Read Online Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes - Free Book Online Page A

he had,” I grumbled, and made haste for the lobby with the rest of my schoolmates who had been lingering in the exhibit.

 
    Six
    Riley and Her Bounty Hunters
     
     
     
     
    We arrived back at school fifteen minutes before dismissal. Emery was out front, waiting for me.
    “See ya,” I said to my friends after we had gotten off the bus. I made my way to Emery, who was leaning against the flagpole, wearing his “mission” face. “What are you doing here?” I scolded. Emery abided by school rules—when they suited him.
    “Skippin’ class,” teased David Hsu as he passed by. He patted Emery’s shoulder and moseyed along.
    “Let’s go,” Emery ordered.
    I tossed my arms. “The bell hasn’t even rung yet!”
    “We’ll miss the bus if we don’t go now.” Emery caught me by the coat.
    “Where are we going?” I asked as he pulled me along. I really hated getting detention.
    “On a field trip.”
    “But you know I didn’t find anything.” I assumed his field trip meant going back to the museum.
    “We’re not looking for clues. You’re meeting my employer.”
    “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
    Emery practically had to race me to the bus depot.
     
    ~~~
     
    From my seat at the back of the bus, I called my mom to let her know I was running an errand with Emery. Then Emery explained exactly what that entailed.
    “Riley is an expert on security systems,” he whispered. “Let’s just say she specializes in them.”
    I nodded, assuming he meant she had worked for ADT Home Security or something. His next statement proved me wrong. Emery meant biggersecurity systems, much bigger, like for a bank.
    “I need to draw on her expertise to break into the museum.”
    “Okay,” I said, not taken aback in the least. Considering Emery’s other shenanigans, breaking into the Denny was somehow predictable. I even had a good idea what my role would be. “So I dress up like a mummy and stop the heist?”
    Emery looked crestfallen. “Well, that’s a letdown,” he admitted. “No shock? No outrage? No protests?”
    “None.”
    He frowned. “You take all the fun out of it.”
    “Oh, I’m sure there will be plenty of fun .” His dad’s face flashed into my mind’s eye. Quickly, I blotted it out. This was not the time to tell Emery about Mr. Phillips’s involvement, or so my gut said.
    “You have something to share,” Emery’s voice broke into my mental deliberation.
    I met his scrutiny. His stare was intense, as if trying to penetrate my skull to see what was tumbling around in there.
    Thank heavens he can’t.
    “What do you think Assassin has to do with this?” I misdirected.
    “You read my mind,” Emery teased. “There are details about the Assassin Project that will shed light on what’s likely going on. As you know, my mom decided to shut down the project when she got wind of corruption. What you don’t know is that Arthur King Sr. was at the heart of the nefarious doings. For security reasons, she created five research teams to develop different components of Assassin. Her reasoning was that one person should not have complete access to data for a weapon that could be used to assassinate key world leaders, topple governments, and wreak global havoc, other than herself.
    “Her decision met much criticism, especially from her employer, Arthur King. The acting secretary of defense at the time supported her and mandated that all Assassin research be destroyed when she advised it. My mom learned, after these orders had presumably been executed, that King had paid a scientist from each of the five teams to copy data onto a microchip. Individually, the microchips hold little threat. Put them together, and the Assassin development can be resumed. King was in the process of collecting microchips when his private jet crashed—”
    “The crash he was killed in?”
    “The crash he somehow survived and used to throw the government off his trail, according to my mom.”
    “How does she know