Free Only the Good Spy Young (Gallagher Girls) by Ally Carter Page B

Townsend was standing thirty feet away, staring at us. I was sure we were busted. But then Agent Townsend stopped and gave a sloppy wave.
    “I’m going to my room!” he called, and then he turned and collapsed onto the plush cushions of one of my favorite window seats. He tried to pull the red velvet curtains around him like a blanket.
    “What are you doing in my room?” he snapped as I appeared beside him. And then he seemed to realize that his “room” was two feet deep and three feet long. “Is this my room?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “Oh.” His blue eyes had warmed somehow, as though something in that apple had caused all of his defenses to thaw.
    “Should we ask him something to...you know...test it?” Macey asked.
    When my roommates looked at me, I realized we hadn’t had interrogation training yet. Not even Mr. Solomon had taught us how to do this.
    Fortunately, as with most things covert, Bex was a natural.
    “Is there really a Loch Ness Monster?” she asked.
    Townsend shrugged. “Of course there is. Chemical warfare training went awry in the thirties. Had to lock the thing up somewhere.”
    “Were the crown jewels really stolen and replaced with fakes in 1962?”
    He smiled. “Only the rubies.”
    “Where is Mr. Solomon?”
    “That, I do not know.” He raised his eyebrows. “Yet.”
    “Why are the CIA and MI6 after Mr. Solomon?”
    “Oh, you know that, Ms. Morgan.” Despite the slurred speech, the words were enough to make my heart race. “Anyone who has been a part of the Circle since the age of sixteen is someone we would like to have a chat with.”
    “Why did you come here?” Bex asked.
    “To track a fox, you start at its den.”
    “What do you know about my mother?”
    Townsend turned his head toward the window. His breath fogged up the glass. I was beginning to think he hadn’t heard me when he whispered, “They won’t hurt her.”
    And with those words, a dread like I had never known filled my chest. “Someone has my mother?” I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, forced him to look at me. “Who?” I shook him. “Who has her?”
    His smile was oddly vacant. “We do.”
    My hands went rigid, forming fists around his collar.
    “We? Who’s ‘we’? Where is my mother ?” I yelled, but Townsend was drifting. His eyelids fluttered. He stared out the wavy glass as if he’d never seen a window before.
    “It is beautiful here,” he said, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
    I released my grasp, watched him land against the pillows. He looked as peaceful as a baby.
    And then Liz slapped him. Yes, actual slappage.
    He shuddered awake, his eyes clear for one brief second.
    “No!” Liz yelled, slapping him again. “You’re wrong!” she snapped.
    “Liz . . .” Bex reached for her, but Liz lashed out again.
    “You’re wrong!” she yelled. “Mrs. Morgan is going to come back, and we’re going to clear Mr. Solomon’s name, and then this school will have a real teacher again.”
    “Oh now, I doubt that.” There was something of the man from London creeping back into his voice. He smiled. “I don’t think Rachel Morgan would want to work beside the man who killed her husband.”

I t was too hot inside the mansion. I remember passing roaring fires and foggy windows—pushing through crowded hallways as if I might never breathe fresh air again. Fire. It felt like the world was on fire.
    “Cammie!” Bex called behind me, but I didn’t stop until I was across the foyer and pushing against the heavy doors.
    I didn’t have a coat. The sky above me was heavy, dark, and gray as I crossed the field that stretched from the mansion to the woods.
    “Cammie,” Bex called again. Behind her, I saw Liz and Macey running closer.
    “Cam, are you okay?” Liz called, and I whirled.
    “No!” I didn’t know I was shouting. I only knew the word had been trapped inside of me, boiling. “No! I’m not okay.”
    My roommates stopped, frozen. They seemed