Bait and Switch Page 8

  Although disappointing, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Like most of the Center’s operatives, Evan was adept at ignoring the questions he didn’t want to answer. Still, they were going to have to work closely together, and they would be sharing their lives until the assignment ended. Jack was confident that before the mission was through, he would know a lot more about his handler, and maybe unravel a few of the Center’s mysteries.

  USUALLY WHEN Jack was on assignment, Evan designed a training program adapted to his living arrangements. This time he simply hauled Jack out of bed at 6:00 a.m. and hustled him down to the basement of the apartment building and into a small, reasonably well-equipped weight room.

  “Not many of the residents use the place,” Evan said. “You know the routine. Let’s get started.”

  They trained side by side for forty minutes, the silence only broken by Evan’s occasional instruction or encouragement. When he called a halt, Jack looked up expectantly, but any hope the session was over was quickly dashed when Evan jerked his head toward the door.

  “I’ve mapped out a route. Thirty minutes should do it.”

  Jack muttered a resigned curse and fell in beside Evan, and soon they were pounding the pavement at a fast clip.

  “You can start school today,” Evan said, his breathing hardly affected by the pace, though Jack could already feel the burn start to build in his lungs. “I’m confident you’ve learned everything you need to know.”

  “You want me to achieve any specific outcomes today?”

  Evan shook his head. “Just get in and get the lay of the land. Leo will help you figure out your role for this assignment.”

  They finished the run in silence, Evan edging the speed up every five minutes until they were running flat-out. When they returned to the apartment, Jack headed for the shower as Evan disappeared into his own room, and when he had finished, he scrambled some eggs and made toast and coffee.

  Evan nodded his appreciation as he sat down at the breakfast bar. “You need anything? Money? New clothes?”

  Jack shook his head. “I think I’ve got it covered. I’ll let you know once I figure my classmates out.”

  “We could hit the mall on the weekend.” Evan paused before adding casually, “Sean’s cool if you want to pick anything up to take back to the Center. Just run it by me first. It’s time you put your own stamp on your quarters.”

  “Thanks, Evan.” Jack was too surprised to think of anything else to say. The reins were definitely loosening, and it felt good.

  Thirty minutes later he and Evan left the apartment and made their way down to the garage. Evan had offered to give him a ride to school, and Jack gladly accepted. He wasn’t nervous—he rarely felt worried about starting a new school. He had studied the lessons dozens of times, and he knew how to take care of himself. And this time he had Leo in his corner. But it was unusual to work with somebody who was concerned about him personally, not as an operative, not as a subordinate team member to be commanded and controlled, but as a kid who might need support and guidance.

  “Unless Leo tells you otherwise, you should probably come straight home tonight,” Evan said. “I’ll be back around six. If anything changes, you need to text me immediately.” Jack started to speak, but Evan cut in. “I’m not expecting you to ask my permission. A typical teenager doesn’t tell his big brother everything. I get that. But even the coolest kid lets his family know if he won’t be back in time for dinner. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Jack replied.

  Evan pulled up in front of a red brick building. “Keep your eyes and ears open, but don’t push too hard. Just have a good first day, kiddo.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Jack opened the door and started to climb out, stopping and turning his head when Evan called his name.

  “We’ll be hitting the weight room again at six thirty.”

  “Shit,” Jack muttered.

  “That added an extra fifteen minutes to the session. You want to try that answer again?”

  “Looking forward to it,” Jack said quickly.

  “There you go,” Evan said, grinning broadly. “See you tonight.”

  Jack climbed out of the car and waved, watching for a moment as Evan slid back into traffic. He was going to maintain his cover story by going to work at Informa Tech, although his schedule would be pretty flexible, depending on what Jack and Leo needed from him. Jack was determined to pump Evan for more information on the company that was a front for the Center, but for now he put his handler out of his mind and turned to face the school.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind of anything but the assignment, though it was no surprise that the only thing rattling around in his head was the thought of seeing Leo again.

  Chapter Ten

  REGISTERING FOR a new school had become so routine that Jack barely gave it a second thought. The Center always ensured his documentation was in order and that there was nothing that could trip him up. So it was a shock when the school’s secretary pulled up his record on the computer and frowned.

  “Your transcripts are missing,” she said. “What was your last school? I’ll have to call and have them sent through.”

  Since his last school had been listed as St. Xavier in Washington, a school that would have no record of him, Jack realized his cover would be compromised if he didn’t think fast.

  “My brother made all the arrangements when my parents got called away,” he said quickly. “Let me give him a call.”

  He stepped away from her desk and pulled out his cell phone before she could argue, and a moment later he was connected to Sean.

  “My transcripts are missing,” he said.

  “Impossible.” Sean’s voice conveyed absolute certainty. “Everything was sent through per protocol.”

  “I’m telling you they’re not in the system. You have to resend them right now. Otherwise the secretary is going to call St. Xavier.”

  There was a moment’s pause before Sean said, “Okay. Tell her they’re on their way. Contact me immediately if you run into any other problems.” He hung up before Jack could say anything further.

  Jack returned to the desk and had barely opened his mouth when he heard her computer ping.

  “There they are,” she said. “Your brother is very efficient. It’s a good thing. Otherwise you might have had to hang on for a day or two before starting with us.” She tilted her head, and Jack held his breath as she checked the rest of his documentation. “Everything seems to be in order now.” She handed him a brown envelope. “Here’s what you need to know. Study the booklets carefully. Now, your first class is geography. Room twelve. There’s a map in your envelope.”

  It was a clear dismissal, and Jack didn’t hang around. He walked out of the office, stopping only to tear open the envelope and fish out the map. He didn’t actually need it—he had committed the school’s floor plan to memory within hours of receiving the assignment—but he glanced at the map just in case anybody was watching him before stuffing the envelope and its contents into his backpack.

  Room twelve was on the first floor at the end of a sunlit corridor lined with photographs of kids engaged in all kinds of activities, though unlike most schools, there were no trophy cases or obvious signs of competition. Jack had read up on Bayfield Heights and knew it was founded on principles of cooperation rather than rivalry. It was partly why Leo had felt so confident going in under an assumed name—this was not a school that encouraged its students to compete against anybody but themselves.

  He knocked on the door to the classroom before pushing it open, unsurprised when every head turned and all eyes fixed on him. He handed the slip of paper the secretary had given him to the teacher and turned to face the students.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Jack Corrigan to Bayfield Heights.”

  The teacher gestured toward an empty desk as a chorus of voices greeted Jack. He smiled and ducked his head, but not before he noted Leo sitting in the back row, his desk p
ushed up close to a pretty girl Jack recognized as Freya Moore.

  “How are you at geography, Jack?” the teacher asked.

  “Pretty average,” Jack lied. He had completed the curriculum several times but knew enough not to try to stand out this early in the game.

  “Well, do the best you can. If you’re really having problems, one of your classmates can probably tutor you. Any volunteers?”

  At least a half-dozen hands shot up in the air. Jack wasn’t sure if these kids were always so eager to help a new student, or if there was something about him they liked. He caught the hint of a smirk on Leo’s face before he turned his attention back to his teacher.

  “We’re reviewing chapter five. Heads down, people.”

  The low hum of conversation died down quickly as the kids returned their attention to their books. Jack flipped to the right chapter and skimmed the contents, sighing in quiet relief when he realized this was pretty basic stuff. He spent a few minutes running through some of the questions, and then he surreptitiously scoped out his surroundings.

  The classroom was brightly lit, with huge windows open to a tree-lined courtyard. There were only twenty kids in the room, all well-dressed and expensively accessorized, with none of the hip street style that dominated most high schools. It didn’t take Jack long to figure out that if he wanted to fit in here, he was going to have to step things up on the fashion front. Everything in his closet was serviceable without being stylish, designed to make him blend in rather than stand out. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make the right connections here without a few wardrobe adjustments.

  Whenever he could manage it without looking obvious, Jack turned his head and caught glimpses of Leo and Freya. She looked like the rest of her classmates, clean-cut and preppy, with short blonde hair and sharp green eyes and a ready smile that lit up her face. Leo looked relaxed and happy, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Jack found himself admiring Leo’s self-control, unsure if he’d have the discipline to appear so casual if he knew he was being tailed and investigated.

  Forty minutes later a bell rang to indicate the end of the lesson. Jack was packing his books away when Mr. Post, the teacher, raised his voice.

  “Leo, you know our rule for new students?”

  “Last one in shows the newbie the ropes.”

  There was a ripple of laughter around the classroom, and Jack looked up as Leo drew level with his desk.

  “Obviously you’re paraphrasing,” Mr. Post said dryly. “But you got the gist. Would you show Jack around until he finds his feet?”

  “I’d be glad to,” Leo said. He stuck his hand out and smiled sweetly. “I’m Leo McNeil. Welcome to Bayfield Heights, Jack.”

  Jack slid his hand into Leo’s, feeling a tiny shock of pleasure as warm fingers closed around his. He squeezed tightly before reluctantly relinquishing his hold.

  “And this is Freya Moore.”

  “Hello,” she said, coming up behind Leo and sliding an arm around his waist.

  “Your girlfriend?” Jack asked, his eyes meeting Leo’s.

  “She has commitment problems,” Leo replied, laughing when Freya punched him lightly on the arm.

  “I don’t do the girlfriend thing,” Freya said. “It’s a bit too ‘caveman’ for my liking.”

  “Perhaps all the guys you know are Neanderthals,” Jack said. He mentally kicked himself when Freya’s eyes narrowed, wondering if it sounded like he was flirting with her. Which he wasn’t. He relaxed when her mouth quirked into a smile.

  “Marginally better than ‘perhaps you haven’t met the right guy yet.’ I have high hopes for you, Jack.”

  “If you have chemistry next, you can come with me,” Leo said. “Or if you’re in American lit, Freya will show you where you need to be.”

  Jack scrabbled in his backpack and pulled out the envelope he’d been handed. Inside he found a sheet of paper with his timetable on it. His heart sank just a little before he pasted on a smile and turned his head toward Freya. “I’m all yours.”

  Leo patted him on the back. “I’ll catch you later, Jack. There are only two alternates each hour, so we’re bound to be in some more classes together.”

  “That’s great,” Jack said, trying to temper his enthusiasm.

  “Come on, then,” Freya said. She leaned over and pecked Leo on the cheek before tugging Jack’s arm and pulling him out of the class. He followed her down the hallway, smiling when she asked, “Hawthorne or Melville?” When he stared at her blankly, she added, “American lit? Do you have a favorite author?”

  “Are they my only choices?” he asked.

  She slid a glance at him. “Who else?”

  Jack shrugged. “Can I have Walt Whitman instead?”

  She stopped suddenly, and Jack skidded to a halt and turned around.

  “You’re the only person who’s ever offered another option,” she said. “That means you’re an original thinker.”

  “It might just mean I haven’t read the others,” Jack pointed out.

  Her laugh was unexpectedly loud. “I didn’t think of that.” She tipped her head and studied him closely. “You see things differently,” she declared. “It’s interesting.”

  She started walking again, her pace quickening as they reached the staircase at the end of the hallway, which she bounded up, two steps at a time. She pulled him into a classroom and maneuvered him into an empty chair before plunking down beside him.

  “Have you?” she said. “Read any of them?”

  Jack pulled in a deep breath and quoted, “I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume, you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you—”

  “Jesus, Jack,” she cut in, her eyes growing round. “The only things I can quote are song lyrics. I’m majorly impressed.”

  Jack sat back in his seat and turned his head away. He didn’t tell her he’d learned the quotation on a previous assignment in order to fabricate a connection to a shy young girl who loved poetry and dance, and whose older brother was being spirited away at the very moment Jack was distracting her with her favorite verse.

  AT LUNCH Jack caught up with Leo again. He’d had two other classes with Freya and could see why Leo thought she was cool. She was funny and frank, and every time Jack thought he’d figured her out, she proved him wrong.

  Halfway through American literature, when they were supposed to be marking each other’s tests, he asked, “So how about you? Hawthorne or Melville?” He hoped to impress her by discussing whichever one she chose, but she sent him a sly grin instead.

  “Can’t stand either of them. There’s only one American writer worth shit.”

  “And that would be…?” Jack was pretty confident he’d recognize the work of any of the major writers. After all, he’d spent more than half his life perfecting his knowledge of the high school curriculum.

  “‘Come As You Are’? ‘Negative Creep’? ‘Heart-Shaped Box’?”

  Jack pasted on a neutral look while his mind raced through the possibilities, coming up completely empty.

  “Kurt Cobain?” Freya said.

  Jack forced a laugh. “Sorry, totally blanked for a minute. Definitely beats Whitman!”

  Freya smiled, but there was a curiosity behind her eyes Jack recognized. At some level she was wondering why Jack didn’t immediately get the reference. He had seen the look before while on assignment, and it always reminded him that he was an outsider, that no matter how much he read or watched or learned, he would never be like the kids whose lives he imitated. It hadn’t always bothered him, but for some reason, slipping up in front of Freya felt like a failure.

  He was glad to slide into a seat next to Leo at lunch, to once again be close to a person who understood his life and shared its purpose.

  “How was your morning?” Leo asked.

  Jack nodded. “Great. Freya now knows how badly I suck at geography, American lit, and calculus.”

  Freya grinned. “The teaching methods
here take a little getting used to. I’m guessing you didn’t have much self-directed learning at your last school?”

  “If it didn’t come out of a textbook, it didn’t get taught,” Jack replied.

  “It’s pretty much the opposite here,” Freya said. “We have to cover the basics, of course, but we’re encouraged to explore the course ourselves and find a subject we want to focus on each term. It calls for a little more creativity.” Her smile was sweet when she added, “I’m pretty sure you’ll adapt. You caught on much more quickly than most transfers.”

  Jack felt a completely unexpected blush color his cheeks. Freya ducked her head momentarily, and when she looked back up, there was unmistakable warmth in her expression.

  “We’re also expected to take part in extracurricular activities. Let me know what you’re interested in, and I’ll hook you up with the right clubs.”

  “What are you taking?” Jack asked. He winced, wondering why everything that came out of his mouth suddenly sounded so flirtatious.

  “Freya is the queen of lost causes,” Leo said dryly. “Think of the least popular activities and she’s bound to have started a club—”

  He ducked, and Freya’s badly aimed french fry went sailing over his head.

  “Don’t listen to him, Jack,” she said. “He thinks he’s a rebel because he only joined a couple of the school clubs.” She wagged a finger in mock warning. “I keep telling him he won’t get into any decent colleges unless he takes extracurricular more seriously.”

  “Who says I want to go to college?” Leo replied. There was laughter in his voice, but Jack was startled to hear something else, something he was sure nobody else would detect. It sounded a lot like wistfulness. Jack turned his head to try to read Leo’s expression, but whatever he thought he’d heard was quickly banished when Leo said, “I’ve already told you. The minute I graduate, I’m hitting the road Kerouac style.”