Ends of the Earth Read Online Free Page A

stood ajar.
    He gave a nervous nod. Together, they crept away from the cubicle, found a side passage, and hotfooted it toward the office, staying low.
    “Anything?” Geoff called.
    “Not yet,” said the woman. “Block the door so they can’t get out.”
    “Right-o. If I catch the little beggars, then will you make me some coffee?”
    Cinnabar could hear the exasperation in the woman’s voice. “No, but if you don’t catch them, I might splash some on you.”
    With a quick glance up and down the corridor fronting the offices, Cinnabar and Wyatt darted across it and into the empty room. Ever so gingerly, she eased the door shut, praying that neither of
the workers would spot the movement. For once, luck was with her.
    “We’ll find you wherever you hide.” The redhead’s call was muffled by the door. “You can’t get out.”
    Cinnabar pivoted away from the door to find Wyatt rummaging through the desk drawers. “Are you mental?” she whispered.
    “Nope,” said Wyatt. “But I’m hungry enough to eat the southbound end off a northbound horse. And sometimes, these office workers keep…” His eyes lit up as he
plucked a Kit Kat bar from a drawer. “Ha! Brekkie time!”
    Cinnabar shook her head at his thievery and stepped to the window. “Make it a takeaway.” She undid the latches and shoved on the pane. It stuck, so she pushed harder.
    A blast of November chill gusted through the window as it finally opened. Leaning out, Cinnabar spotted an escape route, along the narrow ledge to the nearest pillar, then down its jutting stone
doodads to the ground.
    Wyatt joined her at the casement and whistled. “We’re lucky.”
    “How do you figure that?” she said.
    “Lucky thing we didn’t sleep any later. Lucky thing we didn’t pick one of those all-glass office buildings to sleep in. Lucky thing we’re only on the second
floor.”
    Cinnabar smirked. “Luck had nothing to do with it, Brekkie Boy.”
    A short climb and a long walk later, they entered a grimy neighborhood of row houses and shabby little shops. For several blocks now, Cinnabar had had the feeling that they
were being followed, but each time she spun around, she spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Paranoia and spies, she thought, shaking her head. Must be an occupational hazard.
    She and Wyatt rounded a corner, and the smell of mold, cooked cabbage, and industrial-strength coffee wafted along the street to greet them. The latter aroma came from the building standing
before them.
    It was an all-night coffee shop, its pink and green neon lights extinguished for the day, and its ancient Egyptian–themed storefront mural faded and peeling in the morning light. The neon
tubes above the red door spelled out THE EYE , and in smaller script, ALWAYS OPEN .
    Cinnabar’s mouth went dry. They were taking a calculated risk by coming here. The café was a hangout for spies of all persuasions, and while she and Wyatt might find the information
they sought, they might also attract the attention of someone from LOTUS.
    She smoothed back her wiry hair and straightened her shoulders. It was a risk they had to take.
    “I dunno,” said Wyatt, oblivious. “Looks like a regular coffee shop to me. Common as fleas on a dingo.”
    Cinnabar lifted an eyebrow. “How long have you been at the School for S.P.I.E.S.?”
    “Two years now.”
    “And you still don’t know not to judge based on appearances?”
    Wyatt grinned. “Sure I do. For instance, I notice that although you may look smart, you’re actually—”
    She swatted his arm. “Yuck it up on your own time. These people are serious.”
    Wyatt seemed abashed, but she knew he wasn’t really. Honestly, he and Max were so keen on their little jokes, sometimes you could scarcely have a straight conversation with them.
    Gritting her teeth, Cinnabar pushed open the heavy door. She tried to act casual, but visiting The Eye was her last hope for getting a lead on Max’s whereabouts. All her other ideas