Meet the Gecko (7 page)

He was wearing a white waiter coat.

A black bow tie.

A chef hat.

Glasses.

He looked like a waiter, doing his job.

But behind his glasses, his eyes were shifty.

Beady.

Darting back and forth.

I blinked. He looked sort of … familiar.

Then his nose twitched and I knew why.

It was the Mole!

I tugged on Dad's arm and whispered, “Look!”

“Huh?” Dad said.

I twitched my nose and pointed again.

“What is—”

“Shhhhh!” I held up a finger, telling him to wait, then started trailing the Mole.

My mom said, “What is Nolan doing?” but my dad held on to her and kept her quiet.

Inside, my dad's got the heart of a superhero.

I followed the Mole into the green room. There were a bunch of people inside! The tables had tons of stuff on them. Big steel dishes with lids. Stacks of plates. Pyramids of cheese!

Before anyone noticed me, I ducked under the
closest table and hid behind the long white table-cloth. I could see the wheels of the Mole's cart moving across the room. I crawled along, watching that I didn't bang the table's cross braces with my backpack.

It wasn't easy!

At the end of the first table, I peeked out the back side.

Nobody there!

I crawled out and around table legs until I was hidden under the second table.

My heart was banging. My legs felt shaky! What was the Mole up to?

The wheels of his cart twisted and turned. I could see the Mole's feet moving back and forth around the cart. I pulled up a corner of the table-cloth so I could see better, but I was afraid to pull it up too high. All I could really see were legs!

Then I remembered—my periscope!

I slipped off my backpack. I unzipped it,
quiiiiiiiet as could be. I pulled out my newest spy tool and pushed it up through the space between the tables. Careful… careful… inch by inch!

I saw the back of a steel dish.

Plates.

A black vase.

Pine needles.

And then…people!

Oh, yeah!

I turned the periscope around slowly… slowly….

Sudden movements are easily detected by the human eye!

And then there he was! In my sights! The Mole!

He was looking shifty, all right. Putting food from the rolling tray onto a table. He was doing it slow. Looking around. Looking up.

Up?
Had he spotted Sticky? I turned the periscope, but didn't see Sticky anywhere.

The Mole was up to something, I knew that. But what? And when he made his move, what was I going to do? How was I going to catch him in the act?

Hmmmm.

I pulled the periscope down and took my digital camera out of its spy compartment. I held the camera lens up to the eyepiece of the periscope.

Could you take a picture that way?

I decided to try it. I turned the periscope-camera sideways and slipped the eye of the periscope under the tablecloth. I looked through the camera's viewfinder. I spotted someone's shoes, then clicked a picture.

I put the periscope down and looked at the shot.

It worked! I had a picture of feet! Sharp, in-focus feet!

Then someone called, “Let's hit it!” and pretty soon everyone cleared out of the room.

Everyone except me.

And the Mole!

I put the periscope and the camera together, and at the last minute I switched into movie mode. Then up, up, up went the periscope until I found the Mole.

He was moving around fast! I was having trouble tracking him!

He grabbed a chair.

He yanked it across the room.

He whipped his camera from under a metal serving dome on the rolling tray and slung it around his neck!

He went back to the chair and stood on it!

What was I waiting for? Time to start recording!

I caught him looking around. Pulling something out of his waiter coat.

A lighter!

He flicked the lighter wheel and started a flame.

He held it up to the ceiling!

Up to an automatic sprinkler!

Oh, no! He was trying to make them come on!

The sprinklers would ruin everything! They would soak the green room! The lobby! The cam-eras! The actors! Everything!

I almost shouted, “Stop, villain!” but I didn't. It was more important to get proof!

The ceiling sprinklers sputtered.

They burst on!

Water sprayed everywhere!

I could hear people in the lobby shouting. Squealing! Screaming!

The Mole jumped off the chair and charged into the lobby.
Wreeenga-wreeenga-wreeenga!
I could hear the Mole's camera shoot and wind through the spray.

“Fire!” somebody shouted. “There must be a fire!”

Wreeenga-wreeenga-wreeenga!

“Cover the cameras!”

Wreeenga-wreeenga-wreeenga!

“Shut off the sprinklers!”

Wreeenga-wreeenga-wreeenga!

The place was going crazy!

My dad charged into the green room. “Nolan?” he called.

“Here, Dad!”

He dived under the table with me. “What are you doing?”

I was collapsing the periscope, stuffing every-thing back in my backpack. “The Mole! He started the sprinklers with a lighter! He's out there getting pictures! You've got to stop him!”

“But—”

“Stop him! Get his camera!”

But by the time Dad scrambled out of the room, it was too late.

The Mole had already disappeared.

We had an argument on the way home. Mom thought I should turn my movie clip over to the police right away. “No way!” I told her. “It'll give away who Shredderman is!”

Dad, who had now spent some time in the superhero trenches, didn't know whose side to be on. “But, Nolan,” he said as we drove away from Old Town. “The whole point of being a superhero is to
help
people.”

“But, Dad,” I said back, “if they know I'm Shredderman, it's all over! I can't help anyone anymore, ever again!”

“He does have a point, Eve,” my dad said to my mom.

“But, Steven, that man ruined… who knows what all he ruined! And he's probably on his way back to… wherever he came from. Right now!”

“I know, I know. But I do think we should give it a little more thought, okay?”

Mom frowned.

Dad drove.

I held on tight to my backpack.

When we got home, Mom and Dad went to the kitchen to make dinner. What they were really doing, though, was still arguing about what to do.

I slammed a few plates around the table, scattered some forks and cups, and charged down to my room.

No way was I going to let them unmask me!

I booted up my computer.

I logged on to the Internet.

I clicked on my Web and mail icons.

But in the middle of getting my camera ready, I stopped.

E-mails were being delivered.
Flick, flick, flick, flick, flick!
They were flying in.
Pouring
in. When the screen finally stopped scrolling up new e-mails, the status bar said:
You have 102 new messages.

Wow!

The subject line of some was
RE: MOLE ALERT!

Some were replies to forwarded Mole Alerts!

Some were replies to Mole Alerts that had been forwarded three, five, seventeen times!

My Mole Alert had been to New York!

Maine!

Illinois!

North Dakota, Alabama, Oregon!

Mississippi, Texas, Ohio!

Massachusetts, Missouri, Timbuk… tu?

I did a quick search and learned something new: There really is a Timbuktu. It's in West Africa!

Wow. You know you're a bad guy if people hate you in Timbuktu!

And they did. I blazed through enough replies to know that they all said pretty much the same thing:
You rock, Shredderman! Keep it up!

Oh, yeah!

I could smell dinner cooking. Was that chicken? No time to lose! I downloaded the fire sprinkler clip. I attached it to a new e-mail—one that would go to everyone! I typed
Mole caught in the act
in the subject line, then wrote a short message:

Yours in truth and justice,
Shredderman

I was just finishing up when there was a
knock-knock-knock
at my door.

“No!” I called. The door opened anyway. “I said no!”

The room went dead quiet. And cold. Mom and Dad were both standing in the doorway.

They crossed their arms. They frowned.

Finally my dad said, “We don't appreciate that tone of voice, Nolan.”

“But—”

“We'd already decided to let you do what you thought was right,” my mom said.

“After all, it
is
your clip,” Dad added.

“But—”

“But,”
my mom interrupted, “we don't ever want to hear you talk to us in that tone of voice again, you hear me? If being Shredderman means you think you can shred on
us,
well, we'll put a stop to this right here and now.”

“I… I'm sorry, Mom,” I said. And I was about to say, I thought you were going to try and stop me, only right then something thumped on my knee.

Wiggled up my thigh.

Crossed over my chest!

And faster than you can say Charles Babbage, he was gripping on to my shoulder, looking around the room.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I was nose to nose with Sticky!

My mother screamed!

My father held her shoulders and said, “Take it easy, Eve. It's just a gecko.”

I grinned at Sticky and said, “Hiya, Sticky. What'cha doin' here?”

“Sticky?” my mom gasped. “That's
Sticky
?”

I looked her way. “Who'd you think it was, Mom?”

“But—”

“He must've stowed away in my backpack!” I was petting him with my index finger. Softly, slowly, back along the top part of his head. I smiled at him, careful not to show my teeth.

“Didn't'cha, boy?”

He looked right at me, and I swear…

He smiled back!

“Uh, Nolan?” my dad whispered. “Don't you think you should catch him?”

“Did you see that, Dad? Did you see that?”

“See what?”

I looked back at Sticky. He wasn't smiling anymore. Now his head was going side to side. Like he was shaking it, telling me no!

“Uh, never mind,” I said to my dad. Then I eyed Sticky like, Was that what you wanted, boy?

His mouth curved back and then… he nodded.

I swear, he nodded!

My mom said, “Your dad was suggesting you catch him, Nolan. Before he runs away?”

I laughed. “He's not going anywhere.” I turned back to Sticky. “Are you, boy?”

Sticky climbed up my collar.