Spies must tell lies

'For years I'd been trying to piece together some form of family, and now I had a second chance. I wouldn't let it slip through my fingers.'

Charlotte Goode is fifteen.She speaks eighteen languages and knows how to fight. But she wants to know what really happened the night when her parents fought, and only one of them came out alive.

Spies must tell lies, but she is determined to find the truth.


11. Missing

Abby had suggested that we met at a formal restaurant.

I love food. Seriously, if I wasn't a spy I would definitely have some involvement in the food industry. But let's just say that me and formal don't go too well together. The last time I ate out at a posh restaurant, I managed to trip over and bring an angry waiter and 52 champagne glasses with me. And Abby's suggestion of wearing heels probably wouldn't do wonders for my balance. 

I did not fit in well in formal situations.

Do what you do best, I whispered to myself, tugging at the hem of my dress. Be someone else.

I let an easy smile spread across my face as I sat down opposite Abby, making sure I didn't get my not-quite-dried crimson nail polish on the white cloth that blanketed the table.

Abby looked stunning. I was desperate to ask where she got her necklace from, but there were more important things to discuss.

"Who is worse than Mr Solomon?" I asked. 

"Many people," Abby said calmly, casually observing the man behind in the reflection of the water pitcher. Her clue was subtle, but I picked it up. I needed to get that man's attention.

I strolled up to him calmly.

"Excuse me sir, please could I borrow your phone?" I asked.

"Of course." His accent sounded familiar. I studied his face, but I did not recognise him. He was a stranger. So why did I have the feeling we'd met before?

I took the phone and wandered over to the bar to fake a phone call. I caught the man glancing at Abby, but I thought nothing of it.

That was my first mistake.

I returned the phone to the man, and sat down opposite Abby. I noticed she looked frightened, but I ignored it.

My second mistake.

"He is worse than Mr Solomon." I noticed the slight tremble when she spoke, and I was about to speak when she interrupted me; "You've got lipstick on your teeth."

I calmly headed off to the bathroom to sort my lipstick problem. But the real problem was that I had left Abby alone when she had looked scared. Spies get scared for good reasons.

There was no lipstick on my teeth, and the door slammed behind me.

It was a trap.

I tried to open the door but it was stuck. I took it down with a well-placed kick and prepared to be faced by a spy worse than Mr Solomon. But I was greeted by silence. I stumbled back into the restaurant, only to find the table where we were sitting deserted, as well as the table of the man behind.

It was a trap. But not for me.

For Abby.

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