I had already planned out an escape route on my way into the hotel. It was one of the first lessons I'd learned at the Odd Squad Academy: Never let yourself get put in a corner.

There was a staircase close to the phone bank. I raced down it to the lowest floor. This was the hotel's service area, a warren of cement tunnels that led past the kitchen, laundry, and storage rooms. At this time of night, they were almost empty.

I was far enough down that I could no longer hear the agents who had come for me, but I presumed they had blocked the main exits and gone straight for the phones, hoping to ambush me there. My main advantage was that they probably thought I was only a normal kid. A kid who'd tried to blow up the Little O. . . but still a kid. Even if the public found out I was Odd Squad they would still think I was a rookie student. So they wouldn't expect me to have the skills and know-how to elude a manhunt.

In truth, I wasn't completely sure I had the skills and know-how to elude a manhunt either, but I was going to give it my best shot.

Even though Orica didn't believe me, even though she was coming after me herself, I still had to fight. If I got caught, I was done for. THE ORGANIZATION had set me up too well. I'd be charged with their crime and locked up for the rest of my life—if they didn't figure out a way to kill me first. But if I could stay free . . . Ozo still had faith in me. And so did some of my friends. Maybe there was a way we could all work together to prove my innocence and nail THE ORGANIZATION.

Of course, that wouldn't be easy.

I snatched a jet-black waiter's jacket from the hotel laundry and slipped it on. Not to blend in, but to stay warm. My old jacket had been used as a bomb and it was still cold outside. The new jacket was big on me, but in theory, that would provide even better insulation.

One of the service tunnels led to the loading dock, where hotel supplies were delivered in bulk. The two enormous garage doors were open, leading to an alleyway around the corner from the main entrance to the hotel.

The Odd Squad agents, thinking I was a normal kid, hadn't bothered to cover this route. They had focused on the public entrances instead.

I raced outside, dashed to the corner—and slowed to a walk. Someone running down a city street in the middle of the night would get more attention than someone walking. I still kept to the shadows, but did my best to behave in a calm and collected manner, as though I had a perfectly rational reason for wandering around the city at two in the morning.

As I rounded the corner, I noticed that there were, indeed, several Night Shift Odd Squad agents in front of the hotel. The agents were all a good distance away from me, though, and were focused on the main entrance rather than on me. I only allowed myself a quick glance in their direction—staring too long might have looked suspicious, as well as revealed my face—then turned away and continued down the street in the opposite direction from the hotel.

I had no idea if any of the agents noticed me or not. I didn't look back. I crossed the street at the light and casually slipped around the corner of an enormous building, disappearing from the agents' line of sight.

Then I started running again.

In the distance behind me, back by the hotel, I heard shouting. I couldn't make out the words, but it had the urgent tone of agents who'd realized that the suspected assassin they were hunting had given them the slip. I heard several chants of "Odd Squad! Odd Squad! Stop Right There!".

There was a Metro station entrance ahead of me, an escalator angling down into the subway tunnels far below. I almost went that way, but decided not to at the last second. It would have taken me off the street, but it would have been too obvious an escape route. At another time of day, when subway trains were running every few minutes, it might have worked. But now, in the middle of the night, it could be an hour before the next train, and until one came, the station was a dead end. Yes, I could have fled down the tunnels, but then I'd have to worry about oncoming trains and stepping on the third rail, both of which meant instant death. I wasn't a big fan of instant death.

So I did something that felt riskier, although I'd been taught that it wasn't (in theory, at least). I kept running along the sidewalk, right out in the open, even though the agents were coming. I hauled down the street as fast as my legs would carry me, darted across Bloor Street onto the grounds of the Royal Ontario Museum . . .

Then I dropped to the ground on the lawn and hid in plain sight.

There was plenty of dense landscaping behind me, but people expected you to hide in dense landscaping. They didn't expect you to flatten yourself down on a lawn in front of the landscaping, but when the lawn was cast in shadow and the night was dark, it was amazing how well you could blend in. Plus, you could see a lot better when you were out in the open than you could when you were crouched behind a bush.

Two agents popped out of a tube entrance by the Metro station, who raced down the escalator into it.

It appeared I'd made the right call not going that way.

Another two agents popped out of the same tube entrance but turned towards me. One of them aimed an illuminator out the window and cast a blindingly bright beam into the landscaping behind me, scrutinizing every last shrub. The beam swept right over my head, lighting up the plants like it was daytime, but didn't dip down to the lawn.

"See anything?" their partner asked.

The agent squinted in my direction for what felt like another minute, but which was actually only a few seconds. Then he shook his head. "Nothing. This is a goose chase. There's no chance the kid got all the way over here before we could. He must've gone some other direction. Or into the Metro." "Let's check around the museum."

"I'm telling you, he's not over here. We're gonna be wasting our time, poking around in the trees while someone else gets the kudos for finding that punk."

"And if he really is over here and we let him get away, then we'll get booted from the Odd Squad. The boss is already ticked off that the security force let the bomb get past".

I stayed put on the lawn, watching them hunt for me, trying to figure out what to do next.

This was the first time since hanging up the phone that I'd had a chance to really process my call with Ozo and Orica.

I started to cry.

Orica thought I had gone to the dark side. She had declared herself my enemy, and Orica was as formidable as enemies got. She was the best agent-in-training at the academy. She was smarter than me, more capable than me, knew a whole lot more about tactical maneuvers than me, and she could kick my butt in a fight while reading a book at the same time. (I knew this last part from experience).

As if that wasn't bad enough, Orica had a grudge against me too. She wasn't merely looking to capture me for glory. Instead, this was personal. THE ORGANIZATION had manipulated things so that she thought I'd betrayed her trust.

The more I thought about it, the more devious THE ORGANIZATION's plan was. They hadn't merely made an attempt on the Little O's life: They had also convinced Orica that I was responsible. True, I had thwarted their ultimate plan and saved the Little O, but serious damage had still been done. My reputation was ruined. Even worse, Orica might never trust a fellow agent again. Despite her insistence that she didn't need other people, I knew she was wrong. An agent who never form a bond with their partner could never succeed. So THE ORGANIZATION had framed me and possibly handicapped Orica's promising career in one shot.

Now Orica would be coming for me. She had said so herself, claiming it was her mission to hunt me down. For all I knew, she was already on her way. If the Big Office Security Force could trace my phone call, then so could she. . . .

I suddenly felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. My hiding in plain sight might have fooled the security force, but it wouldn't fool Orica. Orica had taught me the trick in a stealth stimulator. Orica probably also knew where the secret tunnel under the Yorkville Rock was, so I couldn't go back and hide there again. I was lucky she hadn't found me while I was there. . . .

Something about that struck me as odd.

Why hadn't Orica come looking for me in the tunnel? If she was so determined to catch me, what was she doing back at school, eavesdropping on Ozo, rather than actively looking for me?

I tried to remember my conversation with her, straining to recall every last word. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed there was something important in what she'd said. Something I hadn't interpreted properly.

"You better spend that million-dollar coin THE ORGANIZATION bought you out with wisely," she'd told me. "You're going to need it. Because I'm coming for you, OJ. There's nowhere you can run. There's nowhere you can hide. I'm going to make it my life's mission to hunt you down. I will not rest until I find you."

It had all been very scary when she'd said it, which made sense, because Orica had been trying to sound scary. But if I really reflected on her words, she had never said that she was going to capture me. She had merely said that she was coming for me.

So maybe she wasn't really angry at me at all. Maybe she had only been pretending to be angry.

If the Odd Squad could trace the call, they could also eavesdrop on it, and since I was a fugitive, Orica couldn't say anything that would make her sound like she was on my side. The best she could do was leave hints for me.

Then again, I might have had things all wrong. Maybe Orica really was against me, and I was merely grasping at straws, desperately trying to convince myself she wasn't.

The agents were scanning the landscaping outside the Royal Ontario Museum with their illuminator.

Million Dollar Coin.

Even though I was supposed to be lying still, I snapped my head up in surprise. I had just understood what Orica had really meant. Or what I thought she'd meant.

For the first time in hours, I felt a smile creep across my face. If I was right, then maybe I wasn't as alone in this ordeal as I'd thought.

I knew what I had to do.