Spy Ski School Read Free

students ’ were being activated. So it’s not only me. . . .”
    â€œExcellent deductive work, as usual!” Alexander pronounced, patting me on the back. “You’re right. Erica will also be with you on assignment, as will my father and I!”
    Erica’s expression didn’t change. I had no idea if she was pleased with any of this or not. She might as well have just been told she needed a root canal.
    I was pleased, though. Even more than pleased; the idea of being on assignment with Erica was thrilling. In the first place, there was no one I trusted more. Second, it meant I now had an excuse to spend a lot of time with her.
    In theory, I should have had plenty of other excuses to spend time with Erica, seeing as we both went to the same top-secret boarding school. But Erica could be as cold and distant as Antarctica. While the other kids at school bonded over pickup games of capture the flag or James Bond movie marathons, Erica kept to herself. Even though I was considered her closest friend on campus, that didn’t mean much. A few months before, at the end of our last mission, when we were both doped up on painkillers after nearly being vaporized by a missile, Erica had said a few nice things to me and held my hand. But since then she had behaved as though that had never even happened. There had been weeks when she hadn’t so much as glanced at me.
    So I was excited for an excuse to hang out with her. Even one where my life might be in danger. As far as I was concerned, it was worth the risk.
    â€œWhat’s the mission?” I asked.
    Cyrus produced a sealed manila envelope from the inner pocket of his warm-up jacket and handed it to me. It was labeled OPERATION SNOW BUNNY and stamped FOR YOUR EYES ONLY . My heart leapt. Getting an honest-to-God “For Your Eyes Only” manila envelope in spy school was like being named king of homecoming in regular school.
    I broke open the seal and found several photographs inside. They were extremely grainy, as though they’d been taken from a long distance away with a telephoto lens. The first one was of a Chinese man with close-cropped hair wearing sunglasses.
    â€œThat is Leo Shang,” Cyrus told me. “He’s one of the richest men in China. Worth billions.”
    â€œWhat’s he do?” I asked.
    â€œWe have no idea,” Cyrus admitted. “The truth is, we know almost nothing about him: where he grew up, how much education he has, what he owns. He simply appeared on the scene five years ago, loaded with cash.”
    Erica shifted closer to me to get a better look at the photos. As usual, she smelled incredible, a combination of lilacs and gunpowder. She stared at the pictures in a way thatsuggested she’d never seen them before, which was unusual. Normally, Erica knew everything way before I did. I wondered why Cyrus hadn’t shared these with her yet.
    â€œAnyone with an untraceable background and that much money is suspicious,” Cyrus continued. “So the CIA has tried to investigate him. However, the man has the tightest security I’ve ever come across. His organization is almost impossible to infiltrate. He keeps himself cloistered, interacting with only a few select people, each of whom is also extremely well protected. We’ve been trying to get an agent close to him for years with virtually no success.”
    â€œWhy?” Erica asked. It was only the second time she’d spoken since I’d entered the room. “If he’s a Chinese criminal, that’s China’s problem, isn’t it?”
    â€œWe have reason to believe his crimes are not merely limited to China,” Cyrus replied. “He seems to be plotting something in the United States. The last agent who investigated him reported he’s working on a scheme known as Operation Golden Fist.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” I asked.
    â€œWe don’t know,” Cyrus confessed.