United We Spy (Gallagher Girls) (7 page)

“No.”

“Samuel is a family name, isn’t it?” I asked. “Wasn’t your dad named for a relative who fought in the Civil War?”

There was no denying the truth in what I’d said, but Preston just shook his head.

“So what if he was? That doesn’t mean my family has anything to do with the Circle.”

“Yes, Preston.” I nodded. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“You’re wrong. You’re
lying
.”

“I’m not lying.”

“My parents were nice to you. My dad helped you!”

“He tried to kill me, Preston. He would have killed me.”

“You’re a spy. You lie. It’s what you do.”

“I’m not lying now.”

Preston continued to inch away from me—from the truth he no longer wanted to hear.

When a helicopter roared overhead and began to land in the courtyard inside the closed gates of the embassy, I looked away for a split second. I swear I didn’t lose focus for more than a breath. But when I turned back, Preston was bolting into the street, into traffic, pushing people aside and running against the grain to the embassy’s gates.

“Dad!” he yelled, and then I saw what he was seeing. Ambassador Winters was out of the building and walking across the courtyard. He crouched beneath the chopper’s spinning blades and only stopped when his son’s cries broke through the air.

“Dad! Wait! Open the gates,” Preston yelled.

“Preston, stop,” I called after him.

He stole a hurried, frantic glance in my direction, but ran even faster, as if he was no longer sure exactly who to trust. I totally knew the feeling.

“Open the gates!” Preston yelled again, but the guards must have been given some kind of order because they glanced at the ambassador and the gates stayed closed.

“Dad!” Preston yelled. He gripped the iron fence, pleading. But the man only ran faster to the chopper and closed the door, blocking off the sound of Preston’s cries.

“Dad?” Preston asked one final time. This time it wasn’t a scream. It was a whimper.

Then the whole scene changed.

It was like the whole thing was happening in slow motion. I heard the sirens. I recognized the snipers for what they were the moment they appeared on the embassy’s roof. What I didn’t know was
why
.

The helicopter started to rise, but someone fired a warning shot and the chopper hovered.

More guards filled the courtyard, rifles trained on Preston’s father. And when a voice came booming through a bullhorn, I knew.

“Samuel Winters, you are under arrest,” Agent Townsend said. I saw him appear then, through the crowd. My aunt Abby stood at his side, her dark hair blowing in the swirling wind. “Land the chopper or we will fire. I repeat, we will fire.”

“What…what’s happening?” Preston asked, turning to me. “You brought them here.” He glared.

“I didn’t.”

“That’s your aunt, Cammie! I know you brought her here!” He pointed to where Agent Townsend was dragging Preston’s father out of the helicopter and placing him in handcuffs.

“I didn’t know they were coming. But I knew you were in danger,” I said. “It will be okay, Preston. You have to trust me.”

And maybe he would have. Maybe he would have believed what I was saying—despite what he was seeing. Maybe everything would have made sense in a matter of time if Agent Townsend hadn’t turned and started toward us, yelling, “Preston Winters?”

As soon as I heard Agent Townsend’s voice, I felt a sense of relief. He’d help us get Preston home. He’d help us keep Preston safe.

“Where are they taking my father?” Preston asked, but he didn’t rush the man. He was shaking too badly. I didn’t know if it was the cold or the rage, but I guess it didn’t matter.

Agent Townsend reached for Preston’s trembling hands. “Mr. Winters, you are under arrest for the suspicion of espionage.”

Townsend spun Preston around, pressing his body into the fence.

“No!” someone shouted. I saw Bex and Liz running toward us, neither of them able to keep up with Macey. They all had blankets draped over their shoulders, but Macey’s blew free as she ran. She looked a lot like an angel losing her wings.

“Take him away,” Townsend told another agent, but Macey was on him then.

“Stop,” she yelled, trying to get to Preston. “He doesn’t know anything.”

“That is for us to determine, Ms. McHenry.”

“You’re wrong! You’re making a mistake,” she shouted.

Agent Townsend had been our teacher. He’d been our ally. Our confidant. Our friend. Sure, we’d never really
liked
him; but I’d grown fond of Agent Townsend. He was one of the good guys, but that didn’t stop Macey’s fists from beating against him. She looked frail and feminine. She didn’t fight like a Gallagher Girl right then. She fought like a girl who was watching the only boy who’d ever known and cared about the real her being dragged away. Maybe forever.

A pair of agents took Preston by each arm and led him to a white van that sat in the courtyard, lights spinning.

There was another van exactly like it not far away, and I could see the ambassador sitting in the back. The streets surrounding the embassy were on fire with lights and sirens and swarming crowds, but the ambassador looked only at me. He gave a nod in my direction as if to make sure I knew it wasn’t over.

Then another man climbed into the back of the van and sat beside Preston’s father. I recognized this new man, though it took me a moment to remember from where. The man’s hair was slightly thinning. He had a normal build. A normal face. He could have been an accountant, an English teacher, a mid-level manager in any company in the world.

But he wasn’t. He was Interpol. And when he brought a hand to his temple—a tip of the imaginary hat—I was quite certain that I would be seeing him again very, very soon.

When the agents closed the door and drove the man and Preston’s father away, I looked down at the piece of paper that was still in my hands. The ink looked like blood, running across the page. Without a word, Liz handed me a pen, and I crossed off the name at the bottom of the list.

Four down.

Three to go.

W
e had dry clothes and hot coffee, but even as we sat on Macey’s jet, I didn’t feel any warmer. Or safer. In a few minutes, we’d take off. In a few hours, we’d be home. Preston was, technically, out of harm’s way, but it still felt like our mission was a complete and utter failure.

Macey sat beside me, motionless. I wanted to tell her that it was okay, that Preston would be safe now. But Macey didn’t want to hear it. Which was just as well. I didn’t want to say it.

When the jet’s door slid down and Aunt Abby stepped in, I thought that we were ready to go home. But then someone else climbed into the cabin.

“What are you doing here?” Macey shouted at Agent Townsend. “Where’s Preston?”

Macey was up and moving toward him, and I could have sworn Agent Townsend looked scared.

“Macey.” Abby blocked her way. “I’ll be asking the questions. Now,
sit down
,” Abby ordered. And for once in her life, Macey did as she was told.

There was a bandage on Townsend’s temple. “Are you okay?” I said.

“I will survive, Ms. Morgan. Thank you for asking.”

“No,” Abby snapped. “Cameron Ann Morgan, don’t you sit there acting like you’re so sorry. I’m not even going to ask the four of you why you’re here.
I don’t care.
What were you thinking—stumbling into a live op like that?” my aunt asked, but all I could think of was how she’d been when she first came to my school. Cocky and easy and fun. She’d grown up. And I guess she wasn’t the only one.

Bex shifted in her seat. “We didn’t know it was a live op.”

“Well, you should have known.” Abby had her hand on her hip. She sounded like my mother. “You all should have known better. You’re seniors. You should realize by now that everything you do comes with repercussions.”

“How were we supposed to know you’d be there?” Macey challenged. She crossed her long arms. “All anyone ever says is
Don’t worry about Preston. Preston isn’t in trouble. We won’t let
Preston get hurt.
”

“And we
didn’t
,” Abby countered. “We had eyes on the embassy at all times.”

“So that you could take him!” Macey shouted, and, for that, not even Abby had an answer. She and Townsend shared a look and, I’m not going to lie, it kind of scared me. Macey must have seen it too, because her voice changed. Anger morphed to terror.

“Where is he?” she asked. “Where is he right now?”

Townsend shook his head slowly. He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat. I watched my aunt lean ever so slightly against him.

“We don’t know, Ms. McHenry,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Macey snapped.

“We would lie—if we had to. But we aren’t,” Abby said with a shake of her head. “All Circle operatives are held in a high-security facility, the location of which is need-to-know, and
we
don’t know
. I can promise you that.”

“I don’t believe you,” Macey told her.

“That’s fine.” Abby shook her head. “But I’m telling you the truth. He’ll be okay, Macey. It’s normal. It’s protocol.”

“Protocol for what?” Bex asked.

“He’ll be questioned, along with his father,” Townsend said.

“Questioned…” Macey started. “You mean, interrogated. You mean,
tortured
.”

“He’s in the authorities’ hands, girls,” Abby said. “He’ll be fine.”

“Like Cammie is fine,” Macey said, then glanced at me. “No offense.”

“None taken,” I said. “I think.”

“We aren’t the Circle, Macey,” Abby told her. “We’re the good guys.”

Macey crossed her arms. “Forgive me if I have my doubts.”

“What about Preston’s mother?” Liz asked.

“She’ll be questioned too, I’m sure,” Townsend said. “But the Circle doesn’t exactly admit spouses, so I doubt she knows anything. She’ll stay at the embassy for now.”

“That man…in the van with Preston’s father—” I said.

“His name is Max Edwards,” Townsend filled in before I could say anything more. “He used to be with Interpol.”

“I remember him. I met him two years ago at the career fair. He told me he knew my father.” I thought about the man who had given me his business card during my sophomore year. He’d looked at me that night like he saw through my
chameleonness
. He’d looked at me that way again that afternoon. Something about it made me feel uneasy, vulnerable. Naked.

“I don’t doubt it,” Townsend said. “Edwards has been in this business a long time. He knows everyone. That’s why he’s heading up the task force.”

“What
task force
?” Bex didn’t even try to hide the skepticism in her voice.

“Seems the intelligence community is finally starting to take the list seriously, girls,” my aunt told us. “Edwards is in charge of a brand-new task force that has just been put in place. It’s not big. Just a few key agents from the CIA, MI6, all the usual suspects. They’re supposed to track down the Inner Circle. Not that it’s going to be easy. But they’re going to try. And if today is any indication, they might just succeed. Winters is the first Inner Circle member to be taken alive, after all.”

Knowing what we knew about the Circle’s network of moles within the world’s intelligence community, I started to agree. Maybe it would work. Maybe we wouldn’t have to be alone in the search anymore. But Macey just crossed her arms and huffed.

“You mean the Inner Circle and their families?” she asked.

“Preston needed to be questioned, ladies,” Agent Townsend said as if he expected that to be the end of it.

“But…” Liz spoke then. Her voice cracked. “He’s just a kid.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Abby leaned forward, staring at the four of us as if she were about to give us the most important lesson of our covert lives. “You should stop and listen to yourselves sometime. ‘We’re
practically adults
, let us run wild.’ ‘We’re
only kids
, leave us alone.’” I watched my aunt lean closer, emphasize every word.
“You can’t have it both ways.”

“When is Preston’s birthday, Macey?” Townsend asked.

“December fifth,” Macey said.

“Then he just turned eighteen, did he not?”

“So what?”

“So he’s an adult now, by our standards. And the Circle’s.” Townsend looked at us all as if part of him truly hated what he had to say. “So no matter what we know about his father’s dealings, at this moment, there is a good possibility that Preston knows more.”

Macey was shaking her head. “No. No. He didn’t know a thing.”

“Didn’t he?” Townsend asked. “Abby is right. You want to be treated like grown-ups? Well, that includes both the good and the bad. And the possibility exists, ladies, that Preston Winters might be very bad indeed.”

My roommates and I fell into silence. I didn’t say a thing because, like it or not, the adults in my life were right far more often than they were wrong.

The Circle had always been a step or two ahead—and right then, I didn’t like where those steps were going.

I
t was dark when the jet finally landed. I’m sure I must have slept on the long ride over the Atlantic, but I didn’t really remember. I just remember staring out the window: watching, thinking, waiting for something, but what, I didn’t know.

On the Tarmac, Agent Townsend whispered something to Abby, then squeezed her hand and kissed her softly when he didn’t think we were watching. But we’re Gallagher Girls. To tell you the truth, we are always watching.

Abby let him go, her eyes a little misty. And I couldn’t help myself—I thought about Zach. He was out in the world somewhere. And a part of me worried that I might never see him again.

“Go to bed, girls,” Abby told us when we walked through the doors. The lights were out. Our school was sleeping, and in the stillness I could feel how far we’d gone, and how far we still had to go.

“But—”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Abby snapped, and started down the hall that led to the stairs to the teachers’ quarters. “Now go to bed.”

And maybe we would have done exactly that, except when we reached the top of the Grand Stairs, I saw the light seeping from underneath my mother’s office door, and that was all the invitation I needed. I raced down the Hall of History and never looked back.

“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom, I’m—” I said, bursting through the door; but then I stopped cold because Joe Solomon was lying on the leather couch in my mother’s office. And, oh yeah, his shirt was totally off.

“Uh…” I said. I might have physically stumbled. But what else was I supposed to do at the sight of my teacher—and my mom’s new sort-of boyfriend—
with his shirt off
?

It was epic. It was awkward. It was epically awkward.

And judging from the traffic jam of girls who were plowing into me from behind, I totally wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“Uh…” Liz echoed me but couldn’t find the words to finish, either.

“I’m fine,” Mr. Solomon said, and then he tried to sit upright. I could see the bruises that covered his chest, spreading across his ribs. When he shifted on the sofa, I saw the massive gash in his side, and I felt the cold feeling of dread that maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hurt.

“Where’s Zach?” I blurted.

“He’s fine,” Mr. Solomon said, even though, technically, he hadn’t answered my question.

“Step aside, girls,” my mother said from behind us, and we moved out of the doorway and into the office, watched her dip a sponge into a bowl of sudsy water and kneel at Mr. Solomon’s feet. He winced when she brought the sponge to the long, ragged knife wound that ran across his ribs.

“Wimp,” she told him. He smiled.

“Did you find Catherine?” Bex blurted. “Did she do that to you?”

“No.” Mr. Solomon shook his head. He sounded more disappointed than pained, like he’d gladly suffer a thousand cuts if it meant bringing Zach’s mother to her end.

“Where is Zach?” I asked. “Is he…” I trailed off. I just looked at Mr. Solomon’s blood and couldn’t finish.

“Go to bed, girls,” Mom said, but she didn’t look at me. “I will deal with you in the morning.”

“But—” Liz started.

“But nothing.” Mom never took her eyes off of Joe Solomon. He winced again when she started wrapping a bandage tighter and tighter around his ribs.

“The hospital staff should be doing this,” she told him.

Mr. Solomon smiled. “I like the nurse I’ve got.”

“Girls, I need to debrief Mr. Solomon, and he needs to visit the hospital wing.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Mr. Solomon said, but Mom gave him her “mom” look and he backed down.

“He’s going to tell me about his mission, and then he’s going to have his head CAT scanned and his ribs X-rayed. I will talk to you girls in the morning.” She ushered us toward the door. “It will all be better tomorrow.”

I wanted to think it was true—that my mother was right, and that there was nothing a night in my own bed would not fix. But I wasn’t so certain. Especially when we walked into the suite and saw that someone was already sleeping in my bed.

“Zach!” I didn’t care that I was yelling. I ran to him. He propped himself up on one elbow and gave me a sleepy smile.

“You woke me,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in this part of the school,” I said.

He took my hand, held it against his chest, and said, “Spy.”

“Hello, Zachary.” Bex was sauntering through the door. “It’s nice to see you. Now, get out.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed himself off the bed and started for the door, pulling me along behind him.

We didn’t say a word as we crept down the hall lined with suites filled with sleeping girls. Neither of us spoke when we reached the spiraling staircase at the back of the school.

The stone was cold against my skin. A freezing wind blew through the cracks in the old windows. But Zach’s hand was warm in mine, and I didn’t feel the chill, even when he stopped me on the stairs, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me. Softly at first, then more urgently, hungrily. It was like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Hi,” he said finally, pulling back and running his hands through my hair.

“Hi,” I said and kissed him again. I didn’t think about the classes I’d missed or the ones that would be waiting on me in just a few hours. I couldn’t even dream of going to bed.

“You were gone,” I whispered into his skin. “You were gone for so long.”

“I’m back now.”

“Don’t go again,” I told him, but he said nothing. That was the kind of promise that spies could never make, so he just took my hand and led me farther down the stairs, into the wide corridor that ran along the back of the school.

“You saw Preston?” he asked when we reached the warmth of the hall.

I nodded.

“And they took him?”

Again, I couldn’t say the words but didn’t have to.

“Where were you, Zach?”

“Looking” was his answer.

“For your mom?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t hide it.

“We didn’t find her.”

“She found us. In Cambridge. She killed Walter Knight.” I made myself look at him, see the hurt that filled his eyes. He already knew about our mission, of course. But I had to say it anyway. I had to be the one to tell him, even if he wasn’t hearing it for the first time.

“I’m so sorry. If she hurt you…” He ran his hand along my neck and shifted my head, as if to make sure everything was the way it should be.

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll kill her.”

“Don’t say that, Zach.”

“But I will, Cammie.” He pulled away from me then, as if he couldn’t bear to touch me with his hands—dirty hands. Like I deserved better than to be touched by the hands of a killer. “Someday. I will.”

“No.” I reached for him.

“Yes.” His voice was sad, not cocky. It was like he’d seen the future, and he was finally telling me the thing he’d always known, Zachary Goode’s great and final secret. “I will.”

“Where were you, Zach? What happened to Mr. Solomon? To you?”

Zach ran a hand through his hair. He was far too young to look so exhausted.

“You know how we started out tracking my mom.… Well, we figured the best way to find her would be to find whatever Circle descendant she had her sights set on next.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“Delauhunt,” Zach told me. “Frederick Delauhunt. He’s an arms dealer. We tracked him down to this fortress outside of Buenos Aires. He probably had fifty armed guards. And we could tell by the activity in the compound that they were getting ready to move him. We should have waited for backup, but I kept thinking about what would happen if we didn’t find him again. I thought about what they did to you. And then I got stupid.” Zach took a deep breath. “And Joe got hurt.”

He eased slowly away, almost like he was content to leave me, like deep down he knew that I was better off without him. “You should probably go to bed, Gallagher Girl.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“You should go to bed anyway. Try to get some sleep.”

I leaned into him. “No. I shouldn’t.” I took both his hands in mine and stepped backward. “Do you want to see something cool?”

“What do you think?” he asked with that roguish grin he’d first given me when he’d walked through our doors as an exchange student. Before things got complicated. Before his mother changed my life.

I walked to an old candelabra that the housekeeping staff rarely remembered to clean, so it was dusty when I reached for it. And pulled.

Slowly, a door opened a crack. “What is that?” Zach asked, creeping closer.

I took his hand again. “Come on.”

There was a time when I loved being in the secret passageways on my own. I would slip inside the darkness and disappear, be alone in the middle of a hundred people, be myself inside a place where you spend most of your time learning to be somebody else.

I’d never shown that one to Bex. I’d never brought Liz or Macey there to study. That was my private passage, and as I held on to Zach’s hand, it felt very much like it still was. Only then, it wasn’t mine. It was ours.

We squeezed together through dusty corridors and tight shadowy spaces, skirting between decaying beams. It must have been the servants’ quarters once upon a time, because there was a round window there in the narrow space. It stared out to the east, across the grounds and the hills and the trees.

We stood together, looking out at a world that was covered with frost, a shimmering white glow.

“Wow,” Zach said. He pressed up against the window, which fogged with his breath.

Sometime years before, I had dragged an old bean bag chair to that place. I watched Zach sink onto it, and then he pulled me down to lean against him. I felt his arms go around me, holding me tight.

I was safe.

I was warm.

I was home.