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a terrible pest the cold is for my sinuses!”
    Oli stood staring at the Tower of London, index finger tapping his temple. “It makes perfect sense, now that I think about it. For just last week I saw Nina reading a book on Anne Boleyn.” He then turned to Jonathan and Shelley. “You know who Anne Boleyn is, don’t you?”
    â€œSo this is going to be a thing now? Asking us who everyone is,” Jonathan grumbled. “Great.”
    Annoyed by the smirk on Darwin’s face, an overwhelming desire to prove the smug boy wrong took hold of Shelley. “As a matter of fact, we’re friends on Facebook.”
    â€œYou’re friends with Anne Boleyn on Facebook?” Darwin repeated, breaking into uncontrolled laughter.
    Shelley’s face contorted as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Okay, fine. We’re not friends on Facebook. I’m going to need to retract that whole statement.”
    â€œDear girl, another retraction?” Hattie noted, shaking her head.
    â€œTrust me, it’s easier to nod and accept than to question,” Jonathan offered before releasing an epically long sigh.
    â€œNod and accept that your partner claimed to be Facebook friends with Henry the Eighth’s wife Anne Boleyn? I don’t think so,” Darwin replied haughtily.
    â€œHenry the Eighth was the king of England from 1509 to 1547. He’s rather notorious for having six wives, two of whom he had executed, Anne Boleyn being one of them. And it just so happens that she was tried and executed here at the Tower of London,” Oli explained. “Don’t they teach history in the United States?”
    Jonathan and Shelley stared at Oli, as they did any time they were unsure of what to do next.
    â€œOf course they teach us history,” Jonathan finally responded. “They just prefer to focus on the United States.”
    â€œExactly!” Shelley concurred. “We’re just really into ourselves, so we don’t have time to study your dead kings and their wives.”
    â€œI do loathe to interrupt this history lesson, but it’s been just over an hour since I picked up Nina’s cell signal,” Hattie said urgently. “We must move quickly or we’re liable to lose her.”
    OCTOBER 23, 2:18 A.M. TOWER OF LONDON. LONDON, ENGLAND
    Standing in front of one of the many service entrances to the Tower of London, Hattie, Darwin, and Oli carefully assessed the situation by scanning the area with infrared binoculars and checking for radio signals on their phones.
    â€œWe’re coming up clean. There aren’t any guards close by, making this as good a moment as any to break in,” Darwin announced to the group.
    â€œBreak in? Don’t we have permission to be here?” Jonathan asked.
    â€œPermission really slows us down. We don’t see the point,” Darwin answered casually.
    â€œWhy am I always winding up in situations like this?” Jonathan mumbled under his breath.
    â€œBecause you’re a spy,” Shelley answered firmly as she grabbed hold of Jonathan’s arm.
    â€œRight,” Jonathan reminded himself. “I’m a spy.”
    â€œHattie, we need the code,” Darwin said as he pointed to the number pad attached to the door’s lock.
    â€œSo it appears,” Hattie said as she removed her gloves, headband, and clip-on earrings before pulling out her cell phone and typing in nearly one hundred different numbers.
    â€œAmazing, isn’t it?” Oli whispered to Jonathan and Shelley. “All she talks about is clotted cream
and partridges, and she can break into the government’s mainframe in less than thirty seconds.”

    â€œWhat’s with Hattie taking off her gloves, earrings, and headband?” Shelley asked.
    â€œIt’s just one of her quirks. And much like her interest in tartan, we think it best not to ask,” Oli answered.
    â€œHonestly, how dim can the