Double Vision (9 page)

DC PACKING AND DELIVERY SERVICE

And you'll love what it said in big red letters on the glass storefront:

NOW OPEN 24 HOURS! FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE.

Thanks for mentioning the around-the-clock opening hours on the phone, Hans. I got all stressed out for nothing.

So I picked up the package from Hans, who turned out to be just some dude in a polo shirt. The box was square and had URGENT stickers all over it. It felt a little heavy.

You're dying to know what's inside, right? I was, too. But I made myself walk to the motel so I could open it in private.

While I waited for the elevator, I tried to guess what was in the box. The return address was just a place in Maryland—that told me nothing. I almost shook the box but then figured I might not want to do that. Ben was a secret agent. For all I knew, there was a weapon in there. I imagined what it might be as I rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Knives or spy equipment? Anything was possible, right?

As I got off on the fifth floor, I brushed past some bald guy in a brown leather jacket getting on the elevator. He was followed by a cleaning lady—the same woman I'd seen just before I left for dinner, with more strands of brown
hair sticking out of her hairnet.

Wasn't it a little late to be cleaning rooms? And she looked vaguely familiar—I'd seen her someplace other than the motel. But my brain was too stressed for me to remember where. She gave me a smug little smile that said
I know something you don't
.

I was about to call her out when the elevator doors shut right in front of me.

I punched the elevator call button but knew it was a waste of time. The stairs! I rushed to the stairwell and dropped my board near the door. I wasn't about to leave my Ben package, but my board, I could risk coming back for.

I raced down the stairs, clutching the box, hearing my footsteps echo off the concrete walls. Fourth floor.

Third.

Second.

By the time I reached the lobby, I knew it was too late. I waited anyway, watching the elevator doors open. But it was empty.

My mystery lady and her bald friend were gone.

Then I had a gut feeling—and it wasn't just the Tuesday Tacos. I remembered where I'd seen the brown-haired woman before: on the plane that Monday. She'd swiped my file—no doubt about that now. And that same lady had been on the fifth floor.
My
floor.

Forgetting the elevator, I rushed up the stairs, two, three steps at a time, feeling the edge of the cardboard box cut into my side. I zoomed past the second, third, and fourth floor
exits and yanked open the fifth-floor door.

I grabbed my board without slowing, feeling like my heart was going to blow up like a bomb inside my chest as I hurried down the hall.

I reached for my key card, but I didn't need it.

The door to 512 was cracked open.

Someone had broken into my motel room.

TO SAY MY ROOM HAD BEEN TOSSED
was an understatement. The mattress was leaning up against the wall, and the bottom was slashed open, stuffing sticking out and everything. Same for the box spring: You could count the coils. Dust bunnies fluttered around on the floor.

My clothes were strewn everywhere. Even the bathroom was a mess—the little shampoo bottles lay empty on the counter, with goo on the floor. The towels were trampled near the toilet. These burglars had gone bananas.

For a second, I thought it might've been Ben, looking for his box. But then I knew it had to be that cleaning lady and her accomplice.

They wanted me to know they'd been here
. Or at the very
least, they didn't care that I knew. Scratch that—they thought this was Ben's room. Not that it mattered at that moment.

I felt sick. Then I got scared. I backed out of my room, still clutching the box I'd just picked up. I thought of calling Agent Stark, Black, or even the White House Secret Service guys. But for some reason, I didn't want that. At least not right away.

First, I needed some advice from a friend.

“D
uuuu
de,” Henry whispered when he saw the mess in my room. He stood outside, refusing to go past the threshold. Like maybe the bad guys could still get him.

“Crazy, huh?” I'd called him on his phone and found out that he was staying in the room next to me. Go figure. “So you didn't hear anything?”

Henry shrugged. “Some banging and stuff. But I thought maybe you were jumping on the bed.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“What? The beds are bouncy. You couldn't blame a guy,” Henry mumbled. “Did you call Stark yet?”

I shook my head. “I guess I'd better. But I have something I don't want her to know about.” I grabbed the cardboard box that I'd set outside my room next to my skateboard and told Henry a little of the story.

When he heard about the Ben mix-up, he grinned and took the box to hide it in his room while I called Stark. It wasn't even five minutes later when she showed up at the door.

“What did you do?” Stark asked. She looked tired. But once she saw my room, she got worried instead. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I wasn't here when they broke in.”

“What did these people think they'd find?”

“Beats me.” I shrugged. “They thought it was Ben's room. Maybe they don't like the guy either.”

“I wonder if they thought you had the coat,” Stark mumbled, ignoring my jab at Ben. “Is anything missing?”

I looked around, but with all the mess, it was hard to tell. “I don't know.”

She moved around the room, then left to make a phone call. Once she got back, she had me gather my stuff, or what was left of it anyway. “You'll stay with Henry for now.”

“Like a sleepover,” Henry said, grinning. “This is awesome.”

“I have a team coming over to take care of this,” Agent Stark said. “And you're sure you didn't see anyone?”

“Positive,” I said, lying through my teeth. I was dying for Stark to leave so I could check out that box already.

I wasn't sure why I didn't tell Stark I saw that cleaning lady and her sidekick. Maybe because I was embarrassed that I didn't recognize her before I went to the White House for dinner. And maybe because I wasn't sure if I could totally trust Pandora. My conversation with Ferguson had made me a bit paranoid.

Henry fake-yawned. “Gosh, I'm really tired, Agent Stark.”

Stark squinted but then said, “You kids should get some
rest. Go on, I'll take care of things from here. Remember: We need to keep your and Ben's double status a secret. So keep a low profile.”

“Sure, yeah.” I quickly grabbed my pajamas and followed Henry to his room. Thankfully, he had two double-size beds. I'm all for rooming, but I like to have my own bed. On road trips, I have to share with Grandpa. He kicks in his sleep and yells stuff about his crime shows.

“Let's open the box,” I said. We had about forty-four hours, and I could practically hear the bomb's timer tick-ticking away. It was like all those times I was late for school, riding my skateboard as fast as I could, knowing it was already past the second bell. Only this was much worse, considering the bomb could kill the president and Amy. And if the bad dude got hold of the Washington coat before we did, he could complete his plan. Get away without a scratch.

“Man, I'm dying to see what's inside,” Henry said, handing me a pocketknife as we crouched by the box.

“I hope it's a clue. Some kind of lead.” I put the box on the extra bed, which was now mine, and told him about the missing bomb.

Henry shook his head. “The bad guy has a bomb now? Man, it's getting worse by the minute. Let's get this box open and see if it'll help.” He was crowding me to get a look inside.

“Give me some space.” Last thing we needed was for me to slice Henry with his own pocketknife. I opened the flaps and removed some packing peanuts. There was a plastic bag that I tore open. Inside was dark blue wool. A cream-colored
band of fabric, with brass buttons.

I ripped the plastic some more and pulled out a heavy coat.

“That's it,” Henry whispered. “We found the Dangerous Double!”

You didn't think it would be that easy, right? Okay, so this
was
a coat, and it did look like the George Washington one from the picture Stark showed me. But there were no telltale burn marks where the bullets bounced off.

This wasn't the Dangerous Double.

“It's a replica,” I said to Henry. At the bottom of the box was an invoice for Costumez-R-Us. Ben had paid eighty dollars for the coat and another forty for expedited shipping. “That's pricey for a fake.”

“So why did Ben order this?” Henry asked.

“Who knows?” Angry and frustrated, I stuffed the coat back inside the box and pushed the package to the ground. “It's not the Dangerous Double; that's all that matters.”

“Maybe he was trying to trick you,” Henry said as he sat on his bed. “Pass that one off as the real thing.”

I got on my bed, put my feet up, and shook my head. “Not his style. And I would find out anyway.” I stretched out and got comfortable. This was a major bummer. Of course I'd hoped to find the Dangerous Double. I wanted it to be easy.

Once my initial frustration wore off, I began to think about Ben. “What was he planning to do with this coat?”

“Who knows? But you'll figure it out,” Henry said as he got in bed. “You always do.”

For everyone's sake, I hoped Henry was right.

“Do you think I could be a field agent?” Henry asked. “You know, go hunt down clues, like you?”

“Sure,” I said, wondering where this came from. “Don't you like being the tech guy?”

“Of course I do.” Henry was quiet for a moment. “But tech guys don't get invited for Taco Tuesdays with the president and her daughter.”

He had a point. I turned off the lights. “Next time, you can be my guest.”

“Okay.” Henry sounded tired. He fell asleep almost right away. I could tell, because he did a soft wheezy thing in his sleep, like a leaky air mattress.

Me, I fell asleep not long after. And I dreamed of a ball at the White House, where everyone was wearing George Washington coats like the one Ben ordered. In the middle of the ballroom, there was a box. When I opened it, there was a ticking bomb inside.

Telling me to hurry up.

“LINC!” SOMEONE POKED MY CHEEK
.

I opened my eyes. Henry's face was so close to mine, I could count the freckles.

What a way to wake up, huh?

“Dude, give me some space.” I leaned on my elbows and realized I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. I was so tired, I'd forgotten to put on my pajamas. “What time is it?” The heavy motel curtains blocked out all the light, so there was no way to tell.

“Eight.” Henry stepped back and dangled a paper bag in front of me. “Bagels and orange juice.”

“Good.” I sat up and rubbed my face. “Those plastic-wrapped rolls in the lobby could be lethal weapons. Might make a good gadget someday.”

Henry snickered at that. He handed me my bag, then sat down to eat his own breakfast. “So did you get anywhere yesterday?”

Between bagel bites, I told him about my adventures with Amy: the International Spy Museum, the fish market, and how I was waiting for some super-secret spy to get in touch so I could track down the Culper Ring and whoever was keeping the Dangerous Double safe.

“Wow, you've been busy, huh?” Henry said.

“I should check to see if I got a message.” I called down to the receptionist and asked.

“Yes, young man,” the front desk lady answered before I even gave her my room number. “I'm sorry, but you have no messages.”

I hung up, feeling like someone set off a firecracker in my stomach.

“You know, these spies always know how to find you,” Henry said. “This person will get a message to you.”

“How do you know?”

Henry blushed. “That's how it goes on TV, right?”

We both laughed at that.

“Hey, I just thought of something,” Henry said. “You're not in your own room anymore—you're in mine. The receptionist probably looked under my room number since you called from here. What if the spy sent a message to your old room?”

“Henry, you're a genius.”

“I know,” he said with a grin.

I called the front desk, and after making the receptionist take my old room number down, she came back with my message.

“It's weird,” she said. “Are you sure this is for you? You're a kid, right?'

“Just give it.”

“‘Lincoln is still for sale, but won't last. One thousand dollars. Cash only. No substitutes.'”