The Alias Men

by F. T. Bradley

We both got on one of the yellow cars, and it was awkward for a second, since we were sitting very close to each other.

  “And we’re back!” Larry stood near the Ferris wheel, and stepped aside as a lady with a camera got closer. “Silence on the set. We shoot in five, four, three, two . . .”

  Savannah and I rode the wheel once, and again we weren’t saying any lines at all. While we were at the top, I heard Larry yell, “CUT!” We rode the rest of the way down, and the Ferris wheel was stopped just as we were reaching the ground.

  “This is going to be a seriously lame movie,” I said to Savannah. “Nothing happens.” I saw the camera lady get into the car in front of us. “Wait—what is she doing?”

  “She’ll get a different angle.” Savannah pointed at the camera lens, which was now pointed squarely at us. “Just act like the Hollywood kid.”

  I was about to ask her what that meant, when the Ferris wheel got back in motion with a jerk.

  Savannah shifted in her seat. “Whoa,” she muttered under her breath.

  I forced myself to stay quiet as our car passed over the ground, then moved us up again. The fog floating from the Pacific seemed to get thicker. The wheel was speeding up—that wasn’t in the script, was it?

  We were at the top now, and I felt a wobble. Like something above us was loose.

  “What’s happening?” Savannah mumbled, trying not to move her lips.

  “I don’t know.” We were descending, and definitely at a faster speed than before. “Maybe we should jump out down below.” I didn’t care about the movie—I just wanted off.

  The camera lens wasn’t pointed at us anymore. The camera lady had figured out something was wrong, too. She glanced around, looking panicked.

  The Ferris wheel sped over the ground, giving us no time to jump out of the car.

  Savannah whimpered next to me as we swooped up again, toward the gray sky.

  This was not good.

  “Hold on,” I said, like that was helpful. Truth was, I had no idea what to do. And my gadgets were inside my backpack, which was on the ground.

  Suddenly the Ferris wheel came to a halt, jerking the car, making it swing back and forth.

  There was a poof, like something exploded. Then a cracking noise above us, where the umbrella was attached to the wheel. In the car ahead of us, the lady dropped her camera. It shattered against the metal bars.

  Savannah screamed.

  I don’t know why, but I grabbed her hand. I looked up, and through the foggy mist I saw our umbrella come off on one side.

  Then I heard a crack.

  Our car was coming loose.

  I had to do something, or we’d plummet to the ground.

  Savannah squeezed my hand. Her eyes scared me more than the sound of the moaning steel above us.

  “Don’t let go of my hand,” I said.

  “I won’t.”

  The umbrella was attached by just a tiny sliver of welded steel.

  I heard a crack.

  And I saw the umbrella come loose. Below our feet, the car dropped.

  31

  SATURDAY, 12:05 P.M.

  I QUICKLY GRABBED THE STEEL POST that held the umbrella. And used the crooked Ferris wheel car as leverage with my sneakers.

  Savannah screamed. She gripped my waist but was dangling—I had to do something. Quick.

  And then I remembered Henry’s Instacuff! I had those two straps in my pocket from earlier.

  Thank you, Henry.

  “I’m slipping!” Savannah’s voice was so full of panic my heart almost stopped.

  Using one hand, I reached behind me and strapped her wrists so she was now hugging me, with her hands cuffed at my back, all while I gripped the umbrella post with my other hand. I had to push my feet hard against the Ferris wheel car to keep us both from falling.

  Someone managed to get the wheel moving again. There was a jerking motion, but I held on.

  Savannah’s face was wet with tears—and to be honest, I kind of felt like crying myself. I cursed Ben as I struggled to keep my grip on the metal bar. If only he was a better actor, he would be dangling off this stupid Ferris wheel right now.

  Once we reached the ground, the camera lady was saved from her broken car. The whole crew clapped and hooted. Someone brought me my backpack, and I used a set of magnets to unhook a dazed Savannah. We were both trembling, and I felt dizzy.

  But I did catch a glimpse of Larry, who looked seriously angry. Maybe because his plan to kill me had failed.

  Floyd was gone.

  My legs were shaking as I walked away from the Ferris wheel. Savannah was still clinging to my arm.

  “Are you okay?” I looked over and saw that she was still crying. But her tears were quiet, angry tears.

  “Fine.” Savannah squeezed my hand and bit her lip. “Actually, I’m not fine at all.” She wiped the tears from her face. “That’s it! I quit—I don’t care if this is a Nigel Floyd film. Someone’s been trying to kill us on every set. I’m calling my mom!”

  Most of the crew was inspecting the Ferris wheel, so thankfully, they paid no attention to Savannah’s outburst. But I saw that Larry was keeping an eye on us.

  Savannah didn’t care. “I’m out.” She turned to Larry. “You can tell Floyd that.”

  Larry didn’t even blink.

  Savannah looked at me. “I’ll see you at the Hollywood Bowl tribute to the Oscars tonight.” She let go of my hand and stalked away.

  Larry looked at me. “And you—are you scared too?”

  Thinking of my family’s safety, I smiled. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.” I wasn’t going anywhere—I was right on Ethan Melais’s tail, I could feel it.

  Larry squinted. “We’ll have to find a body double for Savannah—this will take some serious editing,” he said, mostly to himself. Then to me: “Go freshen up. We’re back in twenty.”

  I walked away, feeling like I’d won. But I was also hoping no one saw how my legs were shaking. And I still didn’t know: Was Floyd Ethan Melais, or was Larry?

  “No way! Duuuude . . .” Henry listened to my story in the crepe truck. His jaw kept dropping lower and lower the further I got into it.

  “So thank you for that Instacuff,” I said in the end. “Without them, Savannah and I would have fallen right off that Ferris wheel.” I shivered at the thought.

  Agent Stark had just gotten off the phone, and she was listening to the story, too. “This case is getting out of hand. We have to find Ethan Melais, now.” She sat down with us. “Black and I are almost done with securing the Dangerous Doubles from the warehouse. So we can help you soon. But Linc—you and Ben are still our best shot at finding Melais, since you have full access to the set.”

  “I’m trying, believe me,” I said, feeling like a failure.

  Stark turned to Henry. “Are you getting anywhere?”

  Henry shook his head. “I first tried to track that business card, see if I could link the paper or design to a manufacturer. But that went nowhere—too common. No prints, so that was a dead end.” He sighed. “Now I’m trying to track the crew’s travel records. I thought it would be easy, but none of our suspects shows up on passenger manifests.”

  “They probably chartered a flight,” Stark mused.

  “Of course! I’ll search for that.” Henry turned back to his laptop.

  Agent Stark nodded. “We all have to get back to work. It’s already Saturday, and we still don’t have Ethan Melais or the Dangerous Double.”

  “Where’s Albert Black?” I asked.

  Stark thumbed to the driver’s compartment of the food truck, looking worried. “He’s busy calling his contacts, relocating the last of the Dangerous Doubles. Pandora is in serious jeopardy with the Chaplin hat out there unsecured.” Suddenly she seemed annoyed. “Where’s Ben?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, like I didn’t care. But where was the dude, anyway? I’d bet he’d been studying that stupid junior secret agent manual while I was dangling off a Ferris wheel.
r />   Stark turned away and tried to call Ben. No answer.

  Someone knocked on the door, and Stark opened, hollering, “We’re out of batter, so go away!” She groaned after closing the door.

  Henry looked up from his laptop. “This is impossible. How am I going to get passenger lists for all these chartered flights?”

  “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” I said, thinking out loud. “Larry and Floyd wouldn’t just take a plane, right?”

  “I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Stark said, looking confused.

  But Henry did. He grinned, pointing his finger at me. “Hotels! They would need to stay at a hotel, right?”

  Stark perked up. “That’s good. But which hotel . . . ?”

  “A big one.” I thumbed to the trailer door. “Look out there—Floyd comes with a whole gang of sidekicks. They would take up a big chunk of hotel.”

  Henry’s fingers were flying over the laptop keys. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have that information.”

  Stark nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. I’d better go help Albert Black contact Pandora operatives, to secure the last of the Doubles.” She left us to join Black in the driver’s compartment.

  Just then, my phone rang. The call showed up as unavailable, but I answered anyway. “Hello?”

  “You didn’t call me.” It was Mom. “And I didn’t even see you at breakfast. You were supposed to check in at lunch, remember?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just got . . . hung up a little.” This was entirely true: I had been dangling off that Ferris wheel. “How is the macaroni salad?”

  “Good.” Mom was mad.

  “I’m really sorry I forgot to call,” I said.

  “Where are you shooting right now?”

  Uh-oh. Mom was thinking of crashing the set. “Santa Monica. But we’re changing locations, I think.”

  “You think?” Mom huffed. “I’m coming out there. It’s about time I meet this director.”

  “No!” I took a breath. Henry gave me a worried look. “Let me find out where we’re shooting next, okay?”

  Mom was silent.

  “Then you can meet the dude.”

  “Okay. I expect a call soon. And Linc?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is beginning to smell like one of your troublemaking episodes.”

  “It’s not. Honest.”

  We hung up just in time, because there was a bunch of shouting near the trailer. I moved the tiny curtain over the window. Outside, people were scrambling. I saw the back of Larry’s head, and I was pretty sure he was yelling about shooting in five or something.

  “I have to get to the set.” I felt a brick drop inside my stomach.

  “No way, man.” Henry glanced up from his laptop, looking all upset. “You can’t go back there!”

  “I have to keep the cover up.” I motioned to Henry’s laptop. “Especially with you almost cracking the case.”

  Henry shook his head, but he knew I was right. “I did just narrow down the list of hotels,” he said. “We’re close.”

  Maybe too close. And Ethan Melais knew it.

  I left the Crepes-to-Go truck, feeling like I did when I got called to the principal’s office. Only a whole lot worse.

  I walked toward the Santa Monica Pier, where the fog was even thicker now. Floyd sat in his director’s chair, and the crew was setting up cameras around the Ferris wheel.

  Larry waved me over, clipboard in hand. “Change of plans, Linc.”

  “Everyone!” Floyd hollered. “That footage on the Ferris wheel was brilliant—what a marvelous tribute to Safety Last!”

  “Huh?” I said.

  Larry shook his head. “It’s a famous Harold Lloyd film, where he dangles off a tall building from a clock—don’t you watch any movies?”

  I was about to tell him I mostly watch crime shows with Grandpa and play Racing Mania Nine, but Larry raised his hand to silence me.

  “I want to thank everyone for their efforts, but I have some bad news,” Floyd said with a sigh. “Filming of The Hollywood Kid has been suspended.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, though I knew very well.

  “It means you’re all going home,” Floyd said. “We’re done.”

  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.