Double Vision (19 page)

0:18

“Henry, you need to scram while you can,” I said.

“No.” He shook his head, but you could tell that he was thinking about leaving. Let's face it: I wanted to make a run for it, too. “There's not enough time to get out of the blast zone anyway,” Henry said. He was right.

0:14

We were going to die in the East Room of the White House. And all I could think about was my family. How I wanted them to be proud of me for belonging to the Junior Presidents Club, even if it was all a lie. And how I'd never get to ride my skateboard to Daryl's again. Or beat Sam at Racing Mania Nine when it came out next month.

0:11

Pull yourself together, Linc!

Steve smiled at me.

“At least Steve here is blowing himself sky-high right along with us,” I said. “So much for the invincibility coat.” And then I realized: the answer to solving this crisis was right under my nose.

“Ben! Give me the coat!” I reached out.

0:07

Ben had the Dangerous Double draped over his arm. “Why?”

The guy was going to question me now, with five seconds left on the clock?

“Just give it!” I yelled.

Ben tossed me the coat.

I held the Dangerous Double by the shoulders, draping it in front of me like I was helping someone put on the coat. Then I dropped my whole body on the bomb. I saw the numbers on the timer flash before they disappeared under the fabric.

0:02

I wrapped the coat around the bomb like it was a present. Tucking the corners all neat and tight, just like Mom taught me.

I closed my eyes. Gritted my teeth as I cupped myself around the bundle.

And felt the bomb explode against my chest.

HAVE YOU EVER BANGED YOUR ELBOW
really hard, right on the funny bone? The explosion felt like that, only it went through my whole body. My ears were ringing. My vision blurred. I think I screamed, or someone did anyway.

But it worked. Wrapping the bomb in George Washington's invincibility coat was not how I'd pictured things would go down, but then, the best stuff happens when you tear up the plan anyway.

I was curled up in a ball on the floor, clutching the coat and bomb. Eventually, Henry pulled my arms away. Ben took the bundle and slowly unwrapped the Dangerous Double.

What had been the bomb was now a melted mess of metal, wire, and scorched parts we couldn't recognize. The Secret Service guy called in for backup. Ben carefully placed the bundle of bomb parts in a corner and then took off to keep our double secret.

I tried to get up, but my legs were shaking too badly.

Henry sat down next to me. “Dude, you just saved the White House.”

“You think I'll get extra credit?” I joked, my voice croaking.

Henry laughed. “You should.”

I sat up, watching the room spin. The place smelled like burnt plastic.

“Amy is okay—we saved her,” Henry whispered.

I didn't say anything, mostly because my jaw hurt too much to talk.

Henry smiled. “Maybe I'll ask her out for hot dogs.”

Steve was arrested, and the Dangerous Double was taken away by Albert Black. Apparently, the mission was back on after all.

Our botched gala even made it on TV—“Rats at the White House” ran on all the networks as breaking news. Not that the White House was giving them much to go on. The news guys interviewed one guest who talked about some kid who saw a rat, but that was all the actual evidence there was.

Of course, there was the in-depth report on the health dangers of rat droppings, including a daylong shadowing of an exterminator. Then a special on the history of rats—and what might happen if the plague came back. The news dudes
interviewed a doctor for three hours about the dangers of vermin droppings in food (yuck) and blah blah.

No talk about the plot to kill the president and her family. And not a peep about the George Washington invincibility coat. Henry would examine the coat in his lab before it was stored in a safe place. No word on where that was.

The mission was a success.

So why did I feel like something wasn't finished?

THE NEXT MORNING, WE WERE ALL
invited for breakfast with the president herself. Amy met Henry and me in front of the White House. She gave Henry a quick tour of the state floor, just like she'd shown me on Taco Tuesday.

“So you're not grounded anymore?” I asked her as we walked upstairs to their private quarters and toward the kitchen.

“Oh, I still am,” Amy said. “Mom made me promise not to sneak out or borrow anything without asking. Especially her files.” She grinned. “She did say she'd let me hang around the office sometimes. Oh, and we're taking a vacation!”

“Where are you going?” Henry asked her.

“Top secret.” Amy leaned closer. “But it may or may not be Italy. Mom has to wrap up some stuff, but then we're going—and Dad's meeting us there.”

We sat down at the kitchen table with the whole Pandora crew and President Griffin. There were crepes, eggs, bacon, and fresh rolls—nothing like the plastic-wrapped stomach bombs we ate at the motel. Everyone was rehashing the case, talking about how close Steve came to blowing up the White House.

Me, I had a hard time feeling relaxed. Washington, DC, made me feel paranoid. Who could I trust? Why was Wilson, a Culper Ring agent, in the White House—and what was up with Pandora? Maybe I'd been hanging around John Smith too long.

“What made you jump on the bomb, Linc?” President Griffin asked while I loaded a second plate.

I had no idea. It was a crazy thing to do, but it made sense at the time, like most of the stuff I do. “I don't know. I guess I figured that if the coat made the person inside it invincible, it might keep us safe from the explosion.”

“Quick thinking,” President Griffin praised. And then she checked her watch. “Unfortunately, I really must go now.” She looked around the room at Ben, Stark, Black, Henry, Amy, and me. “It's been a pleasure. Mr. Black, I'm sure we'll talk soon.”

He nodded. I wondered what that was about. But only for a second—there was a pile of bacon with my name on it.

President Griffin left, and Amy followed to go call her dad, she said.

Albert Black stood, like he was ready to make a speech. “Well, I'm sure you've all heard by now that Steve has been questioned. Looks like he had some sort of political agenda and decided to act on it when he heard about the coat.”

“Then he was a lone operative,” Ben said. His plate was clean, like it never had food on it at all. “There are no organizational ties or intel on continued operational movements.”

“What's he saying?” I whispered to Henry.

“That Steve worked alone,” Henry answered.

“Oh.” I chewed on my bacon. It made no sense, though. “But how did he even know about the coat?”

Black shrugged. “Intel. He was Secret Service.”

I thought about Steve and how he rode away on that horse at Mount Vernon with such ease. “So Steve is Mustang, you know, in the email. But then who is Dagger?”

“Whoever he is, he covered his trail,” Stark said. “We're leaving the hunt for Dagger with Secret Service. With the Dangerous Double recovered and the bomb threat neutralized, our mission is complete.”

“Right,” I mumbled. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I watched Black and Stark take off, talking in whispers.

Ben got up, too. Then he surprised me and extended his hand. I shook it. He nearly broke my fingers. “You were vital to this mission's success. I believe you won our bet. The Presidential Medals of Freedom will be handed out this afternoon, and I'll give you mine.”

“Thanks. But I couldn't have done it without your help, taking down Steve and all,” I said, hating to admit it. “So I guess we both won, sort of.”

“Fair enough. I'll be gathering my belongings,” Ben said as he left the table. “All best to you both on your future assignments.” Then he smiled. “Disregard. You're a civilian, so you'll be going home, Baker.”

For once, Ben was right: It was time to go home. And after that bomb turned me into a human blender, I was happy to leave Washington, DC, and all its secrets and spies to the professionals. This place was too much for a California kid like me. I even missed the Lompoc fog.

Henry wanted to talk to Amy, so I ended up going back to the motel by myself. I didn't mind. Since my flight wasn't until seven that evening, I had some time to kill. My head still kind of hurt, and I was hoping to get a nap in.

But then something weird happened. The lady at the motel desk called for me. “Young man!”

I walked up to the counter.

“A message came for you early this morning.” The lady smiled and dug under the counter for a white envelope with my name on it. “Here you go.”

I took it and sat down on the super-uncomfortable couch in the lobby.

For Sale: 1984 Lincoln

This beauty has more than meets the eye

$1,000. Last chance!

I checked the clock in the lobby. It was almost ten o'clock. Smith's favorite meeting time.

AS IT TURNS OUT, I'M AN EVEN FASTER
skateboarder than I thought. I managed to make it to the Lincoln Memorial just five minutes after ten.

I took my board. Sat on the steps for a minute to catch my breath. I watched as a bunch of guys and ladies were roping off an area in front of the Lincoln Memorial for the president's speech. In the middle, there was a low podium about the size of my living room. I didn't spot Smith, only more guys who were setting up speakers.

I walked up to the giant Lincoln statue, where I hoped my spy guy might find me like before. But I didn't see him. All I spotted was that same banner for Celebrating America's History Week, with George Washington staring me down.

I let the bright sun warm me up as I walked back down the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial.

“Watch out!” someone yelled.

I looked down and realized I'd just stumbled on John Smith. He was sitting on the steps with Nixon at his side. The dog licked my hand when I petted him. How had I missed him?

“I got your message,” I said as I sat down.

“Can't stay in one spot too long, Young Abe.”

“I know, the agents,” I said. I didn't see anyone who looked suspicious, but I figured I wouldn't argue with him. And for all I knew, some of the staff setting up for the celebrations were agents.

John Smith grunted. Waved his hand in dismissal. “Not much time.”

“Your message . . .” I said.

“Shouldn't have even sent it,” Smith said. “They're still watching.”

“Here?”

“Not yet.” Smith fed a treat to Nixon. “But you being late doesn't help.”

I waited for him to get to it already. From dealing with Grandpa, I knew that sometimes you had to let a cranky person get their bad mood out before they started to make any sense.

“We caught the bad guy, you know. Couldn't have done it without your help getting us in the White House,” I added, hoping to butter him up. “So thanks.”

Smith nodded. “I heard they're going with the lone gunman theory.”

“Yeah. He's just some nutcase who hated the president.”

“If you believe that, you're even dumber than you look.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” I added, “But I did wonder who that Dagger person is. You know, the one who sent the messages.”

Smith stared off in the distance and kept petting a happy Nixon. Some ladies were pinning red, white, and blue ribbons along the podium. “Information is a powerful thing. Truth, even more so. ‘Truth will ultimately prevail where there is pains taken to bring it to light.'”

“Huh?”

“It's something George Washington said.” Smith shook his head. “Never mind. The point is, Young Abe, that the truth is also easily manipulated.”

“Like on the news.” All those reporters chasing the rat story like it was the end of the world. One dude even had his cameraman take a close-up of rat poop. Talk about disgusting.

Smith leaned closer. He smelled of cinnamon and sweat—not a good combo. “Or in intelligence reports.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, ignoring the stink. “Stop talking in code already, and just tell me why you wanted to meet me here.”

“Did you ever wonder how your criminal secret agent Steve got his intel on the coat?”

I shrugged. “From the president? Secret Service guys hear everything all the time.”

“And how did President Griffin know the attack was coming?”

“Intelligence,” I said, trying hard to remember how the whole crazy mission got started. I remembered talking to Stark, when she came to California to find me for the mission. “There was an email. Dagger was planning to steal the George Washington invincibility coat and use it to kill the president at her fancy ball.”