Part 5 (2/2)
His coat was just as dirty and his eye just as unsettling as Max remembered. He stood as still as a stone between them and the exit while people filed past.
”He's here,” Max whispered.
Nigel appeared not to hear as he fumbled with Max's duffel.
”He's here!” shouted Max, clutching Nigel's arm. shouted Max, clutching Nigel's arm.
Nigel shot him a puzzled glance before squinting past him.
His face went white.
The Recruiter immediately gripped Max by the collar and spun him around. Nigel marched him back up the stairs they had just descended. As they swam against a tide of startled faces, Max tried to look behind them, but there were too many people.
Nigel was speaking rapidly into a slim phone at his ear, but Max could not hear what was said. They crossed over to the next terminal, where Nigel hurried Max out the sliding doors and into a limousine that had screeched to a sudden halt at the curb.
The car sped onto the highway and made its way north while Nigel typed text messages into his phone, looking uncharacteristically grim. Over an hour pa.s.sed in tense silence before they suddenly veered off the interstate and merged onto a smaller road. They were very near the coast; tall gra.s.ses swayed by the roadside as they wound their way past small farms and towns. Weathered signs advertised public beaches, fresh lobster, and clamming excursions. It all seemed very alien.
Nigel glanced out the back window. The road behind them had been empty for miles. Apparently satisfied, he pressed a b.u.t.ton and rolled down the window. The warm summer air rushed in, fragrant and heavy with salt.
”How are you feeling?” he asked, his serious expression softening to a smile.
”I'm fine now. It was him, you know-that man at the airport. He's the one who was following me at the museum.”
”Yes, I know. He matched your description perfectly. It was a nasty shock, no question about it. But mission accomplished: here you are, safe and sound!”
Max took a deep breath; it seemed the first real breath he'd taken since the airport.
”Nigel, my dad's okay, isn't he? They won't bother him now that I'm here...?”
”He'll be fine, Max,” Nigel said sympathetically. ”You're the one they want.”
Nigel looked past Max and pointed at something out the window. Max turned in time to glimpse an old wooden sign: WELCOME TO ROWAN TOWNs.h.i.+P, EST. 1649.
They pa.s.sed a few tidy cottages on the outskirts. The Atlantic Ocean s.h.i.+mmered ahead as Max took in the clipped lawns, fresh paint, and clean awnings. The town's buildings were old but beautifully maintained. An old-fas.h.i.+oned movie theater rolled past, followed by a town green and a coffeehouse. Beyond these were a jumble of shops and small restaurants. Pa.s.sing the row of businesses, they arrived at a small white church whose signboard indicated Rowan Academy was just ahead. Max swallowed and felt his pulse quicken.
They turned off the road onto a smooth lane, pa.s.sing beneath a towering green canopy formed by the overlapping branches of tall, twisty trees lining the road. They accelerated toward a high gate of black iron flanked by a st.u.r.dy stone gatehouse. The gate swung inward as they approached. Max tried to get a better look at a striking silver crest when the limousine crossed the threshold, but the gate swung shut behind them.
The road had become a gravel lane, and the car now followed it to the right, plunging into a thick wood of ash and oak and beech.
Max turned to Nigel.
”Why wouldn't you let me say good-bye to my dad? Why did you make me hurry?”
”Oh, that-I am am sorry. We needed to stay as consistent as possible with the others-those decoys-that preceded you. You did very well.” sorry. We needed to stay as consistent as possible with the others-those decoys-that preceded you. You did very well.”
”Who were were those other kids? Are they in danger?” those other kids? Are they in danger?”
Nigel smiled.
”Those weren't weren't kids, and they are well equipped to deal with any dangers that might arise. You've seen your first Agents, Max.” kids, and they are well equipped to deal with any dangers that might arise. You've seen your first Agents, Max.”
Nigel wriggled out of his sport coat and held it up against the window. Max saw large dark stains under the arms. Nigel sighed.
”But I'm not not an Agent, just a poor old Recruiter caught in the middle and not quite cut out for all this cloak-and-dagger stuff.” He sniffed once at the jacket before folding it neatly on his lap. an Agent, just a poor old Recruiter caught in the middle and not quite cut out for all this cloak-and-dagger stuff.” He sniffed once at the jacket before folding it neatly on his lap.
”Why were you the one traveling with me, then?” asked Max.
”The Agents insisted I'd be the best decoy out there,” Nigel admitted sheepishly. ”They really can be brutal, you know.”
”They were wrong,” Max said. ”That man wasn't fooled. And anyway, I'm glad I got to travel with you and not some boring Agent.”
Nigel brightened as the limousine slowed for an upcoming turn.
”Thank you, Max.... Welcome to Rowan.”
The limousine emerged from the thick wood and into an enormous sunny clearing of smooth lawns, athletic fields, colorful gardens, and old stone buildings set near the sea. Max stuck his head out the window and listened to the seagulls. The car followed the lane along a gra.s.sy bluff high above the water's edge before curving away to conclude at a large circular drive and a sprawling mansion of light gray stone. Many cars were parked in front.
Max opened his door and gaped at a marble fountain of fishtailed horses spraying water high into the air. Through the mist, he squinted up at the mansion. He couldn't begin to count its windows and chimneys.
”One hundred and eleven,” muttered Nigel, shuffling around the car with Max's duffel.
”What?” said Max, uncertain if his ears had fully popped from the flight.
”The Manse has one hundred and eleven chimneys. You were trying to count them.”
”How did you know?” asked Max, troubled that his thoughts were so transparent.
”Because I tried to do the very same thing when I arrived here-oh dear Lord-some thirty years ago.”
The Recruiter chuckled and stooped to pluck a white flower from among several cl.u.s.tered on the flagstones at Max's feet.
”Rowan blossom,” he said, gesturing at the dozen slender trees ringing the drive. Nigel closed Max's door and led Max up a number of stone steps, pausing a moment before the mansion's great double doors.
”Ah-one thing, Max. I recognize the temptations, but I would greatly appreciate it if you wouldn't mention any of our excitement excitement to anyone. That man, Mrs. Millen-any of it, frankly. The less gossip, the better our chances at fixing all this. Will you promise to discuss this only with the Director, and then only if asked?” to anyone. That man, Mrs. Millen-any of it, frankly. The less gossip, the better our chances at fixing all this. Will you promise to discuss this only with the Director, and then only if asked?”
Max nodded solemnly and shook Nigel's hand.
”Good,” said Nigel, visibly relieved. ”Let's join the others. Orientation's already started.”
Max followed Nigel through the double doors and into a tall foyer flanked by sweeping staircases on each side. They pa.s.sed through a door beneath the landing and down a long hallway, past several rooms, before stopping at a closed door of polished walnut. Max heard Miss Awolowo's rich, warm voice speaking on the other side.
”Ack! Just as I feared,” said Nigel. ”This door always creaks. Sorry about this....”
The door gave a long, slow squeal as Nigel pushed it open. Hundreds of people turned and looked at the two of them as they stood in the doorway of a little theater. Miss Awolowo paused mid-sentence from where she stood at a podium.
”Ah! There you are! I was beginning to wonder. Ladies and gentlemen, please say h.e.l.lo to Max McDaniels, who joins us from the city of Chicago, right here in the United States.”
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