Mack didn't need to be told twice, she turned on her heel and set off through the crowd, while I turned to study the man she was tailing.
"Wow, he really fits in," I admitted. "I never would have guessed he's CIA."
"He's not," Townsend said simply, still scanning the people who filled the park. "There, Ms. Walters," he said, pointing at on older lady riding and electric scooter.
"Is she from Langley?" Tina asked.
"I have no idea where's she's from." Our teacher shrugged. "What I do know is that she just put her credit card in her purse, and it's your job to get me that number."
"But she's not an operative . . ." Tina hesitated. "She doesn't know it's an assignment . . .
So if I get caught . . ."
Townsend started at her. "Then don't get caught."
It was still a game, I knew, but for the first time in the history of our exceptional education, the players on the other side didn't know we were playing. One by one, our classmates got their assignments until Bex and I were alone with our teacher.
"Baxter," Agent Townsend said, turning to Bex, "do you think you can find out the serial numbers of the five-dollar bill the man working at the Tilt-A-Whirl just put into that lockbox?"
The look on her face said that yes, she did think she could find out, and yet she didn't turn to walk away. She waited as our teacher's gaze landed on me.
"And I guess that leaves us with Cammie Morgan." He slowly scanned the crowd. "I think maybe we'll find something especially fitting for you."
I didn't know what to say, so I stood quietly, waiting.
"There." He pointed toward a man in a official theme-park jumpsuit. "There keys on his belt - bring me an impression of at least three of them."
He smiled like he was so smart. I shrugged like it was so easy. Then, with my best friend beside me, I turned and started through the crowd.
Although it pains me to admit it, for his very first lesson, Agent Townsend had managed to bring us to one of the most challenging places a spy could ever be. After all, Mr.
Solomon had spent the last year and a half training us to see everything, hear everything, notice everything. And as I walked through the park, it was almost too much for my highly trained senses to take.
"Ooh!" I exclaimed, craning my neck as we walked past a stand selling some kind of deep-fried delicious on a stick. "I want one of those!"
"We don't have any money, Cam."
"Ooh, I want to ride that!"
"We only have an hour."
"I want -"
"I want you to take this seriously, okay?" Bex said, whirling on me.
"You sound like your mother," I said.
She practically glowed. "Thank you."
"Bex . . ." I said slowly. "I'm fine."
"You say that -"
"Bex." I cut her off and stopped in the center of the main avenue that snaked through the entire park. "Weren't you supposed to be following that guy?" I pointed to the attendant pushing a cart full of lockboxes in the opposite direction.
"I'm good where I am," she said.
"Bex . . ."