He had a point. “Whatever,” I said. “It was just a thought. Anyway, I’m starting to think that even if all this is for real, it’s just some lame cyberprotest.”
“But the UTV . . . ,” Frank began.
“Yeah, there’s that,” I broke in. “But think about it. If I hadn’t been driving, er, creatively, even that wouldn’t have been such a big deal.”
“Hmm. You may be right.” He frowned at me. “At a normal rate of speed, we probably just would’ve ended up bumping into a tree or a trash can and getting shaken up a bit.”
“Exactly. The ice thing wasn’t likely to get anyone killed either.”
“It might have,” Frank argued. “What if Delfina had landed on the baby?”
“Thanks, Mr. Worst Case Scenario. My point is, nobody’s really gotten hurt.”
“Yet,” Frank added succinctly. He’d already gone back to scanning the crowds.
I rolled my eyes. The preview opening was fun so far, but Frank was kind of a downer. “Why don’t we split up?” I suggested. “We can cover more ground that way. You know—to watch for anything suspicious.”
“Good idea,” Frank agreed. “Why don’t you head deeper into the park? I’ll stick around here and watch who comes and goes.”
“Deal.” I hurried off before he could change his mind. Wandering around checking out the park definitely sounded more interesting than standing there all day.
I headed out, keeping an eye peeled for anything suspicious. But all I saw was a bunch of famous people having a blast. All the celebrities seemed to be having a great time so far. There were several people testing out the BMX bikes, and a group heading for a crazy-looking ride called the Whirligig. I even stopped and watched while a well-known gossip columnist crawled up the beginner-level climbing wall with several celebs cheering her on. From what I could tell, she’d lost some kind of bet.
A while after that I found myself in the area of the park known as the Wild Wild West. It had a cowboy-type theme, with a big shooting gallery and the Old Glory roller coaster Erica had taken us on the day before. Right in the middle was the building called the Saloon, which Frank and I had passed a couple of times yesterday. Seeing several famous faces heading in through the swinging doors, I decided it was time to check it out.
There were several attractions inside the building, but at the moment everyone was gathered around the mechanical bull in the main room. I recognized two or three actors, a famous snowboarder known only as Chill, and the guitarist for a hot new punk band called 2 Hostile. A guy with media tags was filming all of them with a digital video camera.
“What’s the holdup?” the punk guy was shouting with a laugh. “Come on, I’m ready to ride the range, man!”
“I can’t get it to work.” One of the actors was poking at the controls on the wall nearby. “It’s busted!”
The snowboarder, Chill, hurried over. “No way, dude. This place is brand-new. You must be doing it wrong.”
There was a little more argument and laughter. A couple of the others tried the controls. Still no luck.
I wandered closer, eyeing the mechanical bull. It looked like fun.
“Mind if I take a look?” I said. “Maybe I can figure out how to get it working.”
One of the actors turned to look at me. McKenzie had given me and Frank name tags with our names and RADIO CONTEST WINNER printed on them. Apparently there were a few real contest winners wandering around too.
“Sure, give it a whirl.” The guy stepped back and waved a hand at the controls.
I took my turn fiddling with them. But I couldn’t get the thing to work either. A few of the wires seemed to be loose. It was tempting to try reconnecting them at random until something worked, but I didn’t want to short the thing out completely. Or electrocute myself, for that matter.
“Sorry,” I said. “Looks like this thing’s really busted. I heard not everything at the park’s up and running yet—maybe this is one of the stragglers.”
“What?” the punk guy exclaimed with mock annoyance. “You mean they brought us in here and this place isn’t even finished?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw McKenzie’s business partner, Jack Smith, enter the Saloon. Instead of his usual somber suit, Smith was dressed in khakis and a button-down linen shirt. It didn’t look natural on him. He was wearing a name tag too.
“Hello, everyone,” he said. His tone was jovial, though it sounded kind of forced. “Having fun?”
“We were.” Chill shrugged. “But we were in the mood for a ride and got totally denied!”
“Yeah. Way lame!” The punk guitarist raced over and vaulted onto the mechanical bull, waving one skinny arm over his head like a cowboy. I didn’t bother to tell him he was sitting backward on the thing.
“It looks like some wires got messed up somehow,” I offered. “A few of them are just hanging loose.”
“Sounds like something Erica could take care of in her sleep,” Smith said, whipping out his cell phone. “I’ll give her a call.”
“Erica?” I said. “You mean McKenzie’s stepdaughter?”
Smith nodded. “She can fix anything.”
Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely remembered Nick making a similar comment. I couldn’t help being more impressed with Erica than ever. It wasn’t every hot girl who was also a Ms. Fix It!
Unfortunately, Erica didn’t answer her phone. “Sorry, boys,” said Smith, hanging up and then immediately dialing another number. “I’ll see if I can get one of the engineers to come check it out. Shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”
It turns out that celebrities aren’t very patient. At least these particular ones weren’t. As soon as Smith left, Chill headed for the control panel again.
“Look, there’s got to be a way to get this thing working,” he said. “Can’t be any harder than jump-starting a car, and I’ve done that a million times.”
“I’m not sure you should do that,” I spoke up as he started touching random wires together.
Okay, I know, that makes me totally sound like Frank. And I hated the thought of looking like a dweeb on camera—the media guy was still filming the whole scene. Still, I couldn’t help imagining what would happen if Chill accidentally sent ten thousand volts through himself or something. That would be totally not chill. In more ways than one.
“Relax, dude,” the snowboarder said with a laugh. “I like living on the edge.”
“Hey!” one of the actors shouted. “That’s it!”
Sure enough, the row of lights on the edge of the mechanical bull had just blinked on. When Chill touched the controls, the bull slowly started to revolve and buck up and down.
The punk guy had climbed down by now. “All right!” he cheered. “Who’s first? Dare ya, L.A.” He pointed to one of the actors with a grin.
“Me? What about you?” the actor taunted in return.
I grinned. The bull looked like fun. If none of the celebs had the guts to try it, I was ready to step up and show them how it was done!
“Hey, I got it going—I get to try it first.” Chill pushed his way past the rest of us.
He vaulted easily onto the slowly turning bull. It was weird. I knew the thing was totally fake. But it seemed to react to his weight like a real animal, immediately picking up speed.
“Yee-haw!” Chill cried as the others cheered.
“Ride ’em, cowboy!” one of the actors cried. “Here, let’s give you more of a challenge.”
He turned the controls from level one to level two. The bull started bucking and spinning faster and harder.
“That’s the stuff!” Chill yelled with a grin.
I laughed. But at the same time, I couldn’t help noticing that the mechanical bull was still picking up speed—even though the actor had dropped his hand from the controls. It spun faster and faster, bucking up and down and back and forth like crazy.
“Whoa,” the guy with the video camera whispered to himself, moving a little closer for a better sho
t.
“Okay, okay,” Chill exclaimed breathlessly. “That’s enough. Turn it down.”
“Wuss,” the actor joked. But he complied, reaching over and spinning the dial back down to one.
There was just one problem. The bull didn’t respond—except by going even faster! Soon it was spinning around like a top, still bucking. I was amazed that Chill was still holding on.
“Hey!” he shouted, sounding nervous. “Cut it out, you guys. Stop this thing before I come off!”
“I’m trying!” This time the actor pushed the dial all the way to off. But it still didn’t respond.
Something was wrong here. “Hang on!” I shouted, lunging for the wires to yank them out again.
SPLAT!
I was too late. Chill had finally lost his grip. The mechanical bull had just flung him off—headfirst into the wall beside me.
Spinning Wheels
I was watching some celebrities test out the snowboarding slopes when I saw several paramedics rush past. Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good.
Following them, I rounded a corner just in time to see them disappear inside the Saloon. Wallace, the pudgy security guard Joe and I had met yesterday, was just coming out. He looked pale.
“What’s going on?” I asked, hurrying up to him.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “Don’t go in there.”
Ignoring the advice, I pushed past him. The paramedics were bending over someone lying on the floor. I spotted Joe standing nearby.
“What’s up?” I asked as I reached him.
“Another equipment malfunction,” he replied grimly, watching as the paramedics loaded the victim onto a stretcher. The guy looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place him. “The mechanical bull went crazy and tossed Chill there into the wall,” Joe added.
Oh, right. Now I recognized the guy. Snowboarder.
“Ouch.” I glanced at the mechanical bull, which was still and quiet. “Think it was more sabotage?”
Before Joe could answer, the guy on the stretcher started struggling against the paramedics. “Hey, wait a sec, dudes,” he said. Then he pointed to someone else. “You! You have to erase your camera. No way do I want that wipeout turning up on America’s Lamest Blooper Videos or something.”
“Please lie back, sir,” a paramedic said politely. “You probably have a concussion, and you should really—”
“No, listen, I’m serious!” Chill sounded frantic. “Have a heart, dude. Erase that tape.”
“I have permission to film freely during Preview Daze,” the cameraman said with a slight smirk. “Everyone here signed a release to allow full access—including you.”
“I don’t care about the stinking release, dude.” Chill sounded angry. “You can’t show anyone that video!”
Just then McKenzie hurried into the room. “What’s going on here?” he exclaimed. “Wallace just called and said there’d been an accident. . . .”
As soon as he heard what had happened, McKenzie took the camera guy aside. Within moments, the footage was deleted and everyone was happy. Well, everyone except me and Joe.
“I would’ve liked to get a look at that film,” I muttered as we watched the paramedics roll Chill out through the swinging saloon doors. “See if we could spot anything suspicious.”
“I hear you, bro,” Joe said. “But trust me, I was here. Nobody in the room had anything to do with it, I can pretty much guarantee that. That Jack Smith dude, on the other hand . . .”
“Smith?” I looked around, but there was no sign of McKenzie’s business partner. “What about him? You think he had something to do with this?”
Joe grabbed me by the arm. “Come on. Let’s go outside where we can talk without being overheard.”
Soon we were outside across the path from the Saloon. That was when Joe told me all about what had happened in there. Including the part about Smith coming by.
“Wow,” I said. “That guy always seems to be around when things go wrong.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Joe nodded. “First the UTV, now this. He has full access to the entire park at all hours, so he could’ve planted that fake bomb, too, and done all the graffiti and stuff.”
I nodded thoughtfully, trying to figure out the angles. “Seems kind of, I don’t know, juvenile for a guy like that,” I mused. “But maybe that’s how he’s trying to throw people off. Still, I can’t quite figure out how he benefits if this place tanks. Unless he and McKenzie are in on it together somehow.”
“Do you really think they—oh, hello, Mr. McKenzie!” said Joe.
I spun around. McKenzie had emerged from the Saloon and was hurrying toward us. Luckily, Joe had spotted him before he got close enough to overhear what we were talking about.
“There you are,” he greeted us. “What a mess, eh?” He jerked his head in the general direction of the Saloon and grimaced. “Lucky for me it was that Chilly fellow who got hurt instead of one of those prissy actors or anyone else more likely to sue me.” He barked out a short, humorless laugh. “So, Frank, who do you think could have pulled off something like this?”
I felt like pointing out that we might have a better chance of answering that question if he hadn’t just destroyed that video in the name of public relations. But I didn’t bother.
“Well, first we should have someone look at the controls and confirm that it was intentional mischief and not just an accident,” I said.
“Good point, Frank.” McKenzie whipped out his handy-dandy PDA. “I’ll get someone on it right away.”
“Okay, but in the meantime we should probably assume it was sabotage,” Joe put in. “I was there for the whole thing—there was no way that was an accident.”
McKenzie glanced at him. “Hmm,” he said, turning back to me. “What do you think, Frank? Do you agree with your brother’s assessment?”
“Um, sure,” I said. “We should certainly proceed under that assumption unless and until we find out otherwise.”
“Good call.” McKenzie looked pleased. “Now then, do we have any new suspects as a result of this?”
He was still staring straight at me. It was weird. Hadn’t he just heard Joe say he was a witness to the whole thing? So why was he asking me all the questions?
Before I could figure out a tactful way to point that out, McKenzie’s PDA buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned.
“Zane’s here,” he said. “Come on. Why don’t you two come meet him? Since a lot of the online threats seem to center around skateboarding, you’ll want to keep a close eye on him. He’s the centerpiece of this grand opening, and I definitely don’t want anything to happen to him.”
Without waiting for an answer, he spun around and hurried off in the direction of the main gate. Joe and I practically had to break into a jog to keep up with him.
“I can’t believe we’re about to meet Cody Zane!” Joe said.
I nodded. I’d done a little research on the skateboarder. Cody wasn’t just a totally amazing athlete. He was also a marketer’s wildest dream—good-looking, well-spoken, and likeable. He was up to his nose ring in major advertising and sponsorship deals. Besides that, he’d just been tapped to create his own namesake skateboarding video game. As part of the GX grand opening, he would be judging an amateur skateboarding contest. The winner got to be a character in the game.
“Is Cody Zane’s partner here too?” I called to McKenzie. “What’s his name—David something?”
“David Sanders,” Joe supplied.
“He’s in Japan. Arriving in a couple of days.” McKenzie sounded distracted. We’d just come within sight of the gates, and a crowd was gathered there.
Cody Zane was at the middle of it. “Wow, it’s really him!” Joe exclaimed. “The real Cody Zane!”
I shot him a surprised glance. Joe and I are used to meeting celebrities by now. He doesn’t usually go all fanboy over anyone. But right now he had the same look in his eye that Aunt Trudy got whenever she watched old Cary Grant movies
on TV.
Soon McKenzie was introducing us. “These are two of your biggest fans,” he told Cody. “Frank Hardy and his brother John.”
“Joe,” Joe corrected, sticking out his hand. “I’m totally stoked to meet you, Cody! Can I call you Cody?”
I had to hide a smile as I got a load of his goofy, adoring grin. Yeah. Definitely fanboy.
“Sure, man.” Cody shook his hand, then mine. “It’s great to meet you. Is this place tight or what?” He glanced around.
“Totally tight,” Joe replied eagerly. “Want a tour? We’ve been here since yesterday, so we’ve totally got the lay of the land.”
McKenzie’s PDA had just gone off again. “That sounds like an excellent idea,” he said, glancing at it with a slight frown. “I was hoping to show you around myself, Cody. But I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. You’re in good hands with these two, though.”
“I’m down with that,” Cody said easily. “Thanks, Tyrone.”
It was weird to hear him call McKenzie that. The only other people I’d heard call him “Tyrone” were Delfina and Smith.
Thinking about Smith reminded me that we still had a case to solve. I took a look at the little crowd of people still clustered nearby. It seemed to consist mostly of bodyguards and photographers.
“Look,” I told Cody as soon as McKenzie was gone. “If you’d rather look around with your friends than get stuck with a couple of goofy fans like us, we understand.”
“Naw, dude, it’s cool.” Cody grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “I’ve been stuck with these losers on the plane all day. Right, guys?” He grinned over at the group.
“Yeah, get this gnarly dude out of our sight!” one of the group jeered back playfully, and several of the others laughed.
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