Disruption (22 page)

How long had I been zoned out?

Rylee eyed me suspiciously, and she must’ve seen my confusion on my face because she answered as if reading my mind, “A while. Are you finally ready to tell me what’s going on, Matt Cambridge? We’re in the final days now. I think it’s about time.”

“What are you talking about?”

She leaned across the table. “Look,
Matt,
” she said my name like she was saying a made-up word. “I wasn’t kidding about how good I am at reading people. I’m really good. Scary good.”

I leaned back, putting a bit of distance between us. “Well, I’m starting to believe you about the
scary
part.”

“I’ve been watching you the past few weeks. When you talk about never having been to one of these camps before, you’re not lying.” She pointed to the empty chairs around our table. “They all think you’re just playing it cool, that you’re pretending to be inexperienced. You have scores from previous camps, but I don’t think those are real. I think you manipulated the system somehow. I’m not sure how or why, but I’m impressed enough to think you probably deserve your spot as a Delta. But most other times, well, you’re completely out of your depth.”

I forked another piece of chicken into my mouth. I couldn’t respond with food in my mouth, right? My mother taught me that was rude.

“And that display on the soccer field,” she continued. “I’ve watched it a dozen times, and you know what I’ve noticed?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You were utterly terrified.” She shook her head. “You did what you did because you had no idea there’d be danger on the field. And you managed what you managed on sheer dumb luck.”

I didn’t speak. I chewed.

She leaned forward and grabbed my hand. I hadn’t had a bandage on it for a few days, but there was a nasty scar. “This injury is from someone who’s never held a real gun or someone who hasn’t held one enough to develop a habit to do it properly.” She shook her head. “How could you be a Delta without practically being an expert in firearms?”

I swallowed my food and searched my plate for more.

“Look. We’re almost done here. Just a few more days. Tomorrow’s probably going to be our last challenge, and then it will all be over. But if there’s something I need to know, you need to tell me. If you fail, we all fail, and I’m not about to fail. I can always have Yaakov dig up every scrap of data on you. And he can do it, you know. He can find out who you really are. He’s that good.”

“Who I really am?” I muttered to myself. That was new. That was something I hadn’t considered. I hadn’t outright lied about who I was, but as I stared at the girl across from me, I realized it was entirely possible that she had. Maybe everyone had. Maybe that was how it was supposed to work at these camps. Anonymity. At camp, Rylee was “Rylee,” but outside of camp, she might be someone else entirely. My whole team might not be who they seemed. The more I thought about that, the more it made sense.

Long seconds passed before I made a decision on how to deal with Rylee. I stood up from the table, wiped my mouth with a napkin, and left without uttering a single word.

Chapter 33

As I made my way back to the Delta cabin, I hoped I’d done the right thing by just walking away. I liked Rylee. She had my back. I thought I could trust her. She could’ve made things very awkward and asked her questions in front of everyone, but she hadn’t. Still, the way she’d said that she’d have Yaakov find out who I really was had put my mind into overdrive.

My dad had forced me to watch a documentary once about people who lie. It was all about how their friends and family don’t trust them and stuff like that. But there was one part I remembered most. Some professor who specialized in psychology or lies or something said that people who lie see lies where there are none.

Rylee might have been good at reading people, but I wasn’t lying, at least not about being Matt Cambridge, and she still thought I was. That made me think she was lying about who she was. It made me think that everyone was lying about who they were.

I stopped a dozen or so meters from the cabin. The lights were on inside, and it sounded like my team was getting amped up for tomorrow’s event. I shook my head. I should have just talked to Rylee. She wanted to help me.

A twig snapped behind me, and I smiled. “Rylee,” I said, turning around, “I was thinking about what you asked and—”

A gloved hand clamped over my mouth, and an arm, covered by a leather jacket, wrapped around my chest and yanked me back toward the trees. I tried to shout, but as soon as I drew a breath, my nose and throat burned with a toxic scent that made the world around me swirl. I flailed my fists and kicked my feet. But everything around me continued to spin, faster and faster with each second.

As I was dragged into the forest, everything went black.

Chapter 34

“Wake up!” The words sounded like a bark from an angry dog.

I groaned. My head felt like it was moments away from splitting open and spilling my brains onto the floor. I tried to raise my hand, but my arms wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Something had happened. I tried to think. I’d been outside the Delta cabin when . . . when someone had grabbed me?

There was a
slosh
and then a blast of ice and water hit my chest and face.

Any lingering dullness in my senses vanished in an instant. I had been grabbed and drugged.

It wasn’t an urban legend
.

Abductions were real, and I was a victim of one.

I gasped and blinked rapid-fire, doing my best to make sense of where I was. The room was well lit and posh, like one of those apartments you see on the covers of magazines. Elegant frames filled with images of happy scenes and content people hung on the walls. Bright, modern light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Along one side of the apartment, large picture windows bordered a sliding glass door, and sunlight poured in. Dark hardwood covered most of the floor except on the square I was on, which had thick white carpet. I was seated in a stiff, high-backed armchair. Rubber cords bound me to the armrests. I tried to move my legs, but realized they were tied down too. The same rubber cords were cinched tight around my chest.

Panic coursed through my veins like liquid fire, and I thrashed against the restraints. I tried to twist my arms and kick my legs, taking deep breaths to stretch out the rubber cords. Nothing worked, and each time the bands bit into me farther. Tears blurred my vision as I became more and more desperate. This wasn’t a stupid game. This was for real.

I had to hope that someone saw me get snatched. It was a CIA camp, after all. They had access to satellite imagery. They’d realize I was gone, play back the satellite images, and follow the kidnappers. Wasn’t that how it worked? Could they rewind and zoom in anytime? Or did they have to be recording it? I was just about to rethink my decision not to scream for help when I heard footsteps behind me. Slow, careful footsteps. I couldn’t see directly behind me, but the room went far enough back that the footsteps I heard belonged to someone who had just watched me thrash around in the chair.

“What is your name?” The man stepped into view. He had a stubbly face and dark hair, and he wore a black three-piece suit and a black tie. He looked like he was on his way to an awards ceremony but had stopped by to check on the old kidnapped kid to make sure he was still tied to the chair.

“Sir,” I said, “please let me go. I don’t know who you think I am, but you have the wrong guy. I promise.”

He cocked his head and held up his finger, signaling me to shut up.

That single act was enough to unhinge me. This was a crazy man, and he had me tied to a chair. “Help!” I screamed. I thrashed in the chair again. “Somebody hel—”

He lunged out and slapped me across the face. The sting knocked any words I wanted to scream out of my head and sent shockwaves down my entire body.

“Your name,” he said. He slipped off his suit coat and carefully draped it over the back of the couch. “Tell me your name.”

You’d think the shock of getting slapped would have made my panic worse. But it had the opposite effect. I suddenly took in the scene carefully. I had been taken at night. I glanced again at the sunlight pouring in through the windows on the far wall. It had been hours. The CIA would have known I was gone. They’d be looking for me. And it didn’t matter whether they could get the footage from the satellite. The CIA had all kinds of other gadgets, and they knew the really crazy people. They’d find me. They’d see how I reacted in this situation. I was suddenly determined to prove I had what it took to be a spy.

The man had just finished rolling the sleeve on his left arm. He glanced at me expectantly. He wanted my name. I pursed my lips. He wasn’t going to get it.

I didn’t even see it coming. His fist hammered into the side of my face. Blood oozed from my nose and trickled into my mouth. I coughed and spat. Ninety percent of my determination and resolve evaporated with that one hit.

“P-p-please,” I said, struggling to find words. “W-what do you want?”

The man drew a breath and smiled. “Your name.”

“Y-yeah,” I said. “Sure.” I took a few deep breaths. I searched for a fake name to give him, but the thought of him figuring that out and punching me again made me not want to lie. Then he did something that made it so I didn’t have a chance to lie. He picked something up from the end table beside the couch.

A wallet.

My wallet.

Darn it.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re trying to sort out if you want to pretend to be Matt Cambridge of Marksville . . .” He pulled out another paper and shook it at me. “Or Gunnar Konstantan from . . .” He glanced down. “Sweden.” He laughed. “I dated a Swedish girl when I was in college. She used to carry a million pieces of ID in her wallet.” He tossed the wallet back onto the table. “Go with Matt. You make a more convincing case for being Matt Cambridge.” He shook his head. “Of course, I’m not an idiot. I know you aren’t Matt, either.”

I sniffed and tried to blink away some of the tears. What was he talking about?

“But I’ll play this little game with you if you want.” He lowered his face to mine. “But eventually you
will
give me your name.” He straightened. “I’ll call you Matt. But you really don’t look like a Matt . . . or a Gunnar for that matter.” He pulled an ottoman from behind him and took a seat. “More like a Dennis or a Walden.” He shook his head. “But I digress. Tell me about that camp, Matt.”

“The camp?”

He leaned forward and sighed. “Do I really have to hit you again?”

“Look . . . sir . . .” I sniffed again. “This is a mistake. You have the wrong guy. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

“Please,” the man said, “call me Butler.”

“B-Butler?”

Butler tsked. “Look, kid, I already know what kind of camp it is. I know, and you telling me won’t make a bit of difference. I just want to hear you say it.”

Juno had said the rumors were that the Chinese had abducted some of the others. This guy looked as Caucasian as they came. I should have had Rylee give me a breakdown of the people who might have wanted to get their hands on one of the campers. There was a hint of an accent in Butler’s voice. It wasn’t English. It wasn’t Australian. It was almost like Amara’s accent, only a more professional version of it.

All at once I wasn’t scared, or at least, I wasn’t
as
scared. Trying to sort out who he was detached me from the situation just enough to calm me down. Plus, I didn’t think he wanted to kill me. He wanted information. I could do this. I could hold out until they got here.

“S-sir,” I said, forcing my voice to shake. “It’s a camp.” Jason’s words flooded my mind, and they practically fell out of my mouth. “It’s just a camp for a bunch of leather-belt-making losers.”

One of Butler’s eyebrows rose.

“I don’t even like it there, sir . . . but it’s just a camp.”

“Uh-huh.” Butler drew a breath, nodded, then stood up. “Are you sure that’s the way you want to play this, kid?”

I clenched my jaw. I guess that single gesture was enough for Butler to take it as an answer. His foot, shiny leather shoe and all, struck out and drove into my stomach. The chair toppled backward, and I went with it. I caught a glimpse of another man behind me, but before I could really look at him, he dropped to his knees and placed a leather glove over my eyes and pressed my head into the chair. Then something sharp stabbed into my neck. Coolness spread down across my chest and then throughout the rest of my body.

It was over before I had a chance to react, and as the hand came away, my vision clouded with a fog that darkened like a brewing storm until it was black, and I was out.

*****

When I woke up, my body ached like I’d . . . well, it felt pretty much like I’d been tied to a chair for a couple days and beaten senseless. My mouth felt like I’d fallen asleep in the desert.

Who was this guy and what the heck did he want? And why wasn’t the CIA busting through the doors yet? Yaakov would’ve had the images of my abduction pulled up instantly. But maybe he wouldn’t want to tell Dalson or Smith about them because he’d have to admit to hacking their system.

“Can I get you something?” the man asked. His tone was as pleasant as if he’d invited me over for tea and was now asking if I’d like some sugar.

I hesitated and then said, “W-water.”

He nodded and poured a glass of ice water from a jug on the end table beside him. Then he took a straw from a container beneath the coffee table, put it in the cup, and held it up to my lips. It was the best-tasting water on the planet, and for a moment I thought maybe I’d get out of this mess. And then Butler pulled back a step, threw the water in my face, and slapped me across the cheek. Hard. My whole face stung. That’s when I did something very, very unspy-like.

I started to cry.

I tried not to. I didn’t want to do it, but the tears just came, and then my nose started running, and I started sobbing even harder.