Going Rogue Page 8

  “Anytime, darling,” he said. “I told you, we always take care of our friends.”

  After she left, I sank down in her seat and glanced at the chessboard. “It looks the same every time,” I told Angelo. “I don’t think either of you ever move a piece.”

  “We dabble,” Angelo replied. “So how is Maggie? Your best friend is back, you must be happy about that.”

  “I am,” I said, and I was. “I don’t think I’m very good at having friends, though.”

  “Well, I find that absolutely impossible to believe.”

  “Some girls were talking about Roux, and I didn’t even defend her.” It felt good to say that out loud, but I still felt rotten. “What kind of crappy friend does that?”

  Angelo was quiet for a moment, rolling the knight back and forth in his palm. (Apparently I had picked up his habit of doing that.) “Sometimes,” he said, “it’s worth focusing on the bigger picture. You’ve always been there for Roux, yes?”

  “Yes, and she’s been there for me.”

  “So a little misstep is all right. What matters is who shows up when you need them the most.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Angelo. “We’re not talking about Roux anymore, are we.”

  “No. No, we are not.” Angelo set the knight back down and folded his hands primly in his lap. “You should know something.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose when he said that, but I kept my face neutral.

  “A few more people have come forward, saying that they were removed from the Collective.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Three.” Angelo didn’t even fidget.

  “Can I ask how you’re finding this out?”

  Angelo glanced over my shoulder, then pushed Roux’s untouched water bottle toward me. “Hydrate, please, love. It’s quite warm today. And I cannot say. At least, not yet.”

  Now the goose bumps were traveling down my arms. “How do you know this?”

  “It’s becoming quite difficult to tell who’s a friend or a foe,” Angelo murmured.

  “Cracks in the Collective armor,” I said.

  “A bit, yes. But Dominic Arment is definitely a foe.” Angelo tapped the water bottle at me, and I picked it up this time.

  “Why now, though? Why is Dominic suddenly going all bad guy on us?”

  Angelo let out a low, quiet breath. “Apparently, at least according to what I’m hearing, Colton Hooper’s death was quite an opportunity for him. Dominic and Colton were enemies—”

  “Who wasn’t an enemy of Colton?” I pointed out.

  “—and after Colton died, Dominic decided to make his move.”

  “So we killed one bad guy and another one just popped up in his place,” I said, feeling defeated.

  “Not all bad guys have the same motive,” Angelo told me. “To paraphrase Tolstoy, every bad guy is bad in his own way. Dominic has decided he wants to rule the Collective by himself, and if you don’t agree, well …”

  He didn’t have to finish his sentence. I understood what he meant.

  “Maggie, I’m telling you this because I want you to know something: you only talk to people that I tell you to talk to, is that clear?”

  “Of course,” I said. “But who am I talking to?”

  “No one yet. But if someone tells you they’re in the Collective, it doesn’t mean they’re trustworthy. I’ll be the one who decides that.”

  “What about my parents? Can I talk to them about all this?”

  I was only kidding, but Angelo’s face stayed somber. “Not unless I tell you.”

  If I hadn’t already been sitting, I would have needed to sit down. “Wait, no, you don’t think that my parents are—”

  “No, no, darling, sorry. Of course not. But I think that the less information they have, the better. It’s safer for everyone.”

  Angelo had never told me not to talk to my parents about a case before. I knew this was serious. “On a scale of one to ten,” I asked, “how much danger are we in?”

  “Oh, I’d say a seven, maybe an eight.”

  “And if I can’t break into Dominic’s house and find those coins?”

  Angelo smiled. “When have you ever not been able to pick a lock?”

  “Good point. Okay, different scenario: what if I get in and the coins aren’t there? Then what?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,” Angelo replied, but he said it in a way that made me feel he was convinced the coins were in Dominic’s house.

  I glanced past the castle walls and looked at the tourists streaming up the stairs. I envied them, their easy lives, and their ability to travel with only one passport, one name, and one identity. “It feels like nothing is happening,” I told Angelo. “I can’t open that lock you gave me, I can’t go into Dominic’s house yet. I don’t like this. I want something to happen.”

  “Oh, my love. Please, whatever you do, be very, very careful what you wish for.”

  His words hung between us for a minute, neither of us saying anything, then Angelo spoke very softly. “Are you otherwise engaged on Friday night?”

  Friday I was supposed to meet Jesse and his mom for dinner, but if I told Angelo that, he would insist I go.

  “No, I’m … ,” I said, my voice equally low.

  “Excellent. You can visit Dominic Arment. He has dinner with his wife every Friday night at six o’clock. You’ll have two hours.”

  My dinner with Jesse and his mom wasn’t until eight. I could make this happen. If I played my cards right, I could even be early to dinner.

  I swear, if they ever give out an award for Best Multitasking Spy, I had better win it.

  “I’ll be there,” I told Angelo.

  “You remember the address?”

  22 Pomander Walk.

  “Of course.”

  “Lovely. Now, let’s move on. You said you can’t open the lock. Did you bring it with you?”

  “Like a slave,” I said, reaching into my bag and pulling the bulky, unwieldy thing out of my purse. “This stupid thing is stupidly stupid.”

  Angelo tut-tutted at me as he took it into his hands. “How much progress have you made?”

  “Not much,” I admitted, poking at one of the keyholes. “Look at this. It’s impossible. There’s four of these holes altogether, with a keyhole on the right and left. The right side opens to a smaller door with two more keyholes, but the one in the middle has to be opened last. And that’s all I’ve got. I can’t ever get the last one, and half the time I can’t even get the first one to open. Is this really a medieval torture device? You can tell me. I won’t breathe a word, I swear.”

  Angelo smiled ruefully and turned the lock over to glance at it from the side. In his hands, it looked smaller, more manageable. “I don’t believe I ever told you where this came from,” he murmured. “Did I? I’ve become an old man, my memory often fails me.”

  “Oh, stop it. Your memory is fine and you’re not old. If you were old, you probably would have fallen on the stairs and broken a hip. And you didn’t, so you’re fine.”

  “Your knowledge of the aging process is both frightening and lacking,” he teased me, then glanced to his left and right. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but I knew he was checking the crowds, looking for new and old faces, making sure all was as it should be. The throngs of tourists were still moving around us, though, and Angelo leaned a bit closer so that he could speak softly.

  “This lock,” he told me, “is actually from an ancient Greek monastery, Saint Paul’s on Mount Athos. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  “I appreciate that, but how often do you honestly think that Roux and Jesse and I discuss ancient monasteries?”

  “Excellent point,” he said. “Your lack of religious education aside, the monastery has been around since the thirteenth century. The monks there pray constantly, live in near silence, arise at three in the morning. Very monastic, if you will. It’s a shame that they don’t allow women to join them. I think you
would absolutely love it there.”

  I smiled despite myself. “Maybe I could take Roux with me, too. Liven the place up a bit.”

  “Heaven help us,” Angelo said, laughing. “But the monks, they also house thousands of religious artifacts and treasures. They’re worth millions, perhaps billions.”

  “There’s always money to be made,” I murmured, remembering what Angelo had told me last year. “Has anyone ever tried to steal anything?”

  Angelo shook his head. “Would you care to guess why?”

  I looked down at the lock in his hands. “Oh.”

  “Exactly.” Angelo tapped my nose, then handed the lock back to me. “This is actually just one of a few facsimiles of the lock that guards their most sacred artwork. Only a few monks have access to the keys, and even then, no one can ever have more than one key at a time.”

  “Sort of like a monk buddy system?”

  “I suppose so, yes. This has guarded them against the Crusades, the Nazis, and countless other attempts at thievery.”

  “How do you know all this?” I asked. “When did you become an expert on monasteries?”

  “Oh, I have my ways,” he replied. “I like to know a little about a lot. I find that it keeps life interesting.”

  “So you don’t have any tips to crack this sucker?” I asked. “Because this thing is making me insane. I don’t like being outsmarted by inanimate objects.”

  “Yes, you’ve made that clear over the years.” Angelo smirked. “Just keep trying. It will open when you need it most.”

  I looked at him. “That’s it?” I cried. “That’s all the advice you can give me?”

  Angelo just shrugged. “My love, if I could open locks like this, then I wouldn’t need you now, would I?”

  I just looked at him. “Old man or not, I will seriously break your hip.”

  He burst out laughing and put his arm around my shoulders. “I can assure you, love, greater people than you have tried before, and all without success.”

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t sleep at all on Thursday night, too anxious about breaking into Dominic Arment’s apartment on Friday evening and even more anxious about the fact that I couldn’t tell my parents what I was doing. Ever since my first word, we had always talked about our cases. I had always consulted with them, planned with them, and now I was on my own. Even though they were there, they weren’t there, and I felt wobbly-kneed and unsure.

  Let me tell you, I had a whole new understanding of Roux’s predicament with her parents.

  All that insecurity, though, just told me what I already knew. I had to find these coins and prove my parents’ innocence. Even if the Collective still decided to kick us out, the truth would be revealed.

  And I would be the one to hand it to them.

  I was so determined that I forgot about one major point: my parents were also spies.

  “Where are you going?” my dad asked as I came into the room.

  “Roux’s, then dinner with Jesse and his mom,” I told him. “Roux’s helping me get dressed. Something about shoes and not walking like a clod, I don’t know.” That part was true, at least. Roux had been trying to get me into heels for months and I kept refusing.

  But I wasn’t going to Roux’s.

  “Dinner with Jesse’s mom?” Now my mom’s interest was piqued. “Where are you going?”

  “Some sushi place on Bond Street. I don’t know, I guess she chose it.”

  “What time are you meeting them?”

  I paused while tugging on my boot. “Is this an inquisition?”

  “Why so defensive?” My mom arched an eyebrow.

  “You’re the defensive one,” I shot back. “I’m just trying to put on my shoes.”

  My dad leaned over so I could hang on to his shoulder and not topple. “You’ve been staying up late a lot,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “Working on something?”

  “That lock Angelo gave me. It’s insane. It keeps me up worrying about why I can’t crack it.” Partly true, I consoled myself. I wasn’t really lying to my parents.

  “Are you sure you’re not going out to find these coins?” Busted.

  “I’m going to dinner with Jesse and his mom,” I told them. “Call the restaurant and check the reservation if you want.”

  “You’re leaving awfully early, though.” My dad was now up and pacing in the kitchen. Never good.

  “I told you, I’m going to Roux’s! Why are you two suddenly so jumpy?” But I knew exactly why: spies can smell trouble even when they’re not involved in it. My parents knew something was up because something was up.

  They continued to stare at me, both accusing and pleading, and I shrugged my shoulders and hoisted my bag onto my shoulder. “Talk to Angelo if you want to know something,” I told them. “He’s the one who put me on the silent treatment.”

  I said it so offhandedly, not even thinking about it, that I didn’t even realize why the room had gone quiet. I’ve done a lot—we’re talking a lot—of stupid things in my life, but that sentence took the cake. It was like a bomb went off in our kitchen.

  “What?” my mom screamed. “He told you what?”

  “He can’t just order you to do something like that!” my dad hollered. “Where is he? Get him on the phone right now!”

  “We are your parents—!”

  “This is outrageous—!”

  “HEY!” I yelled, trying to interrupt them. I felt like I should pick up a barstool and use it to keep them at bay, like a lion tamer in the circus. “I told you, take it up with him. But he’s right, you two are too close to this. You’re too involved.”

  “Because you’re our daughter!” my mom cried. “Of course we’re involved!”

  “Then have a little faith in your gene pool! Remember what happened the last time you didn’t trust me? Colton Hooper ended up nearly running me down.”

  It was a low blow, I admit, but it worked. The tension disappeared as their shoulders sagged, and I felt bad for them. “Just relax,” I said. “What are you going to do when I go off on my own? You can’t control everything that happens to me. And you won’t always get to know everything, either. Is this what college is going to be like? You calling me every fifteen minutes and asking what I’m doing?”

  “Yes,” my dad said.

  “The difference between college and this,” my mom added, “is that you won’t be risking your life to save ours.”

  I shrugged and tried to ignore the lump forming rapidly in my throat. “Them’s the breaks,” I said. “You shouldn’t have had a kid who was such an awesome spy. And I told you, I’m going to dinner with Jess. So relax, okay?” I leaned over to kiss my dad on the cheek, then gave my mom a hug. “Watch Antiques Roadshow or something. Take a bath. Have some chamomile tea. And don’t worry about me.”

  Because I have enough worry for all of us, I added silently.

  “You’re going to have to go in blind,” Angelo told me. “I don’t know whether or not Dominic has surveillance set up and we can’t risk it.”

  “No headset, gotcha,” I replied. “You could have mentioned that earlier, by the way.”

  We were standing in the middle of the Forty-Second Street/Times Square subway station. On an average Monday, it was one of the busiest stations in the city, but on Friday night, it was barely controlled bedlam. We were sandwiched between a violinist playing for change and an opera singer, which kept anyone from overhearing our conversation … or their own, for that matter. That opera singer was really hitting those high notes.

  “How do we know the surveillance cameras aren’t capturing us?” I asked Angelo as he handed me a blueprint. “I’d like to keep my face off of the MTA radar tonight.”

  “Someone’s running interference tonight,” Angelo said. “We have approximately three minutes before that camera”—he gestured to one just past my head—“goes back online. Now this,” he said, patting the blueprint, “is Dominic’s house. Do you have it?”


  I stared at it hard for fifteen seconds. “Yep.”

  “Wonderful.” Angelo tucked it back into his jacket. I swear, his jackets were like Mary Poppins’s carpetbag. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day he produced a hairless cat and a hat rack from his inside pocket.

  “Some things to know,” Angelo continued. “There is a security code, but we don’t know it.”

  “Excellent news,” I drawled.

  “You’ll have one minute to crack the code before the alarm goes off. If it does go off and we can’t infiltrate it and stop the police, you’ll have five minutes before they arrive and fifteen before Dominic shows up.”

  “Good thing I enjoy a challenge. Do we have any idea what the security password is?”

  “It changes daily.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. You’re fine, I told myself. You’re the best. You can do this.

  “Don’t worry, my love,” Angelo said, reading my mind. “You are the best in this business, and everyone knows it.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem,” I said. “Everyone knows. Including our enemies.”

  “Ah, yes, but it keeps them on their toes.” Angelo gave me a wink and patted my shoulder. “Always better to chase than be chased.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Let me know when you’re out,” Angelo said. “And don’t worry, darling. You’re like a cat. You always seem to land on your feet.”

  That was true, but Angelo was missing the bigger point: in order for the cat to land, it first had to free-fall.

  I didn’t say anything, though, just shook my hands and hopped up and down, a player ready to take the field. I had missed this adenaline rush, the warm sensation under my skin, bringing every sense into hyperalert mode. The opera singer was nearly deafening by now. I could feel the subway’s rumble under my feet, the humid subterranean air blowing against my skin. It felt like coming home, and I hadn’t realized until that moment just how homesick I had been.

  Angelo smiled to see me. “It’s lovely to have you back,” he said.

  “Oh, I never left,” I told him, grinning so wide that I felt it in my cheekbones. “Put me in, Coach. I’m ready to crush them.”