Max in the House of Spies: A Tale of World War II (Operation Kinderspion)

by Adam Gidwitz

“Who is here?” Max asked in the tense silence of the lift. No one answered. Once they reached the basement, Admiral Godfrey led them down a corridor of concrete walls and rubbish bins, to a steel door painted red. He pivoted toward Max. “Just tell the bloody truth and you’ll do fine. All right?” “What is happening?” Max demanded. But Godfrey was already turning the knob on the red door. Max tried to get an answer out of Ewen, or Jean, or Chumley. Or at least some reassurance. He got nothing. “Why does everybody look so miserable all of a sudden?” Stein asked. Berg replied, “Yah. I like miserable, but they are creeping me out.” Admiral Godfrey pushed open the door. Max took in the room and swallowed hard. What had once been a basement storage room was now set up for a trial. Along the left wall of the room were four empty chairs. In the center of the room, facing each other, were two more. And at the far end of the room was a long table. Two men were sitting at that table. One appeared to be a general in the army, given the decorations on his olive uniform. He wore a sour frown on his weather-beaten face, and when they entered, he was reading a dossier through preposterously small spectacles. To the left of the general was a man who looked like an alumnus of St. West’s School—an Old Wet—who sported long boyish hair despite being more than fifty years old. The Old Wet was watching them curiously as they entered. There was a third chair at the long table. Empty. “Come right i...