Also Known As

  “He didn’t buy it yet,” I clarified. “He still might.” I saw an attachment on another e-mail and opened it up.

  The first thing I saw was my face.

  “Holy shit!” I gasped. “That’s me.” I leaned a little closer to inspect the image. “Is that what I look like?”

  It was a dossier about me, I soon realized, and it was just one of about a dozen. My parents, Angelo, different spies that had come and gone over the years—we were all there. Someone had put them all together, and I felt the cold wash of terror start to seep into my skin. “This isn’t just someone out to get the Collective,” I whispered. “It’s someone from inside the Collective. Oh my God.” I had never considered the possibility before, but now I was looking at old passports, addresses, and birth dates. There were snapshots of me and Angelo outside Gramercy Park—me barely tall enough to reach the lock that I was picking—and a copy of my actual birth certificate. Only a Collective insider could have had this much information.

  The e-mail was much worse.

  “They have used minors to commit international espionage,” I read aloud, “and have operated outside the law for scores of years.” I sat back and put my hand to my mouth. I was the minor, I knew it.

  “You’re shaking,” Jesse murmured.

  “You think? That’s my family they’re talking about! They’re talking about me! There are a lot of people who could be in a huge amount of danger right now!” The room felt too hot and small. “If this person’s selling this information to the highest bidder, he’s basically selling a hit list and …” I couldn’t even finish that sentence.

  “Well, you can’t be the only one who’s gone rogue, right?” Roux said. “Even the best companies have a few disgruntled employees.”

  “Well, I’m sure people leave the Collective, but no one who does this would sell anyone else out.”

  And then it hit me.

  “I know who it is,” I said. “It’s Oscar Young.”

  Roux and Jesse stared at me. “Are we supposed to know who that is?” Roux asked. “Because I’m behind on a few issues of People magazine.”

  My mind was going so fast that I felt a little dizzy. “Angelo told me about him.” (I would have to explain Angelo to Jesse at a later time.) “He tried to kidnap me when I was four years old.”

  It took a few minutes to peel Roux off the ceiling after that revelation. “It was a million years ago!” I assured her as she ranted about the FBI and sloppy police work and the importance of self-defense classes for women. “And Angelo said that his body washed up on shore in South America a few months later.”

  Jesse looked unsure. “So you think a man has risen from the grave and has decided to sell your story to the highest bidder. Not really plausible.”

  “People fake their deaths all the time, though!” Roux protested. “Don’t you ever watch TV? It’s really common, actually.” She crossed her arms like she was suddenly the authority on the subject. “Can we go to the police now?”

  “No police,” I told her. “Spies, remember? We’re trying to keep this quiet.”

  “Right, right.”

  “Oscar must have the documents and is trying to sell them.”

  “Oscar is dead,” Jesse said. “You said so yourself.”

  “Nothing else makes sense, though,” I protested. “And he’s tried terrible things before. Now we just have to find out where the documents are.”

  “You mean you have to figure out where Oscar lives,” Jesse corrected me. “And there are about ten billion places where he could be.”

  You went to Gramercy Park by yourself at night?

  Do you realize how dangerous that can be?

  He was no knight in shining armor, that much I can assure you.

  “I need a map,” I said, grabbing the laptop and pulling up Manhattan, searching until I found what I needed. “There,” I said, pointing at the screen. “He lives there.”

  I was pointing at 36 Gramercy Park East.

  It was a tall, imposing building with an actual red carpet that stretched down its front steps toward the street, and two oversized suits of armor standing at attention. “Trust me,” I said when Roux and Jesse just blinked at me. “I know this is it. I told my parents that we went there on our date and they freaked out.”

  “Your parents are so cute,” said Roux, who has clearly never seen my parents freak out.

  “Well, if I’m still alive at the end of this, I’ll tell them you think so,” I said, then started googling Oscar’s address. At that point, I would have given a million dollars to see Angelo and ask for his help, but I would have to make do with all the advice he had given me over the years.

  “Hey, are you two willing to ditch school tomor—?”

  “Yes,” Roux said. I knew I could count on her. I looked over at Jesse and he nodded. “Good. Because we’re gonna do some breaking and entering.”

  Chapter 31

  That night, I was a nervous mess, pacing in my bedroom and claiming that I had a ton of homework. “You know, honey,” my mom said at one point, “you don’t have to do the homework.” Both my parents had been super nice since I had come back home. Our fight seemed like it was eons ago, but they clearly remembered it.

  “Just keeping up appearances, Mom,” I told her, holding up my graphing calculator. “I can’t flunk out. And it’s not difficult, just voluminous.”

  I even waved off dinner, saying that I was swamped, but in truth, I couldn’t bear to look either of my parents in the face. They had no idea what I was planning, and I knew that if I were with them too long, I would blurt it out. It was better to hide away in my bedroom and pretend I was a regular, stressed-out student.

  At nearly midnight, my civilian phone rang. I glanced at the Caller ID: Jesse.

  “Hi,” I said, keeping my voice down and pulling the covers over my head so that my parents wouldn’t hear me. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. Here’s my question. Why would Oscar Young still be alive, in the same apartment, and no one in your Collection—”

  “Collective.”

  “—can find him?”

  “I know.” I sighed. “That’s been eating at me all night.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’ve been here all this time in the city and he hasn’t tried anything?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Hold on, Roux’s calling me.” I clicked over to the other call. “Hi.”

  “Hi. I’m so exhausted that my eyes hurt. Like, my actual eyeballs. Does that ever happen to you?”

  “Roux, it’s midnight. What do you want?”

  “Why the hell would Oscar Young still live in that apartment? Like, isn’t that the most dumbass thing he could possibly do?”

  “Jesse just called me and asked the same thing. He’s on the other line right now.”

  “Three-way me, baby.”

  So I did. “Jesse?” I said. “Roux’s on with us.”

  “Great.” He didn’t sound thrilled.

  “So, here’s my thought,” Roux said, and suddenly she sounded wide awake, like she was heading a corporate board meeting. “Oscar Young was working for someone, and when he botched the whole kidnapping thing, they killed him and decided to take over.”

  “She’s right,” Jesse said.

  “I am?”

  “You are.”

  “She is?”

  “Yes. Listen. There’s probably a mole in the Collective.”

  “What? Are you—?”

  “Think about it, Maggie! It’s the perfect cover! They can still monitor what everyone’s doing, including you; they have all this training and these resources; and then when they blow the whistle, they make a shitload of money.”

  My brain was racing to catch up. “But then why would they even bother trying to sell the story to your dad?”

  Roux’s voice came down the line. “To make more money.”

  Thoughts were crashing together like train cars, each one causing a smal
l explosion behind my eyes. I remembered Angelo’s words back at the museum. There is always danger. And there is always money to be made.

  “And then they could just kidnap you afterward,” Roux theorized. “Win-win. I mean, um. Win-win for them, not win-win for you. Never mind.”

  “They could have gotten me anywhere, though,” I said. “Why didn’t they—?”

  And then I sat up in bed, a cold sweat starting to form along my spine. Buenos Aires and Luxembourg. Two major cases that had gone completely wrong: empty safes, missing blueprints, my parents and I literally running for our lives and barely making it to the airport.

  What if those weren’t accidents? What if those were attempts to kidnap me again?

  A tiny thought crept into my brain: Colton Hooper was responsible for our safety and new identities on our missions. All of them. He had effectively assigned himself to my family.

  “Maggie?” Jesse’s voice was cautious. “You still there?”

  “Yes. Give me a minute.” I put my hand over my mouth, Angelo’s words racing through my brain. It couldn’t be right, but everything was starting to collide in my brain, a perfect storm of corruption.

  Colton was absolutely gutted when he found out about the kidnapping attempt.

  He was the one who had brought Oscar Young into the Collective, had sworn that Oscar was one of the best in the business.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look of devastation on his face.

  He said, ‘I suppose Oscar Young was no knight in shining armor.’

  And then Colton’s smooth, icy voice rose above everything else.

  It’s the infamous Maggie.

  “Colton,” I said, my voice bigger than a ragged whisper. “He’s doing this. He set up the kidnapping attempt, and he’s been watching my family ever since. That’s how he has all this information about me. And he’s been sabotaging this case so that I wouldn’t be able to stop the article from running.”

  “Wait, who?” Roux asked. “Colton?”

  “I can’t explain right now,” I said, suddenly realizing that the entire loft could be bugged. The Collective probably still owned Oscar Young’s old apartment. No one would think twice if Colton Hooper came and went from it.

  “You can’t go to that apartment tomorrow, Mags,” Jesse said.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “He tries to kidnap me when I’m a kid, endangers me and my family in Luxembourg and Buenos Aires….”

  “Luxembourg?” Jesse said.

  “Buenos Aires?” Roux added.

  “… and now he’s trying to ruin the lives of my family and everyone I love?” I was starting to get upset and had to lower my voice again. “You are out of your damn mind if you think that I’m not going to that apartment tomorrow.”

  “Hell yeah!” Roux cried. “No one fu—oops, swear jar—messes with my best friend!”

  I tried to tell both Roux and Jesse that they weren’t allowed to come with me, that it was too dangerous, but they wouldn’t have it. And I couldn’t argue with them because suddenly my dad was knocking at the door.

  “Mags?” he said. “Are you still up?”

  “Gotta go. Tomorrow morning, same plan. Love you.” Then I slapped the phone shut. “Yeah, come in, Dad.”

  He opened the door, letting a sliver of light spill onto the floor. “You okay, honey? I thought I heard you yelling.”

  “I’m fine. Sorry, Roux just called. She had a nightmare about … squid.” It wasn’t true, but definitely sounded like something that could happen. “Big squid.”

  “Oookay,” he said. “You sure you’re all right?”

  I hesitated for a flickering second. I wanted to tell my dad about Colton, but I knew neither he nor my mom would believe me. Their faith in my abilities had already been rocked, set off course by my relationship with Jesse, and if I tried to explain my theories, I knew they would reassure me that I was wrong, that it wasn’t possible, that I was just trying to save Jesse’s family again.

  But the only family I wanted to save now was mine.

  “Good. Just tired. I didn’t get much sleep at Roux’s last night.” Again, not technically a lie.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. We’re all good here.”

  “Okay, then. Go to bed, it’s late.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you, too, kiddo. ’Night.”

  I knew I couldn’t tell my parents. They would freak out, try to call Angelo, and …

  Angelo.

  Angelo was on assignment.

  Who had sent him?

  It could just be a coincidence, I told myself, even though Angelo rarely worked cases out of the city anymore. But what if someone wanted to get him out of the city, knowing that he would protect me at all costs, just like he had done that Halloween night twelve years ago?

  I couldn’t take any chances. I dug out my civilian phone and dialed his number. “Angelo,” I whispered after I got his voice mail. “I just wanted you to know that the newspaper was delivered but the headline was misspelled. That’s all.” Then I paused before adding, “I love you.”

  Translation: Angelo, the case is bad. Get out now. Run.

  Chapter 32

  When Roux, Jesse, and I met up the next morning two blocks north of Gramercy Park, my nervous energy had given way to steely focus, and I was bouncing on the soles of my feet. Next to me, Roux was mainlining coffee, her eyes starting to look like slot machine windows. “I need about ten more cups,” she said as she passed me the coffee so I could take a sip. “That should put me at normal.”

  Aside from that tiny sip, I wasn’t drinking anything. Caffeine can make your hands shake, and I needed them to be as steady as possible. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find in that apartment, but whatever it was, I was going to have to be ready for it.

  Jesse showed up a few minutes after us, looking fresh as a daisy, complete with damp hair. “That jerk,” Roux muttered. “Why do guys always manage to look good after getting only thirty seconds of sleep? I feel like my eyes are so puffy that people in Philadelphia can see them.”

  “Let’s focus on the big picture,” I told her. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” Jesse said. “You guys get any sleep?”

  “A little.” I shrugged. “Enough.”

  Roux just held up her massive coffee cup. “Does this answer your question?”

  “How about you?” I asked. It was so odd to make small talk with him now, after all the big talks we had had. I couldn’t tell if he was still pissed at me or not, but it was a conversation that would have to wait.

  “Good, good,” he said, even though we all knew he was lying. No one was good that morning. I was pretty sure that if someone harnessed our collective nervous energy, it could power Manhattan through a holiday weekend.

  “Are you ready?” I asked them. “Last chance to back out.”

  “I’m in,” Jesse said.

  “Me, too,” Roux agreed. “I have a bio test this morning that I didn’t study for, so there’s no way I’m going to school today.”

  “Okay.” I took a few cleansing breaths and forced myself to focus. You’ve been training for this your whole life, I reminded myself. This is just a job.

  I remembered what Angelo said to me once when I was frustrated by not being able to open a particularly difficult safe: Let a veil of calm fall around you. Become very focused, very unperturbed by anything around you. I knew what he meant now.

  “Let’s do this,” I told Jesse and Roux.

  Our first obstacle was probably the trickiest: the doorman. I had no idea how we were going to get around that, but Roux had just said, “Leave it to me.” That had seemed like a viable plan yesterday, but now that we were about ready to walk through the door, I was wary.

  “Roux, did you—?”

  “Hi, Harold! Hiiiii!”

  God help me, the poor, put-upon Harold was sitting behind the front desk, hands folde
d, like he fully expected to see Roux come sailing through the doors.

  “Harold, don’t you just love Mondays?” Roux sighed dreamily. “A fresh start, a new beginning? Ugh, I’m such a romantic, it’s disgusting.”

  “Do we know this guy?” Jesse whispered to me. “Or is this the beginning of Roux’s breakdown?”

  “We know him,” I whispered back. “It’s her doorman. Roux! How did you do this?”

  She shrugged. “I can be very convincing.” Then she smiled. “My parents’ money can be even more convincing.”

  I looked at Harold, who still hadn’t acknowledged that any of this was unusual. “Please tell me that the doorman who’s normally here isn’t bleeding in a gutter somewhere.”

  “How ridiculous.” Roux shook her head. “He’s working at my building. God, Maggie, you’ve gotten so dramatic.”

  Roux was either a genius or an evil mastermind, but I didn’t have time to figure out which it was.

  “So, Harold. Friend, pal, chum.” Roux folded her hands on top of the desk. “Are you going to buzz us in or not?”

  We knew we had to go to #11N, since that was the apartment that Oscar Young had first rented back when he tried to kidnap me (he didn’t use that name, of course, but I recognized the Collective’s all-purpose code name of Joe Miller on the digitized census reports). There were no changes in the name on the apartment, but if you thought Oscar was dead, then you would also think that the Collective had hung on to the apartment and never changed the name on the lease.

  “Go on up, miss,” Harold said, waving us through the lobby and toward the elevators.

  “Harold, you’re a gem. A pristine gem honed over years of trial and fire.”

  “That’s how I would describe my job, too,” Harold replied.

  “Thanks, Harold,” I whispered as we hurried past. “Really.”

  He never even looked in my direction.

  “Not the elevators,” I said as Jesse reached to press the button. “Never the elevator. Always stairs.”

  “It’s the eleventh floor,” Roux protested. “I’ll have a heart attack by the fifth floor.”

  “You’ll just have to revive yourself,” I told her. “And good work on the doorman.”