Enemy Spy (7 page)

I ran down to my room.

Mom ran after me. “Nolan! What are you doing?”

I was sitting at my computer, typing like mad.

“Nolan, stop!”

“Mom, I have to help Mr. Green!”

“Stop!”She read the message I was writing Sarge:

Elmo Green is not Shredderman!

Let him go.

She knelt beside me and said, “Nolan, honey, stop. Stop and take a deep breath. You've got to stop shooting from the hip. Take the time to think this through.”

“But they arrested Mr. Green! They think he's Shredderman!”

“Has Shredderman done anything that would get him arrested?”

“No!”I stared at her. “At least I don't think so…”

“So you see? That almost certainly is
not
what's happening to Mr. Green.”

“But—”

“Let's wait and see, okay? And when we find out more, we'll go from there.”

Just then the phone rang. Mom stood up and raced to get it, saying, “That's probably your dad now.”

I followed her and listened as she listened and talked. “…Well, maybe he was just too busy… You sure?… Okay, I will. Bye!”

“That was Dad, right? What's going on?”

Mom headed for the living room, saying, “Sarge wouldn't tell him anything. Your father said he seemed miffed at him.”She clicked on the TV. “He's on his way over to the police station now to try to figure out what's going on.”

“You think there's something on the news?”

“Dad thinks we should check.”She thumbed the remote until she found Chatty Adams's station.

“Mom? Shouldn't we be doing something? You know, about Mr. Green?”

“Mr. Green will be fine, Nolan. He hasn't done anything wrong.”

“Do you think… do you think he'll tell?”

She looked at me. “Who Shredderman is?”

I nodded.

Very slowly, she shook her head. “No, I don't think he will.”

I let out a sigh. “Phew.”

“But I am wondering what you've gotten us all into, and how long you expect us to keep this up.”

I just looked at her, feeling helpless. Why, oh why, did I ever tell them I was Shredderman?

Mom sighed and went back to looking at the TV. “There should be a news brief at the top of the hour. We'll see if they announce anything.”

The news wasn't on yet. Some stupid show with people kissing was. Mom muted the sound, but that didn't really help. Boy! Were they ever kissing!

Mom turned the TV off for a minute, then turned it back on. They were
still
kissing.

Mom clicked it off.

We watched the clock.

She clicked it back on.

Phew!
They were finally done kissing. But now the guy was leaving and the girl was crying! What kind of stupid show was this?

When it was finally over, Mom sighed and said, “Okay. They should have a few minutes of news now.”

After a couple of commercials, the news brief started. A man behind a big desk said something about some senator being in trouble, some hur-ricane in Louisiana, and the president taking a trip to India. Then, at the very end, he said, “And for those of you who have been following the Shredderman story, we'll have late-breaking developments for you at five.”

“At five!”I cried when he was done. “I can't wait two hours!”

Mom turned off the TV and said, “We'll see what your dad comes up with between now and then.”She gave me a stern look. “In the mean-time, you are banned from your computer, do you hear me?”

“But, Mo-om!”

“No!”She shot a finger my way. “You stay off of it!”She paced around a little, then said, “Look. Your favorite show's on in a little while. Watch some TV. The time will fly by.”

I didn't want to watch TV!

Not even
The Gecko and Sticky.

I wanted to know what was going on with Mr. Green!

Maybe I could ride over to the police station.

Maybe I could call Mr. Green!

Maybe I could—

“Nolan,”Mom warned. “I can see you thinking
over there, and the answer is NO. You are going to stay right here. You are going to
wait
until we find out what's going on. And if that means I have to sit on you to hold you still, I will.”

“But, Mo-om—”

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Nolan, I'm trying to protect you. You and Mr. Green and your father. I know it's hard, but sometimes the best thing to do is to do nothing at all.”She smiled at me and clicked on the television. “How many times do I
make
you watch TV, huh?”She laughed. “Enjoy it while you can. I have some phone calls I have to make for work, so you just stay put and stay out of trouble, okay?”

I nodded. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn't just sit there watching TV. What kind of superhero hangs around watching cartoons while his ex-sidekick gets hauled off to the police station?

Not this one!

No way!

I moved around some throw pillows and a couch blanket so it sort of looked like I was lying on the couch.

My backpack was right there, so I took out supplies and wrote a note:

Please don't be mad—I have to help Mr. Green!

I put it on top of my fake body, then strapped on my backpack and checked down the hallway.

The coast was clear.

So I tiptoed down to the garage, clipped on my helmet, and jumped on my bike.

It was time to find out what was going on.

The fastest I'd ever gone on my bike before was 24.5 miles per hour. Not fast enough for a speeding ticket, but close!

But now, boy! My digital speedometer was clocking me at 25 … 26… 26.5 miles per hour!

I was jumping curbs!

Cutting corners!

I was standing up, cranking the pedals like mad!

I zoomed over the Cedar Creek Bridge. Past Old Town!

I turned off the main road.

I turned onto a gravel road.

Then a dirt road!

Yes, I did know where I was going. Since Dad
had shown me the map, I knew exactly how to get to Mr. Green's cabin. And when those green logs came into view, I found out that my hunch was right—Mr. Green was in serious trouble. There were police cars. Black SUVs. Regular cars. And a white news van.

That doggone Chatty Adams was everywhere!

I saw Chatty talking to a policeman near the cabin. Even from across the woods, I could tell she was arguing with him. Finally she spun around and stormed back to the news van.

I decided to park my bike behind some trees and sneak in closer.

Nobody seemed to notice me, and I got so close to Chatty and her crew that I could hear them talking.

“I think we've got enough to break the story,”Chatty was saying.

A man with a short gray beard was looking at some papers, shaking his head. “We can go with
the opening segment here, but a lot of the rest of this is speculation. We can't guess, Chatty, we have to know.”

“Oh, come on, Roy! All fingers point to this Green guy.”She snatched the papers from him and said, “Look, we know the documents were classified. You've said yourself that I have a nose for these things, and what I smell here is a traitor! A man selling his country's secrets to the enemy.

And come on—you saw him! He's got 'rebel' written all over him.”She motioned toward his house. “Who lives out in the boonies in a green log cabin, for cryin' out loud? I bet he's one of these guys who hates the government and has an arsenal of guns stashed in there!”

Guns?

Was she
crazy
?

Mr. Green didn't have a bunch of guns.

He had a bunch of guitars!

And why did they think he was selling secrets to the enemy? If they were talking about the papers I'd sent to Sarge, they didn't have any-thing to
do
with Mr. Green!

The Roy guy was still shaking his head. “I know you think your source is reliable—”

“They're inside the police department!”

“I still want to hold off until we can confirm some things. A lot of what you've got just isn't adding up.”

Chatty rolled her eyes and let out a big sigh. “We're gonna get scooped on this. You see that guy over there right now, chumming it up with the cops? You see him? Huh?”

“That's the local news guy, Chatty. His name's Harry Kane. He was recently bumped up from weatherman—believe me, he's no threat.”

“Well, why do they kick me out and let him in?”

“Take it easy, Chatty. They're probably just shooting the breeze. Remember: he's small-time, you're big-time. In the end, people always want to see themselves on national TV.”

“But I want to break the story! It's mine, you hear me? Mine!”

“I know it is, sweetheart,”he said, trying to calm her down. “And you will. Right now, why don't we shoot that opening segment. It's a good start.”

Chatty sighed. “This moss-minded town is driving me nuts!”

“I know it is, sweetheart. Now let's go.”

A few minutes later they had the camera set up and Chatty was looking straight into it, saying, “What do classified documents, a one-hundred-thousand-dollar payoff, and Shredderman have in common? A fifth-grade elementary school teacher, that's what. Elmo Green, who lives in this cabin in the woods in Cedar Valley, California, was taken in for questioning today after footprints led authorities from the site of an alleged espionage operation to Mr. Green's front door.”

Footprints?

Oh, no!

I'd led the police right to Mr. Green!

Chatty was still talking. “Authorities found out about the cash-for-secrets exchange when the Cedar Valley police force received a cryptic message from the mysterious 'Shredderman.' They were able to discern the location of the exchange from attached photographs, but it is still unclear whether Elmo Green is being questioned as Shredderman, or for possible involvement in selling national secrets, or both. The local police chief has confirmed that since this is a matter of national security, federal agents are now involved.”

Federal agents?

The FBI?

And she said “national security”!

Uh-quintuple-oh!

My heart was beating like crazy.

The FBI would be able to find out who owned the Shredderman site!

I had to get home!

Fast!

I did ride fast—25 … 26… 27.5 miles an hour!

But it wasn't fast enough.

As I rounded the corner and came down our street, I spotted a black SUV parked in front of my house. It looked a lot like one of the cars that had been in front of Mr. Green's cabin!

I slowed, then cut into the school, which was pretty much deserted. I left my bike out of view, then took the binoculars out of my backpack and crawled around bushes until I could see my house.

I looked through my binoculars. The SUV didn't say “FBI”on it or anything, but I could tell by the man standing next to it that it was an FBI vehicle. Partly it was the way he was standing by the car, looking at everything like a hawk. Mostly it was the
way he was dressed. His hair looked like it had been cut by an FBI barber.

His pants looked like they'd come straight from the FBI store!

And his sunglasses were black-black. Sleek.