The Alias Men (7 page)

14

FRIDAY, 9:30 A.M.

I WAS ABOUT TO CHASE AFTER LARRY,
when Floyd motioned me over. “You!”

I froze. My suspect was getting away!

“Lincoln Baker,” Floyd called. “Get yourself over here.”

I walked over, feeling like all the tourists at the barricades were staring at me. “Me? But I thought you had Ben.”

“Ben
reeeeally
stank,” Savannah muttered under her breath as I passed.

Floyd held me by the shoulders, squeezing me like my aunt Jenny likes to do. “I always knew you were the real talent here.” He smiled. “Get dressed; you're up.”

“Okay.”

“EVERYONE!” Floyd hollered. “TAKE FIFTEEN!” Then he waved his hand in a circular motion. “And Larry.”

“Yes,” Larry said right next to me. This dude was like a ninja—and now another suspect as Ethan Melais.

“Get these barriers pushed back before I kill me some tourists.”

“Yes, Nigel.”

Floyd stalked away, leaving me with Larry. Savannah was smart and had disappeared.

“Come with me,” Larry said without looking at me. “Go see Kurt in costume and Kate for makeup. Be back in ten minutes, or you're next to be axed.” And he walked away. Nice, these Hollywood people.

But at least Ben was out of the picture—literally.

I made my way back to the trailers and almost got run down by Ben. He was back in his airport gift-shop outfit and shoved a bundle of clothes in my hands. “There's only one costume for now, since they weren't prepared for twins,” he said, repeating what Kurt had told me earlier. “Take it, Baker.” He gave me a death-ray stare and then shoved me in the shoulder as he walked away.

“I can't help it that I'm a better actor than you,” I called at Ben's back. Not that I actually knew that for sure, but I couldn't possibly be as bad at it as Ben. Right?

Behind me, Kurt came out of the costume trailer and locked the door. So much for a chance to get inside and look for the Dangerous Double. This mission was turning from a breeze into a thunderstorm in a hurry.

“What are you still doing here, man?” Kurt asked me. He pointed to a small white trailer parked across from his. “Go see Kate. You don't want to get Floyd mad.”

“Everybody just chill already,” I mumbled to myself. But I did hurry over to Kate's trailer, where I found her waiting for me near a chair that looked like the one in the dentist's office.

“Have a seat,” she said.

I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat down, holding the pile of clothes Ben had given me on my lap. “Is this movie stuff always so stressful?” I asked as Kate smeared tan makeup on my cheeks and forehead.

“Not always.” She worked quickly, covering my face and neck. “It depends on the director. Floyd likes things his way.”

“No kidding.”

She stepped back and nodded. “That'll do. You can change in here if you want; I'll step outside.” Kate checked her watch. “You have five minutes to get back to the set, so you better hurry.”

“I know, I know.” I waited for her to leave and then quickly changed into my costume. I stuffed my shoes, jeans, and shirt inside my backpack. The costume pants were scratchy, and the suspenders cut into my shoulders. Plus, this makeup kind of smelled and felt like when your mom makes you wear five pounds of sunscreen. It was a good thing this movie was only a temporary gig. As soon as I caught Ethan Melais and got my hands on the Dangerous Double, I was out of here.

I hurried outside, passing Kate and Kurt, who were having some kind of serious discussion I wasn't going to stick around for. I made it to the set just as Larry handed Floyd a stack of papers.

“Great, you're here.” Floyd looked up, and seemed happy to find that the barricades had been pushed back. No more nosy tourists. “Let's get started, everyone!”

Savannah was standing near the red carpet, and straightened when Floyd motioned for her to come over.

“Linc and Savannah, you're over there.” Floyd motioned to the spot Savannah came from. “Maybe you'll be able to get this right instead of your untalented brother.”

Larry let out a small laugh behind Floyd. Even though I hated Ben, I thought that was mean.

“So what are our lines?” I asked.

Which got me the stink eye from Floyd. “You have no lines.”

Savannah snickered.

“Why not?” I asked. It was a valid question, right? I mean, wasn't I supposed to be the star here and everything?

“It's an
homage
to silent movies,” Savannah said, sounding like my English teacher when I flunked a test. “None of us speak. Didn't you see that there's no boom man?”

“What's a boom man?”

“The guy holding the microphone—never mind.”

Floyd waved his hand to our spot. “You're at a movie premiere. Just stand over there and watch the people on the red carpet.”

That seemed easy enough. And I got to stand next to Savannah, which was pretty nice, even if she did hate me.

“How did Ben mess this up anyway?” I whispered, as Floyd walked away to talk to someone inside the parked car. “I mean, all he had to do was stand here.”

Savannah sighed. “It's more than just standing. You have to imagine what your character
feels
in the moment. ‘We think too much and feel too little'—that's what Chaplin said.”

I still didn't get it. “We're just standing here. Maybe his feet were tired?”

“Never mind,” Savannah said, and straightened. She closed her eyes, obviously concentrating.

Everyone in Hollywood is a nut job. You agree with me, right?

“Quiet on the set!” Larry called. Not that it was very noisy or anything—I mean, we didn't even have any lines.

“
The Hollywood Kid
, take six,” some lady I couldn't see called.

I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Not that it mattered, because I noticed something else. The tourists, far off behind the barricades, were pointing—only not at us, but down the street. A few of them were taking pictures.

I looked to my left, to where this big guy was pointing. Past Savannah, who was busy looking sad. The crowd parted; some people were screaming.

And I saw this speeding red car. Heading straight for us.

15

FRIDAY, 10:01 A.M.

AT THAT MOMENT, I DIDN'T THINK. I
grabbed Savannah and pushed her aside. She landed a few feet away, on her behind.

And the red car kept moving toward me—even though there was no driver behind the wheel. I stepped back just in time so I wouldn't get hit.

The car kept going, until it crashed into the building, where it died on the spot. Smoke came from the crumpled hood.

“What was that?” Savannah said as she got up next to me.

“A runaway car,” I said, like it wasn't obvious. The crowd behind the barricades was roaring, and seemed to be applauding, for some reason.

Floyd looked shocked. “What the—” He said some four-letter words that I won't repeat—let's just say he was madder than my parents on report-card day.

A couple of security guards ran from inside the Chinese Theatre, looking at the building and the damage the car had caused. One of the guys threw his hands in the air.

“Oh no,” Savannah said. “The theater . . .”

“We almost got hit by a speeding car,” I said. “Who cares about the building?”

Savannah gave me a shocked look. “This is the Chinese Theatre we're talking about,” she said, like I was supposed to get it now. “The Oscars will be held here Sunday. It was built in 1927—it's a movie-history landmark!” Savannah was trembling.

So I let it go, since one of the camera guys was already calling the police. I walked over to the car, where Larry and Floyd were checking out the exterior of the theater. Of course the car was empty.

“How did it even drive here?” Savannah asked.

I peered inside, and saw something wedged against the gas pedal. It took me a second to realize what it was. “A coat hanger,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.

“Why would anyone stick a coat hanger against the gas pedal?” Savannah asked me.

“I don't know,” I lied. Because I did know what this was about.

Ethan Melais. I'd bet my Xbox and all my games that he knew Pandora was on his tail. This car was meant to hit me. Ethan Melais was trying to protect his identity, and the Dangerous Double.

The good news: This close call with a car bumper meant that I was hot on Melais's tail.

The bad news: Melais was willing to kill me to keep his identity a secret and use the Dangerous Double on Monday to get that drone-system prototype for the terrorists.

This case had just gotten really dangerous.

 

The police showed up a few minutes later and taped off the area. After they questioned Floyd and the cameraman, Larry managed to get the rest of the cast and crew out of there about an hour later without giving a statement or anything. Talking to the police might get sticky, with me working for Pandora and all, so I was happy to scram. The set was closed, and people were gathering equipment and hitching trailers to trucks, ready to go to the next location, which apparently was at the beach.

“That was scary,” Savannah said as we walked back to the trailers. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.” She laughed. “You did shove me out of the way on purpose, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did.” I guess that kind of made me a hero. That had to be a good thing with pretty girls, right?

“Well, I owe you one,” Savannah said, giving me the nicest smile in the whole world. She turned to walk the other way, probably to catch a ride or answer fan mail or something.

“Wait,” I said, not wanting her to walk away. “Maybe you can help me.”

She stopped. “Anything you want.”

I swallowed. Why was this girl making me so nervous? “You're right: I have no idea what I'm doing here.” I felt my face flush. I hoped Savannah didn't notice. “Can you help me? You know, with the acting and stuff?”

“Sure.” She smiled. “You'll be fine. Floyd is an unconventional director. He just goes to the set and waits for inspiration to strike, like Charlie Chaplin used to do. Basically, he flies by the seat of his pants,” Savannah added with a laugh.

That was pretty much my approach to Pandora missions, so I could relate. “I like that.” I laughed, and it sounded weird, like I was nervous or something.

But Savannah didn't seem to notice. “If you want, I can give you a ride to the next location.”

“Sure,” I said. “But aren't you a little young to have a car?”

“What did you think—that I'd take the bus?” She laughed. “I have a driver, silly.”

Of course she did. This was Hollywood.

“We'll head out after lunch, at noon. I'll see you then.” Savannah smiled, and she was off.

“Savannah's nice, huh?”

I turned, only to look at my mirror image in a lame I Love LA shirt. “What are you still doing here, Ben? Didn't Floyd kick you off the set?”

“For now.” Ben crossed his arms. “You are forgetting the objective here, Baker.”

“Identify Ethan Melais and retrieve the Dangerous Double—I remember just fine.” I was about to tell him about the incident with the runaway car but then changed my mind. I didn't want to give him the advantage. Because there was a clue, one that might reveal Ethan Melais's identity. And I wasn't about to share it with Ben.

“Well, you're getting some help on the mission,” Ben said. “Your little friend Henry is here with his gadgets.”

“Henry is here?” I suddenly felt a whole lot better. Henry is this brilliant kid who invents these super-handy gadgets for Pandora so I can ward off the bad dudes. Henry is a genius, and also a really great friend.

“He's inside that crepe stand.” Ben pointed past the trailers, where a camper converted into a food truck was parked. Crepes-to-Go, it said on the side. The serving window was closed, which was a bummer, because I was pretty hungry. Around us, everyone was packing up to move to the next location. “I'll leave you to it,” Ben said with a nod. He started walking off, and I actually felt a little bad for him.

“You can come,” I said, regretting it as I spoke. I mean, I hated the guy.

Ben stopped and turned. He shook his head. “I don't have time for extracurricular activities. I have a lead to follow up on.” What a windbag.

“You have a lead?” I asked.

Ben just gave me a half smile. “Good luck with your gadgets.” He turned and walked away.

Whatever, I thought as I walked over to the food truck. I had a lead of my own. Because the red runaway car that Melais sent to kill me had a clue: that clothes hanger. Ethan Melais could be the costume designer, Kurt.

Of course there was Larry—he was a good suspect too. Smelling minty, just like that dude who broke into one of Floyd's bedrooms.

But the clothes hanger was the strongest clue right now. So Kurt was suspect number one, with Larry as a backup. Now all I needed was proof—the Dangerous Double. And Henry's inventions would help me find it, and catch the bad guy, no doubt.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that it wasn't until I reached the Crepes-to-Go truck that I spotted someone out of the corner of my eye. A person, behind me, trailing me—I could feel it in my gut now, too. Like at school, when someone is trying to cheat off your paper or something.

I was being followed.
I turned around,
fast
.

And stared right at my stalker.

16

FRIDAY, 11:45 A.M.

OKAY, SO MAYBE THIS PERSON WASN'T
a stalker,
exactly
. It was just Kate.

“I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you.” She laughed and handed me my backpack. “You left this in my trailer.”

I took my backpack and realized my hands were shaking a little. Clipped to my bag, Dad's compass bounced around, sending the dial spinning. “Jeez, you're like a ninja.”

“I try,” Kate joked. Then her face got serious. “Are you okay? I heard about the runaway car on the set.”

I nodded, and put on my backpack. “I'm fine. Probably just an accident,” I lied.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Sure, yeah.”

Kate nodded, but she looked worried. “Nigel brushed it off so easily, but you could've gotten killed, Linc!”

Like I needed reminding. “So I guess we're moving to another location?” I asked, changing the subject.

Kate nodded, and checked her watch. “Better get a move on.” She stepped back and smiled. “Just don't hesitate to ask if you need help, okay, Linc?”

“Sure.”

“Enjoy the crepes. I'll see you on the beach.”

“Yeah, sure.” As nice as the beach might sound, I couldn't wait until this mission was done. I waited for Kate to be out of sight before opening the door.

Inside the food truck, the kitchen showed no signs of crepes being cooked, unfortunately for me and my growling stomach. Stark looked up from the tiny counter, where she had a map of the US spread out. She gave me a little nod. Black didn't even move his eyes away from the map. He looked even grumpier than normal.

But I didn't worry about him. Because to the left of the kitchen was a banquette, and sitting on one of the benches was my pal Henry. He jumped up when he saw me. “Linc!”

I tossed my backpack aside. We fist-bumped, and then he gave me a hug. Henry doesn't care much about being cool, which makes him the coolest guy I know.

“So good to see you, man,” I said. There was a black backpack on the small table, and I pointed to it as I sat on the bench across from him. “What's this?”

Henry grinned. “Gadgets for you.” He wiggled his freckled nose to push his black plastic-framed glasses up. “But first, I want you to tell me what it's like to be in the movies.”

“It's just . . . weird,” I said, and shrugged.

“That's all you've got?” Henry sounded disappointed.

“I've only been in one scene, and it got pretty messed up.” I told him about the runaway car, and how it almost hit Savannah and me.

“You think someone did that on purpose?” Henry whispered.

“No one wedges a hanger against a gas pedal by accident,” I said. “So yeah.”

“Ethan Melais is trying to kill you—that's bad news. What if he succeeds?” Henry mused. His thinking out loud was not helpful. “Do you have a list of suspects?”

I told Henry about my suspicions of Kurt having the hat, and how with the clothes hanger being used, he was obviously Ethan Melais.

“Sounds like you already have your bad guy. You don't need my help.” Henry looked defeated.

“I always need a gadget.”

Henry perked up.

“Let's see them,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic. Truth was, Henry's gadgets had saved me more than once on these unpredictable Pandora missions. So I was really happy he was here.

Henry reached inside the backpack and pulled out a wooden box. He opened it and took out a black watch. “I know this looks kind of boring, but Agent Stark wouldn't let me pick a colorful one to modify.” Stark was too busy talking to Albert Black to hear us. Henry leaned on the table to show me the face of the watch. “There's a button on the side, see? Normally, you would use it as a stopwatch. But I made it so it deploys a bulletproof force field.”

“No way!” I tried to reach over to touch the watch, but Henry pulled away.

“It only works if you push the button twice, and you can only use it once. Got it?” He gave me an urgent stare.

“Push button twice, use it once—got it,” I said.

“Your bulletproof force field is three square feet, and it only lasts thirty seconds, so . . .”

“If I get shot at, I should scram in a hurry.” I couldn't believe I just said that. Dudes shooting at me? That was the stuff of Grandpa's crime shows. “Hopefully, I won't need it.”

“I call it the Three-by-Thirty—get it?” Henry likes to name his gadgets—it's a little silly, but sort of fun, too.

It took me a moment, but then I got it. “Three square feet, thirty seconds—Three-by-Thirty, of course.”

“I should really get my work patented,” Henry mused. He put the watch back inside the box and reached inside the backpack again. He showed me two long plastic straps.

“These look like those magnetic-bracelet things,” I said. I'd seen the girls have them at school. You snap them over your wrist.

Henry nodded. “Except that if you slap these bracelets around someone's wrists, they click together and become a super magnetic cuff.” He straightened. “I call it the Instacuff.”

“Won't they go off by accident?”

“You have to snap them pretty hard,” Henry said. Then he grinned. “I'll put them in the front pouch, to be safe.”

“Smart.” I was really good at getting into trouble. Last thing I needed was to cuff myself during this mission.

“I made you two Instacuffs, in case you have extra bad dudes. You can undo them with two magnets on either side of the cuffs—I'll put them in here too, okay?” Henry put the Instacuffs and the magnets in the front pouch.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Also, I brought an old favorite.” Henry dug inside the backpack and pulled out a small tablet, like an iPad, one I recognized from my first mission.

“The Double Detector.” The tablet camera scans the area and finds items that are a certain temperature—twenty-point-two degrees Celsius. During our mission in Paris, Henry had found that that was the heat signature of a Dangerous Double. “The Double Detector will come in handy. It seems like this town is full of Charlie Chaplin bowler hats.”

“I heard you found one at Sterling Studios,” Henry said.

I flustered. “Yeah, that was kind of embarrassing. It was made in China.”

Henry shrugged. “Honest mistake.” He always knew how to make me feel better. “Oh, and I have one more gadget for you.” He zippered the backpack and slid it across the table. “Lift it.”

I did. It weighed next to nothing. “Whoa, what's this made out of?”

Henry smiled. “I developed a new fabric, with tiny helium bubbles in it. The backpack can be a flotation device—pretty cool, huh?”

“Very cool. And you added straps for my skateboard.”

“Wouldn't let you leave home without your board, Linc. Now all I need is a name for the fabric. . . .” Henry sat back, musing.

Albert Black folded the map and came over to the table. “I see you two are all done getting geared up. Now I want an update on this car crash. I saw the police and heard the crew talking. I want your side of the story.”

I told him about the runaway car. “It has to be Ethan Melais—he knows I'm onto him. So now he's trying to kill me to protect his identity and keep the Dangerous Double.” As I said those words, I felt a little droplet of sweat go down my back. This was serious business.

“Good,” Albert Black said, leaning on the small table.

“Good?”
I thought I was hearing things. “Someone tries to kill me, and you think this is a good thing—seriously?”

“Put some pressure on the guy. If he's panicking, he's more likely to expose his identity.” Black grinned. “Maybe you can spread the word that you know who he is. Maybe he'll come after you again, so we can catch him. Set a trap.”

Stark frowned behind him as she tucked some papers in a file, but didn't speak up.

“Back to work, kids.” Black stood. “Henry will be looking at the security footage from Sterling Studios, see if he can spot Ethan Melais stealing the Dangerous Double. Maybe we can identify him.”

“They just gave you the footage?” I asked.

Henry snickered. “No need. We're borrowing it from their computers.”

“You hacked in? Nice,” I said. Henry had more talents than I realized.

“I didn't get into their system yet, but I should have access in no time,” Henry said, cracking his knuckles.

“And you'll be making crepes?” I said to Stark and Black.

“This is just a cover, kid, so we can hang around the set,” Black said with a dark look. “I only reheat stuff in the microwave. You, Stark?”

“Strictly takeout, sir,” Stark said with a nod. To me: “Agent Black and I will be coordinating the relocation of the other artifacts.”

“Why?” I asked.

Stark gave me a tired and worried look. “With the Chaplin hat unsecured, we can't take any chances. We have to make arrangements to hide Pandora's other Dangerous Doubles from our warehouse.”

This was the first I was hearing of a warehouse. “How many Doubles are there? And where's this warehouse?”

Black slapped the table. “That's not your concern. Let's just say there are more than ten and less than a thousand.”

I almost rolled my eyes, but figured that would just get me into trouble.

“And the warehouse location is top secret,” Black went on, “but with so many dangerous artifacts in one place, we can't risk Melais getting in with the Chaplin hat.”

“The Einstein time-travel vortex in a jar alone . . . ,” Stark mumbled.

Black slapped the table again and gave her the stink eye. “Point is, we'll be busy. Too busy to chase this con man. And since you managed to get cast in the movie, you have the best chance of catching the guy. So you need to find Ethan Melais and the Chaplin hat.”

I got up. “Okay, I guess I better get to the next shooting location.” I transferred my stuff to my new super lightweight backpack. I strapped in my board and clipped Dad's compass to it. The new backpack felt strange, like it belonged to a real junior secret agent, not a regular kid like me.

“Watch your back,” Stark said as I left the Crepes-to-Go trailer. “Melais is ruthless.” She closed the door before I could respond.

“Thanks for the tip,” I said to no one. I adjusted my new backpack's straps, checked my phone, and realized I was late for my ride with Savannah to get to the set. That's when I spotted her, standing near a bright white Cadillac.

“There you are!” she said. “I've been waiting here forever.”

“Sorry.”

“Come on, get in.” Savannah opened the passenger door and got in first, sliding across the seat so I could join her. “Those crepes must be good.”

I laughed. “Yeah. They're the stuff of legend.” Then I realized: I never ate lunch. This was going to be a long afternoon.

There was a guy in the driver's seat, wearing a black suit. I buckled my seat belt as we pulled away from the trailer and passed a blue car. It was a compact that looked familiar, but it took me a second to realize.

It was the woman I saw yesterday.
The lady with the short silver hair—she was fake-studying her map. Again.

I craned my neck to look out the back window. Just in time to lock eyes with the lady.

What was she doing here?