Double Vision (8 page)

Then with a sharp left, he took an alleyway, making us bounce on the cobblestones. The alley was so narrow, it was a miracle Guillaume didn't lose his side mirrors.

A sharp turn made the tires squeal, and I was pretty sure we tipped onto the two right wheels for a second there.

“Who
are
those guys?” I asked Agent Stark. But before she could answer, I saw the flash of red behind us. Guillaume must've seen it, too, because he revved the engine. He drove through someone's clothesline, sending a blue shirt and a pair of men's white underwear flying over the windshield.

I thought we were flying, faster and faster, until we headed straight for a giant building.

We were going to crash!

GUILLAUME SLAMMED THE BRAKES
,
missing the building in front of us by no more than a hair. “And here we are,” he said as the car skidded to a stop, making me glad I was wearing a seat belt. There was a tall wooden door in front of us. The fancy golden sign dangling to the side—
La Princesse
—told us we'd arrived.

I looked down the larger thoroughfare that was just to the right of the hotel. But no red sedan. Guillaume had managed to lose those guys, whoever they were.

Agent Stark looked very pale as she got out. “Well, thank you, Mr. Guillaume.”

“No problem.” Guillaume smiled as he unloaded our bags. “Paris traffic, it's a little wild, right?”

Agent Stark nodded, paid him, and took his business card. “Thank you again.” She was scanning the roads, too, but there was no red sedan. We were safe.

Guillaume handed me a card, too, which was weird, me being a kid and all. “You need a driver, you call me, okay?” He flashed me a smile. “I'll help you anytime.”

I tucked his card in my pants pocket. “Thanks.” And he was off, leaving a trail of cranky drivers behind. I looked up to find Agent Stark propping the door open for me. “Come on.”

“Who do you think those guys in the red sedan were?” I asked as we went inside.

“Don't worry about that,” Agent Stark snapped. “We'll handle it.”

The lobby was small and dark, and the lady behind the counter smiled when she saw us come in.

“Hi, I'm Benjamin Green,” I said, using my serious Ben voice.

“But of course you are.” The lady looked at me like I was her best friend. “It is always good to see you, Monsieur Benjamin.”

“Just wait over there while I get the keys and have them take care of our bags,” Agent Stark said, gently pushing me aside.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” the receptionist lady asked, like I was her favorite guest. I thought I could get used to the special treatment.

Inside the elevator, Agent Stark swiped her room key card and punched the P button.

“Only Pandora agents can get to the Penthouse,” she said, handing me my room key card. “If you need to come up, just use this.”

“We're going to the Penthouse now?”

Agent Stark nodded. “Henry is waiting for you with your gear. We're running behind schedule.” It figured that she was one of those people who hate being late. Me, I get there when I can, but now that I was Ben, I was probably going to have to watch the clock.

The elevator did its little ding, and the doors opened right into the penthouse. It looked huge, almost as big as the Lompoc Middle School gym. A big guy in a Hawaiian shirt motioned for Agent Stark to join him as he walked down a hallway, so off she went. I wasn't introduced, and just stood there glancing around at the near-empty room. Dining chairs were stacked against the wall next to the elevator, leaving only a sitting area and a really long dining table with a flat square box on it. “Hey, Linc, you made it!” Henry got up from behind the dining table.

“Like I wouldn't?”

“Come on,” Henry said, motioning me to join him. Behind the box, he had a big black backpack—
my
old backpack. With Dad's compass still attached to the loop.

The fabric looked cleaner. “What did you do to it?”

“Check this out.” He reached inside the pack and pulled out a device that looked like a phone, along with a small, black plastic box. He pushed the red button on the side of the device, and it lit up. “This is a tracking device.” The screen showed a map, with a bunch of red dots clustered together. Henry handed it to me.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked, looking at the red dots. They weren't moving.

“Just wait,” Henry said with a glint in his eye. He opened the small plastic box and took out a stack of—

“Stickers?” They had little Eiffel Towers on them and said: J'aime Paris. I guessed that means
I Love Paris
.

“Not just any stickers.” Henry took one, and ran across the penthouse hotel room. “Is it moving?” he called from another room.

I looked at the red dots. “Not really.” But then one of the dots slid away from the others. “Wait, is that you?”

“Yup.” Henry walked back, grinning big. “Cool, right? There's a tracking mechanism in there, so thin, I was able to work it into a sticker.” He took the other stickers and put them back in the box. “I only had time to make three, so don't go crazy out there.”

“I promise to control my sticker frenzy.”

Henry took the tracking device, turned it off, and slid it into the backpack, along with the plastic box of stickers. I wasn't sure who I was supposed to track with those, but then it couldn't hurt, right? Henry pulled out another device, which looked suspiciously like a simple voice recorder I'd seen Mom use for schoolwork. “Say something,” he said, pointing the thing in my face.

“Uhm, hello?” I pulled away and heard the recorder spit out in a fancy lady's voice, “
Bonjour
?”

“It's a translator,” Henry said, all excited. “It translates stuff from English to French.”

I took the recorder, which was pretty light. “You made this?”

Henry waved dismissively. “No need, you can buy these things off the internet. It comes with earbuds, in case you don't want everyone else to hear what it translates.” He handed me a cheap set of buds, like the kind that came with my MP3 player. “Oh, one more thing: the battery life on this thing is terrible. So don't keep it running unless you really need it.”

“I'll remember that.”

Henry turned off the translator and tucked it into my backpack. “Most people in Paris speak English, so you probably won't need it a lot.”

Next, Henry pulled a container that looked like a tube of lip balm out of the front pocket. “Now this is really cool. I call it the Tickstick.” He put the container, which looked very ordinary, between his thumb and index finger. “See that seal?” He carefully moved the Tickstick until it was just inches away from my face. There was a sticker taped over the cap, to seal it, like when you bought one new at a store.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“When you twist the cap and break the seal,” he whispered, looking right into my eyes, pausing dramatically, “BOOM!”

I jumped.

Henry relaxed and put the Tickstick back into the little front zipper pocket. “Well, not until ten seconds later anyway. So you have to run once you twist the cap.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. This junior agent gear was beginning to worry me a little.

“That's why I call it the Tickstick, see? It ticks like a bomb but looks like a lip balm.” Henry looked proud.

“Very smart.”

“Just don't go blowing up the Eiffel Tower, all right?”

“I'll try not to. I mean, it's not like I'll actually
need
any of this, right?”

Henry didn't answer but just zipped up the backpack. And handed it to me. “Agent Stark had me build in a parachute. You have to open this flap.” He pulled a flap of fabric to the side of the pack, exposing a red cord. “Pull this really hard. You should probably only do that if you're, like, really high up in the air.”

“You think?”

He reached under the big table and pulled out my skateboard—
my
skateboard! The one I rode to get to school, to Daryl's house, to anywhere. “Agent Stark told me you liked your skateboard. So I created a way to carry it with you, see?” Henry quickly fastened a Velcro strap around the board, attaching it to the backpack, wheels out. “Now you can take it everywhere.”

I took the backpack from Henry, surprised by how heavy it felt. “Thanks, Henry.”

“I wish I was coming with you,” Henry said.

“No, you don't.”

“You're right. I'm actually looking forward to getting you some more gadgets.” He did look very happy. “Go kick some Drake butt. Get this Jacques Mégère back. Save your family from legal battles. Save the world.”

I was about to tell him I wasn't ready, and I had no idea what I was doing, when Agent Stark showed up. “Time to go.”

“Where?”

“To the meeting place for the exchange. It's time for you to be Benjamin Green.”

AGENT STARK GRABBED THE FLAT BOX
and we took the elevator, leaving Henry to tinker with his next gadget. Once the doors closed, she showed me a map with an X on it, south of a bridge. “This is where you're meeting: the Pont Neuf. It's a big tourist spot. We chose it so you'd be in a safe, public place. You have an hour to get there, which should be plenty of time.”

“Right to work, huh?” No after-airplane naps for me. “Okay.” I reached to grab the map, but Agent Stark shook her head. “What, is this classified?” I asked.

“Benjamin Green was trained to know Paris, so Drake will expect you to know your way.”

“Of course. But I don't.”

“A good agent can memorize a map.” Agent Stark's shoulders slumped. “Just try, okay? The cab will drop you nearby, but you'll need to walk this street to get there.” She tapped the map with her index finger. “The meeting point is on the bridge, but keep an eye out in case Drake shows nearby.”

“All right.” I looked on the map, and tried my best to memorize the route. Maybe my compass would help—the bridge was southwest of the Princesse. Trying to sound Ben Green confident, I said, “So where's this painting?”

Agent Stark handed me the rectangular box with a handle. “It's big, but you should be able to carry it. Drake is expecting Benjamin Green, no one else.”

I was surprised by the painting's weight. “It's heavy.”

“You won't have to go far.” Agent Stark handed me a phone. Pretty cool, since my parents never let me have one because it was too expensive. “Henry programmed this phone to receive calls to Benjamin Green's number. When Ben went missing, he had his cell phone on him, but it went dead, so … Well, anyway, Drake knows the number, so you should have it on you in case he calls.” She slid the phone inside a case that clipped to my belt, and I thought I saw the slightest tremble of her hand. “Don't try to be funny or smart or creative—you get me?”

“No Lincoln Baker, got it. I'm Benjamin Green.”

“Don't give them the painting until you have Jacques Mégère. Without him there's no deal for you.”

“Got it.”

Agent Stark walked me out, and put me into a cab—not Guillaume's. “Before you go: watch out for this girl.” She showed me a photo of a skinny girl in faded jeans, with brown hair in a braid down her back.

“That girl looks worried.” I actually felt a little sorry for her. “Who is she?”

“This is Françoise Mégère, Jacques's thirteen-year-old daughter. Her mother, an American, died when she was young.” Agent Stark sighed. “The reason we recruited Benjamin Green—a kid her age—was so he'd befriend her and she'd tell him the evil
Mona Lisa
's location. That didn't work.”

Thinking of how much I hated the guy, I was happy. “I take it Françoise and Ben didn't become best buds.”

Agent Stark pointed at Françoise. “You'll want to keep an eye out for this girl. She's very … determined to get her father back. She could mess up the exchange.”

“How?”

Agent Stark didn't answer my question. “Just keep an eye out for her.” She tucked away the photo, told the cabbie where to go, and wished me luck.

I kept the box on the seat next to me and I glanced around, checking traffic. After being followed by that compact red sedan, I was feeling a little paranoid. But it was a quiet ride. The cabdriver dropped me off on a street corner south of the bridge, and that was it. I was on my own, with this weird box and my skateboard.

This Pont Neuf was really something: white stone, huge arches, and ornamental carvings. Dad would've loved seeing it. Good thing the painting box banging against the back of my legs reminded me why I was here:

Get Jacques Mégère.