday will have nothing on this. The city, the state, and the federal government will be desperate to get everything rebuilt as quickly as possible, and they’ll have to pay through the nose to do it. It just so happens that Lew Brothers is perfectly prepared to handle such an cataclysmic event, with all the connections, personnel, and raw materials on hand necessary to rebuild quickly—and for maximum profit.”