“
I could tell Murray was concerned by the sight of the prison and its surroundings. But he did his best to hide it, putting on a show for all of us. “You really think this run-down joint is going to hold me?” he asked tauntingly. “I’ve gotten out of places with way better security than this.” “Yes, but you never broke out of them,” Catherine reminded him. “You weaseled your way out. SPYDER sprang you. Or you cut a deal with the US government to give evidence against other people in return for getting off scot-free. But that’s not going to happen here. SPYDER is gone. And the US government doesn’t even know where you are. Only we do—and we’re not about to share that information with anybody.” Murray’s confidence faded. It was a struggle for him to keep up his display of bravado. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll tell someone, right? You’re not going to boast to anyone at the CIA or MI6 about how you caught the greatest criminal mastermind of his generation?” My friends and I all looked to one another, then shook our heads. We all knew that while Murray would consider going to prison at Tsetseng horrible, the real way to take him down was to deflate his ego. “Greatest criminal mastermind of your generation?” Zoe repeated doubtfully. “You’re not even close.” “What?” Murray cried. “Who’s better than me?” “For starters, someone who didn’t get repeatedly captured,” I said. “There’s a young criminal in Russia named Boris Blatvatsik,” Svetlana reported. “Now he is a criminal mastermind. Much smarter than you. And he has much better hygiene, too.” “Ooh,” Zoe cooed, knowing it would get under Murray’s skin. “He sounds really devious.” Murray fell into a sulk. “Ha ha. Very funny. You’re all a bunch of jerks.” “I guess you’d be the expert on that,” Mike told him. Two prison guards flanked Murray. Each took an arm and they led him across the dusty ground toward the prison gate. I stood with Erica, Mike, Zoe, and Svetlana, watching as the kid who had lied to me, conned me, betrayed me, and tried to engineer my death over and over again was led away. “So long, Murray,” I said. Murray looked back over his shoulder, mustering a final bit of cockiness, and stared me down. “You haven’t seen the last of me,” he warned. Even though it was a threat, I couldn’t help but smile. Because I had the wonderful feeling that Murray Hill was wrong—and I had finally defeated my nemesis once and for all.
”
”