Double Vision (21 page)

Ferguson leaned his hands on his knees and sighed. “Albert Black and I were partners in the CIA; did he tell you that?”

I shook my head.

“We served in Russia during the Cold War. Things got heated. . . .” Ferguson paused, and his face went dark, like he was remembering something bad. “Albert went on to do some black ops, while I moved up the ladder.” He motioned around, like he built Washington, DC, or something. “So a few months ago, I hear rumors about Pandora, a black ops team out to find mysterious artifacts.”

“Dangerous Doubles,” I said. I glanced at my phone. The call was still connected. But the plan was not in motion yet.

What was keeping Ben? I searched the crowd and thought I spotted him behind some ladies in hoopskirts.

“Dangerous Doubles—that's right. We had a file on the Culper Ring, but there wasn't much progress for decades. Until I heard this story from a friend who works black ops,
something about a George Washington coat that made you invincible.” Ferguson smiled. “It was easy after that. All I had to do was bring Pandora here to find the coat for me.”

“That lady who stole my file at the airport. You had her and that bald dude break into my room?”

“I needed to make sure I got the Dangerous Double, Ben. And that meant keeping a close eye on you and Pandora.” Ferguson shook his head. “They were a little messy about the break-in—I apologize for that. Sloppy work. You weren't supposed to know they were there.”

“It was kind of hard to miss the mess.” I tried not to get angry—I had to focus on getting Amy back. Catch Ferguson in his lies.

“The book—now that was just gravy,” Ferguson mused. “Dozens of names revealed. The whole Culper Ring exposed.”

I heard a piercing sound over the speaker system down below. “Where's Amy?” I asked.

All of a sudden, Ferguson got really close, like a snake going for its prey. “First,
where's my book
?”

I swallowed. Glanced around the Lincoln Memorial, relieved to find some familiar faces. That African American couple, pretending to study a map. The German tourists, taking pictures of the Lincoln Memorial while also snapping shots of us.
They had traced my phone signal.

And there was Ben, at the sound station. Hooking up his phone with one of Henry's cables like we'd planned.

But I also saw the lady who'd stolen my file at the airport—Amy's new Secret Service agent—and her bald guy
sidekick, who'd helped her toss my motel room. I had backup, but so did Ferguson. And something told me he wouldn't go down as easy as Steve.

“First, I want an answer. Why kill the president?”

Ferguson tossed me a death-ray stare. “This woman thought she could change the way the intelligence community does business. She was going to make me open all my files—that simply couldn't happen.”

I heard a soft thud over the speaker system, followed by a quick squeak. And I knew it was now or never.

“So you tried to have Steve blow her up,” I said.

Ferguson checked his watch. “She has a speech in about an hour.” Then he smiled and said, “I'll kill President Griffin today.”

Kill. Kill.

President Griffin.

The words echoed around the Lincoln Memorial over the speaker system.

Exposing Ferguson as Dagger.

I SAW THE AGENTS' EYES SCAN THE AREA
until all homed in on me and Ferguson on the steps. The guy was busted.

And he knew it. Ferguson jumped up but then stood frozen.

I pointed toward Ben. “See that guy? He's the real Benjamin Green.”

Ben saw me look and gave me a nod.

“All those agents out there? They know you're the real bad guy now.”

Ferguson went pale. His eyes were darting frantically.

“
Where is Amy?
” I hissed. Then I spotted them in the crowd: the two guys, the dude in the sports coat and the
muscular guy, the ones who had trapped Ben at the Smithsonian. Amy was wedged between them. They were about twenty feet away.

Thankfully, Ben and the government agents—my backup crew—saw her, too. But they were on the other side of the plaza—I had to get her away from those bad dudes!

So I jumped up, clutching my phone. Yelled over the speaker system, “Amy!”

She looked terrified. I knew our good-guy agents could get Ferguson's bad dudes, if only Amy was out of range.

“Your shoes!” I yelled, hoping she understood. I turned on the Ruckus on a Roll and held it near my phone, hoping to distract Ferguson's men. Noise bounced off the stone, surrounding us all with the blare of sirens.

Amy gave me a confused glance and looked down at her shoes. But then I saw that she knew what to do.

“Double knots!” I hollered over the ruckus. “Get down!”

And Amy dropped to the ground.

ADVICE FOR ALL THE BAD GUYS OUT
there: don't mess with the Secret Service. Or the CIA—they were all over Ferguson's bad dudes and had them in cuffs within seconds.

Amy was flat on the ground. When she saw it was safe, she got up. Stark whisked her to safety. I turned off the Ruckus on a Roll.

Ferguson didn't even try to make a run for it. The CIA agents cuffed him and took him away.

Ben was telling the Secret Service agents what happened. This was his territory. And I was happy to leave the secret agent stuff to him again. Our double status sure made for a great secret weapon—a secret I was glad to keep by scramming.

As I snuck away from the Lincoln Memorial, I was jumped by Nixon. That crazy spy Smith was here somewhere. I needed to talk to him, before he drove off into the sunset with that silver trailer.

It didn't take me long to spot him. Smith had his truck and trailer parked behind the Lincoln Memorial, in the same spot as when we first met.

Smith gave me a nod. “Nice work.” He petted Nixon. “You did okay, for an amateur kid agent.”

“Yeah, well. I had some help from an old guy.” You could do worse than having Smith in your corner.

That got me a laugh.

“Can I ask you something?”

Smith shrugged.

“Are you part of the Culper Ring?”

Smith shook his head. “I'm not part of anything, haven't been for a long time.” He hesitated. “I just hid the book at Langley, that's all.”

“Pretty smart.”

“It was only meant as a temporary hiding place,” Smith said. “I knew someone would find it if they went looking. Anyway, I'll be off here in a sec. Anytime now, they'll come and erase the witnesses' memory.”

I would like to say he was nuts, but after what I'd been through the past few days, I was pretty sure John Smith might be the smartest guy in Washington. And I needed his help with one last thing. “Will you hide this again?” I dug into my pocket and pulled out the Culper Ring book. The real one.

Smith took it. “You're giving this to me?”

“I don't know who else to trust.”

Smith nodded. He tucked it into the pocket of his faded army jacket. “I'll guard it.”

“One last question.”

“Don't bother, Young Abe,” Smith said quickly.

“You don't even know what I was going to ask,” I said.

Smith got close enough so he could whisper. Not that anyone was listening in. “You want to know if there are more of those—Dangerous Doubles you call 'em, right?”

“Right. And Wilson is part of the Culper Ring. But how about Albert Black?” I'd checked the book, but his name wasn't in it.

Smith gave me a smile and moved toward his truck. “You're gonna have to ask Black yourself.” He got into his truck and started the engine. “Good luck, Linc,” he called from the window. “It's up to you kids now to change things.”

So after I left Smith at the Lincoln Memorial, we all had pizza at the White House. It was a classic happy ending, what can I say?

Well,
almost
a perfect ending anyway.

“How is President Griffin going to explain Sid Ferguson's crimes?” Henry asked Albert Black.

Black smiled. “They'll have him do up some phony statement about retiring to spend more time with his family. And then they'll interrogate him to find out how deep this conspiracy goes.”

“You're not telling people that Ferguson tried to kill the president? Not even after the whole scene at the Lincoln Memorial?” I couldn't believe it.

“They'll just pretend it was an exercise, or they'll make up some other story to cover it up.”

“Like ‘Rats at the White House,'” I said.

“Exactly. Think about it, kid,” Black said, leaning on the table with his heft, making his plate slide against his stomach. “Ferguson has been an agent for decades. He was the director of National Intelligence. They admit he's crooked, it opens up a whole can of worms. Better to keep it in-house.”

“Better to lie, you mean,” I said, picking at the pepperoni on my pizza.

“Maybe on the news. But not where it matters,” Black said. “We caught the weasel and his sidekicks. The truth prevailed.”

“Because someone put a light on it,” I said. Okay, so maybe I didn't get the words exactly right, but I got what Smith told me at the Lincoln Memorial. That fancy George Washington quote about the truth.

“That's right. You made a difference, kid.” Black sat back in his chair. “All of you did.”

“Well, I'm super happy that the mission was a success,” Henry said, moving to slice seven in his pizza dinner.

“Affirmative,” Ben said. He wiped his hands on a napkin and looked at Albert Black. “So where do we go for our next mission, sir?”

“We'll see, kid.” Albert Black looked away.

“Let's just worry about getting you home, Linc,” Stark said, her eyes dark. “You're leaving tomorrow first thing.”

Home.
Middle school, Racing Mania Eight, and spaghetti and meatball dinners. Now that sounded pretty perfect.

“No more missions for me,” I said, raising my soda in a toast.

Ben smiled, and everyone tapped glasses.

Who needed secret agent life? Certainly not me.

Right?

“LINC!” MOM CALLED FROM THE
passenger side of the van.

“I'm right here, Mom,” I answered from the back. “No need to yell.” I was loading the hundredth dish in the trunk, on top of our bags and Grandpa's medicine box. “Why do we need to bring the whole house when we go visit Uncle Manny?”

Mom stuck bottles of water in the cup holders. “You know how your aunt never has enough dishes. And I like to cook with my own.” She closed the door and moved to the trunk,
where I was cramming paper plates in a corner. “Can you go see if Grandpa is ready to go?”

“Sure.” I was happy to get out of packing-the-van duty.

“Make sure he wears his dentures. Last time, nobody understood a word he was saying.”

I went inside, ready to deal with Grandpa and his teeth. I passed my backpack and board in the hall—it was still totally weird to think of that DC mission. The secrets, the whole saving the president thing.

Who was really behind Pandora? Were there more Dangerous Doubles out in the world?

Honestly, I didn't care. Agent Stark made good on her promise and got me a B-minus on my history test. We all got Presidential Medals of Freedom—mine was framed with a picture of me and President Griffin shaking hands after the private ceremony. I told Mom and Dad that I helped her catch a rat, which was pretty close to the truth. I had already leveled up twice on Racing Mania Nine. Life was good again, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Grandpa?” I was about to go into his bedroom when the phone rang in the hallway.

Unknown caller.
I picked up anyway, because I had that hunch.

“Linc,” Black said in his deep voice. “I hear you're going to the City of Angels.”

“Los Angeles, yeah,” I whispered. “It's the annual family reunion and food fest.” This was when the Bakers and extended family spent the weekend trying to impress one
another with their cooking skills. “Why do you ask?” But I kind of knew.

“There's a case I want you on.” Black coughed. “Couple hours of your day, tops. Happens to be right in LA.”

“Lucky me. Why should I do this, exactly?”

“We'll tell you when you get there.” And he hung up.

I should have called him back, told him to let Ben take the next case. But I needed to help Grandpa with his dentures. And Black said it was just a couple of hours, so how bad could it be, right?