Capture the Flag (12 page)

José was already nodding. “I know.”

Anna shook her head slowly. “But … we can't be sure that was the clinking I heard in the baggage room, right? Just because he had a clamp-thingy in his pocket.”

“It's not just any clamp-thingy. I've seen these before, Anna. When my mom ordered them for the flag restoration project.” José held the clamp up to the window. “This is one of one hundred fifty clamps, custom made to fit around the edges of a table at the Smithsonian Museum of American History, to secure the edges of the Star-Spangled Banner.”

“It was them,” Anna whispered. And there they were, leaning against the cinnamon bun stand way down the hall. Snickerbottom's big hat tipped back as he laughed. Was he laughing because he was about to send innocent musicians to prison? Anna shook her head. “But why would Snickerbottom do that? Why would he be involved with the Serpentine Princes?”

José shrugged. “Money?”

“He doesn't need money. He has tons raised for his campaign already.” She should know. Her father had dragged her to enough fund-raising dinners. “Besides, it's not like they can go out and sell the flag, right?”

José shook his head. “My mom deals with a lot of museums, and they worry about theft of smaller, lesser-known objects more than the big ones. Famous ones are too hard to unload.”

“And too … big.” Anna couldn't imagine anyone traveling the world with that gigantic flag in a big bag or something, trying to sell it. “So why would they want the flag?”

José shook his head and shrugged a little. “It's a treasure. But I don't know what anyone could possibly do with it. Unless they just … want it for themselves. Or maybe they have a buyer already lined up.”

“We have to tell someone, José! They might still have Sinan somewhere — and Henry, too! We have to —”

“We have to be smart,” José interrupted. “Henry and Sinan are probably fine. Maybe they're back with the orchestra or —”

“Wait!” Anna couldn't get all the pieces together in her head fast enough. “Go back. This means Snickerbottom and Snake-Arm are … working together?”

“It looks that way. But we can't prove any of it. We need evidence.”

Anna's stomach twisted. He was right. Nobody was going to believe a couple of kids — kids who'd already wandered off and gotten in trouble — over the man who was probably going to be the next president.

Then a new, awful thought occurred to Anna. “José, you need to get rid of that clamp before you get in trouble, too! Your mom's already —”

“I'm keeping this right here for now.” José slid the clamp into his pocket. “But it's not enough. We need more.”

“Ladies and gentlemen …” A loud voice came over the airport speakers. “We're pleased to report that flights will be resuming at nine
A.M
. Please check at your gate for updated departure times.”

“José.” Anna's voice shook. The pieces were coming together now. “The videotape.”

“You lost it.”

“I did. But we know where it is.” She took a deep breath. She couldn't believe what she was about to suggest, but without the camera, they could talk all they wanted and no one would believe them. “And we need to go back.”

“Attention, passengers …”

When the loudspeaker came on, Anna stopped so fast that José almost tripped over her.

“What's the matter?”

She held up a hand and tipped her head to listen.

“… Flight 2544 with service to Fort Lauderdale, departing from Gate C-12 …”

“Never mind.” Anna resumed her power walk down the hallway. “But we need to keep an ear on those announcements. We
have
to make it back to get on the plane.”

They dodged suitcases and strollers and pressed on through the crowd. It seemed as if every traveler in the airport was swarming toward the B and C gates to check their departure times. Anna and José were virtually the only ones going in the opposite direction — back toward the security checkpoint. Back to the check-in area where they'd plummeted down the chute in the middle of the night.

“Will you hurry up?” Anna snapped at José. “Couldn't you have left that dumb backpack at the gate?”

“My dad says he's tired of watching it for me.”

“It's books, José. Not a national treasure. Not some secret weapon. Just books.”

He switched it to the other shoulder and kept walking.

“Attention, passengers,” the loudspeaker voice droned. “Soon, we will begin pre-boarding Flight 2712, with service to Burlington, Vermont. Passengers with small children and those requiring extra assistance will be welcome to board at that time.”

Anna's heart sank. “We're not going to make it.”

“I'll hurry.” José dodged a custodial worker rolling a garbage can out of the ladies' room and kept going.

Anna jogged to catch up with him. “José, stop. There's no way we can —”

“Yes, there
is
. There
has
to be.” He walked faster.

Anna grabbed his arm. “It's too far. We
won't
make it back!”

He whirled around. “Look, maybe you've forgotten this, but my mom is still — I don't even know where — and this is our last chance to fix everything. We
need
that camera! We need a faster way to —” José stopped and looked wildly around the terminal. “There!” He pointed to one of the counters, where passengers swarmed around a single, swamped airline worker. One of those airport carts — the kind that made the whoop-whoop-whooping noises — sat abandoned by the gate.

“Come on!” José grabbed Anna's hand and yanked her toward the counter. They ducked down next to the cart.

“José, we can't do this!” Sneaking into baggage was risky enough; she couldn't even imagine the trouble they'd be in if they actually stole this thing.

“We'll never make it, otherwise.” He dropped his backpack into the basket thing on the back of the cart and leaned in to look at the buttons next to the steering wheel. “Okay, this makes sense. Get in.”

“José, you're acting like Henry. This is like some video game or movie stunt; it'll never work in real life. We'll get caught and then we'll never get back down there!”

“Attention, passengers. We are now ready to begin pre-boarding Flight 2712, with service to Burlington, Vermont. Passengers needing special assistance should board at this time. General boarding will begin soon.”

“Come on!” José's eyes were huge. He grabbed Anna's shoulder, pushing her toward the cart. “Get
in
!”

Anna's whole body felt like Jell-O. She couldn't do it. It was a stupid idea. It was a … a
Henry
idea, and it wasn't going to work.

“No.” She wrenched away from José and whirled around.

And there was Snake-Arm striding down the long hallway.

When he spotted her, he broke into a run.

Anna leaped into the cart, gripped José's arm, and yanked him into the seat next to her. “Come on! He's coming! Snake-Arm is coming. GO!”

José slammed the heel of his hand down onto the green button.

Nothing happened.

Snake-Arm was two gates away, dodging through the crowd.

“It doesn't seem to be working.” José's voice trembled. “Maybe the battery's dead?”

Anna pushed his hand aside and pressed the button herself. It didn't even make a sound. She pounded on it.

Nothing.

She looked up. Snake-Arm had been swallowed up in the crowd. She couldn't see him anywhere.

“Try the other button!”

José pressed the red button.

Again, nothing.

“There's this key thing, too.” José frowned thoughtfully.

Where was Henry when you needed him? He probably had a SuperGamePrism Steal-the-Airport-Cart game and would have had them zooming down the hall by now.

“Well, try turning the key! Try anything!” Anna searched the crowd again. There! Just a gate away now, Snake-Arm was pushing past a woman in a wheelchair, his eyes locked on Anna.

“So I have this turned now …” José said. “I think if we —”

“Do it!” Anna reached past him and slammed her hand onto the green button again. This time, the cart motor rumbled. “Now GO!”

José pushed the level to
HIGH
and the cart lurched.

WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOOOOP!!

“Shhh! Turn that off! We'll get caught!”

José looked down, and they nearly ran over a businessman who was texting on his phone. He leaped out of the way as Anna grabbed the wheel, and the cart careened around a corner.

Anna steered while José poked at the buttons under the wheel. “There doesn't seem to be an off button for the whooping thing.”

“Then just watch where you're going!” They were headed for the busiest part of the concourse — the food court — and if nothing else, the whooping was warning people out of the way.

Anna looked back over her shoulder. Snake-Arm was still running. Or at least trying to run. If it weren't for the thick crowds, he would have caught them already. Even so, the gap between them was closing.

“Can't we go faster?”

“I don't think so,” José said, looking down again. “I have it on high, unless there's a different control for —”

“Look out!!”

The cart clipped the edge of a soft-pretzel stand. The little man who'd been serving pretzels dove out of the way just in time to avoid being trapped when the cart teetered and tipped over. Soda cans clattered and rolled in every direction, and hot pretzels rained onto the airport floor.

“He's okay! Keep going!” Anna shouted.

Up ahead, two hallways converged, and the crowds grew even thicker. One hallway led back to the check-in area. Back to the baggage room.

“Attention passengers, we'll now begin general boarding Flight 2712 with service to Burlington, Vermont. Passengers seated in zones five and six are welcome to board at this time.”

José glanced at Anna. “What zone are you in?”

“I don't
know
! Watch OUT!”

José yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and just missed a lady with a stroller.

“It's getting too crowded!” He swerved again to avoid a little girl who was skipping backward across the hall with her purple suitcase. “We can't drive through all this.”

Anna looked back. Snake-Arm was gaining ground. “We'll have to leave it and try to disappear into the crowd,” she said. “We're smaller. We'll be able to move faster than he will.”

When they reached the intersection of the two hallways, Anna elbowed José. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Now!”

He slammed on the emergency brake, and the cart jerked to a stop. The steering wheel dug into Anna's ribs, but she leaped out anyway. “This way!” She grabbed José's hand — he pulled back long enough to yank his backpack from the cart — and they disappeared into the river of people flowing down the hall.

Anna and José darted between passengers, leaped over pull-along suitcases, and squeezed their way through the smallest gaps in the crowd. Excitement — or maybe fear — had apparently given José a burst of energy, even with his thousand-pound backpack thumping against him as he ran.

“Here's the door we need!” Anna pointed, and a strong hand clamped around her arm.

“Whoa there!” A barrel-chested man in an airport security uniform stepped in front of them. “You sure you want to be heading
this
way? If you have a flight to catch, you're not gonna have much time to get back through security.”

The loudspeaker came on again. “Flight 2712 to Burlington, Vermont. Now boarding passengers in zone four.”

“We know. We're just … getting something really quick. Our flight's not leaving for a while, and we have our boarding passes and everything.” Anna held hers up, and the guard opened the door so they could pass through.

She kept turning to look back as they hurried down the hallway, but Snake-Arm was gone.

“I still don't understand,” Anna said when her heart finally stopped turning handsprings in her chest. “Why? Why would Snickerbottom be involved with a …”

She trailed off.

And stared. The check-in area that had been so deserted before was now clogged with people.

Businessmen carrying briefcases.

Kids licking sticky lollipops.

Lines and lines of people, barely moving.

And every desk was staffed with at least two airline employees poking at their computers.

“This isn't going to work,” Anna said. “We can't sneak in now. Look at all the —”

“Quick!” José grabbed her arm and yanked her under the rope into the check-in line, dodging passengers whose patience was already stretched thin.

“Hey!”

“Where are your parents?”

“Line's back there!”

José ignored them, pulled Anna behind him, and finally dove onto the floor next to two little boys sprawled out amid four enormous green suitcases. They were playing hockey with pennies and Popsicle sticks, while their parents talked on cell phones nearby.

“What are you doing?” Anna hissed.

“You guys wanna play hockey?” the littler boy asked.

“Not right now, thanks,” José said. He turned to Anna and said in a low voice, “Don't turn around now, but they're here.”

“Snake-Arm?” Anna gasped.

“No. Snickerbottom and his guys.”

Anna peeked over her shoulder. Sure enough, men in suits and cowboy hats were weaving through the crowd, headed their way.

“We need to get out of here!” she said. Then, “No wait! We need to blend in.” She turned to the boy who'd invited them to play hockey. “Do you have any more Popsicle sticks?”

He nodded. “They're kinda sticky. Is that okay?”

“Fine.” Anna took one and glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't see Snickerbottom anymore. Where had he gone?

José took a stick, too, made a distracted swipe at the penny, and looked down the line of passengers. “There they are. They're coming right up the line, talking to people.”

“Score!” The bigger of the two boys called.

“No fair! This new guy on my team wasn't paying attention. Do over!”

“Keep your head down,” José whispered to Anna. “They're right here.”

Anna stared at her purple-stained Popsicle stick — it must have been a grape one — and pushed the penny along the polished floor, her ears perked.

“Excuse me, have you seen a young man, about so tall …” She recognized the voice immediately this time. It was behind her. Too close. “His parents are members of the orchestra group that's about to leave town, and he's apparently run off, the little dickens. We're trying to help find him.”

Anna lifted her head just enough to see their cowboy boots walking past, up to the American Airlines counter.

“… possible he never left the baggage room. Maybe we missed him,” one of the men muttered.

Then Anna heard Snickerbottom say, “We won't miss him this time.”

“Are you playing, or what?” The bigger boy shook his Popsicle stick at Anna.

She looked down and got her penny back into play, but her mind wasn't on the game. Snickerbottom hadn't caught up with Henry and Sinan …
yet
. But he wasn't giving up.

“Anna, look!” José dropped his Popsicle stick and scrambled to his feet, pointing. Snickerbottom was having a conversation with the woman at the counter, an excited, hand-waving sort of conversation. The woman motioned to the other agent behind the counter, who came over and listened as Snickerbottom talked and waved his hands around some more. He sure was making a scene. The computer was perched on the edge of the counter, and he kept nudging it with his elbow.

“I can't hear what he's saying,” Anna said. “It could be anything, so —”

There was a smash and a flash of sparks at the counter as a computer crashed to the floor. Snickerbottom was looking ten kinds of sorry and helping to pick up the pieces, but from the way he'd kept bumping into the thing, Anna guessed he had trashed it on purpose.

“Look!” José pointed to the next counter, where the smallest of Snickerbottom's three guards, the cowboy-hatted, pocket-clinking man, was drifting slowly toward the luggage conveyor belt. He looked around once, twice, crawled onto the belt, and made himself as flat as he could, as if he wanted to sink right down into it. He shot a look over his shoulder as the belt slid silently along, pulling him behind the flapping rubber strips.

“You still playing?” The littler boy tugged the bottom of Anna's pant leg. “It's your turn now!”

Her turn.

Their turn.

Anna stared at the baggage belt, the chaos up at the counter as airline workers brought out brooms and tried to calm irate passengers who were now going to wait even longer in line, and she whispered to José, “Follow me.”

It had been such a long day that kids were running all over, and nobody paid attention to Anna and José weaving through the crowd. Not even when they crept behind the American Airlines check-in area and up to the baggage belt.

“I don't care who he is. He's going to pay for that computer!” a man in an American Airlines uniform was saying. “Now where's the other broom?”

José eased his backpack off his shoulder, hugged it to his chest, and raised his eyebrows at Anna.

She nodded.

They crouched low and crawled onto the luggage belt, just before it disappeared under the rubber strips.

This time, Anna went first — down the long, dark plunge — and scrambled out of the way before José came plummeting down after.

“What in the devil!” A man in a DayGlo orange vest stood over them. He adjusted his name tag —
GEORGE MALBUT
,
US AIRWAYS BAGGAGE
. “Hey, Tom! We aren't back from break more'n a minute and look — two kids down the baggage chute!”

“We're sorry.” Anna tried to stand, but her feet were tangled in the suitcase pile. “We … needed to get something out of our suitcase.” José sat next to her, still clutching his backpack, and staring in shock. She hoped he was thinking of an idea.

George Malbut nudged the other baggage handler. “Go tell Tucker. He'll call somebody to escort 'em up to security.”

The man hurried across the room toward another worker with stripes on the shoulders of his vest. Anna was in no hurry to meet Tucker. She started scrambling down from the heap of bags.

“Hey, where you goin'?”

“Getting down before I get hit by flying luggage.” As if to prove her point, a Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase came sailing through the chute, just missing her.

José hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and climbed down beside her. “So, do you gentlemen go through all this baggage?” he asked. “It must be a fascinating job.”

“Oh, you betcha!” George Malbut's eyes lit up. “You wouldn't believe some of the things we see.”

Anna stared. Here they were, probably about to be arrested, and José was interviewing the baggage handler? When George turned to find an example of oversize luggage, José jerked his head in the direction of the big crates where they'd been before. Anna could just make out a glint of silver on the ground. Her camera!

“This one time, my buddy Sammy lifts a suitcase and hears a rattlin' coming from inside.”

Slowly, Anna backed away.

“He starts to unzip the thing, and I say, ‘You sure you wanna do that?'”

Anna ducked into a shadow under the baggage belt and looked back.

“Then Sammy screams — ‘Eeeyaaaghhh!' He throws the suitcase clear across the room, and there on the floor's a snake — three, maybe four feet long.”

“Really?” José stepped to the side to block the view of Anna. She ducked out from under the belt.

“Sammy's hopping all over like he's got fire ants in his drawers, and I thought he musta got bit.”

The concrete floor was cool and grainy under Anna's hands as she crawled toward the camera. Twenty feet away.

“So I say, ‘Sammy, did he getcha?'”

Anna crept forward. Ten feet.

“Then he knocks a golf bag on the floor and clubs fall out all over, so he grabs one and swings it over his head….”

“Wow. Did he kill the snake?” she heard José ask. She was almost there.

“Nope. Missed. One of our other guys came running in, scooped the snake up with his bare hand, and zipped it up in a duffel bag. I guess he's all into handling snakes for a hobby or somethin'.”

Anna was reaching for the camera when she heard a sniffle.

She froze.

There was a sneeze, so close she felt tiny water droplets on the back of her neck.

Slowly, she turned her head.

In the shadows between two wooden crates stood Snickerbottom's security guard.

He lifted one hand and wiped his nose.

In the other hand, he held a knife.