So basically, we were looking at reams of numbers. Every once in a while a real word leaped out at us. Some of the real words were us, our names. Somewhere in these pages was info about our parents.
“How about we each take two pages and comb through them,” I suggested. “Figure out what we can. See if anything about the numbers looks familiar or has a pattern.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Iggy. “Except for me.”
“I’ll read you out some numbers,” said Fang.
Iggy nodded, and I passed out the sheets. Fang started reading softly to Iggy, who conce
ntrated hard, nodding every so often.
I took my two sheets and sat at the desk. For the next hour, we tried every basic code-breaking technique we knew. We looked for patterns, hexagons—and came up with nada, nothing.
Another hour later, I dropped my head into my hands. “This is impossible,” I said, ready to scream in frustration. “This is probably a computerized code. If it is, we’ll never break it.”
“But isn’t everything a test?” the Gasman asked, his small face tired. It was almost ten. I had to get these guys into bed. “Didn’t Jeb tell you that everything is a test, back at the School, when we were rescuing Angel? So that would mean we’re supposed to be able to break this somehow.”
“I thought of that,” I said. “That’s what’s so irritating. I’ve tried everything that would occur to me. So I guess I’m flunking this test.”
A tap on my door interrupted us. The door opened a bit, and Anne poked her head around it.
“Hey, guys,” she said with a smile. “Sleepy yet? Krystal? Want to get ready for bed?”
“Yep,” said Nudge. “I’m beat.”
Gazzy looked at me, and I nodded at him.
“Yeah,” he told Anne. “We were just about to crash.”
“Good,” she said easily. “Anyone need anything? Before you crash?”
“No, we’re fine,” said Angel, following Anne out. They walked down the hall, and I heard Anne say, “Ariel, how about letting Total out one last time?”
“Okay,” said Angel.
I stood in my room, feeling a little bad, feeling as if someone else was taking care of my flock.
25
Welcome to another day at Camp Agent!
To start, a hearty breakfast that Iggy and I made. That’s because on our first morning here, we had discovered that single-woman Anne Walker considered a protein bar and an orange-flavored sports drink to be an acceptable breakfast.
Which, if we were Dumpster diving or stealing from a 7-Eleven, would be great. But since we were in a seven-freaking-bedroom country château with a Sub-Zero fridge and Viking range at our disposal, it didn’t cut it.
So it was massive infusions of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, etc., for everyone.
Next, quaint housekeeping issues. Anne made each of us responsible for keeping our bedchambers tidy and worthy of a photo shoot. And here’s what really ticked me off: The flock actually did it.
Had I asked them a thousand times to keep their rooms straight at home, when we had a home? Yes. Had they done it? No. However, they were all over the bed-making and shoe-lining-up situation here, for a stranger. Little buggers.
Then, rousing exercise in the country-fresh air. Flying, sparring, playing, swimming, horseback riding.
Lunch. Anne got the fine art of making sandwiches down to a science.
Post-lunch rest, play, etc. Anne occasionally took us aside one by one and interviewed us, had us show her what we could do. She loved to watch us fly—made us feel like marvels, swooping around in the sky.
She would watch us for hours, with binoculars, and the look of wonder and delight on her face could be seen from two thousand feet away.