Spy to the Rescue (16 page)

F
rom inside the cathedral, I hear a boy's high-pitched, trembling voice. I knock and kick at the doors. One door creaks open. An usher stares at me. When I first appeared at the ceremony, I was more than presentable in my all-black ensemble. Now I'm soaked in dirty toilet water and dripping all over the floor. Bits of porcelain cling to my hair. My face is smeared with dirt. I don't have any shoes on. I look like the drenched, mud-spattered family dog no one wants in their nice clean house. From the horrified look on his face, the usher certainly doesn't want me anywhere near his nice clean cathedral. He tries
to bar my way. I don't have time to plead my case. I duck under his outstretched arm and scamper inside.

Up on the altar, a boy with a huge mop of frizzy hair, wearing an ill-fitting purple suit, holds a piece of paper in a trembling hand. In the other, he clutches a stuffed giraffe.

“And so good-bye, my old friend,” reads the boy. “Our journey is at an end. But I will always think of your strong back and sturdy legs.”

The boy drops the giraffe on the ground and stomps on him until the stuffing bursts and an eye pops out. The assembled guests cheer and applaud. Some of them weep. This, I'm guessing, is Atom Tubaldina's coming-of-age ritual. The poor kid has to destroy his favorite toys to show that he's a man. Two men carry a Lego city onto the altar. They carefully lower it to the ground. Atom looks down at it. I follow his gaze. From what I can see, it's an intricately constructed cityscape, complete with lines of cars sitting in traffic, bridges, towers, shops, and a public park. A lot of love, care, planning, and most of all time was clearly put into the building of this colorful city. And because of the requirements of his coming-of-age ceremony, Atom is about to stomp all over his young life's work. He looks at his sheet of paper and then down at his Lego city. He totally doesn't want to destroy it.

There's a loud cough from the congregation. Atom looks up. A man, presumably his father, the secretary of state, gives him an impatient
hurry up
hand gesture. Atom has this look on his face that I completely recognize.
I am on the verge of being a grown-up
, it says.
I know that I am expected to act like an adult and to make everyone watching me proud. But I feel like crying.

“These are not real streets,” he starts to read. “These are not real people. They do not live in real houses. . . .” Atom takes big gulps of air between lines. His face is starting to redden. I feel bad for him. Not just because I know, somewhere in this church, Vanessa Dominion is gearing up to shoot him, but because he is about to destroy something he holds dear. And for what? So he can mark what someone decided was the passage from childhood to adulthood? So a tradition can survive? Not all traditions deserve to survive.

“Good-bye, Lego city,” whispers Atom. “It is time to leave you behind and live in the real world.”

He looks down at the streets he built. He lifts up his foot. I can feel him willing himself not to break down and sob.

I pull back an arm and throw Red at the nearest stained-glass window.

As it shatters, I yell, “Gun!”

Atom freezes mid-stomp. Heads turn my way. I point dramatically at the broken window. The usher rushes toward me.

“She did it,” he starts to say, but Red bounces back from the window and hits him in the forehead before he can get out another word. The usher keels over and drops to the ground.

Murmurs of fear turn to screams of terror as I hear the word
gun
repeated over and over. The occupants of both sides of the cathedral are on their feet. Trezekhastanis and Savlostavians yell and shake fists at one another. The cops start grabbing guests and pushing them toward the door.

“We need to clear the cathedral right now,” they shout.

Scared guests stampede toward the door. I pretend I'm running along with them but I make a quick turn to the left before I'm swallowed up by the crowd and head up an empty row.

At the altar, Atom stares, confused and horrified at the frantic exodus from his Festival of Impending Manhood. His parents hurry to the altar to protect him. His mother grabs him and enfolds him in her arms. Atom's father, the secretary of state, looks down at the Lego city, shakes his head, and starts to lift his foot.

Bad dad!

I hurl Red. He hits Atom's father on the kneecap. He howls in pain and collapses on the ground. Atom and his mother scream in horror. It occurs to me that I might be a little too zealous in protecting Atom's Lego city.

I reach the end of the row and start running toward the altar. I keep my head down and stay in the shadows under the stained-glass windows.

One of the cops suddenly tumbles backward and falls down the stone steps. The second cop pulls his gun and puts himself in front of Atom and his mother. This guy I feel bad for because I know his impending fate. Ouch! His head jerks to one side, as if an invisible foot has struck it with great force. Ouch again! The cop doubles up and then falls to the ground. Atom stands defiantly in front of his mother and wounded—by me!—father.

“You want me,” he shouts, “come and get me!”

Without having to destroy his Lego city, Atom has come of age!

Unfortunately for me, what Atom Tubaldina sees when he makes this defiant statement is me, charging toward the steps, reaching a hand inside my soaked jacket and pulling out what he probably thinks is a gun.

“It's not a gun!” I yell as I hurl the plastic soap dispenser from the cathedral's ladies' room straight at him.

Atom does not know this. He drops to the ground and throws his hands over his face. He hears the gunshot but he does not see the soap dispenser explode in midair. He does not see the liquid soap inside the dispenser spurt out and start to take shape as it dribbles and slides downward. He does not see the girl inside the soapy shape.

“It's in my mouth,” splutters a disgusted English accent.

And then I see her. Vanessa: hair, face, black dress, and fancy shoes with perilously high heels all covered in liquid soap. She makes a nauseated throat-clearing sound and spits soap from her mouth. Her gun dangles from one hand as she rubs her eyes and slicks back her hair with the other one.

“Go!” I yell at Atom as I charge up the steps. Atom's mother helps lift his father from the ground. Atom rushes to assist her.

“Never mind him,” I shout. “Get the Lego city to safety!”

Atom gives me a
who are you?
stare.

“I love Lego!” I shout back. I'm trying to express solidarity and empathy, but from the freaked-out look on his face, it absolutely fails to register with him.

Atom looks away from me and gathers up the Lego city as best he can while his parents hobble their way to
the exit at the back of the church. Vanessa whirls on him and aims her gun. I run forward, snatch up the priest's thick prayer book, and use it to hit Vanessa under her elbow. The gun goes off, sending a bullet through the cathedral roof. Vanessa moves toward Atom, but I throw myself forward and wrap my arms around her ankles, bringing her crashing down to the ground.

“Ow ow ow ow!” she yelps.

I've got her! I won!

Her ankles shoot forward and slip straight out of my arms. She has both palms pressed onto the ground and seems to be doing some kind of reverse squat thrust. Maybe I haven't won? Her feet come flying back at me—nope, definitely haven't won—catching me in the stomach, lifting me off my feet, and sending me rolling down the steps. I land on top of the two cops.

“This has been fun, peanut,” Vanessa says as she walks toward me, gun pointed at my head. “You're a feisty little critter. I'll miss you. I mean, I'll hit you. But after that, I'll miss you.”

I drag myself off the cop who broke my fall. I hear him wince with pain as my hand pushes into his ribs.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

Vanessa reaches the bottom step. “How about I give you a head start?” She smiles. “A sporting chance. Count
of three. You run and hide. After that, bang bang.”

“That's what you want your daddy to hear about?” I say. “That you were all talk? That you failed? You're no Irina O. You're Vanessa E
www.”
(Even with a gun inches from my face, I'm still funny.)

“I know what you're doing,” Vanessa says, but her smile looks strained. “You're trying to buy yourself a little time. Won't work.”

She's right. I am. I keep going. “You couldn't kill Atom and his Lego city. So what's your consolation prize? A painfully average middle school student? That's the only job Edward Dominion thought you were capable of completing. And he was right. You showed him nothing. You showed me nothing.”

Now she's angry. “Shut up, peanut,” she snarls.

I don't. “We had tea, you know, Edward and I, tea and cakes. He liked me; he confided in me. He addressed me by my name. You know, the name my parents gave me. I've got a lot of people who care about me, Vanessa. What've you got?”

Splashes of red appear on Vanessa's cheeks.

“A gun,” she says. But we both see her hand tremble. She changes to a two-handed grip.

“I promised you a count of three,” she says. “Three. Two. One.”

She pulls the trigger. I hurl myself to the floor. As I do, I see the gun fly over my head and embed itself in the ground halfway down the aisle. I also see the piece of pink half-chewed magnetic gum lying a few inches away from it. I gasp in shock. Irina.

Vanessa lets out a shriek of frustration and runs up the aisle. I spring to my feet and scramble after her. She spins around and kicks me. Her leg connects with my head and I see actual cartoon stars. I stumble into the nearest row, fall over a seat, and hit the ground.

“Irina,” I mutter. “If you're here, now would be a good time to show yourself.”

I look up to see a uniformed cop come charging through the cathedral door. He dives forward, grabs the gun off the ground, jumps to his feet, and aims the gun straight at Vanessa, who stumbles to a halt.

“Don't move,” says Ryan.

T
hat is correct. My brother is dressed like an officer of the New York Police Department and he is pointing a gun at Vanessa.

“Ryan?” I say from my place on the ground. I try to get up but my head is still spinning from that last kick.

“Turns out Sam had an actual cop uniform in his closet.” He shrugs. “You okay? You're all wet. And you smell. Not your usual smell. Worse.”

“Red blew up the toilet,” I tell him. “He did that thing you used to do with the golf ball.”

“Classic prank,” says Ryan. “I've got to get one of those marbles.”

“Ryan,” says Vanessa.

Uh-oh.

“So the bad guy knows my name,” smirks Ryan.

“And you know me,” she says.

“Ryan, you did great, but you need to go now,” I tell him.

“Ryan,” Vanessa whispers.

“Wait,” says Ryan. “Are you . . . ?”

And she transforms. I don't know how she does it, but right in front of us, Vanessa changes. Her posture, her voice. Her mouth gets smaller, her toes point inward, she seems to shrink. She may even have changed the color of her eyes.

“Abby?” breathes Ryan.

“It's not Abby,” I say. “There is no Abby. There never was. Her name is Vanessa Dominion. She's the underachieving daughter of a criminal mastermind. She stuck a needle in you and hung you on a hook.”

“That true?” he says. “You did that to me?”

Using her tiny, mumbly Abby voice, Vanessa says, “I did it to keep you safe. I would never hurt you, Ryan, you know that.”

“You don't know that,” I tell him. “Everything she ever said to you was a lie.”

“Not everything,” says Vanessa. “I never lied about how I felt.”

I see Ryan's face cloud with confusion.

“Ryan, give me the gun and get out of here,” I tell him. “You can't be around her.”

“Bridget never liked me,” says Vanessa, walking slowly toward him. “She doesn't know what we have, the two of us.”

“You have nothing,” I say to Ryan. “Abby doesn't exist. This is someone you don't know. Someone who just tried to kill me.”

“Give me the gun,” Vanessa tells Ryan. “I'll get us out of here. We can disappear and start a new life together.”

I pull myself to my feet. “Ryan, don't fall for this.”

Vanessa moves closer to him, close enough that she could reach out and take the gun from him, which is what I very much fear she's going to do. Vanessa's firmly in Blabby mode now, speaking so quietly I can't make out a word.

“But how can I ever trust you again?” says Ryan, and then he says, “You swear? You'll never hurt anyone again?”

“NO!” I bawl. “Don't be so stupid; she's exploiting your weakness. You're nothing to her. You were never anything but a means to get to me.”

Ryan turns to me, a furious look on his face. “Right. Because no one could ever like me. Because everything's got to be about you, Bridget.”

Vanessa takes the gun from Ryan in one blurry movement. One second it was in his hand, the next it's in hers, and she's pointing it at him.

“NO!” I bawl again, and put myself between Vanessa and Ryan.

“And here we are again,” says Vanessa.

“Abby,” says Ryan, aghast.

I feel bad for him, but at the same time I'm incensed. “Stop calling her Abby! Don't you get it? Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?”

Vanessa laughs her musical little laugh. “I'm flattered,” she says to Ryan. “Abby made an indelible impression on you, as she was intended to do. Because your sister is absolutely right: you were a means to an end.”

I see Ryan struggle to understand. His shoulders slump and he hangs his head.

“A
www,”
she mocks. “Don't be sad. Abby really liked you.”

Every time I think I've reached the depths of my hatred for Vanessa, she pushes me deeper.

“Like you said, peanut, you've got a lot of people who care about you, which means you'll always be weak,” she smirks.

I glance upward so I don't have to see her eyes
mocking my rage. That's when I spot clouds of what looks like sawdust drifting down from above. The dust is being expelled from a wooden beam that stretches across the ceiling. The beam is starting to splinter and break. Ryan and Vanessa follow my gaze. They see what I see. The wooden beam breaks in two. The air ripples. The outline of a human body begins to form as it falls to the ground. Vanessa aims her gun. Irina lands in front of me and snatches the weapon from Vanessa's hand. I see the frayed rope knotted around her wrists and ankles.

“That's right,” says Irina, keeping her eyes on Vanessa. “She soaked me in the cloaking liquid and hung me upside down from the cathedral ceiling so I could watch her shoot my target. It was cold and calculating. Exactly the sort of thing I would have done.”

“Well, of course, I'm such a fan of your work,” gushes Vanessa with the biggest, brightest smile on her face.

“Take your brother and get out of here,” Irina says, her face grim. “Miss Dominion and I have unfinished business.”

“I'd love to pick your brains about the whole assassin thing,” chirps Vanessa. “I have so much to learn.”

“And so little time,” says Irina.

I see fear flash across Vanessa's face. I was too slow. Ryan was too confused. Irina won't be either of these
things. Wiping out Vanessa will be like sneezing to her. I take Ryan's arm.

“Come on,” I say.

“Hey, Ryan,” Irina suddenly calls out. He looks around at her.

“You can do better.”

I watch the defeat start to leave Ryan's face. He stands a little straighter. I wish I'd been the one to do that for him.

“Who is that?” he says as we head for the doors.

“She gave birth to me,” I say.

“Despite that, I like her,” he says. “Where's she been hiding all these years?”

“I'll tell you the whole story,” I say, pushing him up the aisle and toward the door. “But right now, you and I need to leave here and we need to not look back.”

So we look straight ahead. We see the cathedral doors burst open and a hundred cops swarm in, all with weapons drawn. Ryan and I both raise our hands in surrender.

“Put the gun down now,” screams a cop through his bullhorn.

Behind us, we hear a gun go off.