Spy School Read Online Free

Normally, I would have been thrilled by the sheer acres of books, but at the time the library only looked like a gigantic booby trap to me; there were a thousand places for assassins to hide.
    In each corner a staircase spiraled up. I zigzaggedthrough the shelves toward one on the far side of the room and bounded upstairs while the sounds of a gunfight echoed from the entry hall.
    A bullet pinged off the banister just as I reached the third floor.
    I hit the deck.
    On the first floor a black-clad man clutching a machine gun darted toward my staircase.
    My Taser wasn’t going to do me a damn bit of good from that distance.
    But there was a shelf full of reference books nearby.
    I snatched the heaviest I could find— Cooper’s Pictorial Guide to Soviet Era Weaponry —quickly estimated the speed of my attacker in relation to the force of gravity, and determined the exact right moment to drop the book over the railing.
    From below came the distinct thud of book colliding with skull, followed by the grunt of the assassin collapsing.
    Contrary to everything Mike Brezinski had ever claimed, I had just found a real-world application for algebra.
    I dashed up to the fourth floor and found a door that looked as though it hadn’t been opened in years. It led to a dingy old stairwell. One more flight up brought me into a long, wide hallway lined with imposing office doors. I dashed down it, scanning the nameplates on each: Deanof Student Affairs; Vice Dean of Risk Assessment; Director of Counterespionage. Finally, in the center, I found a door marked “Principal.”
    From the direction I’d come, I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. More than one set.
    I threw myself against the principal’s door.
    It was locked. I bounced off it and landed on my ass in the hall.
    There was a computerized keypad to the right of the door, a tiny screen above it reading ENTER ACCESS CODE .
    No one had said anything about access codes.
    I glanced back toward the dingy stairwell. The footsteps were louder, as though my enemies were almost to the door. They’d emerge within seconds, far too little time for me to race to the safety of the far end of the hall.
    The principal’s door was the only escape route, and I could think of only one way to get through it.
    I flipped on my Taser and jammed it into the keypad. The tiny screen flickered as I shocked the system. Then the electricity overloaded, and every light in the hall blew out, plunging me into darkness.
    That had not been my plan.
    There was a thump from the end of the hall as an enemy agent banged into the door, followed by what I assumed were curse words in a language I didn’t know.
    Two seconds later three high-powered flashlight beams flicked on at that end of the hall.
    At the opposite end, three more flicked on.
    Which meant I was now flanked by six heavily armed men in total darkness.
    So I did the only other thing I could think of: I prepared to surrender.
    I raised my hands over my head and backed against the principal’s door, accidentally bumping the handle.
    It lowered with a click.
    Apparently, I’d unlocked it.
    All six flashlight beams swung toward the sound.
    I slipped into the darkened office, slammed the door shut, and promptly ran right into a coffee table. It cut me off at the knees, and I face-planted on the carpet.
    The lights snapped on again.
    I reflexively tucked myself into a ball and yelled, “Please don’t kill me! I don’t know anything! I just started here today!”
    “Begging for mercy?” said a disappointed voice. “That’s D-quality performance for sure.”
    There were murmurs of assent.
    I slowly lifted my eyes from the deep-pile carpet. Instead of a horde of assassins aiming guns at me, I found myself facing a conference table. Two middle-aged men and onemiddle-aged woman sat on the far side of it, shaking their heads as they jotted notes on legal pads. To the side stood Alexander Hale.
    I heard an electronic hum behind me and glanced over my