Page 2 of The Society (Spy Girl 3)
"Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
Track down the money man who paid the assassin known as The Priest, determine the target of the third hit, uncover who paid for the hits, and eliminate the threat. Please proceed to London today and await further instructions. And happy birthday."
I'm about to comment when Ari's phone pings. He clicks the link and reads it.
"Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
Determine what, if any, information can be uncovered from the items taken from the second hit's home. Track down further leads to discover the reason behind the hits. Please proceed to London today and await further instructions. And happy birthday."
"Wow," I say. "Is it just me, or does the happy birthday piss you off? All my years at Blackwood, I never got to celebrate a birthday. Now, they wish me one, proving they suck."
"It also proves they wanted you to know," Terrance says.
"Maybe we should just say no," Ari suggests as he puts his arm around my shoulder to console me.
I lean my head against his broad chest. It feels good to have someone on my side.
"You can't say no," Terrance argues.
"Why not?" I ask.
"Whatever this is, it's got to be big."
"How big could it be? It took them six years to train me," I counter.
"That's my point," he says. "Each of your missions has led you further up the food chain. Don't you want to know why they spent six years training you? Don't you want to know what your mother got mixed up in? It's all got to be connected. Someone is planning something big. They tried to take out the Montrovian monarchy, and they killed the president of the United States. What's next?"
"He's got a point, Huntley," Ari says, looking thoughtful. "I also think the more we learn, the more we will discover about our own pasts. I want to know who our biological parents were, don't you?"
"Yeah. Maybe we should just ask them. Tell them we won't go if they don't give us the information we need."
"I think we're better off making them think we're just doing our missions," Terrance says. "That's what they want. And, in the meantime, we keep digging."
A memory flashes in my head. My mother down on her knees in the dirt, digging a little hole.
"What?" Ari asks me.
"I just remembered something. When Terrance said, 'keep digging,' a picture flashed in my brain of my mom digging up some dirt with her hands. But I don't remember where we were or why she was doing that."
"Honestly, Huntley," Terrance says, "I think you are the key to unraveling all this."
"What do you mean?"
"I checked your passport as Calliope Ann Cassleberry. You were in and out of the country all the time, but you were not during the three weeks prior to her death. Which brings us to the question of where were you, and what were you doing?"
"Did you check under the name, Charlotte Cassleberry?"
"Yes. Same thing."
"That's wrong," I tell him.
"How do you know?" Ari asks softly, his arm still on my shoulder.
"I'm not sure," I answer truthfully. "But I do remember sitting on her bed, folding a load of laundry, while she finished unpacking."
"Was there much laundry?" Terrance asks, jotting down notes.
"Yeah. Why?"
"The more laundry, the longer the trip, right?" Ari interjects.
"Exactly."
"Wait." I move away from them and pace across the room. "Don't say anything for a second."
There's something in my brain. Something poking at it. But it doesn't have to do with the trip. It's more recent.
"I know!" I shout. "After I saved Lorenzo, his secret service gave him a background report on me. I suggested it was a dull read, but he found it interesting because of how much I had traveled. How I had been all over the world, even from a young age. When he said that, I freaked out a little because that wasn't in my legend. And I remember wondering if my real story was my backstory, just with a different name."
"I don't get it," Terrance says.
But Ari does. He's nodding along with me.
"See if there is a Huntley Bond passport and compare it to Calliope's," he says.
"But, if that were the case, that would mean that my mom, our mom, was both Kelley Bond and Charlotte Cassleberry."
Terrance considers that. "It's not uncommon for covert agents to have multiple legends. It would also mean that someone kept up the Kelley Bond legend, even after she had passed. And isn't there a Calliope in ancient Greek history as well?"
"Yes, and it's a little creepy. She was the oldest of Zeus and Mnemosyne's nine daughters. She was the muse of epic poetry and believed to be the inspiration of Homer, who wrote the Odyssey, which is the poem of Odysseus's ten-year quest to return home to his wife, Penelope, after the Trojan War." I pause and shake my head. I feel like I'm pulling threads, waiting for things to unravel. "But, if Kelley and Charlotte are the same person, wouldn't that be stupid? I mean, all it would take is for someone to see a photo of my mom, and they would know that she and the spy they had assassinated were one in the same. And, remember, even the CIA thinks I'm dead. They couldn't have known about Kelley either."
"Let's stop theorizing and take a look," Ari says, moving back toward the computer.
Terrance stretches out his fingers and adjusts his glasses before he starts typing away. A few moments later, he says, "This is going to take a while. You should probably get some sleep if you have to be in London today."
Ari grins at me. "I think we're being dismissed."
When we're back upstairs, Ari follows me to my room and whispers in my ear, "Are we being watched?"
I nod and then pull him into my room. "But my room is clean. I took the surveillance gear out, and no one has put it back so far."
"Is that why you took me downstairs?"
"Yeah. I just felt like it was a private moment. Normally, I don't care, but . . ."
"You don't have to explain it to me. I get it. I haven't accepted my mission yet. Do you think we should?"
"I think, if we keep working for them, eventually, we'll figure out who they are. Maybe they are in danger, too."
"So they are sending us to London, because that's where the money man is supposed to be?"
"We will be seeing someone else in London, too. Malcolm Prescott. In fact, we'll be staying at his house. Remember that picture we saw in Ares's office? His friends are dying. First, Ares, then King Vallenta, and then Jack Junior. All of them dead in the last six months. Maybe Malcolm Prescott or Viktor's father will be next. Maybe one of them is the third hit."
"Wait a second. We know the president was assassinated. Are you suggesting that Ares and the King of Montrovia didn't die of natural causes?" he asks, his eyes bugging out.
"I think it's a possibility. Something is definitely going on with Montrovia. Regardless of the official cause of death, four out of the top five in line for the throne are dead. Maybe Prescott is using us to figure it out. Maybe he knows all about us because Ares told him. Maybe he's worried that he's next."
"It was his son who we were told to befriend," Ari agrees. "That could have been an easy way to get us into his life that wouldn't attract attention."
"I say we do a little investigating on our own in London. Maybe Malcolm is the leader of Black X."
"He's got power and money," Ari says. "But, if The Priest was telling the truth, Jack Junior's dad ordered the hit on your mother. Prescott could also be the enemy."
"Or he could have nothing to do with any of it," I say, feeling exasperated. "In other words, we have no idea who we can trust."
"Except each other," Ari says.
A few hours later, I wake up in a cold sweat with Lorenzo on my mind. I had the strangest dream. I was at his castle, pulling flowers out of the ground, and he admonished me for it, saying they were his mother's prized begonias. He was upset and ran off, so I chased after him. But, as I rounded the corner, I heard a gunshot and watched helplessly as
he fell to the ground.
And I know what my subconscious is trying to tell me. He's not out of danger yet.
I glance at the clock, noting the early hour but calling him anyway.
"My sweet," he answers in his dreamy voice. "I am missing you terribly. Will you be arriving soon?"
"Our charter to London is scheduled to leave in a couple of hours. Shall we meet you at your home or at the match?"
"Let us meet at the airport. We'll helicopter to the polo club and then spend the next few nights at Prescott Manor."
"How's Chauncey doing?"
"Spectacular. He will start school tomorrow, so his new nanny is taking him shopping for all his gear. Any word on his father?"
"No. I thought, if he were still alive, he would have contacted me by now."
"It's only been a short time, Huntley. Let's talk about more pleasant things. Like what are you wearing?"
I can't help but laugh. "Well, I am still in bed. That's actually the reason for my call."
"Oh, do you wish for me to be in it with you?" he asks, his voice sultry.
