by Stuart Gibbs
1600 hours
Murray Hill was locked up in the academy’s relatively new jail for students, which had been built inside the Cheney Center for the Acquisition of Information. The reason the jail was relatively new was that, until recently, no one had believed there was any need for it. Everyone had felt that, even if a kid under eighteen had been devious enough to commit a serious crime against the country, then a standard juvenile detention center would have been good enough to hold them.
That hadn’t been the case with Murray Hill.
SPYDER had sprung him from state custody twice. Therefore, the academy jail had been built, although Murray wasn’t one of the original prisoners. (He had still been at large at the time.) The originals had been two students from SPYDER’s training center for future evil agents: Nefarious Jones, who was still imprisoned, and Ashley Sparks, who had escaped.
The new jail also served as a school, providing Nefarious and Murray with classes specifically tailored for them, such as “Why You Should Defect from SPYDER and Help Us Defeat Them” and “Informing on the Enemy 101.” I hadn’t seen Murray since he had been incarcerated, but I’d heard through the grapevine that the classes weren’t working. This was quickly confirmed by Cyrus Hale, Erica’s grandfather, as he led Erica and me through the center.
“The little dirtbag hasn’t said one useful thing the whole time he’s been here,” Cyrus groused. “No matter what we’ve tried.”
“Even torture?” Erica asked.
“The CIA isn’t allowed to use torture anymore,” Cyrus replied testily, like this was a bad thing. Cyrus was a talented spy, but, like Erica, he wasn’t much of a people person. He was gruff and curt on a good day—and this obviously wasn’t a good day. “But then, there are plenty of other approved techniques. We’re not exactly making the kid comfortable down here.”
“So what are you doing?” I asked.
“Standard procedure for prisoners who refuse to cooperate. Reduced sleeping hours. No TV or any other perks. Only vitamin-enhanced gruel and water to eat.”
“No junk food?” I asked. “Murray’s the least-healthy person I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure he’s never eaten a vegetable unless it was garnishing a hamburger. Without junk food, I’m surprised he lasted a day without saying anything, let alone a month.”
“Oh, he said plenty,” Cyrus muttered. “The kid never shuts up for a second. Problem is, none of it’s useful. It’s all just hot air and banana oil.”
We arrived at a door flanked by two guards. Both snapped to attention when they saw Cyrus, but glanced at Erica and me warily.
“They’re with me,” Cyrus said.
The guards obediently stepped aside. One entered a code into a keypad, and the door clicked open. Cyrus led us through it into the incarceration area. The two cells sat side by side, with a narrow corridor for us to stand in.
Nefarious Jones was in the first cell, just as he’d been the last time I’d visited. In fact, Nefarious was in the exact same spot where I’d last seen him. He was seated on his cot, facing the large-screen TV that had been a reward for his turning in evidence against SPYDER. He was playing video games, as usual, surrounded by a dozen empty bags of Cheetos. Now that I thought about it, Nefarious ate even worse than Murray. Cheetos were his primary food source—and possibly his only one. The area around his mouth was bright orange from Cheeto dust. He looked like he had a radioactive goatee.
“Hey, Nefarious,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“Mneh,” Nefarious replied, which was actually rather communicative for Nefarious. He simply ignored most people.
“Is that Ben Ripley?” Murray Hill called from the next cell over. “Don’t waste your time talking to that that gamer freak. You might as well talk to a turnip. C’mon over and say hello.”
I continued down the corridor . . . and stopped in shock before Murray’s cell.
Erica did too. And Erica wasn’t easily shocked.
Murray looked like an entirely different person. The whole time I’d known him, he’d been an out-of-shape slob: He had a potbelly, a permanent slouch, and the stamina of a koala bear; his hair was oily, his skin was greasy, and his clothes were usually so covered with food stains that they looked like Jackson Pollock paintings. But now, Murray was trim, fit, and a good twenty pounds lighter. His hair was cut short and even appeared to have been washed in the past day, revealing eyes that were much brighter than I remembered. His belly was now flat as a tabletop—and he had muscles. They weren’t huge, but still, they were on display, as Murray was doing push-ups. Murray Hill, who had always acted as though the simple act of sitting up straight was exhausting, was exercising.
“Erica!” he exclaimed upon seeing her. “Glad to see you’re here too. Not that I would have expected you to let Ben visit solo. I mean, big things are about to happen, and I know you want to be a part of them.” He sprang to his feet in a smooth and distinctly un-Murray-like movement, then began doing jumping jacks.
“Hello, Murray,” Erica said. She was trying to speak with her usual reserved cool, but she was obviously still caught off guard.
Murray picked up on this too. “Checking out my new bod? Well, not new, I guess. Technically, it’s the same body I’ve always had, but now it’s been tuned up, courtesy of the CIA.” He grinned at Cyrus. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Agent Hale. I’ll admit, for the first day or two, after you locked me down here with nothing to eat but pig slop and absolute zero in terms of mental stimulation, I was not a happy camper. Which I suppose was the point. But after a while, I realized that moping around feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to get me anywhere. So I decided to make the best of my situation. I asked the guards for some exercise tips and started working out, and I have to tell you, this has been an incredible month. As your granddaughter noticed, I’m in the peak physical condition of my life, my skin has cleared up, I feel fantastic—and mentally, I’m even better.” He returned his attention to Erica and me. “I’ve taken up yoga, mindfulness, and tantric meditation. It’s amazing. I feel like I’ve really gotten in touch with the real me.”
“The real you is a backstabbing sleazeball,” I said.
“The old me was a backstabbing sleazeball,” Murray corrected. “Also a money-grubbing jerk and an all-around schmuck. But I’ve changed. I know you won’t believe this, but I am truly sorry for my behavior.”
“I don’t believe it,” Erica and I said simultaneously.
“I deserve that,” Murray said, sounding genuinely upset. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I am sorry. The way I behaved to you both was very bad.”
“You tried to kill us,” I pointed out. “On multiple occasions.”
“Okay, the way I behaved was worse than very bad. It was terrible. Horrible.”
“Reprehensible,” Erica suggested. “Repugnant. Odious. Loathsome. Abhorrent. Subhuman.”
“Those too,” Murray agreed. “My experience here has allowed me to realize that. I put my own well-being ahead of yours, and while that seemed like a good idea at the time, it wasn’t very smart from a karmic perspective. So . . . I want to atone. I want to do something good for both of you to make up for all the awful things I’ve done.” He stopped his jumping jacks and gave us a big grin, revealing the gold tooth that had replaced one of his front incisors. “What if I gave you SPYDER? For real this time.”
I took a step back, stunned. Then I looked at Erica, unsure what to believe. She looked at her grandfather in turn.
If Cyrus was caught by surprise, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave Erica a slight nod, indicating he thought this might be on the level.
“How?” Erica asked Murray.
“I’ll put the whole organization in a box, stick a bow on it, and then leave it under your Christmas tree,” Murray said sarcastically. “How do you think I’ll give it to you? I’ll take you to where everyone who runs SPYDER is hiding out.”
My astonishment grew even greater. I had been expecting Murray to give us a few names
, at most. And here he was, offering to hand over the entire organization.
Cyrus immediately became skeptical. “For the past month, you’ve told the inquisitors you didn’t have the slightest idea where SPYDER was holed up. And now, just like that, you’ve changed your mind?”
“First of all, the inquisitors never asked nicely,” Murray said. “Secondly, I have seen the error of my ways. And I can prove it with two words: Adam Zarembok.”
Cyrus blinked at him, confused. “Who’s Adam Zarembok?”
“He’s a sixth-year student here,” Erica replied. “Weak on self-defense, but otherwise scores top marks all around. Well-respected. President of his class. Has a work-study job with the school administration.”
“He’s also a mole for SPYDER,” Murray said. “And has been for the past two years. If you toss his room, you’ll find a trove of top secret documents he’s stolen from the school.”
Cyrus looked to Erica. “Is he on your radar?”
“No,” Erica admitted. “But you might as well check it out.”
Cyrus strode to the door and told the guards stationed there, “Get a team to Zarembok’s room right now and search it thoroughly. If you find anything suspicious, call me.”
One guard saluted and hustled off, leaving the second on duty.
Meanwhile, Murray grabbed a pipe that hung from the ceiling and began doing chin-ups. “It’s not a question of if he finds anything. It’s when. Zarembok’s dirty. Just like I used to be. And he’s only a little fish. I’m offering you the whole organization.”
Cyrus returned from the door. His skepticism had faded significantly. “You’re really willing to take us to your leaders?”
“Not you.” Since his hands were occupied, Murray pointed to Erica and me with his feet. “Them. And only them. No one else from the CIA comes along. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“I can’t send two kids to face SPYDER, and you know it,” Cyrus said.
“Well I can’t bring a whole brigade of CIA agents,” Murray returned. “And you know that. This needs to be a stealth operation, not the D-day invasion. Plus, the CIA is crawling with double agents. If you alert too many people, one of those scumbags will tip SPYDER off before we even get out the door. Now, if the dynamic duo here wants to call in the cavalry after I’ve shown them where SPYDER is, that’s up to them.” He looked toward Erica and me. “However you crazy kids want to handle this is your business.”
“Why us?” I asked.
Murray paused in the midst of a chin-up to look at me curiously. “What do you mean?”
“If you really want to bring SPYDER down, why not take two pros?” I clarified. “Like Agent Hale here and whoever he wants to bring along?”
“Because I don’t like Agent Hale here, and I’m sure I’d like whoever he wants to bring along even less.” Murray dropped to the floor and approached the bars of his cell. After his chin-ups, his newfound muscles were bulging. “But I like you, Ben. Before you knew I was working for the bad guys, we were friends.” He shifted his attention to Erica. “As for you, I have to admit, I always respected you. You might have treated me like pond scum, but I deserved it. I did you guys wrong, so you’re the ones I’m looking out for now.”
“Both of us?” Erica asked skeptically. “I heard you only wanted to speak to Ben.”
“I wanted to speak to both of you,” Murray insisted. “But I knew Ben wouldn’t be allowed to see me unless I demanded it. Furthermore, I know Ben won’t agree to go on any mission without you. You’re a team. A good one. Possibly the best at the CIA—even if the CIA won’t admit it. That’s about to change, though. I’ll help bring SPYDER down—but I want both of you to get the credit for it, not anyone else.”
I glanced at Erica, expecting her to say something like It doesn’t matter who gets the credit for bringing down SPYDER. All that matters is bringing SPYDER down.
But she didn’t say anything like that. She didn’t say anything, period. She just gave Murray a hard stare. Only, there was a tiny glint of excitement in it.
Murray had struck a nerve with her, and he knew it. He leaned against the bars now, selling his plan. “Both of you have helped thwart SPYDER four times now, and how much credit has the CIA given you? Zip. Nada. The big old goose egg. The first time, your own daddy stole the credit, Erica. The next three, they kept everything a secret and swept your contributions under the carpet.” He shifted his attention to me. “Yeah, you got a medal from the president last time, but that was only public relations. The CIA had to cover its butt after letting you take the fall for blowing up the White House. And even then, you only got credit for saving the president, not thwarting SPYDER.” His eyes flicked back to Erica. “Which is still more credit than you got, Hot Stuff. As smart as Ben is, he would have been dead ten times over without your mad skills. You’ve bailed him out of trouble time and time again, and for what? You know more than most teachers here, and they still only consider you a spy-in-training. Well, once you give them SPYDER on a silver platter, that won’t be the case anymore. So what do you say? Are we a team?”
Erica said, “I’m not committing to anything until I know how this plan of yours works.”
“It’s simple. The CIA has lots of aircraft at its disposal, right? All we need is a small private jet, one capable of traveling a few thousand miles—and with an in-flight entertainment system of some sort. ’Cause I’ve had nothing to watch except mold growing on cinder blocks for the past month, and that story line has gotten very boring. You guys covertly spring me from this lockup, the three of us fly to where SPYDER is hiding out, I point them out to you, and you take it from there. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“Not exactly,” Cyrus grumbled. “I’m guessing this plan of yours doesn’t entail your making a round trip back here.”
Murray acted surprised, as if this hadn’t even occurred to him. “Now that you mention it, Agent Hale, it does seem like my freedom might be a nice reward for helping engineer the capture of the most ruthless and cunning group of enemies this country has ever had.”
“No dice,” Cyrus said. “You’ve committed too many crimes to walk.”
Murray shrugged. “Fine. Be that way. Good luck finding SPYDER on your own.” He dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups again.
“We’re done here,” Cyrus told Erica and me, then walked out of the incarceration area.
Erica and I hurried after him. Nefarious didn’t even glance at us as we passed his cell. He was still riveted to his video game.
“Nice seeing you guys!” Murray called out cheerfully. “Feel free to drop by again next time you’re in the neighborhood!”
We caught up to Cyrus in the hall outside the cell block. “What do you think you’re doing?” Erica asked him.
“Putting the kibosh on this.” Cyrus kept walking at a fast clip through the Cheney Center. For a man in his seventies, he was in excellent shape. “That kid has committed serious crimes against this country. I’m not about to let him go free.”
“He’s offering us SPYDER,” Erica said heatedly. “Not just the low-level schmoes we’ve caught before. The people who run the organization. If we get them, then SPYDER dies once and for all—and all the chaos and mayhem they cause ends too.”
“If they’re not ten steps ahead of us, as usual,” Cyrus muttered. “I’m not sending you into the lion’s den with only Ben as backup. The kid might be smart, but he has the survival skills of a potato bug.”
“Um . . . ,” I said. “I’m right here.”
“We won’t do anything on our own,” Erica said. “We’ll simply confirm SPYDER’s location, radio it back to you, and keep a close eye on them while you bring in the big guns.”
“It won’t be that simple,” Cyrus warned. “Things never are with SPYDER.”
“It’s a babysitting operation. I can handle it, Grandpa, and you know it.”
Cyrus scratched the stubble on his chin, mulling this over. I knew that, despite his concern for Eri
ca, he valued her skills more highly than most other spies at the agency. After all, he was the one who’d taught them to her. “I still don’t like the idea of that weasel in there getting a Get Out of Jail Free card.”
“So we don’t free him,” Erica said with a smile. “We tell him we will, but then we sack him with the rest of SPYDER.”
“You want to go back on your word with him?” I asked.
“It’s exactly what he’d do to us,” Erica replied. “In fact, he has done it to us. Too many times to count.”
“What’s to say he isn’t double-crossing us now?” I asked. “What if this whole thing is a setup?”
“It’s possible,” Cyrus conceded. “Let’s see how this Adam Zarembok thing shakes out. If Murray is really willing to expose a mole SPYDER has spent years developing, then I’d say he’s definitely turned against them. In fact, he’ll need us to take SPYDER down, because once they find out he’s fingered someone, they’ll want him dead.”
We passed out of the Cheney Center and into the maze of subterranean tunnels beneath the academy. The entire network was designed to be as confusing as possible. There was no signage, and all the exits were cleverly concealed. However, Cyrus moved through it without hesitation. He and Erica were probably the only people who knew their way around it without a map. Our own principal had once been lost down there for two days.
“So if Murray has really turned, this mission is a go?” Erica asked.
Cyrus fixed Erica with a stony gaze as we walked. “Tell me you’re not only doing this for the credit,” he said. “I saw the look on your face when that snake-oil salesman gave you his spiel. I know the CIA hasn’t given you what you deserve, but you can’t get into this game looking for glory. Once you start putting yourself ahead of the mission, things go south fast. If you need any evidence, look at your father.”
“It’s not about the credit,” Erica assured him. “It’s about getting SPYDER. That’s it.”
Cyrus considered Erica a little longer, then nodded. “All right. If Zarembok is really a mole, you’re on. We’ll let Murray sweat it out in there another couple hours, though. Make him think we really have nixed this thing. Then we cut a deal on our terms and send you guys in.”