The Alias Men (13 page)

32

SATURDAY, 1:15 P.M.

AT FIRST, I WAS ACTUALLY A LITTLE
relieved. If suspending the movie meant I could skip the next ride on the Ferris wheel, I saw it as a big plus.

Then I realized this would keep me from finding Melais and the Chaplin hat. This wasn't good at all.

Floyd took off, and the crew scattered, gathering equipment. Larry gave directions where needed, but then he walked back toward the trailers too.

My suspects were getting away. And there was nothing I could do to stop them.

I was just standing there on the Santa Monica Pier, when I saw Henry running toward me.

“They shut down the movie?” he asked once he reached me.

I nodded. “Out of money is the official report.”

“But how are you going to get close to Ethan Melais now?” Henry asked.

“I'm not.” I started walking back toward the trailers, feeling like a total failure.

“Well, maybe you don't need to be dangling off Ferris wheels anymore.” Henry smiled. “I found out that Larry can't be Ethan Melais. That's why I came to find you on the set. We narrowed down the list of hotels in Frankfurt. Stark got on the phone and hit pay dirt on the first one: The crew was staying at the Wienerschnitzel Inn during one of Melais's thefts.”

We got closer to the trailers. Some were already hitched to trucks, and a big bus was filling up with crew members.

Henry continued, “Just about the entire movie crew got sick. Guess they had some bad schnitzels or something.” He made a face. “They ended up in the ER, and most spent a day in the hospital. Including Larry.”

My heart sank. “So does that mean we're back at square one? No suspects?”

Henry shook his head and smiled. “Guess who never got sick?”

“Nigel Floyd.”

“Bingo.”

“So he's Ethan Melais!” I said, maybe a little loud. But the crew was too busy packing up to pay attention to me.

Henry said, “We probably need more proof than a bad schnitzel, you know.”

“You're right.” But at least I was down to one suspect now.

We reached the Crepes-to-Go truck and rushed inside. I had to catch up with Agent Stark before it was too late and Floyd was gone with the foggy Pacific wind. I had to save my family, save LA.

Inside, Stark had packed up the paperwork and Black was preparing to drive away.

Ben was sitting in the banquette, writing on a small notepad. He closed it when he saw me. “If it isn't the unwanted element,” he said, looking smug.

Suddenly I got really mad at Ben. “Where were you?” I leaned on the banquette table.

Ben tucked the notepad in his pocket, all cool and collected. “I traced a lead. It didn't pan out.”

“What lead?” A droplet of spit went flying. I was so angry my whole body trembled like there was an earthquake inside my chest. “Our suspect is out there on the set, and you left me to fend off the bad dude by myself!”

Ben blinked.

“Where were you?” I leaned closer, trapping him in the banquette seat. “You know I ended up hanging off a Ferris wheel?”

Ben tried to sit back to get away from me, but there wasn't room in the tight banquette.

I got up in his face. “Nice work, leaving me as a target.”

Someone touched my shoulder. “Enough,” Stark said.

I backed off. But I still felt so angry I thought I might punch the guy.

“What's this all about, Agent Green?” Stark asked, careful to stand between me and Ben.

Ben sat up and brushed back his hair. “I broke into Larry's house to retrieve the Dangerous Double.”

“And?” Stark looked optimistic.

“It wasn't there,” Ben said softly.

“Enough with the bickering, kids. Sit down—I'm driving away,” Black said from the driver's seat. Stark took shotgun and put on her seat belt.

Henry and I settled into the booth, opposite Ben. We had no choice.

“Where are we going?” Henry asked.

“We've made arrangements for all of Pandora's Dangerous Doubles to be relocated to top secret locations,” Black said. “Right now, we're returning this truck.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“We try to find Floyd, since he's our prime suspect.” Stark sat down in the passenger seat. “He's taken off, and he's been known to disappear for days at a time.”

“Pretty handy, if you're really Ethan Melais,” I said.

“How are we going to catch him?” Henry asked. He sounded kind of panicked.

Neither Stark nor Black said anything for a few seconds. Then Stark said softly, “Our only chance may be at the drone-system reveal in Las Vegas on Monday. We'll have to hope he doesn't slip past me again.”

Those were not good odds.

“But first we'll drop Linc off with his family,” Stark said. “You have a reunion to get ready for, don't you?” Her voice was friendly, but the message was clear.

I was off the case.

“The reunion, yeah.” I felt a tug of disappointment. And fear. What if that terrorist group got hold of the drone-system prototype and used it on LA? What if there wasn't another reunion next year?

I called Mom and told her the movie was a wrap, and that I was on my way home. She was on batch number fifteen of her macaroni salad and was all excited I would be helping her cut the vegetables.

Next to me, Ben was poring over his notebook. Henry was on his laptop, trying to compile the list of upcoming charter flights out of LA, to figure out where Floyd might be headed next. Stark and Black were talking about the case up in front.

I tuned it out. I tried to think of an argument, a reason Pandora should let me stay. But I couldn't think of one.

Ben was the real agent, and I was just a kid.

I was done being a junior secret agent. There was nothing I could do anymore.

Still, out of all of us in the truck, I had the most to lose.

33

SATURDAY, 3:00 P.M.

WE WERE STUCK IN TRAFFIC FOR ABOUT
an hour, making everyone even grumpier. Black dropped me off at the end of my aunt and uncle's street. Nobody said much along the way—I'm sure we were all thinking the same thing. This case was a real stinker. Henry waved me good-bye, and Black barely waited for my sneakers to hit the pavement before punching the gas. So much for us being a team.

I was out.

At my aunt and uncle's place, the driveway was empty, and there was a sheet of heavy plastic taped along the front of the garage. That meant Aunt Linda was inside, airbrushing the Town Car. Aunt Jenny was sweeping the driveway.

“How's the movie biz, Linc?” she called when I walked up.

I shrugged. No way could I fake enthusiasm now, not with the movie and the case pretty much out of my hands. “It's a wrap.”

“That's Hollywood for you.” She gave me a smile. “At least you got to miss the drama here.” She told me about the Town Car, and how the engine had sort of blown up on them. Dad and Uncle Tim were out in El Segundo, on the hunt for replacement parts. “This is the worst I've seen these overhauls, Linc. I finished the bench seats, and your aunt Linda is doing the body work in there. But without an engine . . .”

“It's a failure,” I said, finishing her thought. Kind of like me as a junior secret agent.

Just then, Mom came outside with two glasses of lemonade. “You're back.”

I explained to her why the movie was a wrap. “I don't think I'm cut out for it.” The lemonade was cold and tart. “How about your macaroni salad?”

Aunt Jenny laughed.

“What?” I could have used a laugh, honestly.

“I taught your mom how I make the best baked beans in the state,” Aunt Jenny said. “By opening a can.”

Mom leaned close. “I went to the grocery store. Turns out they make a killer macaroni salad in the deli department, so I pretended I made it.” She grinned.

Go, Mom.

Since she was already in a good mood, I asked if I could go see Savannah perform at the Hollywood Bowl.

“This is that pretty actress—Ava Stone's daughter?” Mom smiled and gave me a wink. “She must like you a lot, to invite you to such a special event.”

Aunt Jenny elbowed me with a big grin. This was getting embarrassing.

“She's just a friend. So can I go?”

Mom agreed. “Have your cousin drive you, and call me when you're on your way home.”

I nodded. “Is Grandpa upstairs?”

“Of course.” Mom sighed.

“See if you can get him to come down for some food, okay, Linc?” Aunt Jenny asked.

I found Grandpa doing a crossword on his bed. He tossed it aside the minute he saw me come in. “Linc! How's the hunt for criminals?”

“Not good.” I sat on my uncomfortable foldaway bed and told him about my day: the Ferris wheel, Larry not being the bad guy, and Floyd wrapping up the movie—the whole story. Grandpa just nodded, and frowned at the end of it.

“So your hoodlum flew the coop, huh?” he said, shaking his head.

“I guess so.”

“Something's not right,” Grandpa said. “It's like a bad puzzle, where some fool came in and crammed the pieces in the wrong spot. You know your Ethan Melais fellow?”

“Uh-uh.” Tired and fed up, I leaned back on the bed and stretched my legs.

Grandpa pulled out a piece of paper. “I thought the name was off. Did you know that when you scramble the letters, you come up with all kinds of other names? That thief's name is an anagram, Linc. Does ‘the Alias Men' mean anything to you?”

“No,” I said with a sigh.

“Or Alaine, or something—I got all kinds of possibilities here . . . ,” he mumbled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Whatever, Grandpa.” This case had left me sore and exhausted. “All I know is that my junior secret agent days are over. Since the movie got suspended, I'm no longer on the case.”

Grandpa looked disappointed. He folded his piece of paper.

“I'm not good at any of it, Grandpa.”

He grumbled something, waved his hand like he dismissed my comments, and went back to his crossword puzzle.

I took a shower and got ready to go see Savannah sing and dance at the Hollywood Bowl. I agonized over what pants and shirt to wear, but in the end I settled on what I usually wore. Take it or leave it.

I grabbed my backpack, ready to head out the door. Dad's compass bounced against my side. I wondered if he'd ever get the car fixed. I should be helping him, like always. For the first time ever, I felt like I really didn't deserve to have his compass. I almost unclipped it but then changed my mind. Dad had given it to me when I went on my first mission, to Paris.
So you always know where home is.
Thinking of Melais selling that weapon to the terrorists on Monday made my chest hurt.

Before I left Grandpa, I said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you: Aunt Jenny wants you to come downstairs for food.”

Grandpa made a face. “Store-bought beans and macaroni salad.” No fooling him.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I opened the bedroom door, when Grandpa called me back.

“Lincoln, tell me something.” He looked up from his crossword puzzle. “If your Flanigan guy—”

“His last name's Floyd, Grandpa.”

“Floyd—if he already has your important artifact that's going to make him millions, then why did he cancel the movie?”

Grandpa had a point. Floyd could just hang tight, get the drone prototype, sell it to the terrorists, and be rich by lunchtime on Monday.

“I don't know,” I said, tightening the straps on my backpack. “And I don't care anymore. Let the Pandora guys figure it out.”

I left Grandpa with his crossword and hurried downstairs to snag Mike for a ride. I was going to see a beautiful girl perform. Who cared about a bad guy and puzzle pieces that didn't fit, right?

But as I hopped in the backseat of Mike's car, I had a nagging feeling in my gut. I didn't know it yet, but I should've listened to Grandpa.

Because the bad dude? He was waiting for me.

34

SATURDAY, 5:45 P.M.

MIKE DROPPED ME OFF AT THE PARKING
lot on the west side, behind the actual Hollywood Bowl, after I listened to him and Willow go on and on (and on) about whether the muffler was making a funny noise. Mike thought so, but his girlfriend thought not.

I didn't care.

The air was cool, and I hurried across the packed parking lot to check in at the box office. There was a big banner for the Oscar weekend celebration tonight, with Ava Stone's name on it.

The lady behind the counter did a double take after she checked my name against the guest list. “You got a garden seat? You're lucky—but hurry up. The show's about to begin.”

The lady wasn't kidding when she said I had a great spot. My seat had the best view of the Hollywood Bowl. The place is pretty much what you'd expect: a half-moon bowl over a stage, with seats that fan out into a valley-type setting. This was beyond awesome!

Onstage, Ava Stone was talking, so I was super quiet as I settled into my spot. “I'm so honored to be here tonight at the Hollywood Bowl. When people think of Los Angeles, they think of the movies. And that's why we're here: to celebrate the Academy Awards this weekend. But I'll always associate our great city with music—and all the great musicians who made silent film come to life.” She smiled and continued, “Before there were talkies, musical composers were the heart of cinema—my grandfather was one of the greats.”

You could hear a pin drop in the audience.

“It all started with great artists like Charlie Chaplin, of course—a genius who composed his own musical scores. Despite the fact that he couldn't read sheet music. Today we're here to celebrate his talent, and that of those artists who saw the good and the bad times, and continue to do so today. My daughter is here . . .”

I craned my neck to see Savannah just as my phone rang. I silenced it and almost didn't pick up, but then I saw the caller ID screen.

Unavailable.
It might be important.

Someone in the audience gave me the stink eye for having a phone.

“Hello?” I whispered.

“Linc! It's Henry.” It was almost impossible to hear him over the applause that erupted as Ava Stone left the stage.

“Dude, I can't be talking on the phone,” I said, cupping my hand around my mouth so he could hear me. “Savannah is about to come onstage.”

“That's why I'm calling!” Henry was practically screaming in my ear. “We're on our way over—me, Agent Stark, Ben, Albert Black.”

“Why? You're not exactly invited, you know, and security—”

“Savannah has the Dangerous Double!”

I froze.

“Ethan Melais never had it. We finally got the security footage from Sterling Studios. It shows Kurt loading up the costume trailer on Thursday. Then Savannah meets him outside the warehouse, and he gives her a bundle of clothes.”

“Her costume—she told me Kurt helped her,” I said, slapping my forehead.

“He gave her a hat, too, dude. Kurt and Savannah probably had no idea it was a Dangerous Double.”

Onstage, Savannah entered, doing some swirly dance. She was holding a bowler hat. That was the Dangerous Double!

It all made sense now. Savannah had been at Sterling Studios when I was there for the tour, and she'd told me about this performance, the authentic-looking costume she got from Kurt. I just hadn't put the pieces together.

“Oh no,” I mumbled. I scanned the crowd for Floyd, but even if he was here, I wouldn't be able to spot him until it was too late. I could only hope he didn't know about Savannah having the hat.

“We're twenty minutes away,” Henry said. I heard Albert Black grumble something in the background. “Okay, maybe more like thirty minutes, with traffic and stuff.”

“That's not fast enough,” I said, and hung up. Savannah's life could be on the line here.

Onstage, Savannah started singing. She was brilliant and beautiful. Her dancing was perfect, and if I hadn't been looking for Ethan Melais, I would actually have been able to enjoy her amazing performance. I scanned the crowd, behind me, around me. Behind Savannah.

This was impossible!

But then I thought I caught a glimpse of someone. A skinny blond guy, far behind me in the audience. He looked like Floyd!

Savannah was awesome. And I didn't want to ruin her performance—so what was I supposed to do? An annoying little voice at the back of my head told me that Ben would know what to do. But Ben wasn't here, so it was up to me to be the junior secret agent.

The blond guy had disappeared.

Was it Floyd? Where did he go?

I jumped up, ready to climb over people to chase my bad guy.

Then I heard a popping sound. And another.

Someone was shooting at Savannah.