The Inside Job (5 page)

Walter laughed a little under his breath, sounding relieved that I'd finally said something. “You on a roller coaster. Sure, Hale. Sure.”

“I let Ben strap inventions I don't understand to my belt every day. I promise you, I'm totally cool with a roller coaster,” I answered, but I laughed too. Ben stopped snoring for a second, and I thought maybe we'd woken him up. We went still . . .

SNORE
.

Walter and I laughed more, trying to keep quiet, but doing so only made my stomach muscles burn and twist, which made me laugh more. Finally we settled down, and Ben rolled over a little so he was snoring at the wall instead of right at us. I was sort of getting that black, dizzy feeling, about to fall asleep, when Walter spoke, his voice low again, like he hoped I was already out.

“I know you're mad that so many people stayed at SRS, Hale. But I think you—
we
—have to remember that SRS—
they're
the bad guys. They're the ones that used us, your parents, my mom,
everyone
—”

“Maybe Hastings,” I said, frowning. “He looked really scared at the bank today—maybe he's not
helping
them so much as they're using him, just like they used us.”

“Right, maybe. But what I'm saying is, I know you're

mad that so many people stayed, but sometimes, I think, it's just hard for people to do the right thing.”

Hastings's face was still in my head, but I pushed it aside to answer Walter. “Of course it's hard. It was hard for my parents to leave me and Kennedy. But when you know it's the right thing, you have to do it.”

“Right,” Walter said quietly.

I looked at the bedsprings above me, thinking about Walter on the other side of them. Sometimes I think he wished I'd never told him the truth about SRS and The League.

Sometimes I wished I didn't know the truth either. But that's not the way the truth works—the truth doesn't care if you believe in it or know about it or like it. It doesn't care if sometimes you wish it would all go away, and that you could be back in apartment 300 with your mom and dad and sister like any normal superspy family.

Hard or scary or complicated, the truth is just the truth.

CHAPTER FIVE

“SRS used us. And I'm telling you, they're using Hastings too. He needs our help,” I said firmly the next morning.

Otter looked at me like I was just as disappointing as the cup of instant coffee he was nursing. “First off, you don't
know
that, Jordan. You're just assuming because the guy looked nervous at the bank. Secondly, “used” doesn't mean the same thing as “threatened.” Hastings probably knows exactly what he's doing for SRS—and is probably being paid very, very well for it.”

“He didn't look
nervous
; he looked
scared
,” I said. “Look, all I'm saying is, we go to his house. We see if he needs our help getting out of SRS. If not, we leave Geneva.”

“After a helicopter tour?” Clatterbuck said wistfully from the kitchen.

“My hand to god, Clatterbuck, if you mention that helicopter tour
one more time . . .
,” Otter said through gritted teeth. He looked back to me. “And if he tells SRS about us coming to see him?”

“If he were going to tell SRS about us, he'd have done it yesterday,” I pointed out.

“He's got a point,” Walter said from across the table. Walter had his own instant coffee, but he wasn't drinking it. I think he just wanted to hold it and make himself look older.

Otter scowled. “All the more reason for us to leave
now
. We're not going to Hastings's house, and that's final.”

We
were
going to Hastings's, though, because everyone else was on board with me, so Otter was outvoted. We used the Internet to find Hastings's home address. And then we went to his house.
All
of us, actually—Otter wanted to make it just himself, me, and Walter, but the others started complaining about being cooped up and wanting to
do
something and what did it matter if it wasn't really a
mission
so much as a visit to find out if Hastings was being used or paid? Otter relented, then went and lay down for a long time, because we “made him tired.”

We all packed into a big orange-and-white public bus and rode it up to Hastings's neighborhood, just past the enormous lake on the northern edge of Geneva.
When we arrived at Hastings's address, I gave Otter a defeated look. It was the biggest house on the street, with a view of Lake Geneva and the Swiss Alps. It wasn't something a banker—even an upper-management sort of banker—could afford, which meant Otter was likely right—SRS
did
pay Hastings, and they paid him very, very well.

Walter reached the door first; he glanced back at us and then reached out and knocked hastily on it. It took a few moments, but then finally we heard shoes clapping on the floor. The door swung open.

“What do you want?” Hastings asked sharply in German.

“Er, ein . . . ein—no, wir
—” Walter stumbled; languages had never been his forte. I stepped around Walter and squared my shoulders to Hastings.

“Wir möchten mit Ihnen reden,”
I said quickly.
We'd like to talk to you
.

Hastings gave me a confused look. His eyes danced over the seven of us, trying to sort out who we were. Then suddenly it clicked.

“You were at the bank!” he said in English, horrified. “You're from SRS—you used the code name, the Antonio Halfred name! What have I done? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry?”

Whoa—now I was convinced
I
was right after all, because Hastings looked like he might actually pass out
from fear. I said, “No—that's the point. We're
not
with the Sub Rosa Society. We're with—”

Hastings's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped. He stepped back through his door and then tried to slam it, but I jammed my foot into the frame just before he could. I winced as the pressure of the door crushed my toes.

“We just want to talk!” I said. “We need to tell you—”

“You're going to ruin everything! Go away!” Hastings shouted.

Walter and Clatterbuck jumped forward and pressed on the door; when the two of them couldn't fling it open, Kennedy and Ben joined in. Otter stood in the back, looking somewhat more dignified than the rest of us.

Hastings's back was to the door, pressing it in on us. When Beatrix finally threw her slight weight against it, the door gave, and we all went crashing into Hastings's foyer, sliding across the marble floor in a heap. We tumbled into a fancy wooden table on the other side, breaking the wood and sending a bowl of fake lemons toppling to the ground. Hastings scrambled to his feet as the rest of us sorted out our limbs.

“You have to go!” Hastings said, turning to Otter—I supposed he seemed like the most reasonable one there.

“Believe me, I want to,” Otter said drily. “But that one, there—the chubby one, yes—he insisted we talk to you. The faster the conversation, the faster we're gone.”

I glowered at Otter's low shot but then turned to Hastings. Clatterbuck, Beatrix and Ben, and Walter walked over to stand behind me, while Kennedy walked up beside me and gave Hastings her friendliest smile. Hastings swallowed loudly. For the first time, I got a really solid look at him. He was short, and even though he was young and not exactly fat, he looked like he'd be about as useful in a relay race as I'd be. He'd brushed his hair messily to try to disguise the bald spot near the top of his head, and despite the fact that it was Saturday, was wearing a dress shirt—though he did have the sleeves rolled up.

Hastings smashed his lips together, and then said, “Fine. Fine. Come on. Let's get away from the windows, at least.” He waved us all farther into the house, keeping his eyes especially firm on Clatterbuck and Otter, like he expected them to pull out weapons at any second. As we went along he jumped ahead, pulling drapes and closing shutters. The house was dim by the time we'd made it to a parlor in the back. On the walls there were fancy oil paintings of old ladies wearing furs and pearls, and all the sofas were the stiff, tufted kind. I sat down but then wished I hadn't—the cushions felt like embroidered rocks. There wasn't enough room, so Kennedy, Beatrix, and Ben all sat cross-legged on the floor.

“All right, Mr. Hastings, we'll be quick,” I said. Hastings stood in the parlor door, fidgeting. Kennedy kept smiling at him, which clearly made him even more nervous.
“SRS—you're handling their money for them, right? Helping to keep it hidden?”

“Maybe,” Hastings said, shrugging.

“Dude, come on. We obviously already know,” Walter said, sighing.

I gave Walter a hard look. “Well, let's say
you are
,” I continued, trying to be patient. “We just wanted to make sure you know exactly what SRS is. And if they're forcing you to help them, then we want to help
you
escape.”

Hastings cracked his knuckles. “What are you, twelve?
Who
are you?”

“We're The League,” Clatterbuck said, sounding proud—I could tell he'd been waiting a long time to say this again. Ben and Beatrix smiled at their uncle.

“The what?” Hastings asked, and Clatterbuck's face fell a little.

“We're an opposing spy organization from the States,” Otter explained, his voice growly. “I'm the director. Ben and Beatrix are the tech team. Kennedy's the cat burglar. Walter's the right-hand man. Clatterbuck's the ways-and-means guy. Hale's the lead agent. We're the organization meant to stop SRS for good, and if you stop wasting our time, we can explain why you should help us instead of them.”

“If you kill me, they'll know—”

“
Kill you?
Whoa, whoa,
whoa
,” Beatrix said, waving her hands.

“We're not killing anyone. It's not really our thing,” Ben said.

“We just wanted to make sure you're not in trouble, basically. That you don't need rescuing,” Walter finished.

Markus let his eyes rest on each of us for a moment, and then he shook his head, wiped his face with his hand, and fidgeted some more. If it weren't his house, and if he were maybe a little more athletic, I was pretty certain he would've taken off running. I looked at everyone else. What were we supposed to do now?

“Well. This was illuminating, Jordan. I told you—they're paying him, not using him. Let's go,” Otter said, rolling his eyes. Disappointed, we all rose.

“Paying me?
Ha
,” Hastings said. “They aren't paying me a dime!”

We stopped. “What?” I asked.

“SRS. They've never given me a penny.”

“They're blackmailing you?” Walter said.

“Of course they're blackmailing me! I didn't want anything to do with them, but they'll ruin me. They'll take every dime I have! I won't be able to make my car payments. I won't be able to go to my house in Monaco. I won't be able to
keep
my house in Monaco! They'll destroy my
life
!” Hastings said, his face turning bright red as he got louder and louder.

“How are they blackmailing you? Maybe we can fix it,” I said, ignoring the fact that losing a vacation house
had worked this man into hysterics. “You had an affair? You . . . got arrested? Stole from the bank?”

“No, no, no,” Hastings said mournfully. “Worse.”

“Tell us,” Kennedy said. “What's the worst that could happen? You're already being blackmailed.”

Hastings considered this for a moment and sighed heavily. He stood up slowly, then walked out of the room.

“Uh, should we follow him?” Walter asked. I nodded, and we all sprang after him. Hastings led us through the kitchen, down some stairs, and to a little enclosed patio. He pointed to a bright-orange cushion on the ground.

“
That's
how they're blackmailing me,” he said.

“They know about your . . . strange taste in beanbags?” Ben asked.

Hastings looked horrified. “That's not a beanbag! It's a dog! An extremely rare red-gold Tibetan mastiff!”

“A
dog
?” Kennedy squealed, and before anyone could stop her, she'd dropped to her knees and was crawling toward the cushion—er, the dog—with a hand extended, making kissing noises.

“This is International Supreme Grand Champion Her Lady's Most Gracious Reply,” Hastings said. When Hastings said the dog's name, it lifted its head tiredly. It had giant droopy lips and eyes, and a mane like a lion's. It had to weigh three times what Kennedy weighed, at least. The dog leaned forward and stuck its nose into Kennedy's outstretched hand, sniffing her palm. It
didn't get up, but its tail did begin to thump against the floor.

“She likes me! I like you too, International Supreme Grand . . . What was the rest of her name?” Kennedy said, glowing.