by Stuart Gibbs
“You really are,” Zoe agreed. “So why didn’t you . . . ?”
“Because I think Erica might be right about how relationships mess everything up. If something started between us, what would Erica think? Or Mike? Or Catherine?”
“What’s it matter what anyone else thinks?” Zoe shifted her weight to take aim at Joshua.
“It matters because we’re all on a mission together! We have to work as a team, and things like jealousy can ruin that. Look what happened with you and me and Warren! He went to the dark side because of you! And you and I hadn’t even kissed or anything.”
“Not everyone’s a whack-job like Warren!”
“Even so, relationships can be a problem.”
“I get that, but still . . . Hold steady now.”
That was a tall order on an ATV, but I steered over as flat a piece of road as I could. I felt Zoe’s arm tighten around me as she steadied herself to fire. . . .
And then the world shook. Joshua had fired another explosive, which detonated only a few feet from us, tearing a date palm to shreds. The concussion of the blast sent us skidding wildly, caroming off a tree on the opposite side of the road. The speargun flew from Zoe’s grasp, tumbled to the ground, and was crushed beneath the wheels of Joshua’s ATV.
Joshua grinned evilly and raised his hand toward us, planning for another shot.
I cut hard to the right just as he fired. The explosive roared past us, close enough that we could feel the heat, and then blew up a stand of coconut trees. The coconuts then rocketed through the air at disturbing speeds, given that they all weighed as much as bowling balls, crashing through the vegetation like incoming meteors.
The roar of another engine cut through the air behind us. Murray Hill had joined the chase—and he had acquired an even bigger, more souped-up ATV than we had. It was faster and far more rugged than ours, which was good for Murray, because Murray was the worst driver I had ever met. When we’d been at evil spy school together, he could hardly back a car out of the driveway without getting into an accident. Now he barely seemed to be in control of his ATV at all, banging off trees on both sides of the road and going right over every obstacle in his path, rather than around them. None of them stopped him, though. They were all flattened beneath his massive wheels.
Thus, he was bearing down on us quickly. I had already feared it would be nearly impossible to ditch Joshua and his explosive hand, but now, with Murray and his juggernaut of an ATV in the mix, escaping the bad guys no longer seemed to be a likely option. I needed to think of something else, and I needed to think of it fast.
If that wasn’t bad enough, a crowd of Farkles appeared directly in our path.
The road widened into a large clearing with dozens of ATVs parked along the sides. The Farkles were all clustered in the center, their fluorescent shirts blinding in the bright sunshine. For some reason, even though they were in the middle of the jungle, they all carried snorkels and diving masks. Instead of scattering out of our way, they remained in a clump like a bunch of startled cattle and desperately signaled that we needed to stop before we ran over them.
Only, I couldn’t stop. Because if I did, Joshua and Murray would catch up to me, kill me, and then destroy Antarctica. So I signaled to them even more desperately that they needed to move.
I didn’t have a chance to look back at our pursuers. Zoe was doing that for me. Now she shouted in my ear, “Joshua’s going to fire again!”
Which meant I had to change direction. Only, I couldn’t do that, either, as we were surrounded by ATVs, and any abrupt changes in direction would merely result in us crashing into one of them. So I had no choice but to go forward and hope that the Farkles would disperse and that Joshua would misfire.
At which point, I suddenly realized why the Farkles all had snorkel gear in the middle of the jungle. The revelation was equally terrifying and exciting, because it meant there might be a way out of my predicament—but it was going to be dangerous.
I gunned the engine and raced forward at top speed.
The Farkles finally seemed to grasp that I wasn’t going to stop. Now they scattered like chickens, everyone going a different direction at once, desperate to get out of my way.
I took the detonator and flung it as high over my head as I could. It sailed a good twenty feet up into the sky.
“What are you . . . ?” Zoe started to ask, but she didn’t get to finish the thought, because I wrapped my arms around her and dove off the ATV.
We hit the ground hard and rolled over each other through the dirt until we came to a painful stop, Zoe splayed on top of me. Our faces were only inches apart, and if the fate of the world hadn’t been in the balance, it might have been a potentially romantic moment. But the fate of the world was in the balance, and, as such, there were many other things to concentrate on.
As I’d hoped, my seemingly desperate and potentially stupid decision to throw the detonator in the air had distracted Joshua for a few key seconds. He had forgotten about shooting us to focus on the detonator instead.
He had also forgotten about watching the road ahead of him.
As the last of the Farkles scattered out of the way, they revealed what they had all been clustered around: the entrance to a cenote. A gaping hole sat smack in the center of the clearing, ten feet in diameter. A ladder descended into it to give the tourists access, but other than that, it was a straight drop down into the cave below.
Our ATV plunged right through the hole, taking out the ladder on the way. I couldn’t see into the cenote from my angle on the ground, but given how long it took before I heard the ATV crash, I could deduce it was approximately a fifty-foot drop to the bottom.
Joshua was still watching his precious detonator instead of the road in front of him. It was far too late when he finally saw the hole dead ahead. His remaining eye went wide in terror, and then he bailed out. Only, he didn’t have enough time. His own inertia kept him tumbling behind his ATV. It dropped through the hole, and he went right in after it.
Almost.
At the last second, he snagged a tree root with his metal hand. Instead of falling into the cenote, he wound up dangling from the rim of it.
“Help!” Joshua yelped. “Somebody help me!” Now that he was in trouble, he sounded like Paul Lee usually did: timid, meek, and scared.
Zoe and I raced toward the cenote, but Murray beat us there. He parked his ATV on the edge and clambered off it. The several pounds of bacon he had consumed since arriving in Mexico had already taken its toll on him. Even though it was only a few steps to where Joshua dangled, Murray was winded by the time he got there. I might have been able to take him in a fair fight, but Murray never fought fair. Instead, he aimed a gun at us. “Stay right there!” he warned.
Zoe and I froze. We were on the far side of the hole from Murray and Joshua, close enough to see into the cenote, but too far away to do anything.
Joshua hung from the root directly below where Murray stood, clinging on for dear life with his metal hand. Far below him was a small island of rock surrounded by clear water. The ATVs had crashed onto the island, and the fall hadn’t been good to them. It was evident that falling wouldn’t be good for Joshua, either.
Somehow, Joshua had managed to catch the detonator as he’d fallen into the hole. Thankfully, his grip wasn’t great on it—he only held the antenna between two fingers of his good hand—so he couldn’t push the button. But he had still prevented it from smashing on the rocks below. Which was a problem for us. Joshua had a more pressing problem, however: His metal hand was slipping off the roots.
“Murray!” he exclaimed. “Quick! Help me up!”
Murray looked down at him and grinned. “What’s it worth to you?”
“You’re negotiating with me?” Joshua squawked. “Now? My life is on the line!”
“What better time is there to negotiate?” Murray asked. “I expect you’d do exactly the same thing. So tell me . . . what’s your life worth to you? Fifty percent of wha
t SPYDER is about to make on this deal?”
“That’d be billions of dollars!” Joshua cried. Even as he said it, though, his fingers slipped a little more.
“You’re running out of time,” Murray told him.
“You dirty rat!” Zoe yelled at Murray. “Don’t you realize how many people will die if this happens?”
“Can it,” Murray warned, then looked back down at Joshua. “I’m waiting.”
“Fine!” Joshua exclaimed. “If you help me out of here, I’ll give you fifty percent of everything we earn!”
“You promise?” Murray asked.
“I promise!” Joshua said. “Now help me!”
Murray lay flat on the ground and reached down toward Joshua with his right hand, keeping the gun trained on us with his left.
Joshua’s hand slipped a little bit more on the roots. “Hurry,” he whined.
“There’s just one problem with this deal,” Murray told him.
“A problem?” Joshua asked, even more fear creeping into his voice.
“Your promises aren’t worth squat,” Murray said coldly. “You tried to kill me, Joshua. And that’s not the first time you’ve double-crossed me. So I’m sure that, even if I did save you right now, you’d only double-cross me again.”
Joshua shook his head wildly. “No! Not this time, Murray! I swear it!”
“Sorry,” Murray said. “The trouble with being evil is that no one can trust you. And you’re as evil as they come, pal. So you deserve what’s coming to you.”
The roots Joshua was hanging on to snapped. Joshua screamed in terror and dropped into the darkness.
Zoe and I quickly averted our eyes, but even the sound of Joshua hitting the bottom was enough to make us wince.
“Owwwwwww!” he wailed. “My leg! I broke my other leg! And my other arm!”
I realized I was holding Zoe’s hand again. I figured I had grabbed it at some point during our tense standoff, but I didn’t remember doing it. I didn’t bother letting go, and neither did Zoe.
I chanced a look into the cenote. Joshua was alive, but in bad shape and serious pain. Though I found it very hard to feel bad for him. He was now bawling like a toddler.
A few feet away from him, the detonator was in several pieces, busted on the rocks from the fall.
“I hate you!” Joshua yelled up at us. “I hate you all! You have thwarted my plans for the last time, you hear me? Revenge will be mine!”
“Aw, put a sock in it,” Murray said.
And then three dozen commandos emerged from the trees, aiming their guns at us.
21
BARGAINING
Blue Moon Cenote
Somewhere in the jungle
Quintana Roo, Mexico
March 30
1000 hours
I could tell by their uniforms that the commandos were from the Mexican army.
The Farkles, who had all been on the edge of panic throughout the entire ordeal, promptly freaked out. Most dropped to their knees and begged for mercy, but quite a few simply passed out. Edna Farkle was one of the few who kept her wits. “WE ARE NOT CRIMINALS!” she announced at the top of her voice. “PLEASE DO NOT SHOOT US, MUCHACHOS!”
The commandos didn’t say a word. However, they did appear a bit confused. It seemed they had been expecting something more formidable than a bunch of Farkles.
“Whoa whoa whoa!” a familiar voice yelled. Cyrus Hale raced out of the jungle, dressed in army fatigues himself, waving his arms desperately to get the commandos’ attention. “These are not the bad guys!” he explained in perfect Spanish, then pointed to Zoe and me. “These are our agents.”
The leader of the commando squad looked to him curiously. “Them? They are children.”
“Junior agents,” Cyrus corrected, then pointed at Murray. “Him, I’m not so sure about. Keep your eye on that one.”
The commandos all shifted their guns toward Murray.
Murray quickly dropped his. “I come in peace,” he said in English.
Behind Cyrus, Alexander Hale emerged from the trees, along with Erica. Erica was in surprisingly good shape, given that she had fought several opponents that morning. There were a few bruises on her arms, but otherwise, she might have just spent a day at the beach. I noticed relief in her eyes when she saw I was alive—and then what might have been a tiny flicker of annoyance when she saw Zoe and I were holding hands.
Zoe caught this too. She immediately released my hand and tried to act like she’d never been holding it in the first place.
Alexander looked as dapper as usual, in a bespoke three-piece suit, which was completely the wrong choice of clothing for the jungle. The patches under his armpits were already soaked with sweat. “Hello, kids!” he said, waving to Zoe and me. “You can relax! The cavalry has arrived! We’ve got everything under control!”
“It was already under control!” I exclaimed, unable to suppress my exasperation. “Where were you guys five minutes ago when we needed you?”
Alexander assessed the situation and realized that it was, in fact, under control. “Oh,” he said. “Well, we had a little problem . . .”
“Getting into the country,” Cyrus said quickly. “It’s not easy to arrange an incursion into a foreign nation on short notice. Especially when you’re trying to keep it a secret from your own agency.”
“Plus, Dad got lost on the way here,” Alexander said.
“I wasn’t lost!” Cyrus snapped.
“Face it, you were,” Alexander chided, then looked to us. “He always refuses to use the GPS in the rental cars. . . .”
“Any technology like that can be easily corrupted by enemy agents!” Cyrus argued.
“Anyhow,” Erica said, before they could continue bickering, “Late or not, they’re here now. I updated them on SPYDER’s plans while en route, and our friends from the military here have taken Ashley, Warren, Dane, and the other bodyguards into custody. Where’s Joshua?”
“At the bottom of this cenote, along with the detonator,” I reported. “Both are pretty badly broken. Joshua needs a doctor. . . .”
“Quickly!” Joshua moaned from inside the cenote. “I’m in terrible pain!”
“Serves you right!” Zoe yelled down into the hole.
The commando leader apparently understood English. He shouted orders to his men, who immediately snapped into action. Half set about getting into the cenote, while the other half started rounding up the Farkles. The Farkles weren’t in trouble; it simply made sense to get them out of there. The Farkles didn’t grasp this, though, and they started to panic again.
“YOU CAN’T ARREST US,” Edna Farkle explained at the top of her voice. “WE ARE AMERICANS!”
The commando leader himself stayed where he was and kept his gun trained on Murray.
Another ATV arrived. Mike was driving this one, with Catherine Hale riding on the back. Catherine was dressed for a day at the beach in a stylish sundress, although she had two bandoliers of ammunition across her chest and a semiautomatic rifle slung over her shoulder. “Cheerio!” she called out. “Excellent work, children! I see that everything worked out as we’d hoped. . . .” She trailed off, having noticed Alexander, who was gaping at her in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “Hello, Alexander. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Catherine?” Alexander gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Just getting a bit of sun,” Catherine replied, somewhat weakly.
“With a semiautomatic rifle?” Alexander pressed.
“It’s to scare off the iguanas,” Catherine said. Then she frowned, not so much at her lame excuse, but because she’d had to make it in the first place. Her features hardened as she appeared to make a decision. “Actually, the truth is, I’m a spy for MI6.”
Alexander looked even more startled than before. He began to blabber like Paul Lee. “You? But you . . . er . . . I . . . well . . . um . . . So . . . that gun isn’t for the iguanas?”
“No. It was for SPYDER,” Catherine said. “I
’ve been working with Erica and her friends to defeat them, seeing as your own agency was compromised.”
Cyrus was staring at Catherine himself, looking more angry at her than astonished. “How long have you been a spy?” he demanded.
“As long as I’ve known you,” Catherine replied a bit sheepishly.
“C’mon, Grandpa,” Erica said. “You don’t think I got this good just by learning from you?”
“You told me you were a florist!” Alexander said to Catherine accusingly.
“I had to,” Catherine explained. “It was my cover.”
“I had a cover too,” Alexander said petulantly. “But I didn’t keep the truth a secret from you.”
“You were probably supposed to, though, weren’t you?” Catherine asked.
“Er . . . yes,” Alexander agreed, reddening around the ears. “I guess so.”
By now, all the Farkles had been rounded up and were being herded back down the road toward the resort. “I PAID FOR A SNORKEL TRIP TO A CENOTE!” Edna Farkle proclaimed. “I HAD BETTER GET A REFUND FOR THIS, OR I WILL WRITE A VERY BAD REVIEW ONLINE. COMPRENDE?”
Meanwhile, the commandos tasked with recovering Joshua Hallal had rigged a rope over the edge of the cenote and were preparing to rappel down into it.
Zoe looked at Erica accusingly. “You didn’t really sacrifice yourself for us at all, did you?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?” Erica replied.
“Back at the villa,” I said. “When Zoe and Mike had been taken hostage. You only wanted SPYDER to think they had caught you, right? Because you were planning to switch the detonators all along. Otherwise, why would you have even had the decoy on you?”
Mike now caught on as well. “That was all planned out?” he asked Catherine. “Your shot at SPYDER’s yacht with that grenade was just a diversion for Erica? You wouldn’t have missed them unless you wanted to.”
Catherine didn’t say anything. But a coy smile played across her face.
“You weren’t looking out for us at all!” Zoe said accusingly to Erica. “You were only using our capture to further your plans!”
“Plans to stop SPYDER from destroying a good portion of earth,” Erica reminded her. “Which worked, I’d like to point out.”