Ciao,
Sofia
Tick reread the sentences about the man spying on her. Sofia threw that in like she was telling him she’d bought a new pair of socks. If some creepy-looking dude was watching her, chances were he’d be coming after Tick next. Unless someone was already spying on Tick and he hadn’t noticed? He felt the familiar shiver of fear run up and down his spine, once again reminded that this M.G. mystery business wasn’t all fun and games.
He wrote a quick note back to Sofia, telling her to be careful and that he’d write her again the second he got back from Alaska. He was just about to log off when he heard the chime of his e-mail program. When the new e-mail message popped up, Tick felt like an icy fist had smashed his heart into pulp.
From: DEATH
Subject: (no subject)
His stomach turning sour, Tick clicked on the e-mail. It only had one line of text.
See you in Alaska.
Chapter
20
The Land of Ice and Snow
Two days later, Tick and Edgar sat in their seats on the airplane, thirty-thousand feet in the air, soda and stale pretzels making them look forward to a much better meal once they landed in Anchorage. Tick sat by the window, his dad’s oversized body wedged into the aisle seat like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon stuffed into the back of a pickup truck. The steady roar of the plane’s engines made Tick feel like his ears were stuffed with cotton.
The two of them had discussed the fifth clue and the strange e-mail from “Death” many times over, with no progress. Tick didn’t know who was more determined to figure everything out—him or his dad. They’d gotten much braver—or dumber—with every passing day, to the point they were willing to ignore an obvious and outright warning like the one received in the e-mail. They were going, and that was final.
“We need to keep a sharp lookout,” his dad said through a mouthful of pretzels. “If either one of us sees something suspicious, yell it out quickly. When in doubt, run. And we need to stay in public as much as possible.”
“Dad, I’d say you sound like a paranoid freak, but I agree one hundred percent.” Tick took a sip of his drink. “I think I’m half excited and half scared to death.”
“Hey, we’re committed, right? There’s no turning back now.”
“Cheers.” They clicked their plastic cups together.
In two hours, they’d be in Alaska.
Seven rows back, a tall man with black hair and razor-thin eyebrows crouched in his tiny seat as best he could, reading the ridiculous in-flight magazine, which was full of nothing but advertisements and stupid articles about places he’d never care to visit. This spying business was deathly boring, and he hated it. No action, no results, boring, boring, boring.
But all of that would change very soon. The Spy would become the Hunter.
His name was Frazier Gunn, and he’d worked more than twenty years for Mistress Jane. He despised the woman, loathed her, in fact. She was the cruelest, most selfish, despicable, horrifying creature he’d ever met, and yet, his devotion to her was absolute. An odd mixture of feelings, but that’s how it had to be when you served someone who planned to take over the Realities. They needed a leader like her, ruthless and without conscience. He didn’t have to like her—he only needed to pretend to like her.
Because someday he planned to replace her.
Of course, if he ever failed even one of his assigned missions, she’d feed him to the Croc Loch near the Lemon Fortress with no remorse. But he was safe for now and had been promised a great reward if he could unlock the secret behind the bizarre series of letters Master George had sent out to kids all over the world. He had only recently discovered the identities of several recipients, enabling him to further his investigation with stealth and caution. But finally, the time for intimidation and action was at hand.
It’d been a fun trick sending the “Death” e-mail to the boy named Atticus, quite clever in fact. It was the dumb kid’s own fault for putting his information about the letters on the Internet for anyone to find. There’d been a slight risk that Atticus might’ve chickened out and not gone to Alaska, thereby ruining a chance to learn more for Mistress Jane, but Frazier couldn’t resist the calculated threat.
He reached into his pocket to feel the reassuring lump of the special thing he’d brought along to perform the important task he planned. He couldn’t wait to activate it; the devices they’d retrieved from the Fourth Reality were so much fun, futuristic and deadly. The spectacle would make all the hours of spying on the brats around the world worth every minute.
And if it didn’t work, there was always Plan B. Or C.
Or D.
Giving up on the magazine, Frazier Gunn leaned back and closed his eyes. The boy and his father couldn’t very well disappear on an airplane, now could they?
Tick felt so relieved when he and his dad were finally in the rental car, bags safely stowed away in the trunk, heading down the frozen freeway to Aunt Mabel’s house. Even though it was still mid-afternoon, the land around them had grown dark, the sun’s brief journey above the horizon having ended an hour ago.
Tick held a map in his lap, navigating for his dad. Mabel lived on the outskirts of Anchorage in a small suburb that seemed pretty easy to find. Most of the way followed one main road that stretched endlessly before them, the faded yellow lines of the lane markers seeming to flash then disappear beneath the car.
“Well, Professor,” Dad said. “Prepare yourself for Aunt Mabel. She’s quite the character and full of more ideas on how to save your life than you’ll probably care to hear. Just know that she means well and do a lot of nodding.”
“I’m excited to meet her.”
His dad laughed. “You should be, you should be. Trust me, if you want entertainment, we’re going to the right place.”
They’d eaten at a fast food restaurant before heading out from the airport, and Tick still had his soda, from which he took a big long swallow. “You think she’ll mind when we go exploring out to Macadamia?”
“You can bet your life savings she’ll mind, all right, but, oh well. We’ll tell her we didn’t want to waste such a good opportunity to see the sights of this beautiful land she calls home. That’ll get her, I hope.”
“When do you think we’ll drive out there? Tomorrow morning?”
“Sounds good to me. That’ll give us the whole evening with Mabel tonight, and breakfast tomorrow—she makes a mean plate of eggs, bacon, the works. Hopefully, we can figure some things out and return to her place tomorrow night.”