Disruption (32 page)

She shook her head. “No, Gunnar, I’m not a doctor. I’m with the Domestic Operations Division.” She paused and then added, “CIA.”

Chapter 48

“You’re CIA?” I should have been able to relax at that moment, but instead, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I’d been so cool a moment ago, and probably would have told her everything if she’d kept prodding me. She probably thought I was just some stupid kid who couldn’t keep his mouth shut about national secrets.

She nodded. “That’s right. And I want you to tell us what happened out there, or we turn you over to the half a dozen FBI agents waiting just outside the door.”

I jerked my head to the door. “The FBI is out there? Why?”

Agent Knox sighed. “Look, kid. We don’t have time for stupid questions. A train station was blown up today. A school was exposed to anthrax. An entire section of the city was without power for about two hours. It was chaos, and estimated damages are in the tens of millions of dollars. And best we can tell, you had something to do with it.” She glared at me. “We have footage of you heaving something onto the tracks, and then a minute later, the tunnel explodes.”

“Look,” I said. “I was following the rules. I was only going to cause a
disruption
. It was Chase, that crazy lunatic. He lost it out there. I don’t know how to explain it. He’s been kind of nuts all along, but come on, who tries to blow up a freaking train platform?”

Agent Chen was typing as I spoke, and I got the impression he was writing every word I said. I had to be careful. I bet Chase had already blamed me for everything, and they were trying to decide who they’d believe.

“So you were told to cause a disruption at the train station?” Agent Knox asked.

I shook my head. “No. The station was my idea. It’s a prank a buddy and I had been planning for years.”

“Jason Cole?” Agent Knox asked.

I sighed. “Okay, I shouldn’t have called him. I know cell phones are prohibited at the camp. I’m sorry about that. But before you kick me out of the program, please, just look at what I accomplished.”

Agent Knox raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“I planned and executed an amazing disruption. I identified Chase’s psychotic break, and his crazy plan to blow the place up. I intercepted the bomb and threw it onto the tracks so no one would get hurt. Then I cleared the platform.” I was going to mention that Becca had helped me, but after I got her out, she’d left me unconscious on the floor, so she wasn’t getting any credit for this. “I deserve to be at the camp,” I said. “I deserve to be a CIA operative.”

Agent French had his hands in tight fists, and he kept looking at me like I’d just farted really, really loud. Agent Chen just kept typing with a face that didn’t change. I bet he was a really good poker player.

Agent Knox rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m going to show you some pictures. You tell us if they’re the ones responsible, or if you know them.”

I felt my brow furrow. “I know exactly who’s to blame. I told you—”

“Just,” Agent Knox cut in, “look at the pictures.”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

Agent Chen tossed a yellow folder onto the bed, and I opened it up.

“Dalson?” I asked, holding up the first picture. “How could he be responsible? He runs the whole camp.” I flipped quickly through the next dozen or so pictures. “Half of these people I’ve never seen,” I said, “and the other half are counselors at the camp. How could they be responsible when the challenge was for the campers?”

“Because,” Agent Knox said, speaking very slowly, “all the campers are . . . kids.”

I wasn’t sure if that had been a question or a statement, so I just nodded.

“Keep flipping,” she said. “There are some youth in there, as well.”

After another half dozen adult pictures, there were some of the campers. I recognized a few from just spotting them around the grounds, or during activities, until I hit Juno’s pictures. “Juno?” I asked. “He’s on my team. Why would you even suspect anyone from my team?” Agent Knox didn’t answer, and I kept flipping. I pulled out Amara’s picture, as well as Yaakov’s. “Both of these guys are on my team.” I shook my head. “You have pictures of my team in there, and not one of Chase’s team?” I shoved the folder away with my free hand. “You’ve already talked to him, haven’t you? I don’t know what Chase told you, but he’s lying. He’s responsible. He’s probably responsible for the anthrax too.”

“And the fire at the waffle house?” Agent French asked.

I felt my face heat up. “Maybe.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. I didn’t
know
if Amara had done it. Chase had all but admitted he’d followed us, and for all I knew he’d gone into the basement of the waffle house after we’d left, to see what supplies we’d gotten from Kalvin. He could’ve set the place on fire as punishment for him helping us out. Actually, as I thought that scenario out, it sounded entirely possible. If that wasn’t what happened . . . if Amara
had
been responsible, what did that mean? That he was as crazy as Chase? That Rylee was wrong, and it had been him, not Angie, who was the team psychopath?

“He’s lying,” Agent French said.

“About what?” I asked. That was probably the wrong thing to say, since it sort of implied that I had lied about something.

“About everything,” Agent French snapped back.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Agent Knox held up her hand. “You’re good, Matt. If you’re telling the truth, you’re quite brave, and you saved a lot of people. If you’re lying, you’re a sociopath.”

“You guys really don’t know about the camp?” I asked. “You don’t know about Camp Friendship?”

“Camp Friendship?” Agent French asked. “You have to be freaking kidding me.”

I looked at Agent Knox, and fully intended to double my efforts to explain myself, but something in the way she looked at me sent my stomach on a downward slide to my toes. It was as if she was watching a puppy about to be put down. She didn’t have the slightest idea about Camp Friendship. She didn’t know who Dalson was, or Mr. Smith. She didn’t have a clue about any of it.

The morning’s events played out in my mind again, and it hit me again how I’d been congratulated in the dining room after my interrogation with Butler. How they said he hadn’t broken me even though he most certainly had. I’d spilled my guts. I’d told him Camp Friendship was a CIA camp for kids, I’d told him my real name . . . I’d told him everything. It had been a passing thought at the time, but now it was an amber flashing sign in my head. The only reason they’d congratulate me on not breaking was because in their mind I hadn’t. Because what I’d said hadn’t been true.

When Dalson had played that particular scene, the one where I shouted that I was part of a CIA camp for kids, the campers, especially those in my team, had cheered. Cheered and laughed.

I swore and muttered under my breath. “It’s not a CIA camp, is it?” If that were true, if it was all a lie, then what kind of camp did that make it? And what about Butler? There had been no misunderstanding that he was one of the head CIA interrogators. But maybe that’s why his presence was so awe-inspiring to the other campers.

There was a knock on the door, and Agent Knox hesitated a moment before she stood up and dusted her hands together. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” she said. “I’m not sure if you’re crazy, or if we’ve stumbled onto a very, very dangerous situation. It’s not my call to make. We need a professional to tell us that.”

Agent French opened the door, and there he was. Standing there in a three-piece suit, his face bearing a couple days of stubble, looking very similar to how he’d looked in the underground interrogation room.

I didn’t mean to speak at that moment, but the realization of what kind of situation I was in overwhelmed my senses. The word just fell out of my mouth.

“Butler.”

Chapter 49

Agent Knox looked between Butler and me. “Do you two know each other?”

“Yes,” I said.

“No,” Butler said at the exact same time.

Agent French closed the door and stood in front of the doorknob.

Butler gave me a quizzical look. “I’m afraid we’ve never met, young man.”

That did it. His insistence that we hadn’t met was the final bit of information I needed to fully appreciate how very wrong I’d been about everything I’d experienced in the past three weeks. There was no reason to lie about it unless it was something he didn’t want the CIA to know.

“His name,” I said, “is Robert Ingleton. He goes by Butler when he interrogates people. I know because he taught me counter-interrogation techniques at the camp.”

Butler blinked and then forced a smile. “Of course I did.” He rolled his eyes at the other agents in the room. “Because I frequently teach ten-year-olds.”

None of the other agents laughed. Agent Knox, especially, seemed to be weighing the situation carefully. Butler acted like he was more confused than any of them though. He kept a smile on his face, but his eyes said,
What are you doing?

Once he put it together, once he realized that I really was Matt Cambridge, that I had somehow ended up at their secret camp despite having no business being there, he’d pull out all the stops and I wouldn’t have a chance.

I pointed at my interrogator with my free hand but directed my voice to Agent Knox. “He’s going to figure it out in a second,” I said. “He’s going to realize that I had honestly thought I was in a CIA camp for kids. He’s going to realize it, and he’s going to do everything he can to get you three out of the room.”

That did it. Butler’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. He recovered instantly and became utterly stone-faced. I would’ve missed the hint of realization if I hadn’t been watching him carefully.

“How does he know that name?” Agent Knox asked.

Butler gave a shrug. “No doubt one of his compatriots has crossed paths with me. Doesn’t bode well for the company he keeps and what we can expect to learn from this kid, now does it?”

“Yes,” I said. “We have crossed paths. Last night when you interrogated me.” I gestured to the folder Agent Knox had shown me. “Dalson, the man in one of the pictures you showed me, he and Butler are friends.”

“I think I’m going to need some one-on-one time with our suspect,” Butler said. “If I could have the room, please.”

“Do not leave,” I said to Agent Knox. “I told you he’d ask for alone time. I said it, right? Now he has, and it’s because I wasn’t supposed to be at that camp. He’s only just realized it.”

“You say he interrogated you last night?” Agent Knox asked. I nodded, and she added, “Prove it.”

“Indulging a suspect’s lies is not how I run an interrogation,” Butler said. He was stern, but something in his voice shook, and I just hoped Agent Knox heard it.

“He gets to speak,” Agent Knox said. She nodded at me. “Tell us something about him.”

“Yes,” Butler said. “Please do. I’d be very interested in hearing what you have to say about me.”

I opened my mouth to speak but stopped. What could I say? Could I talk about how he’d treated me? The things he’d asked me? That wouldn’t convince anyone, let alone a CIA operative. Everything that happened in the interrogation room could be explained as a complicated scenario that I’d dreamed up.

Butler took a seat in one of the chairs by the bed and leaned forward. And that’s when I saw it.

“Look at his lip,” I said. “You see that cut? After the interrogation last night I hit him. I head-butted him when he cut the straps holding me to the chair.”

Knox and the other agents eyed Butler suspiciously, but I could tell they weren’t convinced.

Butler stood up. “Impressive. You spot a cut on my lip that I got playing catch with my son, and you twist it into your story. How very industrious of you.” He turned and faced the door. “If you won’t allow me to interrogate the suspect on my own, I’ll be on my way.” He took a step toward the door, but Agent French didn’t move. “If you’ll kindly move,” Butler said.

“His shins!” I said as I replayed what happened after I’d split Butler’s lip.

“Oh, I’ve had enough of this,” Butler said.

“After I hit him with my head, I shoved his metal cart at him. I hit him in the shins. He hobbled around. I bet there’s a mark.” I turned to Agent Knox. “How could I know that unless I’d done it?”

“Enough!” Butler snapped. He didn’t take his cold gaze off me, but when he spoke, it was to the others in the room. “I’ll be leaving now. I have no intention of further indulging the lies of Mr. Cambridge.” He turned to the door. “Agent French, you will step aside, or I will see to it that you are reprimanded.”

“How’d you know his name?” Agent Knox asked.

Butler turned and exhaled tiredly. “Agent, you introduced him when I walked in.”

“I did no such thing,” Agent Knox said. “I was planning on doing so. But I never had a chance.” She turned to Agent Chen. “Isn’t that right?”

Agent Chen tapped his computer and then nodded. “That’s right.”

“And yet you just called him Mr. Cambridge,” Agent Knox said. “How did you know his last name?”

Butler pointed at the chart at the end of my bed. “I saw it on the chart.”

Agent Knox picked the chart off the bed and glanced at it. “Matt’s wallet had ID for a Gunnar Konstantan. That’s who the hospital staff thought he was.” She tapped the board. “That’s whose name is on this board.”

Butler shrugged. “Then I must’ve heard it from one of the other agents looking into this case. What difference does it make, Agent?”

Agent Knox looked at me. And I indicated at Butler’s legs with my eyes.

“Lift your pant legs, sir,” Agent Knox said.

“I will not.” Butler swallowed, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

“Roll up your pant legs, sir, or I’ll have Agent French do it for you.”

“This is outrageous, Agent Knox.” Butler scowled. “I came here at the request of the Agency. I will not let some child dictate how I am treated. I will report your actions here to your superiors.”

Agent Knox pointed at Agent Chen. “Everything we say and do is being recorded, sir. If you pull up your pant leg and there are no marks, you will be given a copy for your report.” She spoke with such authority I didn’t know which one had a higher rank, or even if there was such a thing as ranks in the CIA. “Now,” she continued. “Pull. Up. Your. Pant. Leg.”