Two Lies and a Spy Read Free

look at my watch. Where are Mom and Dad?
    “You don’t want me to read Roget’s aloud, do you?” Charlie inquires.
    I shake my head, even though I should probably encourage him to learn. But the problem is that Charlie wants to learn everything, all the time. He needs to go play ball or catch bugs or even watch cartoons, like a normal child. He needs to play with other kids, not explore the theory of relativity. Lately he’s even studying German—as if he doesn’t already speak Russian, French, and Spanish! The kid puts me to shame. I suck at languages.
    Martial arts are my thing. “Want me to teach you some karate moves?”
    Charlie yawns.
    Guess not.
    “So, tell me about your day,” I prompt him. “What did you study?”
    He launches into a half-hour history lesson about the coal mining industry in West Virginia.
    I ask him a few questions before I frown. “Wait—you’re learning about this in fifth grade?”
    Well, no. Not exactly. But Charlie, as usual, got bored with the real lesson and snuck an encyclopedia behind his textbook.
    I would laugh, but I’m used to these stories.
    Then Charlie’s expression changes from professorial to puzzled. “Hey, isn’t that Mitch over there?”
    I look over my shoulder. Sure enough, a friend of our parents is crossing the park, another guy in a gray suit following him.
    Now I’m worried. Really worried. Where are Mom and Dad? And why is Mitch here?
    “Hey, kiddo,” I say. “Do me a favor? Go over to where all those nannies are, on the playground.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s just a tactical move, Charlie. We’re supposed to meet Mom and Dad, not Mitch—and I just want to be careful. Mitch is nowhere in our playbook.”
    “Okay.” Charlie grabs his backpack and the copy of Roget’s and heads off. I stand up and walk toward Mitch and Gray Suit Man.
    Mitch is a stocky guy in dress slacks and an open-necked shirt. He’s got short brown hair that’s going gray at the temples and these sort of silvery-gray eyes. He’d look like a normal businessman, except that he’s clearly ex-military. It’s in his walk, the way he holds himself.
    “Hi, Kari!” he calls in hearty tones. A little too hearty.
    Here’s the thing—Mitch is one of those guys that I’ve always been indifferent to. He’s been at the house for dinner before, and maybe a couple of parties. A barbecue. He’s not exactly nice, but he’s not not-nice, either. He’s just there: a department-store dummy of a man.
    Mitch gives me a professional grin. “Karina, glad you’re here. Your mom and dad asked me to swing by and pick you two up.”
    “Where are they?” I ask. My nose is starting to itch. I have this really weird thing—when someone is lying to me and I know it, my nose tickles. Sounds crazy, but it’s true.
    “They’re safe, don’t worry.” He nods reassuringly.
    I feel like I’m going to sneeze. “Um, who’s this?” I look at Gray Suit Man.
    “Oh, this is . . . Gary. Gary Simons. He works at the Agency with us.”
    “Hello, Karina. Nice to meet you.” Simons has a gravelly smoker’s voice, and his hair is as gray as his suit. His skin is grayish too. And he’s got small, weasel eyes with big pouches of skin under them.
    It takes me two point five seconds to decide that I do not like this guy. “Yeah,” I say, with just the hint of a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, too.” I take an involuntary step back from him and turn to Mitch. “So what’s the password?”
    Mitch blinks. “Ah. To be honest, there wasn’t time for Cal and Irene to even think about that. We had to rush them to a safe house.”
    I sneeze.
    “Gesundheit,” Mitch says, still in that gung ho, overly familiar tone.
    “Thanks.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gary Simons take two quick steps toward me, as if he’s going to grab me.
    I pivot and launch myself at Mitch, driving my right shoulder into his stomach.
    Mitch, caught off guard, doubles over. His skull collides with Simons. I have a