What?!
Ben stood there, trying to process what he was seeing.
A short, stocky man in a green janitor’s uniform pushed the trash cart down the hall toward the office.
He’s the janitor now? But where’s Lyman?
Another thought slammed into his head.
I’ve never seen that guy before, and he said my name—he knew my face!
Only one possibility: Lyman must have given that man his picture—probably Jill’s and Robert’s, too. Plus their class schedules, home addresses, cell phone numbers—probably a complete file on each of them!
Ben clenched his teeth so hard they hurt.
The clock in his head told him the final homeroom bell was about to clang, and he couldn’t be late—that would mean detention. He wheeled around and hurried toward the art room, staring down at the wooden floor, lost in thought.
So . . . where’s Lyman? Is this guy his replacement? Or maybe . . .
“Good morning, young fella.”
Ben gulped.
Lyman’s bony fingers were wrapped around the wooden handle of a dust mop. He stood beside the art room door, wearing that crooked, sneering smile. As he spoke, his smile got wider.
“Saw you met my new assistant. Wally has skills. The YouTube thing? That was all Wally. I sure hope you and your little pals didn’t get in any trouble this morning.”
Ben shivered, couldn’t help it. He had stood face-to-face with Lyman for the first time fourteen days ago, and he felt the same way now—hypnotized, like a mouse staring up at a snake, about to be swallowed alive.
The first clang of the final bell snapped him out of it, and he took two quick steps into the art room—not tardy.
And he felt safer, too. A bolt of anger flashed through his heart, and Ben saw the perfect way to direct it.
“Isn’t that nice!” he said, oozing sarcasm. “We all have a new friend to play with!” He looked up into those dark, deep-set eyes, and now Ben was smiling too. “So . . . I guess this means that good old Jerry Lyman couldn’t handle this job on his own—right?”
Lyman’s upper lip curled into a snarl, and Ben’s smile grew broader. “Well, gotta go to school now, Mr. Lyman—and I hope you and your little pal Wally have a wonderful day, okay?”
He turned and walked quickly to a table near the front of the art room. Ben was sure the man was still glaring at him, but he didn’t look back. Lyman could stand there ten years for all he cared!
Ms. Wilton began taking attendance, and Ben felt so happy, he could have floated up out of his chair. Getting the last word with Lyman? Sweet! But this feeling was more than that.
Because what he’d said to the man was true: Someone had decided that Jerroald Lyman, a highly trained, fully equipped industrial spy, was not able to deal with a few sixth graders at the Captain Oakes School. And therefore, a decision had been made over the weekend: Send reinforcements to the front lines.
And that was a compliment! And—
Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute! The school superintendent? She must know that Lyman works for Glennley—she has to!
How else could Lyman’s buddy suddenly show up on a Monday morning as a new school employee?
And . . . the principal must be totally in the dark about everything! Otherwise, Mr. Telmer wouldn’t have let them off the hook about that video . . . .
So many layers to this thing!
Ben glanced around. Lyman had left, and Ms. Wilton was busy prepping for first period.
He got out his phone and tapped a text to Jill and Robert.
Lyman has reinforcements—
Wally the junior janitor.
Beware!
Ben sent the message and then stared out the window, replaying what he’d said to Lyman. He wasn’t sorry about that, not one bit.
Jill always said they should avoid all contact with Lyman. And she said never to take any of this stuff personally.
But it was personal.
And the look on Lyman’s face when he’d said that about not being able to handle the work? Beautiful!
Maybe if he got Lyman mad enough, it might actually help. Angry people make mistakes . . . .
Still staring out the window, Ben could see the top of the copper beech tree on the south lawn of the school. It towered above the oaks and maples, swaying with the onshore breeze. That massive tree had survived every hurricane and nor’easter for more than a hundred and fifty years.
And so had the Oakes school. Except the roots of the school went even deeper. They’d been growing into the heart of this town since before the US Constitution was written. Captain Oakes had planned it so his school would overlook the ocean, and he’d left the building and the land for the children and families of Edgeport. It was something good, and it was meant to be permanent.
And it’s gonna take more than Lyman and his sidekick to knock it down!
Ben caught himself—it felt like he was bragging, and he hated that.
But then he decided he was just giving himself a pep talk. Which was fine. Right about now, he needed all the encouragement he could muster.
A quote popped into his mind, something Thomas Paine had written in 1776, part of the most famous pep talk of the American Revolution: “These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”
Except I’m not looking for thanks . . . or love, either.
At this point, the Keepers had serious choices to make. They had to take the battle to the enemy. They had to use every advantage they could grab, and they had to make every day count—every minute. And if Lyman and Wally got nasty, they’d just have to deal with it.
Most of all, they couldn’t give up. He and Jill and Robert were being tried in ways they hadn’t imagined, being tested over and over again. And if they failed, the whole town of Edgeport would be different forever.
No . . . not just different—ruined!
The demand of this crisis was clear: It was time to stand and fight.