I got to see another part of the Big Office that people on the regular tour normally miss: the holding cell. In fact, I got to spend two solid hours there, while all the confusion was resolved.

Ultimately, Oranda was tracked down to explain that I was actually a friend of Jason, rather than some kamikaze villain who'd somehow infiltrated the Big Office—and that Jason had merely pretended not to know me to cause trouble.

This didn't seem to be much of a surprise to the Security agents. Apparently, In the three days he had been there Jason had a reputation as a nuisance around the Big Office. (His Security code name was Hades.) Furthermore, my visit had been listed in that day's official memo, but some of the agents had missed it. By this point, however, it was nearly eight o'clock on a school night. Even if I had actually wanted to continue my playdate—which I didn't—it was time for me to go home. There was a formal dinner at the Big Office that night to honor the winners of the Jackies, and Jason was expected to be there on his best behavior. So Oranda called "Grandpa O'Cyrus" to come pick me up.

I was allowed to leave the Big Office holding cell and wait in the lobby with Oranda, who spent most of the time making lame excuses for Jason's behavior, apparently worried that I might blab to the press that the Little O's cousin was a jerk—or worse, that the Little O had spent thousands on a luxury toilet rather than something useful. "Jason might have some self-esteem issues," Oranda explained weakly. "It's tough to feel good about yourself when your cousin is in charge of the entire Odd Squad."

"Know what else is tough?" I asked. "Getting falsely accused of being a villain in front of the hundreds of Security agents."

"Er . . . yes," Oranda conceded. "I suppose it would be. Would a souvenir key chain make you feel better?"

"A little," I admitted.

By the time O'Cyrus arrived fifteen minutes later, I had scored an additional four key chains, three Odd Squad reusable water bottles, a model of an Odd Squad Private Jet, a set of fancy pens with the Odd Squad seal on them, and three dozen packets of official Odd Squad jelly beans. I figured my father would be thrilled.

I spotted the shifty scientist from when I had come in that afternoon now leaving with several files marked "GADGET DESIGNS". The scientist grew nervous when he noticed me, most likely hearing about my incident earlier. Or maybe he was a covert ORGANIZATION agent who knew my true identity and was unsettled to see me.

My phone buzzed with a number I didn't recognize. I cautiously answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey, hey! Is this my big-shot grandson who got to visit the Big Office today?" The voice was definitely O'Cyrus's—although the tone caught me by surprise. He sounded like an actual doting grandfather, rather than his usual cranky self. I assumed he was acting for the benefit of anyone who might overhear the call—or be eavesdropping on it.

"Hi, Grandpa!" I said cheerfully, doing a bit of acting myself. "Are you close?"

"Approaching the building right now."

"Okay. I'm coming out." I hung up and informed Oranda, "My grandfather's here."

"Great!" she said, then thought to add, "I hope I can trust you to not share certain stories about what transpired here today?"

"You don't have to worry about me," I assured her.

Oranda heaved a sigh of relief, then ushered me out the door. O'Cyrus was pulling up in front of the building in a well-worn sedan that looked exactly like the sort of car a normal grandfather would drive. The security agents were going on alert when Oranda yelled to them, "He's okay! He's just picking up a friend of Jason's!"

O'Cyrus rolled down the window and shouted, "Hey there, champ! Did you have fun?"

"Sure did, Gramps!" I replied, then slid into the passenger seat.

Oranda waved goodbye enthusiastically. "So long, AJ! Hope to see you again soon!"

O'Cyrus rolled up the window, drove away, and immediately dropped the kindly old grandfather act. "You didn't waste any time screwing up this mission, did you?"

I sank back in my seat. "It wasn't a total loss. . . ."

"From what I understand, you were with Jason a whole three minutes before everything went sideways. You were supposed to lay low and keep an eye out for trouble, not make a ruckus and spend the whole afternoon in the lockup!"

It suddenly occurred to me that, although I'd been on a mission with O'Cyrus, I hadn't spent more than thirty seconds alone with him. O'Cyrus was as curmudgeonly as anyone I'd ever met, but I'd either had Orica around to calm him—or Oshton to draw his disdain. Now that it was only the two of us, the ride back to school promised to be as much fun as dental surgery.

Luckily, the traffic had lessened considerably since that afternoon. Campus wasn't too far from the Big Office and O'Cyrus was driving like a maniac, so hopefully, the ride itself wouldn't be that long.

"You didn't warn me that Jason was the world's biggest jerk," I said.

"What was I supposed to do, say right in front of the leader of the Odd Squad that her cousin's a scumbag? Part of your training is to be ready for anything. If you can't handle some thirteen-year-old punk, how can you be expected to handle THE ORGANIZATION?"

"I have handled THE ORGANIZATION," I reminded him. "The people who work there might be evil, but they were still generally nicer to me than Jason was."

"THE ORGANIZATION tried to kill you," O'Cyrus pointed out.

"Yes, but that was business. Jason was mean for no good reason. He actually said that anyone who killed his cousin would be doing him a favor."

O'Cyrus's eyebrows rose slightly. When he spoke again, he sounded intrigued, rather than irascible. "He did? To a total stranger? You think it's possible he's THE ORGANIZATION's kid on the inside?"

"I can't imagine him plotting to assassinate his own cousin. In fact, I can't imagine any kid wanting to do something like that."

"Just because you get along with your family doesn't mean everyone does. Believe me, there are plenty of people out there who'd even want to bump off their daddies."

Like your son? I thought, although I didn't say it out loud. I wondered if O'Cyrus was thinking it himself. His relationship with Oshton was among the worst I'd ever encountered. I didn't really think Oshton would ever be reduced to patricide, but he certainly had some serious issues with his father.

O'Cyrus wove around a few cars and shot through a traffic light a good three seconds after it had turned red.

"There were plenty of other possible suspects at the Big Office," I said.

"Like who?"

"There was this scientist who seemed pretty suspicious of me." I brought up the picture I'd taken of the shifty boy on my phone, then handed it to O'Cyrus.

He took a quick glance, then said, "Forward it to Orica; see what she can dig up. Anyone else?"

"A couple aides to a multiversal diplomat looked kind of squirrelly." I flashed O'Cyrus their pictures as well.

"Send them to Orica too," he said.

I wondered if I should mention that Orica had been lurking outside the Big Office that afternoon, then decided against it. If O'Cyrus had asked Orica to be there, then this wouldn't be news to him. But if Orica had decided to come down and check on me without his permission, O'Cyrus would probably be livid at her.

Instead, I said, "Then again, maybe these are the people we should be the least concerned about."

"How's that?" O'Cyrus asked.

"Well, these guys were kind of nervous and awkward, but that's natural, isn't it? They're going into the Big Office. That's a big deal. But if THE ORGANIZATION really has someone on the inside, they'd probably be trained to not look nervous and awkward. I mean, there were hundreds of people there today, and these were the ones whose behavior caught my attention."

O'Cyrus met my eyes, which was a bit disturbing given that he was driving at eighty kilos an hour. He probably should have been watching the road. "So you think the people we should really be suspicious about are all the people who weren't acting nervous?"

"Right."

"Even though there were hundreds of them?"

"Yes. I realize it sounds kind of crazy, but you know THE ORGANIZATION. What makes more sense to you: that they'd send in someone who looked nervous and shifty to kill the Little O—or that they'd co-opt someone on the inside to handle the job? Someone who'd look cool and confident and not stand out at all?"

O'Cyrus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel thoughtfully while he careened through an intersection. "So, after all your undercover work today, your deduction is basically that anyone in the Big Office could be the mole."

"Er . . . yes."

"You do realize that the whole point of sending you on this mission was to narrow the list of possible suspects down? It makes my job a lot easier if I only have to investigate one or two people, rather than every single person who set foot in the Big Office today."

I sighed, feeling extremely ineffectual. "I understand."

"There isn't a single person you feel confident you can rule out?" O'Cyrus asked.

"Not really."

"The security agents, for example? Given that the whole point of their job is to protect the Little O?"

"Actually, they seem like they'd be the perfect targets for THE ORGANIZATION to turn into assassins. They can go anywhere they want on the property and they're allowed to carry offensive gadgets."

"How about that nice young gal who brought you to the car? You think she's possibly a sleeper agent?"

"Oranda?" I considered her. She was so sweet, she'd probably scoot a construction crew of Gretchen's out the door instead of stepping on them. But then, Oshleigh had seemed awfully sweet as well, and she'd been a full-bore ORGANIZATION agent. "It's possible. Acting like the nicest person in the Big Office would be an awfully good way to deflect suspicion."

"How about the landscaping staff?" O'Cyrus asked, annoyed. "Or the chefs? Or the florists? You think every single one of them could be a potential assassin?"

"Yes," I agreed. "Them, and every staffer and every aide and every single person who works for the Little O. whats to say THE ORGANIZATION couldn't corrupt one person who works inside the Big Office? Or more than one? Maybe they've corrupted five or six people. Or twenty. So if we actually catch one or two of them, the others are free to go on with the job."

O'Cyrus muttered under his breath. He seemed even more annoyed now than he had when he'd picked me up. Only, he didn't seem annoyed at me so much as at the entire situation.

"All right," O'Cyrus said finally. "You have a point. Any one of those people in the Big Office could be a potential killer. Which means your job just got a whole lot harder. And to make matters worse, our timetable has shrunk."

"What do you mean?"

"The chatter I've been monitoring increased this afternoon. THE ORGANIZATION is looking to hit the Little O soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. But I'd say sometime in the next few days." O'Cyrus zoomed through a stop sign, prompting a bicyclist to shout a lot of very bad words at us.

I swallowed hard, daunted by the thought of this. "So, I have almost no time to vet hundreds of people and figure out which of them might be potential assassins? Without drawing any attention to myself?"

"No one ever said Odd Squad was easy."

"Which means I'm going back for another visit with Jason."

"After school tomorrow. And you're gonna keep going back every day until you get to the bottom of this."

"But Jason made it awfully clear he didn't want me there."

"Then figure out how to make it work. And figure it out fast. Because if you don't . . . the Little O is going to die. And it will all be on your hands." O'Cyrus roared through an intersection. A car swerved to miss us and ended up in someone's front yard.

I slumped in my seat, feeling overwhelmed by my mission and wondering if I really had what it took to succeed.

We raced onward into the night.