Spy School: Framed for Murder (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter Fifteen: The United States Naval Observatory

I stared outside, watching the trees and buildings and people blur past me, but not seeing them. I was too lost in thought, thinking about Murray's visit.

What could he have possibly meant?

I was finding it extremely unlikely that Murray really did come to just apologize; he must've had an ulterior motive.

But so far, there was nothing happening that was proving that Murray had planned something insidious. If he did, then he was hiding it extremely well.

Which brought up a second question: why was he planning anything at all?

Previously, his goal had always been money. He bounced back and forth between organizations like a ping-pong ball, playing everybody for selfish reasons. And everybody always fell for it.

But this time, who was he playing—if he was playing anybody at all?

I glanced over at Erica. She was sitting between Catherine and I, and Cyrus was sitting in the front passenger seat. None of them were speaking, all silently staring out the windows. I briefly wondered if I should tell them about Murray's visit, then glanced at the taxi driver and thought better of it. I silently made a mental note to tell them later.

The sight of the United States Naval Observatory interrupted my thoughts.

It was a long, white building, surrounded by a perfectly mowed lawn and equally-as-tamed shrubs. I had a feeling it would be much more of a sight to look at had it been summer, but the winter had sucked any life out of the greenery around the area. The drab, gray sky only added to its dead and unwelcoming look. The American flag sitting in front of the building barely added any color—or pride—to the scene, and the fact that the winds were billowing the flag didn't exactly make it look strong and independent, either.

After Cyrus paid the driver, the four of us exited the car. Having no clue where we were going—and because I was lame—I remained in the back of the group, allowing Cyrus to take the lead. To my surprise, it seemed that Erica didn't know where to go either; she was striding alongside Cyrus, but would hesitate ever so slightly at a crossroad.

Because of my distracted state (Love is an open door), I didn't realize my companions weren't next to me anymore until I ran into a tree. Groaning and holding my newly bruised and slightly scratched head, I glanced around, panic settling into my chest when I couldn't find anybody anywhere.

And when I say I couldn't find anybody, I mean I couldn't find anybody.

There was literally nobody around. It was like Thanos had snapped his fingers and everyone had blipped into dust. I blinked and furrowed my eyebrows, squinting at where Erica and Cyrus had just been in front of me a few seconds before.

Come to think of it, I didn't remember seeing Catherine.

I blinked again, and suddenly life started up again. It was like my life was a movie and someone had pressed play. Erica and Cyrus were staring at me with an annoyed look, and Catherine was showing a motherly look of concern. "Benjamin, are you alright?"

I glanced around, befuddled. Whereas the streets had been empty before, there were now cars zooming past me. Whereas the sidewalks were void of people before, there were now joggers running with dogs and families strolling by.

Had the sidewalks been this busy before?

"What day is it?" I asked.

"Friday. Why?" Erica asked curiously.

"And it's not a holiday, right?" I pressed.

"No," Erica replied slowly. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. Just have a weird feeling," I mumbled, staring at the many kids that were definitely old enough for school walking with their families.

I half-expected Erica to come to the same realization as I had, but she simply continued walking with her mother and grandfather. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, I followed the trio in front of me.

We rounded the building and headed to the back. Cyrus stopped in front of a bush and frowned at it for a second, as though having a staring contest with it that Cyrus inevitably won (poor bush. It did nothing wrong). He moved to another bush and nodded satisfactorily to himself. He gave Catherine a look, prompting her to turn around and take on a wide stance, observing the area around us—presumably to look out for any unwanted onlookers. Cyrus reached inside the bush and moved his arm in a movement that appeared as though he was pulling a lever. A rectangular section of the grass near the wall started to lower down, revealing a secret entrance. Cyrus held up a finger, signaling for us to wait, then went through the entrance down a spiral of stairs. Erica and I waited outside anxiously, glancing around every once in a while like Catherine was. Cyrus came back out moments later and signaled for us to follow him down.

A musty smell filled my nose, as though this place—secret basement, secret room, secret whatever-it-was—hadn't been used in a long time. I took each step carefully, for the steps were uneven and steep (and also because of my injured leg). Only a few weak lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling lit up the staircase. I felt like I was walking down the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Above me, I heard the door of the secret entrance slide shut.

"Why did you have to check inside?" I asked Cyrus. "If this is a secret place, shouldn't it be safe inside?"

"That's the thing," he grumbled. "As you can tell, the entrance isn't the most secretive. The lever isn't, either. They say the best places to hide are in plain sight, but in this case, it's too much in plain sight. Anyone who happens to trip into the bush will find the lever, without a doubt."

"At least it's behind the building," I pointed out.

Cyrus grunted. "Sure."

I wondered if Cyrus was going to be crotchety towards me for rest of my life. The chances were pretty high.

At the bottom of the staircase, Cyrus flipped a switch. A relatively small room flickered into view, surrounded by all sorts of weapons. Guns hung from the walls, swords and knives rested against the walls, and there were even nunchucks and crossbows.

On one of the shelves against the wall, were straps of all kinds. Cyrus grabbed an ankle gun strap and after lifting up his pant sleeve, started attaching it around his calf. I decided to copy him.

The ankle strap in my hands was unfamiliar to me. Sticking out from the sides of the gun holster was two sets of buckle straps. Allowing the gun holster to face outward, I buckled the strap around my calf and slipped a Glock 19 into the holster.

Right then, I felt like a real spy.

Sliding the pant sleeve back down to conceal the weapon, I grabbed other weapons to hide all over me: knives, other guns, more knives-

"What are you doing?"

Erica's admonishing voice cut through the air, freezing my movements. My head slowly turned to face Erica, in a robotic-like motion. I jumped as my eyes met her long legs, realizing she was a lot closer than I'd initially thought. My eyes traveled up to meet Erica's piercing, intimidating blue ones, and I subconsciously hunched my shoulders, as though I was afraid of a scolding.

Because I was.

"Umm..." I squeaked. "I thought-"

"How do you think you'll look if you show up to the drug dealers with bulges all over your body? That basically just screams police!"

I swallowed nervously. "Oh."

Erica held out her hand silently yet demandingly. Ashamed, I handed over all the weapons I'd taken except for the Glock 19 under my pant sleeve. After replacing them in their respective spots, Erica returned to me and sat down. Confused, I gave her a look.

She sighed, but didn't say anything. Glancing at her, I noticed she didn't have many weapons on her person, either. Behind her, I saw Cyrus and Catherine whispering about something, seemingly arguing.

"They're arguing over whether or not to let us do this," Erica informed me.

"How can you...?"

Erica cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh. Because you're... a spy. Yeah, duh. Okay." I sighed, glancing back at the arguing pair.

We weren't leaving any time soon.