I heard only a few groans. As I stood up, I felt the back of my head to see if I could find what had hit me earlier. I still couldn’t find anything. I looked down at the floor and couldn’t see anything unusual around me. I felt stupid. Only social things ever made me feel like this. I hated not having control.
“We’re in business now,” I heard Alex say to Rick as he passed him. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”
I kept my head down, sure he’d hit me with something. The question was, had he done it to make fun of me or did he simply want my attention? I shook my head. How stupid was I to think Alex would like me?
Chapter Five
It had been a full day since I’d seen Iceman outside our hotel’s doors. I had to tell Rick and soon. I pushed my way to the back of the bus, but Kira had already sat next to him, so, I planted myself next to Eugene. It would have to wait, again.
I thought about the way Alex had looked at me when our eyes met a few minutes ago at the table, and I somehow felt he wasn’t being mean. I didn’t know what the look meant, but his eyes weren’t taunting me; they gave me tingles. Maybe Alex and Josh were just playing around with me, like they did with Summer and Kira. At home, when things hit me, the people who did it never hid—they laughed openly. But I just couldn’t get Alex’s look out of my mind. Was he wanting me to notice he was looking? Mean or nice?
Eugene got on his knees, turned to the back of the bus and pulled out a bunch of papers for us to see. My heart thumped hard as I followed suit.
“The hotel has a great printer,” he said smiling, every tooth visible. “It printed these fifteen pages in about fifteen seconds. Just awesome.”
“Fold ‘em up, Eugene. Now, who’s going to pass ‘em to the feds?” Alex asked, his eyes perusing all of us.
“Not me.” “Not me.” “Not me,” was all I heard. I looked down and kept quiet, wishing I’d stayed seated. I felt stares, and couldn’t help but look up.
Everyone stared at me.
No, not me. I swallowed hard.
“Christy, why don’t you do it?” Alex suggested, his voice smooth and convincing. “You look trustworthy. I don’t think they would take you for a prankster.”
Yep, that was me, miss trustworthy—boring miss trustworthy.
“Yeah! You do it Christy. They’ll believe you,” Kira said.
“Yeah, Christy.” “Yeah. You do it.” “You can do it.” Everyone spoke at once.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to do it. Then my eyes caught Marybeth’s face, and I knew I had to. My head hadn’t stopped shaking no, but okay escaped in a small whisper. It was like I was being pulled from within, and nothing but the right thing was do-able.
“All right.” “You’ll be great.” “Yeah, you’ll be great.” “You can do it.” Encouraging words filled the back corner of the bus while fear made my teeth clench. And yet, a very slight twinge of excitement at the prospect of giving those papers to someone filled my chest. It would be a true challenge. I would have to remind myself that I was a resourceful, smart girl and could figure it out, even if it involved real life.
The front entrance of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building was located on Pennsylvania Ave. NW, but we entered on a side road. It looked like a bleak, drab 60’s or 70’s building, boxy and uninviting. Lots of people packed the sidewalks, but what caught my attention were three men with dark hair and skin that seemed to be looking at our group—none of them Iceman, and I convinced myself that the fear I felt was silly. Just because these guys had dark hair and skin, didn’t mean they had anything to do with the ballroom.
The guard shack outside the door left me feeling a bit like I was leaving the free-world to enter a militarized zone. I noticed a lot of people milling around and then the three men caught my attention again. They looked out of place somehow, and they stared at us. Were they watching the FBI building to see if we would go there or was their presence just a coincidence? After all our ID’s were scanned and confiscated on our way in, I relaxed a little, thinking I couldn’t be in a safer place.
In the courtyard area, we were met by two metal detector-like machines. To the side of the first one, long tables stood to put all our contraband on. We couldn’t take bags, anything to write with, cameras or anything that wasn’t attached to our bodies into the building. I held the papers tightly in my hand, feeling guilty the whole time, waiting for someone to tell me they belonged on the contraband table. No one did.
“Breathe, Christy. It’ll all work out,” Rick whispered in my ear as he walked past me into the large courtyard.
I hadn’t realized I wasn’t breathing. My nerves got the better of me. I didn’t want to be nervous. I wanted to be confident and in control just by telling myself to be, like before debates and academic competitions. It wasn’t working.
I had no idea who to give the papers to or when. I searched the courtyard for anyone that struck me. No one did. In fact, there weren’t many people around us at all. A tall, thick man with short, jet black hair, wearing a gun on his hip, walked up to Mrs. J. and shook her hand. They talked for a moment, and then she asked for everyone’s attention.
“This is Special Agent Landis,” Mrs. J. said. “He’s a good friend of mine, and he’s the one you have to thank for this tour today. Follow his directions carefully, so that he doesn’t regret his decision to let us come.”
“Welcome to the FBI building,” he said. His voice boomed in the almost deserted courtyard. “We are under construction and haven’t been allowing group tours.” I couldn’t see any evidence of construction as I looked around. “It’s very important for you to follow the directions I give you, just like Mrs. Jackson said. There will be absolutely no talking until I ask for questions at the end of the tour. Do not leave the group. Stay together. This will be a short tour and no bathrooms will be available for you to use, so don’t ask. Now please, follow me.”
We entered the actual building and could see long narrow hallways with door after door jutting off them.
He gave us the general history of the building’s odd bi-level construction in about three minutes. Buildings along Pennsylvania Avenue could only be seven stories high when the building was built, but along the backside, on E. Street, they could be eleven. Odd.
I had to find someone to give our letter to and no one was anywhere. We were in the shorter side of the building at the moment, and we walked past a bunch of full classrooms and entered a large amphitheater. It was quite the spectacle, beautiful even. We all sat down while Special Agent Landis went over what the FBI was all about and what it did. Public corruption, espionage, terrorism—I wondered which category our little adventure would fall in to. I scanned the room and saw that our group was alone with Special Agent Landis, no one new had entered the picture. My pulse quickened, and I felt my muscles tense.
My mind couldn’t focus on his words anymore. I needed to find someone or someplace to leave this letter. After he rambled on and on, everyone stood up to leave.
“The other floors are all offices and interrogation rooms,” Agent Landis informed us, as we filed out of the amphitheater. “Now we will go see the forensic lab and a firearms demo.”
We walked back the way we entered, but continued to some elevators. I was a bit disturbed to see how clean the building was, like it had been sanitized just before we got there. It made me feel like I was under a microscope, and I shivered. The longer we were there, the more uncomfortable I got. If only I could turn invisible.
The elevator opened and with a little bumping and jostling, we all fit. My heart jumped when we descended. I had prepared myself to go up, not down. When the doors opened, I understood. It was a firing range, buried deep in the earth, almost like the architects wanted it hidden, knowing what horrible power could be unleashed from its walls. I searched for a new face, anyone to give the papers to—but caged in glass, I could only see a place for one shooter to stand and practice firing. A door opened, and a young man with short cropped hair and sound protection entere
d the range.
He demonstrated several different weapons with accuracy and finesse. He made it look easy, and his comfort with the various weapons heightened my anxiety. Why hadn’t the bad guys just used a gun? The sword was so barbaric. I found myself humming a song, drowning out my thoughts.
Since the shooter stood behind the glass, and I had no access to him, I couldn’t give him our letters.
We got back in the elevator and went up this time. No more surprises. We got out and walked into another glass cage to look in on the forensic lab. Everything looked very sterile, all white and silver.
Again, there was no one to pass the letter to.
Panic crept in steadily now.
Fifty minutes of our hour tour had passed, my breathing sped up. I felt dizzy. How would I get this to someone, when there was no one? I frowned hard trying to concentrate and not fall over. National debate championships had never made me so nervous. My confidence came there from knowing what I was doing and that I would succeed. I wanted to feel that way here.
“Hey, Christy,” Alex whispered. I jumped about a foot in the air. “Whoa! I guess that answers my question.”
“What question?” I asked, my voice croaking.
“I was going to ask you if you were still with us. I can see that you are.” He laughed. “You’re pretty nervous, huh?” Alex talking to me certainly didn’t help my clarity of thought. I trembled inside.
“Yes,” I whispered, trying to keep my wits about me. “There’s no one to hand this off to.”
“There will be, don’t worry. You’ll know when the time is right. Be patient.”
His words always seemed to soothe me, and my desperation faded a bit.
“One last stop,” Agent Landis called out. “We’ll see the hall of directors.”
One? Only one left? I hoped he meant we would be seeing several directors, surrounded by support staff, who would be anxious to take the letter from me.
We climbed in the elevator once more, and when we stepped out, we found ourselves in a clean, narrow, white-walled hall. Hanging on the walls were nicely framed photographs of lots of different men. My heart dropped.
“These are all of the past directors of the FBI,” Agent Landis said. “This one here is the first director and it goes down this way until you hit the current director, Mr. Whitmore.” He said all of this while sweeping his arm down the hall. “Go ahead and check them out. Please do not open any doors. Thank you.”
Again, no accessible people. I caught Alex staring at me with a look that said, good luck. I don’t know how you’ll manage getting our letter to anyone in this place. The hall was narrow, so bodies were jostling, bumping with a shove here and a push there.
Again, we squeezed into the elevator. Each time it felt like we had to squeeze tighter together to fit. It dumped us out in a hall near the courtyard.
“Thank you all for coming,” Agent Landis said. “I’m glad that Mrs. J. contacted me, and I hope you learned a lot. Maybe we have piqued your interest in one day joining our team.”
My interest? Does anyone walk around this building if they work here? The halls were totally empty.
“Do you have any questions?”
A few kids asked some questions, but the pounding behind my ears kept me from hearing almost anything.
He paused for a good three minutes, which seemed like forever, and then continued, “Go ahead through the courtyard here and gather up your belongings from the tables.”
We were done. I had failed. I certainly couldn’t be blamed for not getting it to anyone, there truly was no one.
Besides, I needed more time. Mrs. J. was right, there wasn’t much to this tour. I couldn’t count it as an enthralling experience.
“Please. Please,” I prayed in my head. “Give me someone to give this to.”
Our group headed for the exit with all their contraband in hand, and Mrs. J. talked to Agent Landis.
Then it came to me.
He was my last resort. I slowly walked up to Agent Landis trying to give Mrs. J. enough time to finish up with him. I had to get him the papers. He was my only hope. I stood silently to the side of them, waiting. Mrs. J. turned around and headed for the door, seeing me out of the corner of her eye.
“Christy, get your things. We’ve gotta go,” she said.
With my eyes focused on Agent Landis, I pretended not to hear. I’d been repeating what to say to him over and over again and was afraid I would mess up if I talked to anyone else.
“Agent Landis, some of us got together last night and made you a thank-you card, for all your trouble. We are really grateful. It was a fantastic experience to get to come in here,” I lied, the ease with which it flowed out scared me, but it was necessary.
“Wow,” he said. “Thank you. That sure is nice.”
“No problem,” I replied as I handed the folded pages to him.
Mrs. J. looked surprised at the gesture, raising her shoulders and lifting her eyebrows, telling Agent Landis she knew nothing about it. Of course, she didn’t.
“Okay, Christy. Let’s go,” she said, pushing me along.
I can’t even remember what happened between releasing the letter into Agent Landis’ hands and clambering onto the bus. I was out of breath, even though I was sure I hadn’t run, and went straight to the back of the bus and plopped into an empty seat.
All seven sets of eyes were again on me. As soon as the bus began to move, it felt like the invisible noose around my neck had vanished. I quickly looked out the window, thinking that Agent Landis or some of his buddies would come after the bus, trying to stop it, but no one came.
Only I seemed to notice the three men watching the bus drive away. What was odd was that those three men I had seen earlier, were still there, just in different spots on the sidewalk. Was I just being paranoid? I turned back around and leaned my head against the seat back and exhaled loudly, closing my eyes and rubbing my face roughly. Only then did I realize that my shirt stuck to me. I must have sweated a whole day’s worth in that one hour.
When I dropped my hands and opened my eyes, I found I was still surrounded by anxious eyes. The unspoken question in them made my throat thick.
“I gave it to Agent Landis,” I told them hoarsely. “I told him it was a thank-you note from our group.”
Their eyes got even bigger.
“Good thinking,” Josh said, putting his hand in the air for me to give him a high-five.
“Yeah. Wow, how did you think of that?” Kira questioned.
“I was so scared,” I said. “It’s crazy, but I said a quick prayer, and then it came to me. I just know we did the right thing.” I felt proud with the group cheering me. It had been exciting, now that I looked back on it. It was nerve racking, but in an odd way, fun. I had done it.
“Now it’s over guys. We never have to think or speak of it again,” Alex said, giving me a big smile and a nod.
My insides buzzed.
No one said anything the rest of the way to the White House. I felt a deep chill in my bones as the air-conditioning in the White House hit the sweat that had drenched my body, and I shivered. I tried not to think about what would happen when agent Landis read that letter. Was it all over like Alex said? The three men on the sidewalk gave me a sinking feeling that this was just the beginning.
Chapter Six
One bad thing about Mrs. J. was that she didn’t want us to miss anything about D.C., so we ended up missing everything. After incessant touring each day, we returned to our hotel at seven for dinner.
Today was no exception. What I thought would be another drab night in the rec room turned out to be just the opposite. I had a lot of fun. All eight of us stuck together. I needed that more than I’d realized. Even though giving the letter to the FBI left me lighter, I still felt Iceman’s murderous eyes pushing hard on my soul. Maybe I’d have a chance to tell Rick about seeing him again. Maybe I’d even tell him about the guys at the FBI building.
We’d all bunched into th
e wide open space between the couch and the humungous TV. Summer wanted to play a game again. My first thought was of Find It, the last game she’d suggested, the one that had led us to the bathroom vent and a bloody ballroom.
This time she wanted to play, I’ve never. It sounded like fun, except for the fact that I would probably win. Typically, I liked to win, but in this case, I wanted to lose. Despite our recent adventure, I wanted to be the most adventurous, not the least, and winning this game labeled you the least adventurous person.
We all had ten of something, paper pieces, jelly beans, coins—anything we could find to hold in our hands. One person would say something he or she had never done. If you had done it, you had to throw an item into the center of the circle. The last person holding an object won the game—and was labeled the least adventurous person there.
Summer started, of course.
“I’ve never broken a bone,” she said.
Alex, Josh, Eugene, and Kira all threw something in the circle.
“I bet I’ve broken the most,” Josh said. “Count ‘em, four big ‘uns.” Mr. Jock was a shoo-in.
“Well then, I’ve broken the most,” Eugene said, “I’ve got five breaks to my name.”
“Five? No way,” Josh said. “I can’t believe you beat me, geek. What were you doing to break bones? Playing war on the computer?”
I couldn’t help thinking that it was more likely his clumsiness that caused his breaks.
He didn’t have a chance to respond before Kira broke in.
“What did you break, Alex?” she spoke in her most sensitive voice.
“My nose.”
Everyone laughed. I thought people who broke their noses had large, misshapen ones. Alex’s was perfect, and I stared, my heart fluttering.
Watched (The Watched Trilogy) Page 6