“Dad?” Preston asked one final time. This time it wasn’t a scream. It was a whimper.
Then the whole scene changed.
It was like the whole thing was happening in slow motion. I heard the sirens. I recognized the snipers for what they were the moment they appeared on the embassy’s roof. What I didn’t know was why.
The helicopter started to rise, but someone fired a warning shot and the chopper hovered.
More guards filled the courtyard, rifles trained on Preston’s father. And when a voice came booming through a bullhorn, I knew.
“Samuel Winters, you are under arrest,” Agent Townsend said. I saw him appear then, through the crowd. My aunt Abby stood at his side, her dark hair blowing in the swirling wind. “Land the chopper or we will fire. I repeat, we will fire.”
“What…what’s happening?” Preston asked, turning to me. “You brought them here.” He glared.
“I didn’t.”
“That’s your aunt, Cammie! I know you brought her here!” He pointed to where Agent Townsend was dragging Preston’s father out of the helicopter and placing him in handcuffs.
“I didn’t know they were coming. But I knew you were in danger,” I said. “It will be okay, Preston. You have to trust me.”
And maybe he would have. Maybe he would have believed what I was saying—despite what he was seeing. Maybe everything would have made sense in a matter of time if Agent Townsend hadn’t turned and started toward us, yelling, “Preston Winters?”
As soon as I heard Agent Townsend’s voice, I felt a sense of relief. He’d help us get Preston home. He’d help us keep Preston safe.
“Where are they taking my father?” Preston asked, but he didn’t rush the man. He was shaking too badly. I didn’t know if it was the cold or the rage, but I guess it didn’t matter.
Agent Townsend reached for Preston’s trembling hands. “Mr. Winters, you are under arrest for the suspicion of espionage.”
Townsend spun Preston around, pressing his body into the fence.
“No!” someone shouted. I saw Bex and Liz running toward us, neither of them able to keep up with Macey. They all had blankets draped over their shoulders, but Macey’s blew free as she ran. She looked a lot like an angel losing her wings.
“Take him away,” Townsend told another agent, but Macey was on him then.
“Stop,” she yelled, trying to get to Preston. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“That is for us to determine, Ms. McHenry.”
“You’re wrong! You’re making a mistake,” she shouted.
Agent Townsend had been our teacher. He’d been our ally. Our confidant. Our friend. Sure, we’d never really liked him; but I’d grown fond of Agent Townsend. He was one of the good guys, but that didn’t stop Macey’s fists from beating against him. She looked frail and feminine. She didn’t fight like a Gallagher Girl right then. She fought like a girl who was watching the only boy who’d ever known and cared about the real her being dragged away. Maybe forever.
A pair of agents took Preston by each arm and led him to a white van that sat in the courtyard, lights spinning.
There was another van exactly like it not far away, and I could see the ambassador sitting in the back. The streets surrounding the embassy were on fire with lights and sirens and swarming crowds, but the ambassador looked only at me. He gave a nod in my direction as if to make sure I knew it wasn’t over.
Then another man climbed into the back of the van and sat beside Preston’s father. I recognized this new man, though it took me a moment to remember from where. The man’s hair was slightly thinning. He had a normal build. A normal face. He could have been an accountant, an English teacher, a mid-level manager in any company in the world.
But he wasn’t. He was Interpol. And when he brought a hand to his temple—a tip of the imaginary hat—I was quite certain that I would be seeing him again very, very soon.
When the agents closed the door and drove the man and Preston’s father away, I looked down at the piece of paper that was still in my hands. The ink looked like blood, running across the page. Without a word, Liz handed me a pen, and I crossed off the name at the bottom of the list.
Four down.
Three to go.
Chapter Ten
We had dry clothes and hot coffee, but even as we sat on Macey’s jet, I didn’t feel any warmer. Or safer. In a few minutes, we’d take off. In a few hours, we’d be home. Preston was, technically, out of harm’s way, but it still felt like our mission was a complete and utter failure.
Macey sat beside me, motionless. I wanted to tell her that it was okay, that Preston would be safe now. But Macey didn’t want to hear it. Which was just as well. I didn’t want to say it.
When the jet’s door slid down and Aunt Abby stepped in, I thought that we were ready to go home. But then someone else climbed into the cabin.
“What are you doing here?” Macey shouted at Agent Townsend. “Where’s Preston?”
Macey was up and moving toward him, and I could have sworn Agent Townsend looked scared.
“Macey.” Abby blocked her way. “I’ll be asking the questions. Now, sit down,” Abby ordered. And for once in her life, Macey did as she was told.
There was a bandage on Townsend’s temple. “Are you okay?” I said.
“I will survive, Ms. Morgan. Thank you for asking.”
“No,” Abby snapped. “Cameron Ann Morgan, don’t you sit there acting like you’re so sorry. I’m not even going to ask the four of you why you’re here. I don’t care. What were you thinking—stumbling into a live op like that?” my aunt asked, but all I could think of was how she’d been when she first came to my school. Cocky and easy and fun. She’d grown up. And I guess she wasn’t the only one.
Bex shifted in her seat. “We didn’t know it was a live op.”
“Well, you should have known.” Abby had her hand on her hip. She sounded like my mother. “You all should have known better. You’re seniors. You should realize by now that everything you do comes with repercussions.”
“How were we supposed to know you’d be there?” Macey challenged. She crossed her long arms. “All anyone ever says is Don’t worry about Preston. Preston isn’t in trouble. We won’t let Preston get hurt.”