Raise the Stakes

by Megan Atwood

  Copyright © 2016 by Megan Atwood

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

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  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

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  The images in this book are used with the permission of: © g-stockstudio/Shutterstock.com (teen male); © Andycash/Dreamstime.com (digital clock); © Vidakovic/Bigstock.com (Abstract technology background); © iStockphoto.com/archibald1221 (circle background): © freesoulproduction/Shutterstock.com (game pieces).

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5.

  Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  The Cataloging-in-Publication Data for Raise the Stakes is on file at the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-4677-7508-3 (lib. bdg.)

  ISBN 978-1-4677-8103-9 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-1-4677-8833-5 (EB pdf)

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1 – SB – 12/31/15

  eISBN: 978-1-46778-833-5 (pdf)

  eISBN: 978-1-51240-503-3 (ePub)

  eISBN: 978-1-51240-501-9 (mobi)

  To my parents, always.

  CHAPTER 1

  Colin’s palms were sweating, like they always did when he was nervous. And he’d been nervous a lot lately.

  But it was too late now. He’d signed up for the Contest. He’d already done two tasks—two weird, kind of intrusive tasks. And the Benefactor—whoever was running this competition—expected Colin to follow through on Task 3.

  Colin swallowed and pushed on the revolving door. His next task was to go into a business he’d never heard of, pretend to be someone he wasn’t, complain about something he didn’t understand, and plant a bug under someone’s desk.

  Man, his palms were sweaty.

  At the front desk, two bored security guards eyed him, and one said, “Can I help you?”

  “Uh . . .” Colin wiped his hands on his khakis—his best pair. His only pair. “I need to go to SolarStar.”

  The guard went back to reading. “Fifteenth floor.”

  Colin nodded and then walked to the elevators. It was two o’clock on a Monday afternoon. The place was pretty empty. He adjusted the tie clip on his dad’s old tie. The clip also happened to be a camera. Transmitting to someone, somewhere, for some reason. He felt the listening device in his pocket. He assumed it was already recording, just like the camera. But it was Colin’s job to plant it inside SolarStar. The Benefactor’s instructions repeated in his head: Put the device in Len Steinberg’s office, under his desk directly beneath the phone. He’d never had to spy on anyone before, but he suspected this was going to be his hardest task so far. The other two tasks had been weird and uncomfortable, but he hadn’t needed to actually talk to anyone when he did them.

  And this one felt extra creepy, because it meant that the Benefactor knew certain things about Colin.

  He looked older than his seventeen years.

  He could look and sound intimidating. And of course . . .

  He needed the money. Bad.

  *****

  Standing in front of SolarStar’s reception desk, Colin put on his mad face. He knew how to look like someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. His parents owned a business—well, his mom owned it, now that his dad was gone—and Colin worked evenings at the family hardware store. He’d seen his share of angry customers. People who thought they had a right to complain, even if complaining wouldn’t change anything. He figured he could pull off that attitude.

  “I need to talk to Len Steinberg. Immediately.”

  The receptionist’s eyes got wide. “One moment, sir.”

  Colin pushed down the inclination to say, “It’s OK.”

  “Um, Mr. Steinberg, I have a . . .” the receptionist looked at Colin expectantly.

  Colin said, “Ray Johnson.” That was the name the Benefactor had told him to use. “I own stock in this company, and I have a complaint.”

  “. . . a Mr. Johnson here who needs assistance. He seems unhappy.” The receptionist hung up the phone and put on a broad smile for Colin. “He’ll be right with you, sir.”

  Colin kept the scowl on his face. “I certainly hope so.”

  His instructions specifically said he needed to get a good look at this whole floor, on top of bugging an office. The Benefactor had given him a script for what to say to Mr. Steinberg too. Colin had it memorized. As he paced around the office, he went through the speech in his head.

  After about three minutes, a small man in a somewhat wrinkled suit came out. Colin stretched out to his full six-foot-two-inch frame. He was going to tower over this guy.

  “Mr. Johnson.” The guy had a firm handshake. A small man, but not a wimp. Colin swallowed down an instinctive smile.

  “Mr. Steinberg, I own quite a bit of stock in SolarStar. But I’ve just found out you’re in bed with some unsavory businesses. I’d like to talk in your office immediately.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The email had come to him last week.

  Someone called the Benefactor was hosting a contest. If Colin completed ten tasks ahead of the other three contestants, he’d win $10 million. There was a website, and it seemed legit. At least, as far as he could tell. And the Benefactor person or people seemed to know a lot about him. This was no email scam. This was personal.

  We, the Benefactor, wish you the best in securing money for your fa mily’s failing business. We also hope that your brother will be able to have the surgery he so desperately wants.

  Danni’s situation wasn’t a secret. But no one besides Danni and their mom knew that their hardware store was on the verge of going bankrupt. Other than using the wrong pronoun for Danni, the Benefactor seemed to be an expert on the Burnett family. And it was true: a few million bucks wouldn’t gather dust in Colin’s household.

  So he’d signed up.

  For the first task, he had to go to a park in a rich part of Minneapolis and record a video of two people there: a pretty Latina girl about his age and a younger girl who looked like her sister. Then he’d uploaded the footage to the Contest’s website. Easy enough.

  The second task was weirder: He had to mail a snap cutter from his store to someone named Ana Rivera. She lived in the same super-fancy neighborhood where the park was, and Colin wondered if it was the same girl he had videotaped. He would bet his right arm that she was in this contest too. And that made him mad. How could she possibly need $10 million? She lived in mansion country.

  Not that it mattered, because he was going to beat her.

  As long as he got through this third task.

  On the way to Mr. Steinberg’s office, Colin made a point of looking from side to side, swiveling his body back and forth so the camera on his tie would catch as much as possible. Steinberg was walking in front of him and didn’t seem to notice.

  A woman stuck her head out of an office as they passed. “Len, I set up the meeting with Huffmann Industries for next Tues—”

  “Thanks, Jennifer,” said Steinberg, cutting her off. “I’ll swing by later and touch base with you about that.”

  “OK. We only have one printout of the proposal. Should I just keep it in my file cabinet till—”

  “That’ll be fine, thanks.”

  The woman look
ed surprised, like she wasn’t used to that sharp tone. But Steinberg had already moved on, with Colin trailing him.

  Colin looked back over his shoulder. He twisted his torso as far around as he could so that the tie camera would catch the woman’s puzzled face and the nameplate on her office door: Jennifer McKnight.

  A moment later, he was sitting in Mr. Steinberg’s office. But Steinberg looked as if he didn’t want Colin to get too comfortable.

  “So you’re a shareholder, Mr. Johnson? You seem awfully young.”

  Colin tried not to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Look natural. Act like you know what you’re talking about. “Yes. And I’m very upset about your new partnership.” How was he going to get the bug under Steinberg’s desk . . . ?

  “What partnership?” demanded Steinberg.

  Well, the Benefactor hadn’t told Colin that. They’d only given him a list of vague complaints. The kind of stuff customers at the hardware store might say if they were trying to get a refund they didn’t deserve. No specifics about the actual problem, just a lot of hot air.

  Colin said, “You know which partnership.” Then he got back on track with the speech: “If you think that your major investors are going to support this move, I assure you—”

  “What move, Mr. Johnson? I’m still not sure we’re on the same page.” Steinberg didn’t look like he was buying this.

  Colin felt the sweat beading up on his lip. “Clearly not. If we were on the same page, you never would’ve betrayed your principles like this . . .”

  Steinberg leaned forward in his chair. “Well, Mr. Johnson, I forgot to ask at the beginning here, but before I discuss any sensitive information with you, I should see your ID.”

  Crap. Could he get out of this somehow? “Is that really necessary, Mr. Steinberg?” Even if he did avoid showing his ID, Colin could tell Steinberg wasn’t about to leave him alone in the office. He’d never have a chance to plant the bug . . .

  “I’m afraid it is necessary,” said Steinberg.

  Colin knew his cover was blown. He stood up, almost knocking the chair over. “I don’t think so, Mr. Steinberg. I will not be . . .” He backed up, toward the door. “I will not be . . . disrespected . . .”

  And then he ran.

  He didn’t slow down until he got to the elevators, and then he speed-walked out of the building, expecting security guards to stop him at any moment. He could still feel the bug in his pocket, unplanted, mocking him.

  He’d failed.

  CHAPTER 3

  Colin had a shift at the hardware store every weekday afternoon. This Monday was no different. Except that on most Mondays, Colin hadn’t just skipped school and blown a chance to win $10 million.

  He went around to the back of the building and unlocked the door that led to the family’s apartment upstairs. Slowly, he climbed the narrow staircase and headed to his bedroom to change into more casual clothes. This yearbook-picture outfit wasn’t exactly his typical work uniform.

  His shift at the store started in five minutes. His mom would be waiting for him to switch with her. And of course, she had no idea any of this was happening. He would need to act like everything was normal.

  He flung his dad’s tie onto the bed and sat down next to it. Ten million dollars, up in smoke. But it wasn’t his fault. That task had been impossible. How was he supposed to not get caught when he didn’t even know who he was dealing with or why he was there?

  Would he hear anything from the Benefactor after this? An official “You’re fired” message? Or would everything go to radio silence?

  Colin pulled up his email account on his phone. And sure enough, a message from the Benefactor sat in his inbox.

  Colin,

  You have disappointed us greatly. You failed to plant the listening device at SolarStar. However, you did provide us with a fairly complete picture of the office’s layout. Because of this, we will not disqualify you from the Contest. If you complete your fourth task as instructed, you will receive a two-day suspension and then continue to compete. For now, check the website for your fourth task.

  Colin practically fell down. He was still in the Contest. He pulled up the website on his phone and watched as the contestants’ counters came up.

  He was still ahead. He was on Task 4, and the other three contestants were on 3, 2, and 0. He was good to go. The $10 million could still be his. He couldn’t believe his luck.

  The top of the screen showed his new instructions and time frame.

  TASK 4

  0:58

  You still have the device that you failed to plant at the SolarStar office. Deliver it to the front door of Ana Rivera at 1200 Spring Lake Parkway, Minneapolis, MN.

  Ana Rivera—the same girl he’d sent the snap cutter to. This was a super-easy task, especially compared to the one he’d just failed. Colin knew he should be relieved, and he was. But he was also puzzled. Why was he still in the Contest? The rules had been pretty clear: if you mess up a task, you’re out.

  But there wasn’t time to wonder about it. He had only an hour to get to South Minneapolis. That meant he had to leave now.

  Colin pulled the bug out of his pocket, grabbed a bubble envelope from his desk drawer, and stuffed the bug in. Then he dashed out into the narrow hallway and knocked on his sister’s bedroom door. “Danni, are you in there?”

  “Yeah, loser. What’s up?”

  “Can you cover the first half of my shift?” He felt bad asking. Danni had graduated high school last year, so she worked extra-long hours at the store now while she saved up for college—and for the operation. She didn’t have much time to herself.

  “Why? Where do you need to be?”

  “I left a textbook at school, I have to go back for it. Tell Mom I’m sorry.”

  And then he was rocketing down the stairs, knowing Danni wouldn’t say no. Because either of them would do anything for the store—or for each other.

  *****

  Ana’s house was a mansion. It could literally hold ten buildings the size of his family’s store/apartment. The house stood in the middle of a massive landscaped lawn. Colin had seen forest preserves with fewer plants than this lawn. And the car in the driveway had to be worth a fortune.

  Most important: the mailbox was attached to the house, at the top of a huge flight of steps.

  Colin’s pace slowed as he got closer. The envelope with the bug in it crinkled in his clenched hand. During the bus ride down here, he’d written Ana’s name on it—plus her address, just for good measure. But he knew it still wouldn’t look legit: a random unstamped envelope showing up at four in the afternoon.

  He just hoped he could do this without being seen. He’d just have to run up the stairs, stick the envelope in the mailbox, and run away. Not at all conspicuous, right?

  He was halfway up the steps when the door started to open.

  Crap.

  Colin tossed the package onto the top step, spun around, and sprinted back down the steps. Then before the person stepped out, he dove behind the nearest manicured bush. It was a little sneakier than making a run for it out in the open.

  He heard a disgusted noise from the doorway. “These packages!” A woman’s voice. Definitely annoyed. Colin heard a brief crunching sound.

  Then he heard the door slam and footsteps going down the stairs and over to the driveway. Colin hoped that if he still couldn’t see her, that meant she also couldn’t see him. But he didn’t let out his breath until he heard the car start and then squeal away.

  After another minute, he popped out from behind the bush and went back to his original plan: running like crazy.

  He only paused long enough to notice that the bubble envelope was still lying on the top step. The woman hadn’t moved it. In fact, it looked more crumpled than it had a minute ago. As if she’d stepped on it when she walked past.

  Nice people, these Riveras, Colin thought as he ran.

  When he got to the bus stop, he checked the website on his phone.

 
TASK 4 COMPLETE

  Check back in twenty-four hours for your next task.

  Success. Sort of.

  A two-day suspension would give the other contestants time to catch up to him. But that just meant he’d have to work harder than ever. He could still pull this off. And the Benefactor clearly wanted him to stay in the running.

  He frowned. Why had the Benefactor cut him a break?

  As he waited for the bus, Colin thought over what he’d just done. He’d failed to plant a bug—and now it seemed like it was Ana’s turn to try. Maybe her next task was to put that listening device under Len Steinberg’s desk.

  So that meant these tasks weren’t random. The Benefactor actually wanted them all to be completed. For whatever reason.

  If that was true, maybe the Benefactor didn’t want any of the contestants to fail.

  Which meant this wasn’t actually a contest.

  So what was it?

  CHAPTER 4

  “Hey, loser,” Danni said as Colin walked up to the store’s front counter. “Took you long enough.”

  “Shut up,” Colin said, smiling. Then he added, “Thanks for covering for me.”

  “Sure thing.” Danni was bent low over the counter, studying some printouts, her hair falling over her eyes.

  “Everything go OK today?” Colin asked. He kept his voice casual, but of course Danni would know what he was asking. Did any of the customers give Danni crap? Sometimes people just started insulting her as soon as they saw her or heard her talk. Sometimes they threatened to take their business elsewhere if someone like her was working here. Sometimes it was just the looks—like Danni was a freak of nature or, worse, not natural at all. Colin had seen too many of those looks aimed at Danni when she was just trying to sell people their antifreeze and motor oil.

  “Yeah, work’s been fine.” But she didn’t look up from the printouts. Colin remembered how she hadn’t opened her bedroom door when Colin talked to her earlier, asking her to take part of his shift. Danni didn’t usually avoid eye contact unless she had a reason.