The Deceivers

by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  “Now, shh,” Other-Natalie said, placing a finger over her lips. “We have to be quiet once we’re up the stairs.”

  All five of them began to climb the twisting stairs. Everything looked unfinished around them, the wall beams and floor joists completely exposed. Then, at the top, the kids crept through the narrow space carved between the walls of the rooms that had seemed so familiar to Natalie before.

  Just something else about this house that seems like mine—but isn’t, Natalie told herself.

  Even without a blindfold on this time, Natalie still got turned around in the maze-like passageway. But when they reached a numbered keypad on the wall, she whispered a guess: “That’s where you punched in the code to get into your mother’s office before, right?”

  “But that door’s already open!” Finn pointed to the metal door right ahead of them, which was only almost fully closed.

  Other-Natalie shrugged.

  “Mom changes her codes a lot,” she said. “She’s really paranoid. I knew I’d be back soon, so I left it ajar. Now, shh. Even whispering might be too much once we’re through that door.”

  She swung the door completely open, and they all crowded into the small space ahead. It looked no different from the secret passageway they’d been in before the keypad—except that a pile of backpacks lay in the middle of the dark floor. Emma dashed over to the computer hanging haphazardly from the top backpack and hugged it tight.

  “It’s here!” Emma exulted, clearly forgetting Other-Natalie’s warning about the need for quiet.

  Behind her, Chess and Finn snatched up their backpacks as well. Sheepishly, Natalie picked up the computer she’d borrowed from Other-Natalie’s room.

  “I was going to return this,” she apologized, handing it to the other girl. “We weren’t going to take it out of the house.”

  “Good thing, because you would have been caught immediately, anywhere on our grounds,” Other-Natalie said grimly.

  She’s not joking, Natalie thought, her heart pounding. She wanted Other-Natalie to know how careful they’d been: “But we—” She broke off because suddenly there was a thud from the other side of the wall: a door slamming shut in the Judge’s office. And then someone talking:

  “I just confirmed it. The worst rumor of all.”

  This was Almost-Grandma’s voice. Somehow, hearing the voice without seeing a face—or seeing some ridiculous costume or dress that Natalie’s own grandmother never would have worn—made Natalie flip back to thinking once again of Real-Grandma. Kind Grandma. She put her hand over her mouth, as if that could hold back the pain. Or at least any audible sobs.

  “Oh, you think there’s a ‘worst’?” This was the Judge, but without seeing her cold, cold eyes, Natalie could only picture her own mother. “Aren’t all the rumors horrible?”

  That was the tone Mom used when she was not just tired, but weary—worn out by the cruel injustices she tried to right.

  But the Judge is all about being cruel, and creating injustices, not fixing them, Natalie reminded herself. She’s like . . . the mirror image of Mom. The evil version. The Judge is probably upset about something good.

  Emma clutched Natalie’s arm and whispered, “Is she going to tell the Judge about us?”

  Natalie looked around for somewhere to run, but of course there was nowhere else to go. And running would be noisy. Natalie crouched and put her arms around Emma and Finn, holding them still. She felt Chess’s hand on her shoulder.

  At least we’re all in this together. . . .

  She turned and saw Other-Natalie still standing, a clear gap between her and the other kids.

  Natalie reached out and grabbed Other-Natalie’s hand, too.

  From the other side of the wall, Almost-Grandma let out a bitter laugh that was nothing like any sound Real-Grandma had ever made. Real-Grandma had never been bitter about anything.

  “Yes, each rumor we hear is worse than the last,” Almost-Grandma agreed with the Judge. “So is each truth we hunt down. But this . . . Susanna, your enemies have a woman in captivity who is said to look exactly like you. And now my sources have seen her and . . . it’s true. She is your exact double.”

  It was all Natalie could do not to scream, “Mom! They’ve found Mom! She’s alive!”

  Emma tilted her head back and beamed at Natalie. She pointed toward the wall and mouthed what might have been the words “her enemies!” Then she pointed at Natalie and held two thumbs up.

  Oh, she’s saying that the Judge’s enemies would be our friends? Natalie wondered. So if the Judge’s enemies have Mom, that means she’s in good hands?

  She nodded at Emma but didn’t return the grin. There was that word, “captivity.”

  Natalie leaned closer to the wall, listening more intently.

  “If that’s true, we don’t have to guess where this woman came from,” the Judge said, her bitter tone matching Almost-Grandma’s. “Or what they plan to do with her. Is she cooperating?”

  “Apparently she’s injured,” Almost-Grandma said. “Because she fought back when she was captured.”

  Of course, Natalie thought. Mom would have fought back. She would have fought as hard as she could to reach Natalie after the original tunnel between the worlds collapsed and all the kids made it to safety, but Mom . . . didn’t. Natalie didn’t like to think about it, but it was almost impossible that the police in this awful world hadn’t caught Mom.

  But wouldn’t the police have been on the same side as the Judge? Wouldn’t the Judge have known about Mom two weeks ago, as soon as we lost her?

  Once again, Natalie was getting dizzy trying to sort out good and bad in this messed-up world. Or maybe it was just the worry over her mom that made her head spin.

  “Would that woman’s injuries prevent her from carrying out our enemies’ plans?” the Judge asked. “Does she want to help them?”

  “Our information is incomplete.” Almost-Grandma sounded impatient, as if she hated not knowing things for sure. Grandma had been like that, too. “Either she had a head injury that’s left her incapacitated or . . . she’s being kept so sedated that she’s not aware of anything.”

  Oh, Mom, Natalie thought, her heart aching all over again.

  “Neither would prevent our enemies’ plans,” the Judge mused.

  “So we kidnap this woman before our enemies can strike, right?” Almost-Grandma said, as casually as if she were talking about buying groceries.

  “Exactly,” the Judge said.

  Natalie jerked her head back so quickly she barely managed to avoid hitting it against the wall. She tightened her grip on Finn and Emma. Chess tightened his grip on her shoulder, too. Emma began another pantomime, and though Natalie couldn’t follow the wild gestures, she knew exactly what Emma was saying, because it was exactly what Natalie was already thinking:

  We have to stop this.

  “We will,” Other-Natalie whispered. Clearly she understood Emma’s charades, too. “I know what to do.”

  Forty-Eight

  Natalie

  As soon as the kids heard the Judge and Almost-Grandma leave, Other-Natalie rushed through yet another secret door into her mother’s office.

  “I’ll be right back—I need Mom’s computer,” she explained.

  And then Natalie was alone with the Greystones.

  “Guys,” she whispered. “About Other-Natalie. She really is—”

  “I like her,” Finn said, snuggling close. “I can tell she’s only pretending to be mean sometimes. Like you did when you first met us, Natalie.” He giggled. “I know identical twins at school, Jamil and Ahmed, and they’re not even as much alike as you and Other-Natalie!”

  “I—”

  But then Other-Natalie was back, holding the Judge’s laptop under her arm while she typed in the code on yet another keypad, to close off the secret door into the office.

  “Everything’s on Mom’s computer,” she said, sinking to the floor alongside the other kids. “Her email, texts, transcribed au
dio . . . If she issues any commands from her phone to do something with your mom, we’ll see it here.” She flashed a confident grin. “And we can counter it.”

  She opened the laptop and turned it on.

  Finn sniffed. “Did you stop for lunch in your mom’s office?” he asked hopefully. “You smell like spaghetti now!”

  Other-Natalie pressed her hands to her face. “No, I . . . It’s my hands, okay? Because I touched the keypads. Mom puts . . . smelly stuff on them sometimes. To warn other people away.”

  Natalie gasped.

  “Garlic, cilantro, and onion,” she whispered. “Because I bet your dad’s allergic to those things. Just like my dad is. They always make him cough.”

  Other-Natalie stared down at the laptop balanced on her knees, as if she didn’t want to meet Natalie’s gaze.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “So the Judge is the only one who uses the secret passageways?” Chess asked. “And maybe your dad doesn’t even know about them?”

  Other-Natalie shook her head wildly.

  “No, he has secret passageways, too,” she said bitterly. “Just different ones.” The corners of her mouth twitched up, but it didn’t really seem like a smile. “The two sets of passageways only connect in a few places. Want to know what Dad smears on the keypads leading to his secret corridors and stairways? Cat pee.”

  All three of the Greystones looked stunned. Then Emma muttered, “Because your mom’s allergic to cats. Whoa.”

  Just like my mom was allergic to the Greystones’ cat, Rocket, Natalie thought. She remembered deciding that she didn’t want to break the news to Other-Natalie that the Judge and the Mayor hated each other. Clearly Other-Natalie already knew.

  “Your family has two sets of secret passageways, guarded by smells?” Finn began. “That’s—” He clapped his hand over his mouth, as if he’d been planning to say “weird” or “crazy” and only realized at the last minute that it would be insulting. He finished weakly with “. . . different.”

  “What—do you have parents who get along?” Other-Natalie asked. “Is your world that perfect? No one I know has happy parents. They’re always worried that one parent will inform on the other parent for criticizing the government or . . .” She shrugged. “You know. Maybe even that a kid will inform on both parents . . . Let me guess. Is this another case where everything is sunshine and roses in your perfect alternate world?”

  Natalie waited for one of the Greystones to tell Other-Natalie that their father was dead, and it was the government in Other-Natalie’s world that had killed him. But none of them said anything. Chess leaned his head weakly against the wall. Emma clutched her own laptop tighter. Finn squirmed a little closer to his siblings. All three of them looked as frightened as little bunnies watching a hawk swoop overhead.

  Natalie felt oddly ashamed, as if the Judge and Mayor were her parents, not Other-Natalie’s.

  She cleared her throat. “Does anyone know the codes to both sets of secret passageways?” she asked.

  Other-Natalie grinned—a real grin this time.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Me. I know everything about this house.”

  As if to prove it, she bent over the keyboard of the computer in her lap and began to type.

  A second later, two words flashed on the screen: INCORRECT PASSWORD.

  “Ugh,” Other-Natalie muttered. “Mom did change that since yesterday.”

  “It’s Friday, right?” Natalie said. “Try adding a three to any number in yesterday’s code.”

  “But why?” Other-Natalie asked. “How would that—”

  “Just try it,” Natalie said. It was too much to explain: Because that’s what my mom does. It’s because Grandma was born on a Friday, and her birthday was March 3—that’s a three for both the month and the date. Mom has reasons for how she changes her password on any day of the week, and I know them all.

  Just thinking about it made her miss her mother. To cover for the tears pooling in her eyes, she jerked impatiently on the side of the laptop.

  “Okay! Okay! I’ll try it!” Other-Natalie whispered.

  Her fingers moved more slowly over the keyboard this time—Natalie could tell she was adding numbers in her head as she went. But as soon as Other-Natalie pressed the last key, the forbidding message about the incorrect password vanished and the screen cleared.

  “We’re in!” Other-Natalie marveled, shooting a stunned look at Natalie. “I don’t know how you knew that, but . . .”

  “Because of my mom,” Natalie explained impatiently. “Now, can we please find out how to save her?”

  Other-Natalie whipped through her mother’s email, texts, and other messaging systems so quickly Natalie could barely keep up. But then Other-Natalie put her hands down.

  “Nothing yet,” she reported. “We’ll just have to wait and keep checking back. . . .”

  “Wait?” Finn wailed. “I’m not good at waiting. Can’t we look for my mom on there? And Joe?”

  “We already searched the whole internet for Mom, remember?” Chess said gently.

  “Did you search on my computer or my mother’s?” Other-Natalie asked.

  “Both,” Natalie said. “But I only tried looking in your mom’s personal folders on her computer. Are you saying her computer would have more access to the internet than yours?”

  “Oh, because it doesn’t have parental controls,” Finn said, nodding wisely.

  Other-Natalie snorted. “You think I couldn’t shut those off? Nobody in this country has access to the full internet. Nobody . . . except the leaders.”

  Emma poked her head up from staring at her own laptop.

  “You’re talking deep web stuff here,” she muttered. “You’re saying there are secret passageways in the internet in this world, just like there are secret passageways in this house.”

  Natalie reached for the computer balanced on Other-Natalie’s knees. She typed “Kate Greystone,” and started a search.

  Instantly the screen flooded with hits, one site after another containing Kate Greystone’s name. Natalie and Other-Natalie worked together, taking turns refining the search. It got to the point where Natalie had her right hand on the keyboard and Other-Natalie typed left-handedly, and they were so much in sync they could finish each other’s words. Natalie hit Enter one last time.

  And there it was—the information they needed most about the Greystones’ mom.

  “Chess, Emma, Finn—you won’t believe this!” Natalie called out. “I know exactly where your mom is right now!”

  Forty-Nine

  Finn

  “You mean . . . she really is in prison?” Finn whispered forlornly, peering over Natalie’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure he’d read the word on the computer screen correctly. He leaned closer to reread the offending word, then glared at Natalie. “Why are you acting like that’s good news?”

  “Because now we know,” Natalie said. “And we can start working on a plan to get her out.”

  “Okay . . . ,” Finn said. “But what about Joe?”

  “We’d have to know his last name to—” Natalie began.

  “It’s Deweese,” Emma said, pointing to a lower entry on the screen. Finn saw the words “. . . was sentenced alongside fellow enemy of the people Joe Deweese, and both criminals were sent to the fates they deserved, which . . .” And then he squeezed his eyes shut because he couldn’t stand to see such awful things written about Mom or Joe.

  “They’re both heroes, not enemies!” Finn complained. “Or criminals!”

  Someone patted him on the back. Finn opened his eyes and looked up—it was Chess.

  Finn frowned and went back to staring at the scary words on the screen.

  “Is somebody going to write this down?” he asked. “Before it all disappears, like Mom’s pictures did the last time?”

  “He’s right,” Other-Natalie said. She pulled a phone from her pocket, positioned it in front of the computer screen, and took a photo.

  “But you
said this is the government’s internet, not the regular one,” Natalie protested.

  “Yeah . . . but things disappear there sometimes, too,” Other-Natalie said. “If the government decides they want someone to disappear, they can really make them vanish. Without a trace.” She spread her hands wide, like a magician showing nothing left after a magic trick.

  Finn shivered.

  “But Mom’s still alive,” he said. “She didn’t die. She didn’t turn invisible. She’s just . . . in prison.”

  “And we’re going to rescue her,” Chess said.

  Finn loved Chess for saying that.

  Other-Natalie leaned closer to the computer screen.

  “So your mom’s at Einber prison,” she muttered. “And . . .” She scrolled down a little. “This Joe guy’s at Handor? I’ve heard Mom and Dad talking; I’m sorry, but nobody gets out of those places.”

  “Mrs. Greystone and Joe will be the first,” Natalie said. Which was just what Finn would have wanted to say, if he’d thought of it quickly enough.

  He loved Natalie for saying this, too.

  But Other-Natalie kept shaking her head.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “Things are so bad at Einber and Handor that the inmates, well, they volunteer to . . .”

  “To what?” Emma asked.

  “To be scapegoats,” Other-Natalie said, twisting her face as if she’d smelled something disgusting all of a sudden.

  “Scapegoats?” Finn repeated. “What’s that? It sounds funny—I mean, goats are always funny. But the way you’re acting—”

  “It’s not funny,” Other-Natalie said. “Scapegoats stand in cages at political events, and people yell things at them, mean things, and mock them, and . . . don’t you have that in your world?”

  “No,” Finn said. “We don’t.”

  Other-Natalie looked down at the floor.

  “I guess . . . I guess we’re just used to it here, but . . .”

  “Why would anyone volunteer for that?” Emma asked.

  “Because it’s better than staying in Einber or Handor prisons?” Other-Natalie bit her lip.