maybe a man …”
A dark figure came from behind the sandbags. It obviously wasn’t Mom. It was a man … a little man, a little old man. He turned and headed in our direction, away from the downtown. He moved slowly, more shuffling than walking, and he was bent over as if the satchel he carried was weighing him down. He wore a long, dark trench coat, all buttoned up, and had a large fedora on his head, the rim throwing shadows so that it was impossible to see his features.
I felt myself tensing, holding my breath, as he went by. I looked down, past Jack, to the road below, only able to see the top of his head as he passed directly beneath us. He continued shuffling down the road, moving painfullyslowly. So why was an old geezer coming out of The Princess … especially this late at night?
He was almost lost from sight when a dark shape stepped out from an alleyway and started in the same direction.
“Did you see that?” Jack asked.
I nodded my head and then realized he couldn’t see a nod. “Yeah, I saw.”
“Look how slowly he’s moving,” Jack said. “The same speed as the old guy.”
“Do you think he’s trailing him?” I asked.
“Could just be a coincidence.”
The instant Jack said that, I knew we were thinking the same thing—a good spy didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Do you think we should do something?” I asked, realizing that there was only one thing we could do.
Without another word we both started to climb down from the tree, trying not to make any noise. By the time we reached the ground, the old man was lost in the darkness, but we could still see the man who was following him.
We moved silently on our sneaker-clad feet along the grassy patch that paralleled the road. From our dark clothes, to our shoes, to the distance and the angle of our pursuit, we’d been working on our technique. It wasn’t only our mother we’d been trailing—we’d followed other people, too. We were playing a game—and we’d become better at it.
My feet were silent but my heart was pounding as we kept pace, not moving too fast. We didn’t want to catch up with the second man, or with the old guy ahead of him. Our subject turned down an alleyway leading toward the ocean.
We hurried to the entrance and then stopped. Carefully, we both looked around the corner of the building. The narrow alley was pitch-black. I couldn’t see anything beyond a couple of dozen yards. And the man we were following had vanished into the darkness.
“What now?” I whispered.
“We have to be careful.”
That sounded like a good plan. We could find a spot outside the alley and keep watch, or maybe find another way around without going down the alley, or—
“Let’s go,” Jack said.
As he started to move into the alley, I grabbed his arm. “You said we were going to be careful,” I hissed.
“We are. We’re going to move carefully down the alley. Be quiet and stay behind me.”
He brushed off my hand and began creeping forward. Against my better judgment, I followed.
It was definitely darker and we couldn’t move very quickly. That was good. Slow was quiet. Slow meant that the guy we were following was getting farther ahead. Losing him was a problem, but catching up to him wouldhave been a bigger one. As we walked, I kept my hand against the wall as a guide.
The alley ended, opening up to a courtyard. Beyond that was the ocean. With no overhang from the buildings, the courtyard seemed almost bright. The stars provided enough illumination so I could see the entire area. There were buildings on two sides … was one of them a stable? There were a couple of carriages and some farm equipment … some rowboats on their sides by the water … but no people.
“Jack, do you—?”
He put a hand on my mouth to silence me, and gestured to the far end of the courtyard. There, in the shadows, I saw movement. It was a man— Was it the man we were following? He was pressed against the side of the building, and it
A dark figure came from behind the sandbags. It obviously wasn’t Mom. It was a man … a little man, a little old man. He turned and headed in our direction, away from the downtown. He moved slowly, more shuffling than walking, and he was bent over as if the satchel he carried was weighing him down. He wore a long, dark trench coat, all buttoned up, and had a large fedora on his head, the rim throwing shadows so that it was impossible to see his features.
I felt myself tensing, holding my breath, as he went by. I looked down, past Jack, to the road below, only able to see the top of his head as he passed directly beneath us. He continued shuffling down the road, moving painfullyslowly. So why was an old geezer coming out of The Princess … especially this late at night?
He was almost lost from sight when a dark shape stepped out from an alleyway and started in the same direction.
“Did you see that?” Jack asked.
I nodded my head and then realized he couldn’t see a nod. “Yeah, I saw.”
“Look how slowly he’s moving,” Jack said. “The same speed as the old guy.”
“Do you think he’s trailing him?” I asked.
“Could just be a coincidence.”
The instant Jack said that, I knew we were thinking the same thing—a good spy didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Do you think we should do something?” I asked, realizing that there was only one thing we could do.
Without another word we both started to climb down from the tree, trying not to make any noise. By the time we reached the ground, the old man was lost in the darkness, but we could still see the man who was following him.
We moved silently on our sneaker-clad feet along the grassy patch that paralleled the road. From our dark clothes, to our shoes, to the distance and the angle of our pursuit, we’d been working on our technique. It wasn’t only our mother we’d been trailing—we’d followed other people, too. We were playing a game—and we’d become better at it.
My feet were silent but my heart was pounding as we kept pace, not moving too fast. We didn’t want to catch up with the second man, or with the old guy ahead of him. Our subject turned down an alleyway leading toward the ocean.
We hurried to the entrance and then stopped. Carefully, we both looked around the corner of the building. The narrow alley was pitch-black. I couldn’t see anything beyond a couple of dozen yards. And the man we were following had vanished into the darkness.
“What now?” I whispered.
“We have to be careful.”
That sounded like a good plan. We could find a spot outside the alley and keep watch, or maybe find another way around without going down the alley, or—
“Let’s go,” Jack said.
As he started to move into the alley, I grabbed his arm. “You said we were going to be careful,” I hissed.
“We are. We’re going to move carefully down the alley. Be quiet and stay behind me.”
He brushed off my hand and began creeping forward. Against my better judgment, I followed.
It was definitely darker and we couldn’t move very quickly. That was good. Slow was quiet. Slow meant that the guy we were following was getting farther ahead. Losing him was a problem, but catching up to him wouldhave been a bigger one. As we walked, I kept my hand against the wall as a guide.
The alley ended, opening up to a courtyard. Beyond that was the ocean. With no overhang from the buildings, the courtyard seemed almost bright. The stars provided enough illumination so I could see the entire area. There were buildings on two sides … was one of them a stable? There were a couple of carriages and some farm equipment … some rowboats on their sides by the water … but no people.
“Jack, do you—?”
He put a hand on my mouth to silence me, and gestured to the far end of the courtyard. There, in the shadows, I saw movement. It was a man— Was it the man we were following? He was pressed against the side of the building, and it
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