The Alias Men

by F. T. Bradley

  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.

  35

  SATURDAY, 6:15 P.M.

  THE CROWD REALIZED WHAT WAS GOING on, too. There was screaming. People were shoving me as I ran to the stage.

  Savannah did one more swirl and tossed the Chaplin hat into the air as part of her performance. But then she realized someone was shooting at her. She froze. The Dangerous Double bounced on the stage and rolled out of sight, away from the spotlight.

  I used the stairs to the side, pushing a confused security guard out of the way to reach Savannah.

  “Linc,” she mumbled, looking dazed. “I’m so glad you came to see me perform.”

  “We have to go, Savannah,” I said, grabbing her elbow. We were sitting ducks there on the stage. I tried to spot the Double, but with the bright spotlights it was hard to see anything beyond my own feet.

  More popping. I was pretty sure a bullet flew right over my head.

  “Someone’s shooting at you, Linc,” Savannah said. She wouldn’t move from her spot onstage. “That’s funny.” She smiled. This girl was in serious shock.

  “No, it’s not, Savannah.”

  Then I remembered: I had Henry’s gadgets! I reached behind me and unzipped my backpack.

  I opened the black box and strapped the watch gadget Henry had given me on my wrist. I pushed the tiny button twice. And activated the Three-by-Thirty. There was a slight green halo surrounding us.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a bulletproof shield,” I said.

  “It’s so pretty.” Savannah reached out to touch it.

  “Don’t do that,” I said, slowly lowering her arm. I glanced around the stage one last time for the hat, but it was hopeless. I had to save Savannah first. “Just stay close, okay?”

  “Okay.” She smiled again.

  I grabbed her hand. “You have to walk now. We only have thirty seconds.” The watch told me I was already halfway out of time.

  A bullet bounced off the halo. And another.

  I pulled Savannah along and rushed off the stage. Another bullet skimmed off the shield. Whoever was shooting was still not done.

  Could this case get any more deadly? And I wasn’t even a real junior secret agent.

  I hurried to get Savannah into the wings, where her mother whisked her away.

  She was safe.

  It wasn’t until then that I realized something.

  The shooting had stopped.

  I turned around. Hurried to retrace our steps, back to where I’d last seen the Dangerous Double roll out of the spotlight.

  I made it all the way back to the center of the stage, when I saw the black business card with the ivory letters that said Ethan Melais. And I realized it was too late.

  The Dangerous Double was gone.

  36

  SATURDAY, 6:39 P.M.

  THE LAPD SHOWED UP AND LOCKED DOWN the Hollywood Bowl so no one could leave until they left their name. The police were looking for the shooter, but I knew it was a waste of time. Ethan Melais had the hat, so he could disappear and walk right out.

  I left Ben’s name with the LAPD at the exit and made my way out of there, pretending to be just another visitor. And just as I walked toward the parking lot, he got out of a van and came running.

  Ben Green. I saw Stark in the front seat, driving away to park the van in the crowded lot.

  “A little late to the party, aren’t you?” I said to Ben. I tried to brush past the guy, but then I realized that I still needed a ride. Behind me, the crowd slowly trickled out, as each person left their name with the police.

  Ben glanced over my shoulder. “There was a shooting?”

  I gave him the short version.

  “You didn’t secure the Dangerous Double first?” Ben frowned.

  “I saved Savannah from Floyd.” I felt like punching Ben, but deep down I was mad at myself for not having grabbed the Chaplin hat. It was right there onstage!

  “It was right there onstage!” Ben yelled, like he was reading my thoughts.

  I felt the edges of Melais’s business card cut into the palm of my hand. I stuffed it in my pocket. “Maybe next time you can be here, huh? Where were you?”

  “For your information, I was calling my contact at the CIA to see if there’s a file on Nigel Floyd,” he said with this righteous look on his face.

  “And?”

  “He’s checking on it.”

  “How helpful.”

  Around us, people returned to their cars and left. I thought I saw that blue compact car, but when I craned my neck, traffic had made it impossible to see. I watched Stark park the van in the very back of the lot.

  “What does your junior secret agent manual say we should do now?” I asked, half joking but sort of serious.

  Ben sighed. “There are no procedures for this. The CIA didn’t think we’d be retrieving Dangerous Doubles when they wrote the junior agent training manual. Pandora is black ops, remember? No manual, no record of their existence.”r />
  “Plausible deniability,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Ben was quiet for a while and then asked, “Do you have any ideas?”

  I had nothing. But I wasn’t going to admit that. “I still don’t get how Floyd knew Savannah had the hat.”

  “Maybe he already happened to be at the show and saw how old the hat was,” Ben said. “It doesn’t matter. We must locate Floyd and the Dangerous Double.”

  “Floyd has to be holed up somewhere with the Double, right?” I said.

  “He’ll go someplace safe. His home, or lair,” Ben mused.

  “Like his bat cave.” As I said it, I knew where Floyd was. I could’ve told Ben. But since I’d just gotten shot at, I decided I should be the guy who caught the bad dude and brought in the Dangerous Double. Alone.

  “You think he’s at his house?” Ben asked.

  “Could be,” I said, and shrugged. “We’ll pass it along to Stark and Black.”

  I could see Ben get antsy. His face got all serious—he had that secret agent look I hate so much.

  I knew where Floyd was. Ben had a hunch, too. But neither of us was willing to share the glory.

  At the far end of the parking lot, I could see a harried Stark, Black, and Henry walk our way, looking even more stressed than usual. LA traffic would do that to you. And now Pandora would want to be updated, no doubt.

  “I’m going to check on Savannah,” I lied, and walked back into the crowd.

  Behind me, Ben called, “But you need to debrief!”

  I turned around, smiled, and shook my head. “I’m not on the case anymore, remember?”

  Ben slumped as he watched me walk away.

  Not that I’d given up on catching Ethan Melais. Because I knew just where to find him.

  37

  SATURDAY, 7:05 P.M.

  OF COURSE I WAS FACED WITH THE BIGGEST problem any kid has when in Los Angeles: transportation. Since Savannah was recovering with her mother, I called my cousin.

  Mike was only too happy to have another excuse to drive around. Naturally, that meant Willow was along for the ride, and I got to listen to them argue. This time it was about silent movies, and if they should remake them as talkies. Like I wasn’t sick of that topic by now.