Kaileigh and Steel, swallowed by a couch, faced Benny the Bulb Morgan, while Nell Campbell occupied a chair at the dining table, working at a laptop. Penny sat in a chair to Mr. Morgan’s left.

“So,” Benny said, addressing Penny, “where should I start? Do you want to explain what you can?”

“I’m in the Program,” Penny told them.

“One of only a few Fourth Form students ever invited,” Benny said. “You two will be the first Third Form students.”

Penny said, “I caught the two of you snooping around campus by monitoring the school security cameras, one of my jobs for the Program.”

“And you were assigned to keep an eye on us,” Steel answered.

Penny nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that, but I wasn’t allowed to tell.”

“And our friendship?” Kaileigh asked, clearly wounded.

Penny shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re friends.”

“But it started out as an assignment,” Steel said.

Penny nodded.

“My doing, I’m afraid,” Benny said. “He was only following the assignment. When a secret has been well kept for over fifty years, you hate to have it broken on your watch.”

“Fifty years?” Steel said.

“The modern program, yes. The Program itself is nearly as old as Wynncliff. It’s compartmentalized, meaning no one really knows what anyone else is doing. It was ramped up in the 1960s, but it was going strong back during the Second World War, and possibly before that. No one knows exactly how long.”

“Some of us,” Penny said, “like me, are analysts.”

“Some are operatives,” Benny said.

Nell Campbell turned to look in their direction.

“And of course,” Benny said, “some of the faculty are training instructors.”

“Like Randolph,” Steel supplied.

Benny grimaced. “Not exactly. We’ve suspected for some time that Mr. Randolph was running a rogue operation—training students to work for him while telling them they were working for the Program. He suffered a great loss when his wife died, and I’m afraid the temptation of money, or maybe some combination of grief and regret, along with greed, overcame him.”

“We suspected that Mr. DesConte, Mr. Long, and certain other students had been unwittingly recruited,” Mr. Morgan said. “That is, believed they were working for the good of the country and all, until—”

“We came along,” Kaileigh said.

“Just so,” Mr. Morgan said. “When you discovered their use of the tunnels, and reported to Mr. Cardwell, we thought we had our proof. From then on your actions were monitored closely.”

“And Lyle?” Steel asked.

“Lyle’s an independent contractor,” Benny said. “He works for me, in recruitment. More on that later, or not, depending where we all end up.”

Steel said, “The woman we were told to follow. She’s part of the recruitment? Lyle spots kids arriving at the shelter, and the woman’s called. She scouts them, maybe makes friends and offers them a place to stay at the boathouse.”

“Mrs. DeWulf?” Benny said. “A little more complicated than that, but you’ve got the general idea.”

“Those boys are operatives,” Kaileigh said. “The big guy in the hockey mask…”

“You might call us allies,” Mr. Morgan said. “The way France and England work together, or the U.S. and Israel. Mrs. D.’s recruits are of age. If they are runaways, we attempt to reunite them with their families. If the situation is abusive, we take countermeasures.”

“But they’re operatives,” Kaileigh said, pushing him.

Mr. Morgan appraised her. “Let me just say that her boys can take certain risks that ours cannot, and never will. They provide a necessary function. Fill a missing gap.”

“Are you telling me,” Steel said, “that we were all on the same side down there?”

“When we determined your operation, thanks in no small part to Mr. Cardwell, I should add, we determined support was needed. Ms. Campbell and Mr. Cardwell were part of that support. I knew Mrs. D. had operatives at the function. I had hoped to allow them to do what it is they do so well, but Mr. Randolph had other ideas, and you interfered. He apparently discovered that Mrs. D. intended to visit the shelter earlier tonight—the shelter had a function in the conveyance of the recovered thumb drive…had it been recovered. That’s as much as I can tell you. I imagine Mr. Randolph sent Mr. DesConte and Mr. Long to the fund-raiser as backup for you, for surely he suspected Mrs. D. would have her own people on the ground. We may never know everything about Mr. Randolph’s intentions.” He sounded gravely disappointed.

Steel felt a tightness in his chest. He’d been lied to repeatedly. He had a hard time knowing who was on his side.

“And now, if you will, Mr. Steel…or you, Ms. Augustine…” Mr. Morgan held out his hand. “The thumb drive.”

Kaileigh and Steel looked at each other blankly.

Mr. Morgan shook his hand. “I assure you, you want to turn it over to me. Possession of that drive is a federal offense.”

“We destroyed it,” Steel said.

Mr. Morgan’s lower lip twitched. “He told you to say that. Am I correct? This is something Mr. Randolph prepared you for—a debriefing like this—and you’re having second thoughts? I promise you I—”

“Steel stepped on it,” Kaileigh said, “and he flushed it down the toilet.”

“Good…God.” If a man could have died from being told something, Mr. Morgan just had.

Steel and Kaileigh met eyes. Hers pushed him. His refused.

Mr. Morgan caught the exchange. “What’s going on here?” His voice had lost its friendly tone, turning hard and critical.

“I think I know,” Penny said.

Mr. Morgan never took his eyes off Steel. “Very well, Mr. Cardwell?”

“Steel memorized it.”

“Say again?”

“He memorized it. The contents of the thumb drive.”

“Nice try. That thumb drive,” Mr. Morgan said, “is believed to contain specific scientific information—equations mostly, some comparisons, and fifty to a hundred pages of diagrams—”

“Eighty-seven,” Steel said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There were eighty-seven pages of diagrams. A hundred and sixteen pages of equations in the first file. There’s a nine-page letter addressed to someone named Illavich Vladikovski, and some kind of essay, forty-three pages, like from college or something.”

“And you destroyed it!” Mr. Morgan’s face shone redder than a sunset.

“The drive, yes,” Steel said.

“But he memorized the contents,” Kaileigh said. “The safest thing to do is get him to that computer Nell’s on and have him start typing. It’s a lot of information. It’s going to take a while.”

It took three days. Men and women, most wearing uniforms, some in dark suits, came and supervised Steel’s “downloading,” as Mr. Morgan called it. Steel typed some of it, read back a great deal of it into a voice recorder, and delivered some of it into the waiting lens of a video camera. Nell and Kaileigh and Mr. Morgan remained with him for the three days, taking wonderful room service meals at the suite’s dining table, writing reports, talking to people, and signing dozens of forms.

At night the girls watched DVDs while Steel continued to pour out the information. He noted more than once that it took a lot longer to get it out than it had to get in, and said how he wasn’t sure he liked this part of the Program.

Mr. Morgan didn’t miss a second of the procedure, clearly astonished at the depth of Steel’s memory. He took meetings with some military types, and Steel was pretty sure they were discussing him. They were behaving as if they’d discovered a secret weapon, and he was it.

Kaileigh spent time in one of the bedrooms, also being recorded on video. Steel heard her speaking in Farsi several times during the process, and again the military people were involved—this time women.

More than once, Mr. Morgan mumbled something about “a bright future,” but kept it shrouded in so much mystery, Steel didn’t know what to make of it.

Finally it all came to an end. Steel and Kaileigh, Mr. Morgan, Nell, and Penny rode in a stretch limousine—Steel’s first time in such a vehicle—from Boston back to Wynncliff Academy. Steel and Kaileigh had signed a dozen papers promising to keep everything secret. The “cover story” for their Halloween weekend was a visit to Penny’s house, with a trip down to Cape Cod. The details of that make-believe weekend had been carefully spelled out; Steel only had to hear them once.

Returning back to the school proved a bit of a letdown. Steel and Kaileigh stood on the lawn outside the dorms, realizing—or so it felt to him—that they had to split up now.

“So,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Kaileigh answered.

“Well it’s kind of cool we’re both thinking the same thing.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Should I thank you? Because I want to.”

“Other way around,” he said. “I know this sounds ridiculous coming from me, but I’m never going to forget this weekend.”

She laughed, reached down, and her fingers brushed his. He left his hand there, hoping she might take it, but she didn’t.

“All I can say,” she said in a voice so soft that it was barely audible, “is that if I’m ever asked to do something like this again, I hope it’s with you.”

“Ditto.”

“Well…later, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said, flexing his fingers and trying to touch hers. But he missed.

He walked to his dorm with a knot in his throat and a sick feeling in his gut, and he thought maybe he felt better than he had in his whole life. If this was growing up, he wanted more of it. If this was school, he never wanted to leave.