"But, Abe, we knew him," Abby pressed again.
After another long pause, Mr. Baxter said, "I believe Joe Solomon is the sort of man that no one will ever truly know."
Three seasoned and decorated operatives sat on the other side of the wall. Between them they'd probably mastered a hundred identities in a dozen countries. Names were just covers. Just legends. Hanging in the darkness, I wondered if anything about Joe Solomon was ever real at all.
It felt as if the truth were slipping away from me, falling, until . . .
Wait, I realized too late, I was slipping - literally.
Through a crack in the top of the dumbwaiter, I could see Bex holding the fraying rope, trying hard to pull me back up, but the rope slipped again.
Outside, the adults kept talking. I heard Mrs. Baxter saying, "We can't tell Cammie until we're absolutely certain . . ."
"We can never tell Cammie," Aunt Abby said.
"Hold on!" Bex's frantic whisper echoed down the shaft as the dumbwaiter dipped again.
This is not good, I told myself. This is not . . .
But outside the shaft, Mrs. Baxter's voice was calm. "She's almost seventeen, Abby. And the more she knows, the safer she'll -"
"Cammie will never be safe!" Abby said, and I remembered that a semi-stable dumbwaiter was the least of my problems.
"Hang on, Cam," Bex whispered from above. "I'm -"
"We don't know that Cammie would do something foolish," Mrs. Baxter went on.
"Of course she would," Aunt Abby laughed. "I would. Trust me, Grace, Abe. Cammie can never know -"
Before she could finish, I felt the bottom of the dumbwaiter dropping out from under me as, ten feet up the shaft, the old rope broke and I went hurling toward the kitchen floor.
"What the -" Mr. Baxter started to yell.
With a groan, I rolled over and found myself staring at a pair of gorgeous high-heeled boots, long legs, and a familiar face looking down at me, saying, "Hey, Squirt."
Chapter Seven
"Cammie can never know what?" I asked.
Bex was sitting beside me, the two of us in the hard, straight-backed chairs, looking up at her parents and my Aunt Abby. Bex's hands were rope burned. My elbow was bleeding.
But my only concern was what had brought my mother's only sister to England and, most important . . .
"Cammie can never know what?"
"See?" Abby said, gesturing at the two of us. "This is exactly what I'm talking about."
"It's true." Mr. Baxter crossed his arms and eyed us both. His voice wasn't even a little bit playful as he finished, "They are a liability."
"What cant Cammie know?" Bex asked, choosing, I guess, to let the liability thing slide for the time being.
"Go to bed, Cammie," my aunt ordered, sounding exactly like my mother.
"No," I said, sounding exactly like my aunt.
I was pretty sure there was about to be a hole in the space time continuum, when Abby snapped, "Cameron!"
I was already on my feet. "So you know what you would do if you were me, and you knew this big secret . . ." I leaned across the table, almost daring her as I finished, "Now, imagine what you'd do if there was something you didn't know."
As threats go, it was a good one. I could see it in Abby's eyes. After a moment, she pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and sank into it. I tried not notice the stiffness in the movement or the way she held one arm carefully by her side. I tried not to think about the fact that she'd almost died.
She'd almost died.
She'd almost died.
"We caught one of them." Abby's voice brought me back. "Election night . . . you were out, and I was . . ." She trailed off.
She'd almost died.
"From the grab team that came for you, we caught one." My aunt gestured to the place where she'd been shot. "We caught the one who did this. A week ago he decided to start talking."
Beside me, I felt Bex shaking, her impatience coming to a boil. "What's this have to do with Mr. Solomon?"
Her father warned, "Rebecca," and Abby carried on.
"The Circle works in cells - small, isolated groups. Two Circle operatives could be sitting right beside each other and not know it. So the man in custody has some knowledge of cell operatives, but he doesn't know much. He doesn't even know why they want you, Cammie."
She looked right at me, and I felt my heart fall.
"He only knows the people he's worked directly with and . . ."
As my aunt trailed off, I saw Mrs. Baxter tense. Mr. Baxter brought his hand to his mouth as if he couldn't bear to say the words aloud.
"And he knows the people he was recruited with," Abby said slowly. Her gaze fell to the floor. "When he was Blackthorn."
For days I'd wanted answers - I'd begged and pleaded for the truth. But now we were there and I didn't want to hear it.
"No. That's just what MI6 thinks, for some reason, but they're wrong. There's been some kind of mistake." I tried to push away, but Abby leaned closer.
"Joe's a double agent, Cam. He was recruited by the Circle a really long time ago."
"How could you say that?" I snapped back. "He's your friend."
"He was also friends with the man who did this!" she yelled, pointing to her injured shoulder. She looked so angry and betrayed, and when she spoke again her voice was more like a plea. "We have to believe it, Cammie. You of all people need to believe it."