"She means they didn't want him," Macey said. "They didn't want us," she added, growing stronger. And then she stopped. She shrugged. "They wanted me."
I'd been fearing that moment for days, thinking about the girl at the lake. I'd worried what the knowledge might do to her—to us. But from the time she'd stepped foot out of her parents' limousine, Macey had been a surprise, and this was no exception.
She squinted at me. She shook her head. It was the exact same look she got when she mastered a formula for Mr. Mosckowitz's class, as if things were finally starting to make sense.
"I'm gonna get my mom and Aunt Abby." I started for the door, but then Macey spoke.
"You think they don't know already?"
And it hit me—the truth. Of course they knew. They'd always known.
"So either they came after Macey in spite of her training…" Liz started.
"Or because of it," Bex replied.
But the strangest thing was happening. The moon was rising, full and clear. The lights of Roseville shone in the distance. Everything felt alive again, and I could see that in Macey. It was as if she knew it wasn't random anymore—there was purpose. And that made all the difference.
"So I guess the question is," Bex said, crossing her arms, "what are we gonna do about it?"
Covert Operations Report
By Cameron Morgan, Macey McHenry, Elizabeth Sutton, and Rebecca Baxter (hereafter referred to as "The Operatives")
During a routine civilian engagement, Operatives McHenry and Morgan were attacked by figures representing an unknown organization with unknown affiliations and unknown goals.
After two weeks of extensive research (and some particularly fine computer hacking by agent Sutton), The Operatives learned the following:
There are no fewer than two dozen international lawsuits filed against McHenry Cosmetics (even though the Eye
Rejuvenation cream clearly states on the label that temporary blindness is a possible side effect).
Much to Macey's shock, Senator McHenry does not appear to have any illegitimate children (that The Operatives know about).
No one holding a significant amount of stock in Macey's mom's company made a significant gamble that the price of the stock would go down following the kidnapping attempt.
The McHenry family has approximately seventy-six disgruntled former servants (of whom, Macey swears, only seventy-five have cause to be really, truly angry).
It's easy to imagine that a family of spies would have a lot of enemies. Well, turns out we've got nothing on politicians and people who manufacture semi-dangerous cosmetics. By the time we'd run down every shady business deal and political scandal, the list of suspects was long—like, the number of digits of pi that Liz knows by heart, long—and I wasn't sleeping any easier.
"It's impossible," I told Bex one day in P&E, but Bex, sadly, misunderstood, because instead of commiserating, she grabbed my arm and executed the most perfect Axley Maneuver I'd ever seen.
"Ow," I said, looking up at her. But Bex just laughed.
"Wuss," she said, then stepped back to illustrate. "It's not impossible. All you have to do is shift your weight in a counter—"
"Not the move," I snapped as I climbed to my feet, shifted my weight, and showed her. "Macey," I whispered as she landed on the mat.
"Oh," Bex said, staring up at me.
Outside, the first hints of color were appearing on the trees, and the wind was growing cooler. Fall was coming soon, and yet the mysteries of summer were still alive and well.
"I touched them, Bex," I said, my voice low against the steady din of grunts and kicks that filled the loft. My breath came harder. "I heard their voices and smelled their breath and I can't tell you anything about them except…" I trailed off. But Bex, who is excellent in both the spy and best friend departments, read my mind. "It's the ring, isn't it?"
Beads of sweat ran from my forehead to my chin, but I didn't wipe them away. "I've seen that emblem somewhere before."
"I believe you, Cam," Bex started slowly. "But didn't you sketch it for Liz and have her run it through the CIA database?"
"Yes."
"And if they are as good as you say, then do you really think that woman would wear a ring that could lead us to her? It's a mistake," Bex finished, and I just stood there, the unspoken truth settling around us: they didn't make mistakes.
"Morgan!" our teacher called. "Baxter! Back to work, please."
I pulled Bex to her feet.
"You know," Bex said, "there is one resource we haven't utilized yet."
Through the window, I saw my mother crossing the grounds.
"No!" I snapped as Bex lunged toward me, her foot sailing far too close to my ear for comfort. "I am not spying on my mom again," I said, maybe too loudly considering that Tina Walters and Eva Alvarez were ten feet away.
"Who said anything about your mom?" Bex whispered to me, gesturing behind us at the rock wall and Mr. Solomon.
"No way," I whispered. "Mom was bad enough, but Mr. Solomon would be—"
"Look again," she whispered.
And then I saw that Mr. Solomon was not alone. That he was with someone. That he was smiling. That they were laughing.
And that my best friend in the world thought that I should snoop on my aunt Abby.