Get Smart-ish (11 page)

OCTOBER 26, 6:42 A.M. 10 DOWNING STREET. LONDON, ENGLAND

Jonathan slept, as he always did, on his back with his arms by his sides and his legs straight. It was a position he assumed nightly when he crawled into bed and, except for the odd bout of the flu, he never deviated from this pose. For at his core, Jonathan believed that people like his parents who stretched out in bed, flip-flopping around like a fish pulled from the sea, were expending unnecessary energy.

The sound of something crashing through Jonathan's window prompted him to sit straight up in bed and scream, “Shelley!”

And though Shelley was responsible for loud noises near him 99 percent of the time, this time she wasn't.

“Johno! Johno!” Shelley called out groggily after throwing open the door to his room. “Who's dead? Please don't say us, because if this is heaven, I want a refund.”

“Shells, I have to tell you something, but before I do, I need you to promise me that you're going to stay calm. Okay?”

“How can I promise if I don't know what you're going to say? Why don't you tell me and then I'll let you know if I can make that promise?”

“No, Shells! You need to promise!”

“Fine! I promise! Just stop dragging this out, Johno!”

Jonathan then took a deep breath and held up a jalapeño tied to a rock. “Look what just came through the window.”

Shelley nodded. She rubbed her chin. She furrowed her brow. And finally she spoke.

“Don't kill me, but what do jalapeños mean again?”

“It means there's an emergency! We could be in danger! We need to find Hammett!”

“More danger? How could we possibly be in
more
danger?” Shelley asked, theatrically throwing her hands up in the air.

“I don't know. The jalapeño lets us know there's an emergency; it doesn't give specifics,” Jonathan explained as he started for the bathroom. “We need to get dressed and hit the street as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

“You can do this; I've got your back,” Jonathan whispered to himself in the bathroom mirror. “Sure, you're scared. Sure, you lack muscles and any real upper-body strength. Sure, you're facing down someone with actual espionage training.” The boy then dropped his head and sighed. “This must be the worst pep talk in the history of pep talks.”

While shaking his head at himself in the mirror, Jonathan heard the sound of someone crying and gasping for air. And it wasn't just anyone, he realized—it was Shelley. After racing back into his bedroom, Jonathan discovered Shelley huddled in a ball on the floor of his room—red-faced, covered in sweat, and foaming at the mouth. Jonathan was sure that she was dying. Or that she had rabies.

Assuming the role of paramedic, Jonathan checked Shelley's vitals, noting that her pupils were not dilated and that her heartbeat, while elevated, was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Eh…duh…duh…” Shelley mumbled incoherently.

“I don't understand,” Jonathan said, pulling out his cell phone. “I'm calling an ambulance!”

Shelley grabbed for the phone, but Jonathan was quicker.

“Don't…call…”

“I'm not going to sit here and watch my only friend die!” Jonathan screeched as he dialed 911. Only it didn't ring. Instead he heard a strange sound and an automated voice telling him that he had dialed an incorrect number.

“What?” Jonathan screamed, in full panic mode. “Nine-one-one doesn't work in England!”

“Dumb,” Shelley finally muttered.

“You're going to use your last breaths to insult me?”

“
I
d-did something d-dumb. I ate the jalapeño,” Shelley stammered.

“You ate the jalapeño? Why would you do that?” Jonathan blustered.

“I wanted to impress you.”

“Shells,” Jonathan said, grabbing her hand. “Why would you ever think that would impress me?”

“I don't remember. The tornado of fire in my mouth and lower intestines caused my hard drive to crash,” Shelley said, fanning herself with a magazine.

“Never eat the messages, Shells,” Jonathan said before muttering under his breath, “If you had read
How to Make Great Popcorn in the Microwave
, you would know that.”

OCTOBER 26, 7:01 A.M. STREET. LONDON, ENGLAND

Jonathan and Shelley passed through the gate in front of 10 Downing Street and turned left. And though they had not yet caught sight of Hammett or Nurse Maidenkirk, having just received the jalapeño, Jonathan and Shelley knew they were close by.

“Turn right,” Shelley whispered to Jonathan. “You'll see a garden square with lots and lots of trees. It's as good a cover as we're going to get in broad daylight.”

Jonathan and Shelley had only just taken a seat on a secluded bench, hidden from the street by two large shrubs and a low-hanging tree, when Hammett and Nurse Maidenkirk arrived dressed as street cleaners.

“Sit down, kiddos, and listen. I mean really listen,” Hammett said before pausing to look around. “We've got news. Big news. The kind of news that could blow your socks off, if you know what I mean.”

“A great many people die while trying to put their socks on,” Nurse Maidenkirk added.

“Last night, we were down by the wharf, something to do with a bird that exploded after eating uncooked rice,” Hammett said, shaking his head. “A gruesome, gruesome scene.”

Nurse Maidenkirk nodded. “Intestines everywhere.”

Hammett waved his hand for Nurse Maidenkirk to stop talking. “Then
she
appeared.”

“The ghost of the dead bird?” Shelley gasped.

“What I've got to tell you is important, real important, kiddo. So what do you say you do more listening and less talking? Get it? Got it? Good!” Hammett barked, then popped a toothpick into his mouth. “Like I was saying, we were walking along the wharf and the next thing I knew, Nina appeared.”

“Nina?” Jonathan repeated.

“That's right, Nina,” Hammett responded. “There she was, no more than three feet from us. I was staring at the girl, wondering what I should do, when she dropped a letter and took off running.”

“I picked up the letter while Hammett tried to catch her,” Nurse Maidenkirk said.

“But she lost me,” Hammett said, lowering his head, clearly a little embarrassed.

“And the letter?” Jonathan asked.

Hammett nodded and then pulled a small white envelope from his pocket.

“It's addressed to us,” Shelley noted quietly as Hammett unfolded a piece of paper on which was written:
You're wrong. Meet me at the London Eye at 8:00 p.m.

“Who does she think she is, telling us that we're wrong?” Shelley said with a huff.

“Calm down, Shells. We don't even know what she's talking about.”

“Exactly,” Shelley said. “Would it have killed her to be a little more specific? We're spies, not mind readers.”

Pushing his black locks away from his forehead, Jonathan quietly uttered, “We need to go, we need to try and talk some sense into Nina.”

“You mustn't forget that she's already tried to kill you a couple of times,” Nurse Maidenkirk reminded Jonathan. “And as the saying goes, the third time's a charm.”

“My gut says it's a trick and my gut's never wrong, except about roller coasters. It always says to go on them, and it never turns out well,” Shelley admitted.

“But what if it's not a trick? Or even if it is, it's still an opportunity to catch Nina,” Jonathan pointed out.

“That's true,” Shelley conceded.

“It's dangerous—” Hammett started to say when Shelley interrupted.

“I'm not afraid of danger! I just prefer the kind of danger where nothing happens to me.”

“I understand,” Jonathan said, nodding. “You love non-dangerous danger, the kind that always works out in the end.”

“Exactly!” Shelley answered enthusiastically. “Finally, someone who gets me!”

OCTOBER 26, 9:08 A.M. 10 DOWNING STREET. LONDON, ENGLAND

After returning from their meeting, Shelley carefully hid Nina's note at the bottom of her dresser drawer, and then covered it with three T-shirts, a sweater, and a pair of socks.

“Until we figure out what's really going on, I say we keep this note to ourselves,” Jonathan said as Shelley closed the drawer.

“Agreed,” Shelley said. “Let's keep this on a need-to-grow basis.”

“Need to
know
, not need to grow. What would need to grow even mean?”

“It means that we only tell people who need the information to grow, to move forward in their lives.”

Jonathan shook his head and sighed. “How did I wind up with you as my partner?”

“Mostly luck.”

OCTOBER 26, 7:46 P.M. STREET. LONDON, ENGLAND

A chill had come to the city late in the afternoon. Familiar faces morphed into unfamiliar faces as they covered up with low-hanging hats and high-necked scarves. Blending, as they always did, into the crowd of tourists, Jonathan and Shelley approached the Eye.

“Personally, I've never been fond of Ferris wheels,” Jonathan admitted. “Something about paying to be slowly thrust into the sky doesn't seem like a good deal.”

“But the view!” Shelley responded excitedly.

“Good views are overrated. You can get that on a postcard.”

“Dear Mr. Doom and Gloom, please stop raining on my parade! And by
parade
, I mean life!”

“First of all—”

“Again with that expression?”

“Ugh!” Jonathan moaned. “You really do know how to push my buttons.”

“I'm not trying to, Johno. I just want you to realize how lucky you are to possibly be infected with LIQ-30 while visiting the Eye. Have you looked it up online? It isn't your average Ferris wheel. It's a state-of-the-art machine with private, enclosed pods that will give us amazing views of the city.”

“Must you talk about being infected? It's hardly a confidence booster,” Jonathan grumbled as he spotted the large white contraption in the distance.

“Being infected with a view is better than being infected without one. Trust me.”

“If I'm going to be infected, I would prefer it happen in a nice heated café with tea and cookies, not on some theme park attraction!”

Shelley stopped and looked at him. “It's not easy for you, is it?”

“What?” Jonathan asked.

“Life.”

“You're just figuring that out now?”

Shelley smiled and slipped her arm through Jonathan's. “What do you say we turn that frown upside down?”

“I hardly think this situation warrants a smile.”

“You might be right,” Shelley admitted. “I'm thinking this might be more of an eye-patch-and-hook type of moment.”

“You want me to dress like a pirate?”

“Pirates are scary. Almost as scary as clowns. Better yet, maybe you could be a clown-pirate hybrid? That would really freak Nina out!” Shelley said excitedly.

“No,” Jonathan stated firmly. “I'm not losing the last few brain cells I have while in costume. Leave me with a little dignity, would you?”

“Stop hyperventilating. It's not like I have a costume tucked in my bag. I was just trying to take your mind off—”

“Our impending stupidity?”

“I was going to say the great unknown, but it's true that stupidity is a definite possibility.”

Standing at the base of the Eye, Shelley and Jonathan both felt the muscles in their jaws constrict. What was going to happen? Would they be able to talk Nina out of her plan? And if not, would they be able to capture her without being infected? Tighter and tighter the muscles in their jaws grew, giving them both pounding headaches.

“Do you have an aspirin, Shells?”

“Do I seem like the kind of person who carries aspirin in her bag?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you're right. But look what I do have!” Shelley said while unfolding a paper that said
NINA
in large black letters.

“You brought a sign?”

“So she knows who we are.”

“Nina's been watching us,” Jonathan responded. “She knows what we look like.”

“We're unexceptionals, Johno. No one ever
really
remembers what we look like.”

* * *

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Cold, the wind whipping their sign about, Jonathan and Shelley huddled together for warmth.

“Talk about unprofessional. Nina's twenty minutes late!” Shelley grumbled.

“I know. It's the last ride of the night,” Jonathan said as he pointed toward the Eye. “What do you say we do it?”

“But you hate Ferris wheels!”

“I know, but you don't. Plus, I think we should celebrate the fact that we're still moderately intelligent.”

OCTOBER 26, 8:38 P.M. THE EYE. LONDON, ENGLAND

Alone in a pod, slowly moving away from the ground, Jonathan and Shelley stared out the window, their minds teeming with questions. What was their next move? How were they going to find Nina? Maybe they should loop in Darwin and Oli? Why hadn't Nina shown up?