Ends of the Earth (28 page)

“Well,” said Max. “Maybe I could put off my decision for a
little
longer.”

“That's my boy.”

A thought occurred to him. “And while I'm still being a spy, maybe you can help me with something?”

“Name it.”

Max raked a hand through his hair. “The mind-control device. Even though I agreed to, it's been bugging me that I just handed it over to Mr. Elbow. It's a dangerous
tool.”

“It is,” said his father, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes.

“And I was thinking, maybe we could…”

“Steal it back and destroy it?”

“Well,” said Max, “yeah.”

Simon's eyes gleamed. “Sounds like a perfect father-son project.”

They turned as one and set off to rejoin the others. “First thing we need,” said Max's father, “is a good team….”

“Funny,” said Max, “but I think I might know where to find one.”

Popular for nearly as long as spies have been around, a dead drop is a way of secretly passing items between two people. You know those scenes in the movies where two
people sit down at a table with briefcases and surreptitiously switch them? That's not it. Since both people are present, it's considered a
live drop
.

A dead drop, however, means that both agents don't need to be there to make the exchange. In fact, the two parties don't even have to know each other—all
they need to know is the drop location and signaling device. This offers a way of avoiding personal meetings, which can jeopardize the spy network if the agents are observed or caught.

Give me a sign

Whoever plans to pick up your item needs to know when it's in place. That's where signals come in handy. A signal could be anything agreed upon by the two agents
in advance—a chalk mark on a wall, a Post-it in a window, a shade pulled down, or a statue wearing a goofy hat.

Bear in mind that everyone and his brother can see your signal, so writing the words “dead drop” with an arrow pointing under the park bench where you've
hidden your package might be just a tad obvious. Subtlety is key here. In fact, the signal doesn't even need to appear near the drop—merely in a place where your co-conspirator will
see it.

For example, if you wanted to leave a key to let a friendly agent into your home, you might make a chalk mark on the door, letting them know that the key is under the
flowerpot around the side of the house.

Do the dead drop

To make a successful dead drop, here are three things for the trainee spy to bear in mind:

1. Pick the right spot.

You want to make sure not to draw unwanted attention, either to the drop-off and pickup, or to the package itself when unattended. Popular locations include a hole in a
tree, behind a loose brick, inside a cutout library book (an unpopular book, of course!), or beneath a park bench. By contrast, leaving the package outside a police station or airport will only
land you in deep, deep doo-doo. Choose wisely.

2. Make sure it blends in.

Whatever you're leaving in the dead drop should either be out of sight enough to go unnoticed or so much a part of the scene that it gets overlooked. A
suspicious-looking package taped to a wall stands out. But a fake rock in a yard blends in with all the real rocks around it.

Along those lines, make sure your hiding spot isn't too obvious. Leaving a key under the welcome mat? A rookie mistake. Leaving a key in an empty soda can under the
hedge? Much more spy-worthy.

3. Use protection.

If you're hiding something in the ground or behind a trash bin, you want to make sure it's still in usable shape by the time your contact picks it up. Ever since
the sixties, real spies have been using dead-drop spikes, a waterproof concealment device that hides money, microfilm, documents, and other items. But if you can't make it to the spy
store and have to improvise, any waterproof container will do.

Best of luck, and remember the spy's Number One rule of dead drops: don't get caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Excerpted from:

Survival Skills for the Modern Spy
, 3rd Edition

by Giacomo Fleming, Belle Maclean, and S. Gromonowitz

TO SUCCEED
on his mission, every spy needs a top-flight support team. A writer is no different. This time around, I'm particularly grateful for
the eagle eye and terrific story sense of my editor, Stephanie Lurie, who helped me through a rough patch of the writing and asked the questions I hadn't even thought to ask.

Thanks also to my technical consultants, Peter Selvaggio (security matters) and Mick Guinn (computer hacking), for helping this nontechie understand what's what. Major mahalos go out to
Terry Sheldon (beta reader and British slang), Annie Sung Bernstein and Janette Cross (Japanese), and Carol Bond (Aussie slang). Your comments were invaluable.

And finally, a Blofeld volcano–size thank-you to my wife, Janette, for all her patience, support, and understanding. Living with a writer is no easy task, and you manage it with grace to
spare.

BRUCE HALE
began his career as a writer
while living in Tokyo and continued it when he
moved to Hawaii in 1983. Before entering the
world of children's books, he held such diverse
jobs as magazine editor, surveyor, gardener,
actor, and deejay (but alas, not spy). He has
written and illustrated over twenty-five books
for kids, including the first two books in the
School for S.P.I.E.S. series; the Underwhere
graphic novel series; and the Chet Gecko
Mysteries series. Bruce loves to travel and give
talks, and he has visited schools both nationally
and internationally. He lives in Santa Barbara,
California, with his wife, Janette, and his dog,
Riley. For more intel, go to
school4spies.com
.

BRANDON DORMAN
received his BFA in
fine art from Brigham Young University—Idaho
and since then has created hundreds of illustrations
for books and magazines. Some of his
best-known works include the
New York Times
#1 best-selling picture book
The Wizard
by Jack
Prelutsky, cover art for the Newbery Honor
Book
Savvy
by Ingrid Law, and the best-selling
series Fablehaven and Goosebumps. For more
information, visit
www.brandondorman.com
.