Bonfire Masquerade (2 page)

“Out of our way!” hissed Ian. George stepped aside politely, and Ian and Shiloh stomped right past her. Or at least, they tried to. Ian's feet flew out from underneath him, just like a cartoon character stepping on a banana. Shiloh slid and skidded, her arms windmilling, bags flying everywhere.

BAM!

She went down like a ton of bricks. They tried to get up, but neither could gain any traction. Ian began crawling away. The automatic doors opened in front of him. It looked like he was going to get away.

“I don't think so,” said George. She pushed a button on her lapel mic, and the doors slammed shut.

“What is this?” said Shiloh, lifting her hand off the floor. Something shimmered on her palm. Suddenly her other hand shot out from beneath her, and her head hit the floor.

“Oops,” said George. “Did I fill my bucket with oil instead of water? My bad!” She laughed.

I walked over and looked down at Shiloh and Ian trying to get up.

“Here,” I said. “Let us help you.”

Bess, George, and I began picking up the bags, as well as the many stolen items that had gone flying out of
them when Shiloh and Ian fell. I found six MP3 players, a dozen necklaces, three expensive suede wallets, two watches—and the very same dress I had recommended!

“My, my, my,” said Bess. “Quite the shopping spree you two have been on.” She was holding up two purses, full of other people's stuff. Looked like they'd been practicing a little pickpocketing to go with their shoplifting.

“All right, Chief, we've got them with the merchandise,” I said, leaning into my name tag microphone. Chief McGinnis was waiting for my word to send in his men.

I looked down at Shiloh and Ian, then put my hand to my chin, considering.

“You know, I have something else that I think might look great on both of you.” I pulled out two pairs of handcuffs and snapped them on their wrists. “And look, they're a perfect fit!”

Bess laughed. She picked up the dress I'd shown the couple earlier. She held it against me and looked appraisingly.

“This
would
look great on you,” she said. “You think they'll let us keep some stuff as a reward for a job well done?”

George and I both laughed. Bess had an eye for clothes that we could appreciate, but didn't always share.

I saw flashing blue and red lights and heard an approaching police siren. Chief McGinnis and his men were always great to have around once George, Bess, and I had solved the real problems. Before that, they usually just got in the way.

“Are these our shoplifters?” Chief McGinnis asked. “Yup,” I said. “We even gift wrapped them for you.” I pointed to the handcuffs.

“Well done, girls!” “Thanks, Chief,” said Bess. She held up the dress. “Now I've got one little question for you… .”

Once everything was squared away with Chief McGinnis (Bess got the dress), we all hopped in my car and headed back to my place.

“Let's get some sushi!” said George as we drove. Crime fighting is hungry work, and Taste of Tokyo was right on the way. After loading up on sushi, sashimi, and miso soup, we finally made it back to my house and set up camp in the living room to talk over the details of the case.

“George, those mics were awesome!” I said. I've always admired George's tech skills.

“Yeah!” agreed Bess. “And when you remote-controlled the automatic doors closed? Priceless!” She leaped up and did a great impression of Ian Frommer slipping in the oil.

“Hello!” Dad's voice came from his office. I'd heard him on the phone when we came in. His voice was quiet and
clipped, the way it was when he was working on a serious case.

“Sorry, Dad! Are we being too loud?”

“No, no. It sounds like things went well?”

“Yeah, Mr. Drew,” said George. “Nancy's plan worked perfectly. Got them both, red-handed, stolen merchandise in their bags.”

Dad laughed to himself. Sometimes my cases made him worry, but I knew he was proud of the work that I did.

“Look, Nancy, I've got an important case coming up. Do you remember my friend Daniel Brumfield?”

“Maybe. The name sounds familiar.”

“He's a friend of mine from college, lives down in New Orleans. You met him a long time ago. Anyway, he just called me and said he needs some help. A warehouse of his was burned down, and on top of figuring out who did it, and going through the insurance paperwork, he's having a hard time deciding whether or not to sell the property.”

A mysterious fire? My Spidey sense was tingling already.

Dad ran his hand through his hair. “And Hannah asked for the week off, since it's her birthday. And I don't think it's a good idea to leave you here alone—who knows what kind of trouble you might get into.”

Normally I'd bristle at that remark, but I already had
an idea of what kind of trouble I was going to be getting into in New Orleans, and I was looking forward to it.

“Plus, it's Mardi Gras, so I trust you'll have a way to amuse yourself.”

“Ahem.” Bess stood up. Her face was very serious. “Mr. Drew, I know that you would never presume to ask George and me for such a big favor, but I want you to know that we are coming with you. To keep Nancy occupied, of course, so you can get your work done.”

Dad's lips twitched into a smile. He opened his mouth, but Bess held up her hand.

“No, Mr. Drew, no need to thank us. It's simply our duty, as Nancy's friends.”

“Well, I appreciate the sacrifice, girls. You really are the best.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out some folded papers. “I already bought you both tickets. Here are the itineraries.”

“Woo-hoo!” George and Bess whooped at the same time.

“Mardi Gras, here we come!” I yelled.

CHAPTER
2

FRANK
A QUICK STUDY

I read the problem over twice. Then a third time. I was pretty sure it was a calculus problem—mostly because it was in my calculus textbook. Aside from that, I was totally lost.

Joe and I had been on back-to-back ATAC missions for over a month now. I was so far behind in my homework, I was barely ahead of the rest of the class anymore. I stretched my legs, trying to bring some feeling back into them. I'd been sitting on a chilly Parisian park bench for over an hour, and I was all pins and needles.

“Hey, Frank.” Joe's voice crackled in my earpiece.

I looked down and half covered my mouth. Though the street was mostly deserted, I didn't want anyone to see me talking into empty space.

“What's up?” I asked.

“You're doing homework, aren't you?”

“Yes,” I whispered guiltily. “I've got a lot to catch up on. Why does it matter?”

“Well, because unless I'm mistaken, Sara Schulenberg just crept out of the windows you were supposed to be watching!”

I slammed my textbook shut and grabbed the night-vision binoculars from my bag. They'd pretty much blow my cover to anyone watching, but if Joe was right, it was too late to worry about that now.

I counted the windows—six up, four over. The lights were still on in Sara's hotel room. And Joe was totally wrong. Sara was standing right there, to the side of the second window, mostly hidden by the curtains … exactly where she was last time I looked, ten minutes ago!

I focused the binoculars more tightly. The figure was so still. Too still. It wasn't Sara, it was a mannequin. I'd been tricked.

“I—uhhh—I have a big test next week,” I told Joe, trying to explain how I'd missed her. “But I undid the alarms on both her cars, and her motorcycle. And I
deactivated the bombs she placed as booby traps at the entrance to the hotel garage. She won't get far.”

I started shoving my things in my bag. Joe laughed into his walkie-talkie.

“Don't worry about it. I'll get her in the garage. Meet me there when you can.”

At seventeen, Sara Schulenberg was the youngest, and possibly the most accomplished, jewel thief in all of Europe. She'd been known to walk into stores pretending to be royalty, or a famous rock star, and demand to try on their most expensive pieces. Once the jewels were on, she pulled out her signature pink diamond-studded pistol, tied up the employees, and disappeared onto the streets. Joe and I had been on her trail for a week, ever since she'd pulled off a daring daylight raid in Poland. We'd tracked her to this Parisian hotel, where the French police were planning a sting this very evening. But she must have gotten word somehow, and now she was on the run.

I debated heading to the garage to help Joe, or staying here in case she doubled back, when my earpiece came to life with Joe's voice.

“I forgot, what's the thing she stole?” asked Joe.

“It's called the Szczerbiec. It's the last remaining piece of the crown jewels of Poland.”

“Is it by any chance a big sword?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly there was a blast of static from my earpiece. I heard Joe shout.

“Joe? Joe? Nuts!”

My earpiece was dead. I grabbed my bag and took off running for the garage. Hopefully Joe would be there … in one piece.

I rounded the corner and leaped over the short gate that blocked off the entrance to the underground parking lot. From inside, I could hear the clang of metal against stone, and the sound of two people breathing hard. I raced down to find Joe flat on his back, with Sara standing over him. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Sara swung the sword in a vicious arc at his leg. He rolled, and the sword hit the ground. He tried to get up again, but Sara recovered quickly. She struck, coming even closer to hitting him. It was only a matter of time before she got him.

“Hey!” I yelled, hoping to distract Sara. She turned, and I ran right toward her. I lowered my shoulder and braced myself for a good old body check.

Unfortunately, I hadn't accounted for the motor oil spilled on the ground. My legs flew out from under me and I landed on my back, right at Sara's feet.

“Ha!” She laughed, an almost dainty sound. She was tiny, barely five foot two, and the sword was nearly as big as she was. But she knew how to use it. She hefted it overhead and swung it down on my stomach.

Thankfully, when I fell, my backpack had swung around, and now it was in the way. The impact hurt like crazy, and I'd have an awful bruise in the morning, but at least I was in one piece. Even better, her sword was tangled in the straps!

“Gotcha!” I yelled. I wrapped my arms around the bag and rolled to the right, wrenching the sword out of her hands.

“Joe, I've got the sword!”

As I scrambled to all fours Joe jumped to his feet and tackled Sara. They went down in a heap. And just like that, Sara went from cat burglar to captured burglar.

“I can't believe they wouldn't even let me keep the sword for, like, a day,” said Joe for the hundredth time. We were back in Bayport, and Sara was behind bars. The jewels of Europe were once again safe for models and princesses.

“Well, it is one of a kind,” I reminded him.

“So am I,” Joe smirked.

I picked up half of my calculus textbook, which had saved me from Sara's blow and been cut in two in the process, and tossed it at Joe's head. He ducked, just as I had hoped he would. I whipped the second half of the textbook out and hit him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” he said. “I never did like calculus.” He rubbed his wounded shoulder.

“Come on,” I said. “Let's get back to me beating you in the game, too.”

I kicked a controller toward him. We were halfway through the new ZOMG Kill V, and I was determined to beat him on this one, since he had destroyed me in ZOMG Kill IV. But before we could get started, there was a knock at the door.

“Boys!” came our mother's voice. “I have great news.”

I opened the door and let in my parents. They were both smiling ear to ear. And if I didn't miss my guess, Dad's grin had a bit of an extra gleam to it. I started to get that tickle in my stomach that spelled a mission.

There goes ever learning calculus,
I thought. But all I said was, “Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad! What's up?”

Joe shoved the two halves of my textbook underneath the desk as our parents walked in. That would not be easy to explain to Mom, who was still in the dark about our “extracurricular” activities with ATAC. Luckily, she was too excited to notice.

“We've decided we need a family vacation. So we're heading to New Orleans for Mardi Gras!”

Mom pulled a whole bunch of shiny beaded necklaces from her purse and tossed them to us.

“All right!” yelled Joe. “This is awesome.”

I couldn't help but grin. I'd always wanted to check out New Orleans. The architecture, the voodoo, the
swamps, the food! This was going to be great.

“Your mother and I have already talked to your teachers about the schoolwork you're going to miss,” Dad broke in on our cheering. “So you're both going to have to write a paper about New Orleans while we're there—and yes, that will require you both to spend some time at the library, doing research.”

Dad winked as he said this, and I knew that tickle in my stomach was correct. We were on a mission. It wasn't often that our parents came with us, but I guess ATAC was running low on cover stories after so many missions in a row.

“To help you prepare, we got you this.” Dad tossed me a DVD. It was labeled “New Orleans: City of History, City of Mystery.” ATAC often hid our mission briefings in video games and DVDs, so I couldn't wait to check it out.

“Also, most of the hotels we were looking at were pretty booked up with Mardi Gras and all,” Dad continued. “So we had to get rooms in two different hotels on the same block.”