Before I could say anything, we were back in a dual head-lock, and Liz was breathing deeply. And then, just as quickly, she jerked away.
"So what happened? Where'd you go? What'd you see?"
"Liz, we -"
"I'm afraid that classified." Buckingham shot me a look as she spoke.
"All of it?" Liz asked.
"All of it," Bex and I answered.
"Patricia!" Mr. Smith was running up the stairs. "We're ready to start the -"
"Coming!" Buckingham called without even a glance. She was too busy looking at me.
"Three things," I told her. "You said there were three things."
"Yes, Cameron, I've been asked to tell you that your mother has been temporarily detained."
"But -"
"She's fine - I can assure you. Just a little delay. But she's not back quite yet."
"Patricia, Harvey seems to think we'll only have one shot at this so . . ." Our Countries of the World teacher motioned as if to say let's hurry this along. And, with that, Professor Buckingham made a move toward the stairs.
"The Welcome Back Dinner will begin shortly," she told us. "You girls go on."
"But . . ." I started, but then forgot what I was about to say. Because, in the foyer below us, Madame Dabney was helping a senior explain to the guards why she had fifteenth -
century saber in her duffel bag. At the end of the hall, Dr. Fibs was complaining that the entrance to the seventh-grade labs had been moved and he couldn't find it. The Gallagher Academy was stronger than it had ever been - technically. Physically. And yet, in a way, I could almost feel it crumbling around me.
"And, Cameron," Professor Buckingham said from the top of the stairs. "Welcome home."
Climbing the stairs to our room, I tried not to count the secret passageways that we should have passed, but didn't (4); or the underclassmen who suddenly stopped whispering as soon as they saw me (6); or even the number of fingerprint-sensitive doors we had to pass through to reach our suite (9).
I tried to concentrate on how cute Liz's hair looked (because, unlike me, she can totally pull off a bob). I focused on my jetlagged body and my growling stomach (because while MI6 safe houses might be incredibly safe, they do not come particularly well stocked foodwise, let me tell you).
"So I came back a day early to show the formula for my new truth serum to Dr. Fibs," Liz said, eyes shining. "It's ten times more effective than Sodium Pentothal . . . and it makes your teeth whiter . . . and -"
"Wait," I said, stopping in the door to the suite that we'd shared since seventh grade, knowing - sensing - that . . .
"Something's different," Bex said, easing past me into the room.
The beds were made. The curtains were open. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be, except . . . it wasn't. There were shoe prints on the freshly vacuumed rug, the faint smell of coffee and strong cologne.
I was stepping toward the dark bathroom, reaching for the light, when Bex yelled,
"Wait!"
But it was too late. A strong hand grabbed my wrist. I saw the shadow in the bathroom mirror, looming in the dark. And I didn't hesitate: I stepped back and grabbed the arm that grabbed me, spinning, using my attacker's own momentum to fling him through the open bathroom door and to the other side of our room.
He smashed into a dresser and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. Then Bex was there, lunging forward with a textbook kick. The man quickly, avoiding her foot my inches.
He held out his hands and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, a Louis Vuitton suitcase came flying into our room, struck the man squarely on his face, and dropped him to the floor like stone.
"Hey, Macey," I somehow managed to mumble through Bex's hair as my best friend pressed me into the corner of our suite. "That was a nice -"
"Don't move," Macey warned. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me of the man who lay at her feet with blood pouring from his swelling nose. Macey McHenry is one of the most gorgeous girls in the world, but the expression on her face wasn't beautiful in that moment. It was terrifying.
And yet, the man at her feet didn't tremble. Didn't fight. He just shook his head and sai,
"Now, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
I followed his gaze to the corner of the room, where Liz was trying to decide whether or not to punch a big red button on the wall marked PANIC BUTTON: TO BE USED IN
EMERGENCIES ONLY. I'd never seen it before, but I was fairly certain that pushing it would bring the full force of the Gallagher Academy down upon our suite.
"A strange man is in our room, Liz. Push it!" Bex ordered (Sounded a tad irritated that she hadn't been the one to hit him with a suitcase).
"No," I blurted. I looked past the blood and swelling nose and focused on the blue eyes that I'd last seem staring at me across a cold, metal table.
"That's right." The man almost smiled as he stared up the four of us and said, "I'm not a stranger. Am I, Ms. Morgan?"
Chapter Ten
So okay, technically I had seen him once before, but he was still a total stranger. After all, he hadn't given me his name in London - no rank, no serial number. I knew he had high enough clearance to be in a top secret MI6 facility and an equally top secret school.
But if I didn't know Joe Solomon, then I didn't know any man.
Unfortunately, knowing something and convincing Liz of something are two different things.