The Dead Drop (15 page)

Gilda picked up one of her photographs of the dead-drop message and scrutinized the letters. She remembered Caitlin’s analysis: “This shows evidence of criminal intent.”

Then Gilda remembered another important clue from her dream:

Gilda remembered her American history teacher commenting that “Lincoln was not only a great American president; he was a great American writer. Sometimes on a Saturday night, I open a volume of his letters just for light reading.”

18

“The Man of Our Dreams”

Gilda got into her office at the Spy Museum early, planning to look up some information about President Lincoln and his letters on the Internet before her campers arrived. But when she turned on her computer, she was distracted by a message from her mother entitled “THINKING OF YOU RIGHT NOW!”

Uh-oh,
Gilda thought. I bet she’s sending me her dating profile.

Gilda felt annoyed that Stephen had actually helped her mother post an online dating profile. Didn’t the two of them have any sense?

Part of her didn’t want to read it, but curiosity won out.

Gilda opened the attachment to her mother’s message and found a picture of her mother that she had never seen before. Her mother looked younger and prettier than usual, and she sat in a restaurant Gilda didn’t recognize, laughing happily.

One of her friends must have taken it,
Gilda thought.
From that picture, you’d think Mom was just a barrel of laughs. You’d never know that she gets really upset when socks disappear in the dryer or when she finds crumbs under the couch cushions, or that she loves spending Saturday mornings cleaning the garage.

Gilda stared at the profile, feeling like she didn’t quite recognize her own mother. Who knew that her mother loved “dancing” and “the nightlife”? She remembered her parents going to a handful of parties where her father had apparently danced in a very silly way, but that was about it.

It’s weird,
Gilda thought,
how you think you know everything about your mom and then all of a sudden, you see something that makes you realize you’ve only known a small part of her—that she has these secret parts you discover later. I mean, here I’m supposed to be a spy, and I had absolutely no idea that my own mother even knew the phrase “the nightlife”!

Gilda decided to take her mother up on the request to look for silly-sounding sentences in her dating profile. She composed a new e-mail, typing very quickly:

Gilda hit Send and glanced at the clock. She would have to do her research on Abraham Lincoln after work; it was time to go meet her recruits.

19

The Ghost in the Machine

Attention, Team Crypt!” April Shepherd stood facing Gilda’s team of spy recruits. “This morning you’re going to learn what it’s like to find yourselves in a foreign, hostile environment. You’ll have to use your surveillance skills to track down information about possible terrorist activity and a missing nuclear triggering device.”

Gilda and her team were in a part of the Spy Museum that simulated the experience of spying in an imaginary foreign country where streets were lined with markets selling odd foods like “mutton puffs,” secretive government offices containing incriminating documents, and hidden locations for spy surveillance stakeouts.

April Shepherd led the kids into a briefing room covered with maps, photographs of “people of interest,” and diagrams illustrating complex relationships among agents. “Yesterday, Case Officer Zelda taught you the art of disguise—how to create a new identity for yourself and how to ‘live your cover.’ Some of you got a little carried away with the concept of fake body hair, but you saw that in order to be believable, a true disguise is something that becomes part of a whole life story.

“Now, you’re going to expand your spying knowledge; you’re going to learn how to use technology to gather information.”

April led Gilda’s team into an audio surveillance room filled with large machines covered with complex dials and knobs. Gilda noticed Roger Selak in a corner of the room examining the connections between the machines and various cables and wires.

“Everyone, I want to introduce you to Agent Shockwave, our technical operations specialist.” April turned to Roger, whose eyes looked bloodshot and almost bruised with dark circles. “Agent Shockwave, are our surveillance machines up and running today?”

“I sure hope so.” Roger had spent the morning trying to fix a baffling technical glitch: he heard strange sounds coming from the equipment but couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the problem. He had spent hours checking the rack-mounted panel of electronic show software with no luck. Making matters worse was the fact that he had been up most of the night with a baby who screamed for no good reason that any adult could determine. The two problems had put Roger in a very glum mood: in the past, he had delighted in seeing the Spy Camp kids, but today, he just didn’t have the energy to play the role of a spy in a foreign country.

“You look a little haggard today, Agent Shockwave,” April observed.

She’s right,
Gilda thought, remembering Janet’s comment.
He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.

Roger was not amused. “You would too if you spent the night with someone screaming in your ear.”

“Kids, Agent Shockwave has been conducting audio surveillance with some pretty dangerous characters recently.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Okay, we’ve gotten some information about a meeting taking place between one of our undercover agents and some suspected terrorists who may be plotting an attack on the government,” April announced. “We’ve got our surveillance equipment set up to listen in on that meeting. It’s going to be hard to hear what they’re saying, so you’re going to have to figure out how to get your equipment tuned in to the correct frequency pretty fast.” April checked her watch. “Okay—it’s time. Use those listening skills!”

Gilda helped her team get set up with headphones, positioning spy recruits in front of the audio surveillance machines.

“Hey!” shouted James Bond. “I hear someone talking!”

“Shhhhh!” Gilda whispered. “You have to listen so you don’t miss anything.”

“It sounds really fuzzy,” The Comedian complained.

“I can’t understand what they’re saying!” Baby Boy cried.

“Team Crypt!” Gilda clapped her hands. “Stop talking and start listening!” The kids fell silent and Gilda had the galling realization that she had sounded exactly like one of the grumpy teachers at school.
I guess it really is true that you don’t know why people say or do things until you have to spend a day in their shoes,
she thought.

Gilda’s recruits leaned close to their machines, frantically turning dials one direction, then another, in an attempt to get information from the secret meeting.

“Wait a minute,” said Stargirl, “someone’s speaking in another language, but I can’t understand it.”

“Hey, yeah!” said James Bond. “Some foreign lady is talking now!”

Noticing that all the color had drained from Roger’s face, Gilda grabbed a pair of headphones to listen for herself. She heard a man’s heavily accented voice coming through heavy static. “We need to act quickly . . .” he said. “She’s going to visit [something muffled] tonight . . .” Gilda knew that these voices were part of a prerecorded conversation—actors playing the role of suspected terrorists plotting their next moves. Then, in the background, Gilda perceived a soft female voice speaking in a foreign language. It was odd: the woman didn’t seem to be having a conversation with the two men who were on tape. It reminded Gilda of times when she and her family had listened to the radio while driving on a long trip. Sometimes, as you moved farther from home, fragments of stations from other cities broke through, interrupting songs and other programs.
Is it possible that these audio surveillance machines are picking up some “spirit” frequency?
Gilda wondered.