Read Online The Doublecross by Jackson Pearce - Free Book Online Page A

measures, right?
    â€œEnough,” I said coolly. “No more charades. Where’s intake?”
    Ben frowned, looking from the uniform and then back to me. “I really, really think we should ask the receptionist—”
    â€œIntake,” I cut him off, waving a hand at him. “Don’t play dumb—I know exactly who you are and who you work for. I’m an agent with the Sub Rosa Society, and you have five seconds to tell me where intake is before I signal my support team!”
    I yelled this. I didn’t mean to yell it, exactly, but as the words left my mouth, they climbed higher and higher untilI was shouting and shaking and angry. I didn’t cut up a pair of pants and sneak a tray of cookies just to get stalled by two kids in an outdated training facility. My hands were clenched into fists, my eyebrows knitted together, and I glared at Beatrix, then Ben, then Beatrix again, until finally Ben spoke.
    His voice was a little quieter now, more like his sister’s. “I think you should lie down for a little bit.”
    â€œShow me where intake is!”
    â€œOh, we will!” Beatrix said earnestly. “In a second. Do you have blood-sugar problems? Lie down, and . . . Ben, how about you go get—Oh, good, he’s already gone—” I turned to see the door of the gym swinging, marking Ben’s exit.
    This wasn’t working. Even if these two weren’t junior agents or agents in training, surely, whomever Ben went to get
was
—and I probably couldn’t handle myself against a fully trained League operative. I shook my head, turned, and ran. I shoved through the gym doors and took a hard right, away from the way I came. The hall was echoey and bare, and I could hear Beatrix padding along behind me.
    â€œWhere are you going? Wait, come on—maybe we can talk about this!” she shouted. Her voice was getting farther away.
    I looked over my shoulder—I was faster than she was.
    This was crazy; I was
never
fastest.
    But Beatrix was panting like she rarely ran, and her glasses kept slipping down her nose as she gasped behindme. I sped up, even though my overworked shins were cramping. There was a door ahead—unlabeled—but I didn’t exactly have the time to worry. I smashed through it and into another hall similar to the one I just came through.
    Beatrix was still behind me. I could feel the sweat slicking down my back. The stickers holding the sash together gave in. It fell to the floor.
    Where are all the people? All the field agents? Their computer guys? Their analysts?
A staircase ahead—I ran up it. When I looked back, Beatrix was still close behind, her hair fuzzy and cheeks blotchy red.
    â€œHey . . . look, he just went to get our uncle . . . You’re not in trouble . . . How many stairs . . . Oh . . .” She was fading fast as we moved up the staircase.
    In all honesty I was fading too, but I was fueled by the fear of failure—I had to find my parents today, because The League would inevitably be on even heavier lockdown after a breach. I flung open another door, spun, and pushed my back against it. I looked around; I was back on the main floor, by the offices I’d snuck through earlier. This was not good—even office people would notice if a Campfire Scout went tearing down their hallway.
    I reached over and grabbed the red fire alarm, yanking it down.
    A shrill blare ripped through the building.
    No one moved. I heard a few people sigh and thengrumble about the alarm going off; one person rose and slammed her door.
    Run, people! Why don’t you run?
I heard Beatrix’s footsteps drawing closer and closer to the stairwell door.
    I hadn’t come this far to get caught. I looked for ideas. Above me was a copper sprinkler head. It had a little bit of red glass in the center—when broken, it would signal the water to start flowing. I knew this because of an unfortunate incident involving me,