A Spy Like Me by Laura Pauling Page B

dropped three black button-like trackers into his
hand. “Add them to his clothes. I’ll put them in his shoes.” I
sounded way more 007 than I felt.
    “How?”
    “Don’t you ever watch the movies? Rip open
the seam a tiny bit and shove it in. He’ll never know.”
    “Where did you get these?” He ran his finger
over them. “Isn’t this illegal?”
    I pulled out a pair of sneakers from the tiny
closet. “It might be, but I have strong probable cause. Get to
work.”
    For the next ten minutes, we worked in
silence. The quiet built up in my head, warning and whispering that
I could get caught any second, and my shaky fingers made it that
much harder to finish my task. Finally, I shoved the last one into
a tiny crack in the sole of his sneaker.
    “Let’s get out of here,” I urged.
    We rushed to the door and opened it to find
ourselves face to face with Peyton.
    Damn.
    In a matter of seconds, he went from
eyes-wide-open shock to jaw-clenching furious and back again. His
eyes darted between Malcolm and me, and he backed up a few
steps.
    My heart shot into my throat and pulsed,
sending tiny sparks of fear into my body, from the sweat on my
scalp to the itch in my toes that told me to run like hell. Could
we go to jail for this?
    Malcolm gripped my arm and held me back.
“Breathe,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of this.”
    “No way,” I muttered and took a few steps
back, dragging him with me to give Peyton space. I had to show him
we weren’t the bad guys. “Hey, how you doing?”
    He stood still, his fingers twitching at his
sides. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
    “We thought we’d stop by and chat and noticed
the door was open.” I said it as casually and friendly as I
could.
    “And you decided just to let yourselves in?
Is this how they do things in Paris?”
    Malcolm muttered, “I can tell you’ve got
this.”
    I didn’t bother to give him a dirty look.
“Remember me? From Spy Games? The Eiffel Tower?”
    Complete annoyance settled in his eyes. “How
could I forget?”
    “I guess we got off on the wrong foot.”
    All the meaningless words from Peyton’s file
flashed in my memory. Nothing that would help me.
    “That’s one way to look at it.” He stepped
closer. “You ruined everything!”
    Malcolm moved in front of me. “Why don’t we
talk about this? Peyton, right?”
    It was tempting to hide behind Malcolm and
let him smooth things over with his charm and good looks, but I
refused to play the coward. I pushed him back.
    “I did not ruin anything,” I argued.
    Peyton snorted like he didn’t believe a word
I said. My fingers curled into a ball, and I remembered the look on
his face, his out of control behavior.
    “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Not
my actions, not my words. Not when you are completely psycho!”
    “Good one.” Malcolm grabbed my arm and rushed
toward the door.
    “What is your problem?” Peyton asked.
    I whipped away from Malcolm’s grasp. “A Spy
Games staff member is gone.” I pointed a finger at him. “After you
threatened us.”
    Color crept up his neck and across his face.
“You think I had something to do with your friend’s
disappearance?”
    “I know you do.” I followed Malcolm’s lead.
“I came to check out your place for any clues.”
    “That’s crazy.” He pulled out his phone from
his pocket and started stabbing at numbers.
    I didn’t stay for coffee, and ran out the
door. Malcolm followed.
    “That’s right, coward. Run! Because soon the
police will be after you. Enjoy your last days of freedom!”
    I slammed the door as something crashed
against the other side of it. Probably a vase or something.
    “Let’s go,” I said. “This is how to leave a
scene when you’ve been compromised.”
    We booked it out the front door, Peyton’s
words ringing in my ears. The police?

 
     
     
Sixteen
    After running several blocks, I finally
slowed down. My lungs burned. Malcolm started to talk but I cut him
off.