Riding the tubes wasn't as bad as I had expected—but that was only because I had been expecting it to be one of the worst experiences of my life. It barely made the top fifty. For starters, having your body quickly smushed into a sphere and getting shot underground for the first time isn't exactly a pleasant experience, the tubes probably hadn't been cleaned in at least a generation the polycarbonate sides were coated with various oozes and slimes, the origins of which I didn't want to think, Somehow, the scum-slicked sides of the tubes made me fall even faster than usual like I was firing down the world's worst waterslide. After decades without maintenance, I was afraid the tubes would crumble as we flew through them. Luckily, as soon as it started it was over. I was desquishinated and faceplanted onto Cherry Beach's sand.
"Come on OJ we have to get to Villiers Island," said Orica yanking me up.
"Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?" I asked. I'd posed the question in varying ways at several other times that day, only to be rebuffed.
Orica and Oshton both looked to Cyrus, who nodded imperceptibly that it was finally all right to fill me in on what was going on.
"The Buildings on the islands aren't just tourist attractions," Orica explained. "one of them is a very important Odd Squad Defense site."
"Since when?" I asked.
"Since a couple of months ago," Orica replied. "after Tube Central Station got compromised the Odd Squad started construction on forcefield generators to protect Odd Squad facilities and the one for Ontario is in the Toronto Harbor Lighthouse,".
"Is that what "seventy-four" was?" I asked.
"Yes. The Lighthouse was built in 1974." Orica handed me a pair of binoculars.
I zoomed in on the islands ahead. Before I had only seen it from a distance before.
"And THE ORGANIZATION's trying to steal it?" I concluded.
"That's our best guess," O'Cyrus said. "It's all we've got, seeing as you didn't learn any other information for us."
I sighed. O'Cyrus might have been one of the finest agents ever produced, but he could also be a real jerk. I was feeling ineffectual enough without him reminding me how ineffectual I was every few minutes.
"So . . . you suspected THE ORGANIZATION was after the generator when Murray first brought me here?" I asked.
"Of course," O'Cyrus said. "Why else would they be sniffing around here?"
"What do you think THE ORGANIZATION intends to do with it?"
"I have no idea," O'Cyrus replied curtly. "That was what you were supposed to find out."
Oshton glanced back at me, looking a bit embarrassed about his father. "You know, OJ actually did quite a good job, under the circumstances," he said. "This was only his first case, and it wasn't an easy one . . . ."
"What would you know about doing a good job?" O'Cyrus snapped.
O'Cyrus turned to us and said, "We're almost there. Time for you to get out of those ridiculous clothes."
Oshton nodded sadly, then reached behind his back and pulled out some gear. Orica reached behind her back as well.I opened up my steel case.
Inside it was everything I'd need for my mission: a black outfit that matched the ones O'Cyrus and Orica were wearing and a small grapple-inator. But while Orica had an offensive gadget in her case, I'd been given only a vial of sleep-itosis and a handkerchief.
We had already rushed past the bathrooms on the beach so there was no place for Oshton or me to change clothes in private, so Orica turned away while the two of us stripped down to our underwear and pulled on our new black outfits. The clothes were sleek and practical, though they weren't as suave and cool as the suits agents usually wore. Instead, the four of us looked more like a renegade circus troupe.
I doused my handkerchief with sleep-itosis, then tucked the bottle into one pocket of my utility belt and left the hankie sticking out of another, where I'd have easy access to it. Figuring out where to put the grapple-inator was a little more difficult. There was a revolver-size air gun that fired the hook, which had a coil of thin steel cable attached to it. I fitted the hook into the gun, then struggled to figure out how to clip it onto the utility belt.
"Here," Orica said. "Let me help you with that."
I pulled away from her. "Oh, now you want to help me?"
My own words caught me by surprise. I hadn't realized how angry I was at Orica until then.
Orica seemed surprised as well. She looked at me curiously. "What's that supposed to mean? I've been plenty of help to you on this mission."
"A mission you put me on without even asking if I wanted to do it," I said bitterly. I knew I probably should have been keeping my thoughts to myself, bottling them up the way Orica did, but I couldn't help it. "Instead, you just manipulated me into it. You got me booted from the Odd Squad Academy . . . ."
"You'll be reinstated if all this works out."
"And I could get killed if it doesn't! You put me in serious danger here!"
"Danger is part of life at the Odd Squad. I thought you wanted to be an agent."
"And I thought you were my friend."
Orica pursed her lips. For a moment, I thought I saw the slightest hint of emotion in her eyes. But then it was gone. "You can't afford to have friends in this business," she said coldly. "Personal connections compromise your ability to perform."
"Personal connections?" I repeated. "You're on this mission with your whole family! This is like a road trip for you!"
"That's not by choice," Orica said. "The unauthorized nature of this mission required using this particular team."
"So, that's all a partner is to you?" I asked. "Someone, who you work with when you have to?"
Orica fixed me with a blank stare. "Emotions can severely complicate a mission. It's best not to form attachments. Suppose a tiramusunami is about to wipe out the eastern coast of the country and you have an unbake-inator—but I'm trapped in a giant pie? Now, you have a choice: Save me—or complete the mission. Which would you choose?"
I frowned, knowing the right answer but not wanting to say it. "That won't happen."
"It could," Orica warned. "And if it does, you have to sacrifice me for the mission, not the other way around. I'd do the same thing. And so would Granddad and my father. You can't have millions of people die to save one person."
I sighed. Orica's argument made sense—and yet it seemed so wrong. "So, the solution is to go through life without friends?"
"Yes," Orica said.
"Did you learn nothing from "Your Partner and You"? Friends aren't a liability. Sometimes they're the best asset we have."
Before Orica could respond, O'Cyrus announced, "Can the chitchat, you two. Time for stealth mode. No talking unless absolutely necessary." We had just crossed over the Tommy Thompson Park Floating Bridge and were almost at the lighthouse.
A small bird flew overhead and a feather flew down to Oshton's nose. Oshton's eyes opened wide in alarm. He began huffing in air, building up to what looked to be an enormous sneeze.
O'Cyrus wheeled on him with a don't-you-dare-make-a-noise expression.
Oshton looked around desperately, spotted the handkerchief poking out of my utility belt, snatched it away, and placed it to his nose, stifling the sneeze at the last second. He sighed with relief—and then realized, a bit too late, that the rag was soaked in sleep-itosis. "Oh shoot," he said, and then collapsed face-first onto the ground.
O'Cyrus and Orica rolled their eyes, then climbed over the fence protecting the lighthouse, leaving Oshton snoring softly on the beach. I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, but he wasn't going to wake anytime soon, and I knew we couldn't delay our mission a moment longer. the first phase of THE ORGANIZATION'S plan would happen in a few minutes.
O'Cyrus opened the and we spotted some Odd Squad guards. Unfortunately, just like Oshton, they were sprawled on the ground. They were unconscious, rather than dead, though this did little to relieve my fear. THE ORGANIZATION had obviously beaten us there.
O'Cyrus pressed a finger to the neck of one of the guards, taking his pulse.
"How long has he been out?" Orica whispered.
"At least half an hour," O'Cyrus replied, his voice laced with concern.
A metal staircase led up to the beacon. O'Cyrus led us through it.
The forcefield generator was still there sending beams of energy to the odd squad facilities in the province through a complicated mess of wire. I didn't get a very good look at it, though.
I was too distracted by the explosives.
A ring of dynamite was strapped around the base of the generator with duct tape. I'd never seen dynamite outside of a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but it looked exactly as I expected: foot-long red tubes with wires sticking out of them. All the wires snaked to a small electronic device that was also duct-taped to the generator. There was a timer on the device. It showed there were four minutes and thirteen seconds left until everything exploded.
THE ORGANIZATION wasn't planning on stealing the generator after all. They were destroying it instead.
O'Cyrus considered all the dynamite—and then ran. "C'mon!" he yelled, bolting out of the lighthouse. "Move your butts before they get blasted off!"
Orica and I followed right behind him.
"You're not going to defuse it?" I asked as we dashed back down the stairs. Now that O'Cyrus had spoken, I figured I had free rein to speak as well.
"How many great Odd Squad bomb defusers have you ever heard of?" O'Cyrus demanded.
"Er . . . none," I answered.
"Exactly! There aren't any! Because people who try to defuse bombs get killed." O'Cyrus pounded up the staircase ahead of us.
"But if THE ORGANIZATION'S trying to destroy the generator," Orica protested, "shouldn't we be trying to thwart their plans?"
"Defusing that bomb would take way more than four minutes," Cyrus explained. "I'll bet you THE ORGANIZATION'S up to more than just blowing up this generator. And we're not gonna be able to thwart them if we've been reduced to smithereens. Standard operating procedure in this case isn't to risk our lives with the bomb. It's to get the holy heck away from it." He burst through the lightouse then stopped so suddenly that Orica and I slammed into him from behind.
I started to ask O'Cyrus what the problem was, but then noticed he had his hands in the air.
And after that, I noticed the twenty kids aiming gadgets at us. They were arrayed in a semicircle around the door of the bunker, cutting off any route of escape.
"Attention renegade agents," a voice announced from the darkness. "This is the Odd Squad. You are under arrest."
"Nuts," O'Cyrus said.