3 EMBARKATION

Corinto Cruise Port

Pacific coast of Nicaragua

May 16

1600 hours

I was actually looking forward to seeing Nicaragua, which I had heard was beautiful. Unfortunately, I spent most of my time there in the cruise ship terminal, which was quite likely the ugliest spot in the entire country, if not all of Central America. At one point, the island of Corinto had probably been very picturesque, but everything that had made it that way had been chopped down, steamrolled, and paved over. It was now basically a container port, full of rusty tankers, groaning cargo cranes, and semi trucks belching diesel fumes. The cruise ship terminal was a drab and charmless building designed simply to shunt tourists onto the ship, like cattle moving into a slaughterhouse.

In fact, the entire cruise ship experience so far seemed designed to let us have as little interaction with the country of Nicaragua as possible. After flying to Managua from Washington, DC, we had been greeted at the baggage claim by exceptionally cheerful cruise employees who immediately directed us onto tour buses, along with all our fellow cruise ship passengers—which was almost everyone else on our flight. The employees held little flags to let us know where they were and treated us all like kindergartners, right down to their insistence that we stay in line and have a buddy. Several other planeloads of cruise passengers had arrived from other cities, so more than fifty buses were needed to shuttle us all to Corinto. The entire caravan had driven straight from the airport to the cruise ship terminal, without even so much as a pit stop (there was a bathroom on the bus), so all I saw of Nicaragua was a blur of roadside businesses as we barreled past them.

Now, inside the terminal, we stood in a series of lines with all the other passengers, passing through an endless maze of sterile hallways. There was one line to have our passports examined, another to have our tickets verified, and yet others to check our luggage, pass through security, get our room keys, and so on. There was no chance to even get food, short of a few vending machines, and the air-conditioning was almost nonexistent. We were hot and sweaty—and so was everyone else—so the whole place smelled like body odor. It was like being in the world’s largest department of motor vehicles.

The Hales, Mike, and I were doing our best to blend in, which was rather easy, as every single tourist was wearing almost the exact same outfit: T-shirts, shorts, sandals, sunglasses, and baseball caps (or floppy sun hats for the women). The hats and sunglasses helped to conceal our faces, not that anyone else was even looking our way; almost every one of them was riveted to their phones, taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi in the terminal. Thus, we didn’t even have to be that cautious about what we were saying. Mike and I found the casual style extremely comfortable, since this was what we wore most of the time anyhow. It wasn’t Erica’s or Catherine’s style at all, but both of them managed to blend in perfectly, as usual; Catherine didn’t look one bit like her customary, fashionable self. However, Alexander, who was partial to tailored three-piece suits, looked as uncomfortable as a cat that had been dressed in a costume. He kept tugging at his T-shirt as though it were giving him hives.

The CIA had issued us all fake passports declaring us the Rotko family from Annapolis, Maryland. I had spent much of our travel time trying to memorize my character’s backstory to the point where I could recite details like my fictitious birthdate and school name without hesitating (which was quite important when passing through customs and ship security).

Despite the fact that there were dozens of busloads of people in the terminal, waiting to board the Emperor, it still wasn’t anywhere close to the number of people the ship could hold. “There are two types of cruises,” Alexander explained as we were waiting in our ninth line of the day. “Round-trip cruises, where everyone boards and disembarks at the exact same location and stays aboard for the same number of days—as opposed to one-way cruises, where the ships continue going in the same direction and people can board and disembark anywhere along the line. We’re on the one-way type. So there will be lots of people who’ve already been on board for a while, although they might be taking advantage of this stop to go ashore today.”

He pointed through a grimy window. The Emperor was too big to dock directly at the terminal, so it was anchored out at sea. Dozens of small, festively painted shuttle boats were zipping back and forth between it and the terminal. Some were ferrying new passengers out to the ship, while others were bringing passengers who had gone ashore for the day back from excursions. There were also several larger, slower cargo boats piled high with crates marked with things like BEEF, CABBAGE, and PUDDING. Feeding the thousands of guests and crew required a staggering amount of food; each crate was so big, a forklift was needed to move it.

The passenger shuttles could only hold fifty people, and it took a few minutes to load each one, which explained why we were waiting so long to get aboard. Although, thankfully, we were finally getting close to the front of the line.

“Do you think there’s an Internet café anywhere in this building?” Mike asked, glancing around the cavernous terminal. “I want to check my messages.”

Erica, Mike, and I hadn’t been allowed to bring our phones on the mission. There were two reasons for this: First, phones could be tracked, and on a mission, being tracked was a bad thing. The CIA could requisition special phones that didn’t constantly pinpoint your location, but they weren’t easy to get; Catherine and Alexander both had them, but Erica, Mike, and I didn’t. Second, the coverage fees for cellular service at sea were exorbitant, and the CIA said they couldn’t afford it.

“There are several computer centers on the ship,” Catherine told Mike. “You’ll be able to check your messages once we’re settled.”

“But that could be hours from now,” Mike protested, sounding a little desperate.

I tensed beside him. I knew why Mike wanted to check his messages so badly; he wanted to get in touch with Trixie. Of course, this was the last thing he should have been thinking about; we had a mission to focus on—and any contact with Trixie had the potential to get us in trouble. But Mike wasn’t thinking clearly. I had never seen him like this where a girl was concerned. When he had dated Jemma Stern, the president’s daughter, he had regularly gone whole days without bothering to text her (a behavior that hadn’t gone over very well with Jemma). But now he looked like a child who had been denied candy on Halloween.

Catherine picked up on this as well. “What messages could you possibly have to check that are so important?” she asked suspiciously.

“Has anyone seen Murray?” I asked quickly, trying to change the subject. I made a show of scanning the crowd in the terminal. “I haven’t noticed him anywhere yet.”

“I wouldn’t expect to,” Erica told me, though not in her normal voice. She was in character for our mission, using her usual alter ego, Sasha Rotko. Sasha was the anti-Erica. Whereas normal Erica was cool, calculating, and emotionally detached, even when beating up bad guys, Sasha was bubbly, enthusiastic, and slightly vapid. It was always a bit unsettling to see how easily Erica could shift into being the kind of person who she probably would have detested in real life. “This area’s only for the passengers in economy class, like us. The rich ones get waaaaaay better service. They have their own private terminal—and even private shuttles to the ship.” She pointed out the window.

Beyond the portion of the dock where the economy-class passengers were climbing aboard the shuttle boats was a far less crowded area. This was cordoned off from the rest of the dock with a velvet rope and patrolled by burly guards, the same way that the entrance to an exclusive nightclub would be. There was a much smaller, sleeker private terminal, with tinted windows and a dozen air conditioners on the roof. A single black speedboat that looked like a maritime limousine was docked beside it. It was all quite obviously designed for wealthier passengers. I noticed a few of them boarding the speedboat; they looked relaxed and happy, and all the adults were drinking festive cocktails served in coconuts.

“Oh,” I said. “Murray’s definitely coming in that way. If there’s a cushy route, he’s taking it.”

“Why aren’t we taking the cushy route?” Mike asked, upset. “If Murray’s going to be staying in first class, shouldn’t we be there too? So we have a better chance of finding him?”

“I’m afraid neither of our agencies can afford to send us first class,” Catherine said, keeping her voice low so that none of the other tourists would overhear her. “Espionage may be extremely important, but most operations still have shoestring budgets. We should consider ourselves lucky that we’re even being given a suite. If it hadn’t been necessary to bring you children along, the agencies would have probably sent Alexander and me in undercover as cleaning staff.”

“And they wouldn’t have even let us keep our tips,” Alexander groused.

The fifty people ahead of us were led onto the loading dock by a cheerful crew member, and we moved up to the front of the line. Around us, our fellow passengers began to buzz with excitement, realizing we were almost ready to board the Emperor of the Seas.

I said, “If the wealthy patrons have different loading areas and shuttles, are they also separated from the regular tourists on the boat?”

“Oh yeah. There’s a huge first class section.” Mike unfolded his map of the ship, which was well creased, as he had been studying it a lot. “There are special dining rooms and clubs only for the rich people. There’s even a whole floor of the ship that only they can access, with their own spa and pool deck.” He pointed it out.

I took the map from him, realizing that I’d been so busy learning my fake identity that I hadn’t taken much time to familiarize myself with the ship. Sure enough, there was an entire level marked Exclusive First Class Area: Access Restricted. It was one of the highest floors of the ship, and the private pool deck jutted out over the stern. “We need to figure out how to access this level,” I said. “Because Murray’s definitely going to be on it.”

“But Murray’s not much older than you,” Alexander observed. “And those suites are thousands of dollars a night. How could he afford such a thing?”

“The Croatoan paid him a lot of money for helping with their evil scheme,” I replied. “We saw it. And Murray likes to treat himself well. There’s no way he’ll be in economy class. In fact, knowing Murray, he’s probably in the most expensive suite on the ship.”

“Oh! I know where that is!” Mike pointed to a group of rooms at the bow end of the Exclusive level. “This is the Emperor Suite. It has like six bedrooms, so there’s plenty of room for Murray and any henchmen he might have.”

I examined the suite on the map. It was easily the biggest accommodation on the ship. In addition to the bedrooms, there was a gourmet kitchen, a dining room, a game room, and a private movie theater.

I said, “When Murray was working for Leo Shang, Shang rented out an entire hotel. And when SPYDER was operating out of the Atlantis resort in Mexico, they took the entire penthouse suite there.”

“SPYDER doesn’t exist anymore,” Alexander reminded me. “Murray is working for someone else now.”

“But he’s learned from his previous employers,” I said. “These big suites give you plenty of privacy—and lots of luxury. I promise you, if Murray is anywhere on this ship, he’s in this suite.”

Catherine nodded thoughtfully. “You’re on this mission because you know Murray. So if you say he’s in that suite, then we’ll need to infiltrate it as soon as possible.”

“That will be quite a challenge,” Alexander cautioned. “The Exclusive level alone will have its own security, and then that suite will certainly have even more. Its usual clientele is probably sheiks and oligarchs. Plus, any evil organization worth its salt will establish additional protection.…”

“I can get inside,” Erica said confidently. “It’s easy.”

Alexander looked at her curiously. “Easy? How…?”

“Hello, cruise ship travelers!” a young woman at the front of the line exclaimed. She was Aboriginal Australian, with a major Australian accent—and she was the perkiest person I had ever seen in my life, with a huge smile, big bright eyes, and dimples the size of golf divots. She wore a flamboyant pink uniform with a sailor’s cap perched atop her head at the jauntiest angle possible. When she spoke, everything she said had an understood exclamation point after it. “My name is Kit Karoo, and I’m one of the many hospitality crew members on the Emperor of the Seas! Our job is to make sure you’re having the best vacation of your life! It’s your turn to board the shuttle to the ship! So who’s ready to have some fun?!”

Her enthusiasm was infectious. Everyone around us cheered with excitement. Erica, still in character, gave a loud whoop of fake joy.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Kit declared. “So let’s stop lollygagging and get on that shuttle!”

There were more whoops of excitement from the nearby passengers.

Kit counted off the fifty people at the front of the line and then led us outside onto the loading dock, where a magenta-colored shuttle boat from the Emperor had just discharged a group of tourists who were ending their cruise. All of them looked quite depressed that their vacation was over.

After spending well over an hour in the stifling, overcrowded terminal, it was a joy to be out in the fresh air of the dock—even if it reeked of diesel fumes from the shuttle boats.

We all filed onto the shuttle. Kit stood by the door, handing out life jackets to each of us with staggering zeal. “Hey, kids!” she said when Mike, Erica, and I reached her. “Are you on spring break?”

“That’s right!” Erica responded ebulliently, in full Sasha Rotko mode. “Our school’s on a year-round schedule, so our break’s super late.”

“Well, you need to come by the teen club on board!” Kit exclaimed. “I’m one of the FunMasters there! It’s called Koolnezz, and it’s totally amazeballs!” She handed us each a large pin that said KOOLNEZZ KID on it, confirming that the name of the club was indeed spelled as badly as she had pronounced it.

Real Erica would have chucked the pin in the garbage at the first opportunity, but Sasha Rotko acted like it was the greatest gift she had ever received. “I love this! It’s gorgeous! We will definitely be at the club first chance we get!”

“I love your spirit!” Kit cried. “I can tell you’re gonna have a blast on this trip! There’s so much fun stuff to do on the Emperor, it’s incredible!”

“Like what?” I asked, trying to sound as eager as Erica.

“Ooh! Let me show you!” Kit hopped aboard the shuttle boat as the last of our group of travelers crammed on. A crew of sailors quickly untied the boat from the dock, and we set off across the bay toward the Emperor of the Seas.

The moment we were on open water, Alexander Hale turned a light shade of green. “Uh-oh,” he said, and staggered toward the railing of the boat.

Meanwhile, Kit removed a tablet computer from a holster on her belt. Both the holster and the tablet had Emperor of the Seas logos embossed on them, indicating that they were official items for employees. Kit used her thumb to log in, then maneuvered through a few menus until she found the one she wanted. “Here we go! Teen-friendly activities! For starters, do you guys like to dance?”

“I looooooooove dancing!” Erica proclaimed. Even though, in real life, Erica hated dancing. She had once declared that she would rather be tortured by enemy agents than go clubbing.

“Then you’ve come to the right ship!” Kit announced. “Because at Koolnezz, we have dance parties every night! Plus, there’s arcade games, Ping-Pong, air hockey, pool, a half basketball court, trivia contests, karaoke…” She went on breathlessly for another good minute, although I didn’t really pay attention to the rest of it, because I was staring at the cruise ship.

The Emperor of the Seas had looked big from the terminal, but as we got closer, the enormity of the vessel became more and more staggering. Our shuttle boat, which was a sizable craft, was dwarfed by the ship like a piece of plankton beside a whale. The Emperor had been designed for maximum occupancy, rather than an eye for beauty, so while there were some graceful lines at the bow, the center of it was really just an eighteen-story building. It was as though a colossal apartment complex had somehow broken off the mainland and floated out to sea.

High above, at the top of the ship, was the pool deck. I couldn’t see it from my angle, as I was down at sea level, but I could glimpse the tops of the smokestacks and a few blue curls of plastic where some of the waterslides curved out over the edge of the boat, adding the thrill of potentially plummeting to one’s death in the ocean to what would have been an otherwise normal water-park ride.

We were approaching the cruise ship from the bow, so I had a good look at the exterior of the Emperor Suite. It was located just below the top deck and spanned the entire ship from port to starboard, giving it sweeping views of the horizon. A balcony ran the entire length, backed by floor-to-ceiling windows that gleamed in the sun.

Directly beneath the Emperor Suite was the bridge, from which I knew the captain and crew manned the ship. This, too, had floor-to-ceiling windows and spanned from port to starboard—although it was actually slightly wider than the rest of the ship, with glassed-in wings protruding from the sides. I figured the protrusions probably served the same purpose as rearview mirrors on a car, allowing the crew to look backward along the length of the ship during maneuvers.

“… baking competitions, pottery lessons, and bingo tournaments!” Kit finished, sounding slightly winded. She had rattled off all the Koolnezz amenities without taking a breath. “Does any of that sound fun to you?!”

“It all sounds fun to me!” Erica exclaimed. “When can we start?”

“Right after you get checked in!” Kit said. “And the club is open until two a.m. tonight! Although we do close for an hour at eight so that everyone can attend the pirate party!”

Every night the Emperor of the Seas hosted a themed party, and for our first night, the theme was pirates. It seemed odd to me that we would be celebrating the very people who would have pillaged a ship like the Emperor in real life, but I also had to admit the brochure made it sound like a good time.

“I’d love to keep telling you about all the fun!” Kit went on. “But we’re almost at the ship, and I’ve got to help everyone get aboard safe and sound! I’ll see you at Koolnezz, though!”

“You sure will!” Erica chirped.

Kit slipped her tablet back into her holster and stepped away to give all the passengers a cheerful round of safety tips for getting off the shuttle.

As Kit moved past us, Erica deftly swiped her tablet. She did it so quickly, Kit didn’t notice a thing. The tablet hadn’t even gone into sleep mode yet, so we still had access to all the screens.

Erica turned around so that Kit couldn’t see what she was doing and began searching through the menus. All the other guests surged toward the exit, wanting to be the first to step foot aboard the Emperor. They were so focused on getting off the shuttle, no one noticed as Catherine, Mike, and I clustered around Erica.

Alexander didn’t join us, as he was still leaning against the railing. He had turned even greener, like an apple ripening in reverse, and was now a shade of emerald.

“Are you okay, Dad?” Mike asked, doing his best to stay in character.

“I’m fine,” Alexander said reassuringly. “I just felt a twinge of motion sickness, but I’ve been out on the briny many times. I’m sure it will pass soon… oh dear.” He bent over the railing and vomited into the ocean.

“I warned him,” Catherine said under her breath. “He’s always like this at sea. But every time, he thinks he can beat it. He booked us on a cruise for our honeymoon and spent the entire trip with his head in the toilet.”

Our shuttle boat pulled up alongside the Emperor of the Seas. A few feet above the waterline, a portal was open in the hull of the ship, which would allow us to step inside. To our left, toward the stern, several much larger portals were open. Cargo was being loaded through these, with dozens of porters moving it from big, flat scows into the ship. The one closest to us was unloading the thousands of pieces of luggage the new passengers had brought, while the scows closer to the stern were delivering the huge pallets of food.

On the other side of us, toward the bow, the dark black speedboat bearing the exclusive guests pulled up in front of an open portal, where a tuxedoed waiter stood with a tray full of champagne glasses at the ready. The powerful engines cut out, and a gull-wing door in the side of the boat rose. A horde of cruise ship employees set a gangplank across the small gap between the speedboat and the portal, then helped the wealthy passengers across.

The elite didn’t really look any different from the passengers on my shuttle. For the most part, they were dressed in T-shirts and shorts as well. They were simply being treated far better than we were. And, given the refreshed looks on their faces, it appeared that the indoor cabin of their speedboat must have been air-conditioned. I kept a close eye on them, hoping to spot Murray Hill.

Meanwhile, beside me, Erica was busily searching through Kit Karoo’s tablet, completely ignoring her father’s puking. “Here we go!” she announced. “Just as I figured, they have everything about the ship on this. Including current passenger lists.” She brought up the manifest for the Premier level and found the Emperor Suite. “The guests listed on the manifest are… Harry and Ophelia Butz.”

Mike giggled at the names.

“That definitely sounds like Murray’s sense of humor,” I said.

“Looks like we’ve found where he’s staying,” Catherine observed, then glanced over at Alexander. “Are you all right, darling? It’s time to get on board the ship.”

Alexander turned from the railing, his T-shirt bedecked with a few flecks of vomit. A weary look in his eyes indicated he was questioning his decision to accept this assignment. “Coming, dearest,” he gasped, then wobbled toward the exit.

We were the last passengers off the shuttle. As Kit helped us disembark, Erica deftly slipped the tablet back into her holster. Kit never noticed it was missing.

Unlike the wealthy passengers, we didn’t get a nice gangplank between our shuttle and the Emperor. Instead, we had to step across the narrow gap over the water. The seas were calm, but the shuttle was still bobbing on the waves, making passing from one craft to the other slightly treacherous.

As I stepped over the gap, I glanced toward the first-class speedboat once again, still on the lookout for Murray Hill.

He wasn’t among the crowd disembarking—but someone else I knew was. Someone whose presence startled me so much that I almost fell into the sea.

It wasn’t hard to see him, as he was at least a foot taller than everyone else on the boat.

It was Dane Brammage, a hulking thug for SPYDER and other evil organizations who had tried to kill me on multiple occasions. I had thought he was dead.

Apparently, he was not. And now I was going to be stuck on a cruise ship with him.