Chapter 12: The Spy Revealed!

“Jumping Joe Mauer!  You made it!”

“Tracy!” There was Sarah’s friend, in the flesh, still wearing the same outfit she’d been wearing earlier that day (in Philadelphia—not the Annie Oakley one).  The young agent looked a little tired, but the grin on her face was wider than that bridge Sarah had been thrown off of.  She grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her in.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” Tracy said, leading her down the hall.  “I hope your trip wasn’t too bad.”

“Well, to tell you the truth,” said Sarah, “it kind of was.  I had to flee for my life in Atlanta, I got shot at once I got here, and then, some guy threw me off a bridge—”

Tracy shook her head.  “Those brutes!  Well, I’m glad you made it here.  I told them you could figure out all the clues, and you did!  See, you didn’t have anything to worry about—”

“Wait, them?” said Sarah.

“Yes—oh, the other agents that are helping me with this case.”  As they’d been talking, the two girls had wandered down to the basement—a very ordinary basement that looked unfinished.  However, Tracy made her way over to the wall of the foundation, then flipped up a thermostat, revealing a keypad.  She typed in a number, and a portion of the wall started to slide away!

Sarah gasped—though, by now, she should have been used to finding secret rooms.  The space which now greeted her eyes was almost identical to the one in Atlanta, only this one had more computers, more TV screens, more controls lining the walls—if that was possible.  There was a large desk in the center of the room, rather long.  Two men in suits were seated at either end of it—they stood up as Tracy went inside.

“Hi guys!” she said.  “Sarah, let me present Agent Burks and Agent DeHann,” she said, pointing to the one on the left and the one on the right, respectively.  “They’re two of the top officials in my agency—and also, the other two agents that knew about the box.  You met the fourth one in Atlanta already.”

Sarah shook hands with DeHann, a short man with a firm handshake and dark eyes that glinted cheerily in the midst of a rather circular face.  A short black beard moved up and down as he said, “Pleased to meet you!”

His partner, Burks, nodded at Sarah but quickly coughed.  “Excuse me,” he said.  “Good to see you, Sarah.  I would shake hands, but—Ah, choo!”

“You’ve been battling that over a week now, haven’t you?” Tracy said sympathetically to the taller man, broad-shouldered with silver streaks running through his black hair.  He had a face which you couldn’t forget—a face Sarah thought was tailor-made for movies.  I’d suspect him of being a spy before I suspected DeHaan, she thought, laughing to herself.

“The fourth one,” she suddenly said, her thoughts going back to the agent in Atlanta.  “Wait a minute—I’m confused.  Burks, DeHaan, and the Atlanta agent know about this box—who’s the other one?”

“Oh, come on, haven’t you guessed?” laughed Tracy.  “You’ve been speaking with her all day!”  And with that, she reached into her purse and pulled out a box.

“Oh, so you had it!” exclaimed DeHaan.  “I was wondering who did.”

Tracy calmly laid it on the table.  “Good thing we had three made,” she said.  “The other two have already disappeared.”

“Alright, Sarah,” said Burks.  “What’s the password?”

“Password?” said Sarah.  “What password?”

“Remember what I said this morning?” Tracy asked.  “Your dad quipped that you could figure it out?”

“I sure hope he wasn’t joking,” said DeHaan gravely, “because if he was, he’s the only one who can get it open.”

“If Akbar was telling the truth, it contains a video of the leaker,” said Burks.  “If we find out who that is, we can find your father, but we need to get the box open.”

Sarah shook her head.  “I’ve been so busy running around today,” she said, “I haven’t had a chance to even think about this!  I’ve got no idea what it is.”

“Think, Sarah!” encouraged Tracy.  “You know your dad.  It was probably something simple—some word or phrase or number he said a lot around the house, something you’d easily associate with him.  You wouldn’t know it as a password, but don’t think of it as a password.  Think, what could it have been?”

“I’m not sure,” said Sarah.  “In fact, I don’t even know why he said I might be able to figure that out.  My mom’s a lot better at that stuff than I am—why couldn’t she?”

“It must be specific to you, whatever it is,” Burks said.

“That doesn’t make any sense, though,” said Sarah.  “He told the same jokes around the both of us.  There’s nothing he’d say that my mom couldn’t guess too, unless—hey, wait a minute!”

Everyone in the room stared intently at Sarah as the girl thought.  “That might be—did he ever…no, he didn’t—of course, that’s got to be it!”

“Did you remember?” Tracy asked.

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Sarah, “but here goes nothing!”

She walked over to the desk and studied the box.  It had a computer keyboard along the top, complete with letters, numbers, and a shift bar.  But Sarah ignored the numbers AND the shift bar, contenting herself with just seven of the letters.  Seven letters that meant absolutely nothing in the order she put them in, but, when flipped, spelled out a word most people have heard.

O-L-O-C-C-I-P

There was a click, a buzz, a whir—

Then, the box spat out a disk!

“It was piccolo!” Sarah exclaimed triumphantly.  “Piccolo spelled backwards!”

“Yes!” exclaimed DeHaan.  Tracy pumped her fist and twirled around, excitedly.  Only Burks didn’t show much of a reaction—Sarah guessed he wasn’t as expressive—but a little smile formed at the corner of his lips.

“Put in the disk, Tracy,” he ordered.  “Let’s see who’s on it!”

“Alright, Mr. B.  Here goes!”  Tracy stepped over to one of the TVs, then shoved the disk into a slot just underneath.

Instantly, the DVD logo appeared.  It stayed there for six seconds, then faded into a screen.  This stayed black for two seconds, at the end of which, the image of a computer screen popped up.  On the screen was a confusing maze of lines with odd little letters and numbers written next to them.

“Gerdex,” explained a voice.  “The revolutionary new technology that promises to produce the most powerful missiles the U.S. has ever had.  This coded document tells how to build a plant for safely producing them.”

Little needles of terror ran down Sarah’s spine, as she heard that voice.  It sounded familiar.  Too familiar.  She’d heard it just that day, in—

The camera switched from the plans to the man behind the voice.  He was seated at a desk with the agency logo on it, eyes staring straight at the camera.  His face barely flinched, his voice never wavered—he spoke steadily, with the composure of a man who is neither guilty or sorry—but the camera shot revealed something Sarah had suspected the moment she’d heard the voice, something she’d been afraid of, a reality she hadn’t wanted to face.  The face behind the voice belonged to—

Agent DeHaan!

BANG!  BANG!

As Sarah whirled around, she nearly fainted.  DeHaan had pulled a gun, and he’d just shot Burks in the heart—twice!  The sight was enough to make any sane person sick—

But nothing could have prepared Sarah for what happened next.

Burks didn’t flinch.  He stared at DeHaan.  No look of pain crossed his face.  Quite the contrary, that little grin that had been on his mouth widened into a look of hilarity.  He started to laugh, a long, hearty laugh that filled the room.  His chair shifted back, and he stood up from the desk!

“Good try, DeHaan,” he said, “but you’ll never get away with this!”

Even as he spoke, he was already—fading!  Yes, fading—Sarah could see the screens at the other end of the room through his body!  The image got fainter and fainter, then disappeared entirely!

DeHaan looked down at his gun, then up at the empty chair in front of him.  “How—what—what happened?”

Tracy giggled.  “Oh, come on, Mr. DeHaan.  You don’t think we’ve been totally unaware of your spying, do you?  We’ve suspected you for quite a while, and this is all we were waiting for!”

“You tricked me!” DeHaan shrieked.  “Well, don’t think you’ll get me so easily, Miss Turner!  I know you’re in this room!” and he fired the gun right at Tracy!  Four bullets!

Sarah screamed!  Then, she noticed that Tracy hadn’t flinched either.  In fact, there wasn’t a sign she’d even been hit.  She continued to stand where she was, grinning at the rogue agent, who in turn stared down at his gun.

“You didn’t put blanks in my gun!” he exclaimed.

“Not only that, DeHaan, but we know your biggest fear.  You’ve got ailurophobia, don’t you?”

DeHaan stared at her, not believing what he was seeing.  Even as he stared, though, a change was taking place in the room.  The controls at each side of the room started to slide downwards into the floor.  Soon, they were completely out of view, and a hatch closed over them.  Behind them, and completely lining the walls, were several small cages—cages full of—

CATS!!!

There were all kinds of cats in the cages—big cats, little cats, purebred cats, alley cats, fluffy cats, thin cats—whatever breed, whatever size, whatever type, they were represented, and they were all meowing.  Meowing and yowling like crazy, and when several hundred cats yowl, it’s a pretty creepy sound.  Sarah shivered a bit.

But she didn’t find the sight nearly as unsettling as DeHaan.  He looked around the room, eyes getting wider and wider.  The gun dropped from his hand, and he sank back into his chair.  “Cats,” he muttered nervously.  “Cats.  No, no no—NOOOOOO!!!!!  Get them away from me!”

“Not yet, Mr. DeHaan!” Tracy insisted.  “First, you’ll tell us where Tracy’s father is!”

“No!” DeHaan knew that was his only bargaining chip at this point.  “I won’t tell you that—I won’t!”

Tracy was firm.  “You’ve got fifteen seconds, Mr. DeHaan, or the cages open!”

Above her head, a large clock started flashing numbers.  15…14…13…

“He’s in Delaware!” DeHaan yelled.  “A little farmhouse, just outside Bridgeville.  15012—U.S. Highway 13.  There’s a keypad in the basement—the code’s 8808.”

“Nice try, Mr. DeHaan,” said Tracy.  “We want to know where he really is!”

“I’m telling you the truth—I swear I’m telling you the truth!”

Tracy ran her eyes over the walls.  “The cats don’t think so,” she said.

7…6…5…

“That’s it—I swear—no, don’t—please, don’t—don’t open those—stop the timer—he’s not in Bridgeville!  I was just kidding—it’s—it’s Lake Lillian!  Lake Lillian, Minnesota—the boathouse right at the southern tip of the lake!  Step on the second plank from the door—it’ll drain all the water—secret room down there-he’s under that.  Only, please—please—please—don’t let the cats out!”

“Ah, so it’s Lake Lillian?” said Tracy.  “No wonder we couldn’t find him.  Come on, Sarah, let’s go!”

“Wait—wait—you can’t leave me here!”  DeHaan stood up and would’ve run toward the girls—except, at that moment, he saw that Tracy was holding a gray alley cat.

“You might not want to follow us,” Tracy said, “unless you want to play with Mittens.  Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Meow,” Mittens replied.

And with that, Tracy led Sarah out of the secret room.  The door slid shut behind them, trapping DeHaan inside—until he could be taken off to prison.