"Cammie!" Mr. Solomon shook me slightly. "Don't listen to him. Listen to me!"
But Bex's father kept talking. "Joe, you've got to let her go."
Bex's mother walked out of the shadows behind her husband. "Cammie, sweetheart, I want you to walk over to me now."
The bridge was cold and rough beneath my feet, but I didn't move. I scanned the shadowy banks of the river, looking for Bex, needing her to help me explain to her parents that they were making a terrible mistake. But all I saw were guards and operatives who were closing ranks around us, and in that moment I realized that no one was searching the crowd. Now a soul was looking for the Circle. Instead, the people who had sworn to protect me were staring as if that bridge were the most dangerous place in the world that I could be.
When the operative from the observation tower appeared on the opposite end of the bridge, I knew we were surrounded.
"Cammie, now!" Mrs. Baxter ordered, but I stayed frozen in place.
"Her father was my best friend!" my teacher shouted, the words echoing off the river and out into the night.
Bex's father nodded and eased closer. "I know."
"This is crazy, Abe." Mr. Solomon shook his head.
"Sure it is," Mr. Baxter said calmly. "But protocols exits for a reason, Joe. We know -"
"We know how this ends!" my teacher shouted.
"Not this time," Mr. Baxter said. "Not necessarily. Not if you let Cammie go, and come with me."
"Mr. Solomon . . ." I didn't recognize my own voice. It sounded far off and frail. I saw the way I stayed in the shadows, not fighting against my teacher's grasp. Weak. I felt weak.
And so I pulled away.
"Cammie, come here," Bex's mom ordered again. I could see Bex behind her, not moving. Dazed. "Cammie!" Bex's mom snapped, but I looked at my teacher.
"Mr. Solomon, what is going on? Why are you here? Why didn't you meet Zach? Why do they keep looking at you like . . . Why are they talking like you're the enemy?"
"The CIA has some questions for him, Cammie," Mr. Baxter answered. "That's all. He just needs to answer some questions."
"You're gonna try to turn me in, Abe?" Mr. Solomon laughed, then turned to Bex's mom.
"Grace? Are you going to cuff me in front of Bex and Cammie?"
Bex cried, "No!" but her mother's voice was even as she said, "You know we have to."
"Mom!" Bex cried.
"Rebecca, stay out of this," Bex's father warned. Then he turned to look at the man we all knew - the man only Bex and I still trusted. "You should have known better than to come here, Joe."
"I had to talk to Cammie."
"Cammie was safe with us," Bex's mother told him.
My teacher just shook his head. "Cammie isn't safe anywhere."
I didn't want to cry then, but I couldn't pretend anymore either. I wasn't on vacation. I was hiding. I was like the ravens, a prisoner of a destiny I didn't know and couldn't control. So I looked at the grown-up I knew I knew best - the only man I'd truly trusted in a very long time.
"Mr. Solomon, please, what's going on?"
And then his hands were back on my shoulders. "Cammie, you have to follow the pigeons."
"I . . . I don't understand."
"Promise me, Cammie! No matter what, promise me you will follow the pigeons."
It didn't make any sense - not the words or the look in his eyes or the way my best friend's parents stood staring as if the moment they'd been dreading for days was finally here.
A siren sounded, and I felt suddenly unsteady on my feet as if the earth was moving.
"Mr. Solomon," I spoke slowly, calmly, "maybe you should come with us . . . We'll call my mom and she'll explain that you're a teacher and that there's been some kind of mistake and . . ."
But then I couldn't finish because the earth was moving. The siren was growing louder; spectators were beginning to call out from the riverbanks. In a terrible flash, I remembered that Tower Bridge is a drawbridge, and Mr. Solomon and I were standing in the center.
The bridge lurched and Bex yelled, "Cammie!" but her mother held her back. I grabbed at the rail as the bridge rose higher and steeper, and Mr. Solomon reached for my shoulders, holding me, steadying me.
"Cammie, you have to promise me!"
"Okay, Mr. Solomon. Of course. I promise."
"Thank you, Cammie." He relaxed his grip and lowered his head. For the first time, he seemed to breathe as he sighed, "Thank you."
"Okay, Joe" Mr. Baxter inched closer. "You talked to Cammie. You got your promise.
Now, come on. Let's go get this settled."
But Mr. Solomon was backing away, his gaze still locked on me.
"The pigeons, Cammie."
"The pigeons," I said.
And then one of the greatest spies I've ever known ran toward the rising edge of the bridge and propelled himself over the top, flying falling. Bex's parents rushed after him, but I was already there, staring into the Thames.
And Joe Solomon was already gone.
Chapter Four
During winter break of our seventh-grade year, Bex helped her parents expose a double agent who had been working inside M16. The summer she turned fourteen she swears she disabled a bomb beneath the royal family's box in the bleachers at Wimbledon. But as Bex and I sat in the back of an M16 van with the words "Handy Helpers House Painting Service" painted on the side, I knew no Gallagher Girl had ever brought a story quite like this one home from school vacation.