AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 15

After my dad crammed a huge black duffel bag full of weapons and ammo, we left the secret lair behind and ventured up the staircase that was chiseled from the bedrock beneath the museum. When I close the hefty metal door, a bolt clanks within the frame, securing the hidden stairwell until our next visit, if we ever come this way again. The storage shelves slide into place, concealing the passage from prying eyes. It stuns me that a secret room has been so close to me as I worked in the basement, mostly on weekends, not to mention my dad had access to the museum and an unbelievable weapons cache all this time.

The man known to the world as Zane Quick—also known to The Collective as Agent 1, a man my mother called Zane—leads Kayla and me up the stairs to the first floor. We're about to round the corner into the main corridor when I hear shoes clacking on the tile. It's the security guard, Oscar. He whistles as he strolls the hallowed halls of the natural history museum.

My dad raises a hand, halting our march up the stairs. He follows the stiff palm with a hurried wave, shooing us back down to the previous landing and around the corner, out of sight. I peek over my dad's shoulder, staring up toward the first-floor hallway where Oscar waltzes by blissfully as if he has all night to make his rounds. Seeing the guard's short and dumpy figure churns the inside of my stomach into a jumbled mess. If he found us and reported us to Vivian Payne, I'd be out of a job since I have no way of explaining why my dad and my wannabe girlfriend are sneaking around the museum after hours, while I'm supposed to be working. Thankfully, Oscar never waivers or glances down the stairwell, but continues on until he disappears from view. As he proceeds down the corridor, his clacking shoes and pleasant whistle grow fainter until there's nothing left but silence.

We creep up to the edge of the corridor. My dad looks both ways and then signals us to move out. Hopefully, Mrs. Payne will think I worked my entire shift and will be oblivious that I left the museum early.

Outside, we shuffle across the lawn and the dusting of snow that fell an hour ago. Our shoes leave rushed footprints as we dash along the towering line of shrubs toward the back of the property. I don't know where we're going, and I'm sure Kayla doesn't either. I suspect the only person who has a plan is my dad. Who knows how long he has plotted against The Collective?

At the edge of the grass, a street light illuminates a swath of roadway. The snow has since blown off, collecting against the curbs on each side. A chill of goosebumps courses through my body as we run; Kayla still has my jacket. At first, I see nothing but an empty stretch of asphalt. But then we burst into the darkness and almost run headlong into a parked vehicle. I recognize it as a Jeep Gladiator, a four-door SUV with a truck bed. The Jeep rests on a set of wide tires designed to go off the road, and the body of the vehicle is painted black, the reason I nearly plowed into it. My dad has an excellent taste for picking his ride. I'll give him that.

We climb up on the running boards, and once inside, close the doors and shut out the frigid night air. With the engine humming, my dad cranks up the heat and we pull from the curb. But we're not blazing a trail, we're coasting, which turns up the amplifier on my nerves. I have this overwhelming feeling that Agent 24 is watching from the shadows, maybe in a hotrod sports car about to drive up beside us and start firing off rounds into my dad's Jeep. I imagine the growling roar of a turbo engine speeding toward us, but the hulking agent doesn't appear and the man I just learned is the infamous Agent 1 steers us along at a mere thirty miles an hour.

My dad rubs a hand over his face and exhales.

I peer back at Kayla, who's sitting in the middle of the backseat, leaning forward with her arms on her knees, a few strands of her flaxen hair grazing my elbow.

"What's next?" she asks, her eyes piercing through her black-rimmed glasses, darting between me and my dad.

"I think both of you know what's next." My dad cuts his gaze back to Kayla. "Where would your father be on a Friday night?"

"In the past, he would be at home with my mom or they'd be having dinner at a swanky restaurant."

The way she uses the word swanky causes me to look back at her. Despite all that's happened tonight, I manage a slim smile.

"But lately," she says, "he's been working late into the night on some project. He never talks about it in front of me, but from the way he spends his spare time, I believe he's obsessed."

"So, he should be at the city hall?" my dad asks.

"The odds are high. When Agent 24 was on our tail, I didn't want to involve him. I was afraid I'd lead him right to my dad. I also had my doubts about Aiden." She pauses. "My dad keeps the front doors locked after hours, but I know the officer who's been hanging around with him. He'll let us in."

"Good. That's where we're going." He presses his foot to the gas pedal and before I know it, we're up to fifty miles an hour, twenty miles over the speed limit. Hopefully, the Coastal City Police aren't hiding in the shadows with radar guns on this frosty night.

"What's the specifics of the plan?" I ask.

"Since we know you won't kill the mayor, the only one we have to worry about is Agent 24. That means we have to get to Kayla's father first." He pauses with a finger to his chin as we draw near Main Street. With the sight of a red light ahead, the Jeep Gladiator slows to a crawl. "If I remember correctly, the Lattes coffee shop is across the street from the city hall and police department. It's not right across from it, but I could observe from there as both of you pay the place a visit."

"You want us to go by ourselves?"

"Yeah?" Kayla says. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious." My dad glares at Kayla and I. "I'll lie low, banking on the possibility that Agent 24 won't return to the scene of the crime." His chiseled and aged face grins like he knows what I'm thinking, which he does. "That's right. I was staking out across the street when he yanked you two from the coffee shop. At first, I tried to block the mind control signal to his brain with a duplicate device like the one I gave Kayla, but I wasn't close enough, and then you two got away."

"He came after us again," I say.

"I know, but you handled yourself well." The mirth on my dad's face fades. "I hope you know, Son, that what I did when you were younger, it wasn't of my free will."

I nod. I can't think of anything to say, so I remain quiet.

The light changes to green and my dad turns onto Main Street, heading south in the direction of the city center. "While you and Kayla warn her father, and hopefully convince him to add extra security to his police detail, I'll watch and wait, and come to help if needed."

The Jeep stops in a parking spot on the side of the road. Before we exit and head off in opposite directions, my dad says, "Both of you, watch yourselves and call me at the first sign of trouble." My dad gives us his cell phone number, which Kayla and I add to our contact lists. When we're all set, he adds with a sense of urgency, "Go now."