Two Lies and a Spy Read Free Page B

help?”
    “Oh, no thanks,” I tell him. “It’s actually ketchup.” I laugh, convincingly, I hope. After all, he can’t know that my voice is an octave higher than it usually is. “My little brother was trying to open two packets at once for his French fries, and they squirted all over me.” I roll my eyes and throw up my hands. “What can you do?”
    Charlie says nothing, which is probably good.
    The guy in fatigues looks at me funny, and I’m pretty sure he knows it’s not ketchup that’s on my shirt. But then he just shrugs and goes on his way.
    My knees are shaking and I’ve got to lose this shirt, like, yesterday. But we’re almost to our destination, which is Dupont Circle, so I mop at my face with my shirtsleeve, twist my messy hair into a knot, and take off my backpack, holding it in front of me as we walk. I look at my watch. We’re half an hour early to this checkpoint. I really hope Mom and Dad make it this time. But the Mitch-and-Gary show back there puts a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
    What’s going on? How would they have known about our meeting points in case of a Code Black? That’s family-only knowledge. So did they get the information from Mom and Dad? And if so, then why did they try to force us to go with them? Have they done something to our parents?
    “Why do you think Mom and Dad didn’t come?” Charlie asks.
    “They probably just got held up somewhere,” I say breezily.
    As we get on the Metro and head southeast across town, I really, really hope that’s true.

Chapter Three
    Union Station is a huge, classical white building—really more than one building. It’s not only a train station, it’s also a mall with tons of shops and restaurants and access to the Metro. I’ve loved it ever since I was a kid. It’s been around forever, but in the eighties they did a massive renovation and gave the grand old lady a lot of cosmetic surgery. She really struts her stuff now.
    Before we duck inside, I do a quick scan of the crowd around us. I know Mitch and Gary weren’t on our Metro train, but it bothers me that they knew where to meet us at the Georgetown Playground. Do they know that my parents have a locker here, too? Are they aware of the entire Andrews family backup plan?
    The lockers at Union Station are near Gate A on the Amtrak Concourse, so we head over there. I know the combination by heart and have since before I wasCharlie’s age—I just never seriously thought we’d have to do more than a drill.
    I have the door open with a few twists of the lock—31-61-91—but this time my hands do shake. The encounter with Mitch and Gary has upset me more than I’d like to admit.
    Inside are four backpacks for emergencies. I hand Charlie his, which contains three different sets of fake passports for him and fake student IDs for different schools. There’s also five hundred dollars cash, the equivalence of five hundred dollars in various other currencies, two prepaid phones, some tiny comm units, a secure laptop, two changes of clothes, some energy bars, and a bottle of water.
    Mine holds the same basics, but no computer. I have a medical kit, too. I leave Mom’s and Dad’s where they are. Their packs have ammo and guns in them—in my mom’s case, a Sig Sauer and a Beretta, and in my dad’s case, a Ruger and a sniper rifle. While this is all standard gear for Agency employees of my parents’ classification, these are not items I want to carry around Union Station. They’re the spies. I’m just a kid.
    Charlie and I zoom off to a ladies’ room, where I force him in with me despite his protests.
    “I’m not going into the girls’ bathroom!” he insists.
    “Yes, you are. We don’t know if Mitch followed us.”
    He gets a mulish expression on his face, but I give him the stink eye. “C’mon, Charlotte . Inside.” Charlie’s disguise is not exactly to his liking.
    He heaves a sigh, makes a face, and follows me in. With a silent apology, I do the politically