Double Vision (12 page)

You agree with me, I know.

But Amy didn't. “What if his life is in danger?”

“Ben's fine. He can fight his way out. Maybe he can hit the bad dudes on the head with his junior agent manual.”

“You don't mean that.” Amy gave me a disapproving look. “SOS—it doesn't get any clearer than that.”

“He'll be fine,” I repeated.

“Well, I'm going over to help him anyway. You just don't leave someone when they ask you for help.” Amy walked
away, leaving me standing there.

Steve ignored me and crossed the street behind her. He'd be no good in an emergency, that was for sure.

I had to go with Amy to protect her. I sighed. Then I started to sprint. “Wait up, Amy!”

The Smithsonian—now that sounds like one museum, right? Turns out that it isn't. The Smithsonian is actually an institute, a whole conglomeration of museums spread around the National Mall in Washington, DC. Dad could spend a week there and still not see everything.

“So how do we even know where to look?” I asked Amy, who had kind of taken charge of this Save Ben mission.

We were walking down Constitution Avenue, with the Washington Monument to our right, which was crawling with tourists. To our left, I caught a glimpse of the White House in the distance, reminding me I was running out of time to find the coat. And now I had to save Ben—talk about a waste of time.

“I don't know.”

Amy stopped and looked at me. “Didn't he tell you where he was?” Steve hung back a little farther, and he seemed really wrapped up in a cell phone conversation. For Amy's sake, I hoped he wasn't ratting her out to her mom.

“The Smithsonian, that's it.” I had tried to call Ben after the text, but it went straight to voice mail. Not a good sign.

Amy bit her lip and frowned. “You know, they keep the real George Washington uniform on display here at the
American History Museum. It's part of this exhibit on war. Could the Dangerous Double be there, too?”

It all made sense now: Ben's package, the replica of the coat. “When we were on our mission in Paris, we found the evil
Mona Lisa
in a gift shop at the Louvre. Hiding in plain sight.”

“And Ben thinks that's where the George Washington Dangerous Double is?” Amy thought about that for a second. “I guess it's possible.”

“Maybe.” Truth was, I really didn't want Ben to be right and win our bet. “But our Dangerous Double had marks from the bullets, remember? Does the coat on display have that?”

“I don't remember,” Amy said.

We took a right on 14th, then a left on Madison Drive, with the grass of the National Mall stretching to our right. I wondered if Ben could be on track after all. And if that was why he'd ordered that coat: to swap it with the Dangerous Double.

But I had his package, so why was he here at the Smithsonian? We stood in front of the American History Museum now. Steve hung back far and wasn't really paying attention to us. From a quick glance at his cell phone screen, I was pretty sure he was playing Flying Chickens. Way to be sharp on the job, Steve.

“Let's go see if we can find Ben,” Amy said. “I'll tell Steve we're going inside so he doesn't get all freaked out. She hurried over, and after they exchanged a few words, we left him on the grass of the National Mall.

I stopped her at the door. “Give me your hat and glasses.”

Amy smiled. “A disguise—smart move.”

The hat was itchy and the glasses felt kind of tight behind my ears, but I figured it was temporary. Last thing I needed was for these bad dudes to home in on me.

“You definitely look different,” Amy said, studying me.

I scratched at my neck. “Let's hurry already.”

Inside, there was a big entry hall with white stone floors. As I turned around, I could see an upper level of the museum. A big banner advertising Celebrating America's History Week hung above the banister, with a picture of (you guessed it) George Washington at its center.

Entry to the American History Museum was free, and they even let me bring in my backpack—good news, because I still didn't know how we were going to rescue Ben. My Henry gadgets might come in handy.

“The coat is on the third floor,” Amy said, showing the spot on the map once we made it past security. “We came in on the second floor, see?”

It was a little confusing, but I saw from the map that she was right—there was a level below ours. We were in Flag Hall, which was the second floor. I turned around again and saw a giant American flag on display behind a wall of glass.

“So we need to go to the third floor,” Amy said.

I hesitated. “What if it's a trick?”

“From Ben?” That's what I'd been thinking, but when she said it, I shook my head. “He wouldn't be that smart. I'm thinking more of bad dudes. Think about it: We were
followed—to the fish market, the memorial, and in the truck. I'm sure Ben has been, too. And I'll bet that's why he called: He needs us to shake his tail.” That sounded kind of gross, but you get what I meant, right?

“The George Washington coat is in the Price of Freedom exhibit—section eight on the east side,” Amy said, pointing at the number eight on the map. “If we were just visiting, I'd take that elevator right up to section eight.”

“But that's dangerous.”

Amy nodded. “You come right up by the Price of Freedom exhibit. Where Ben sent his SOS message.”

It would be too easy for the bad guys to spot us. If they had Ben trapped, they were probably near that elevator. Looking at the map more closely, I said, “Let's go to the west wing of the museum and sneak across.”

Amy folded the map. “What do we do once we get there?” We walked across the floor to the west wing of the museum.

“I have a plan.” I pulled the black knit cap over my ears.

Okay, so maybe I didn't
exactly
have a plan. But then that wasn't a first for me. Sometimes you have to let the plan come to you. And that's what I was doing as we rode the west side elevator to the third floor. I was waiting for an opportunity.

“What is the plan?” Amy whispered next to me.

“I'll find out when we get up there.”

“That's
so
not a plan.” Amy shook her head as we got off the elevator.

“Shoelaces, Amy,” I said to distract her. “Double knots.”

She crouched down to tie them.

When she finished, I said, “Let's hurry up. For all we know, those guys could make their move any second now.”

On the third floor, there were several closed-off exhibits on the left and bathrooms to the right. A hall led past the restrooms, toward the east side of the museum, where Ben was.

“Let's try to get closer to the exhibit,” I said to Amy. Using a group of tourists to hide behind, we passed the restroom area and got to the banister on the left that overlooked Flag Hall below.

“Section eight is straight ahead,” Amy said.

I pushed the fake glasses up my nose and peered around the woman walking in front of me.

Amy followed my cue. “I don't see any bad guys.”

“Maybe they're not wearing their bad dude badges today,” I said.

Amy snickered. “Okay, point taken. But how do we spot them, then?” We passed the banister and neared the exhibit.

“We'll have to go in and find Ben,” I said. From looking at the map, I knew there was only one way in and out of the exhibit. And I wondered if that's how Ben got himself trapped.

As we went inside, I seriously thought of calling the whole thing off. To be honest, part of me was hoping the bad guys would go for it. Have them take Benjamin Green. But then there was the other part of me, the part that heard Mom at the back of my head. Telling me I needed to be nice. That part of me knew I had to do the right thing.

“So where's Ben?” Amy asked. We passed a helicopter (really) with a pilot mannequin inside. I tried to see if I could spot any bad guys, but there were too many clusters of tourists.

“I don't know.” The place was dimly lit, making it hard to see beyond the crowds gathering around the exhibit pieces. “Let's find the coat; maybe he's there. Just . . .” I glanced around.

“Watch out for bad guys, I know,” Amy said.

We saw a jeep, dangling above some signs with informative stuff on them. I was trying to find Ben and scram already. The worst thing? This rescue mission was a distraction from my search for the coat.

“The coat is over there,” Amy said, pointing between the clusters of museum visitors. George Washington's uniform—that blue coat with the cream trim—was behind a glass display. But I didn't see Ben.

Amy walked toward the uniform exhibit, but before I could follow, I heard someone call my name.

“Hey, Linc!” I heard a person hiss behind me. I turned around and saw Ben. Crouched down, hiding behind the helicopter exhibit, looking stressed out.

I joined him. “Where are the bad dudes?” I asked as I crouched down, too.

I saw that Ben had a little smile on his face. And it wasn't a friendly one. He reached out and snatched the hat and glasses off my head.

“Wait!” I said, probably a little too loud. I jumped up.

But he was already off, wearing the hat and glasses. Amy was right: It was a very effective disguise.

“What's he doing?” Amy had rushed over. “Why is he running away?”

I had a gut feeling. Thought I knew why Ben left. “Never mind that. We need to get out of here!”

But as I turned around to find our way out, I saw them: a guy in an expensive-looking navy sports jacket, standing near a cannon. And another dude, wearing a black sweater that was tight over his muscular arms, standing by the jeep display. They both wore sensible secret agent shoes—a dead giveaway they were agents. But bad dude agents. They both had their eyes on me.

These were the bad guys Ben was trying to escape.

I could see the exhibit exit. And I saw Ben in his disguise as he was leaving, turning to look at me. Saluting me on his way out.

“What's he doing?” Amy asked.

My gut was right. “He's setting me up.”

IT WAS PAYBACK FOR MY PRANK PHONE
call. I knew that now. Ben saw an opportunity to stick it to me, and he took it.

My blood boiled, but then I spotted the two bad guys coming our way. And I was without my disguise. A sitting duck.

I clenched my fists. But I quickly realized that there was no time to be angry.

“Now what?” Amy whispered, spotting the guys, too.

“Now we run,” I said. “You first.”

Amy hesitated, but only for a nanosecond. She rushed toward the exit, using the clusters of visitors to hide.

I was frozen. The bad guys were now walking together
and were just ten feet away. I had to move.
Fast.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I stepped away from the helicopter. And ran right for them.

They looked confused.

I sidestepped them, darting away just fast enough to keep them from grabbing me. Sometimes, being a kid comes in handy. I rushed toward the exit, knowing that my move would only give me a slight advantage.

I rushed out of the Price of Freedom exhibit just in time to watch Amy disappear behind closing elevator doors to my left.

I ran right, back to the way we came in. My ears were buzzing, and it seemed like I could hear everything just a little better.

People laughing. A whining toddler.

I rushed for the elevator on the west side, hoping I was faster than the bad guys. But when I looked ahead, it was like a wall of people over there. There was a cluster of more than a dozen visitors, waiting to go down.

This was not good.

The bad guys were coming up behind me.

I was stuck.

Then I saw an opening. The banister to my right, overlooking Flag Hall below. It was a bad idea, I knew that. But sometimes, a bad idea is all you've got.

I started to walk over to the banister. My heart was pounding, and I felt the eyes of the bad guys on me. They were just twenty feet away now.

I unzipped the bottom pocket of my backpack and pulled out the blowup boat.

I yanked the cord as I ran to the banister.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?” someone yelled behind me.

I tossed the blown-up boat over the ledge, to the floor below. I climbed on the banister, clutching the Celebrating America's History Banner hanging from strings above me, and hesitated.

It was a long,
long
way down.

Then I felt the banner's string come loose to the left. And to the right.

So I closed my eyes.

And I jumped.

AMY WAS RIGHT. DON'T TRY THIS AT
home, in case you have some blowup boat in your garage. It was a lot like the time Daryl and I tried these cool new skateboard moves—at least I'd learned how to take a fall, which came in handy as I crawled to my feet. I'd banged my elbow.
Hard.
But the rest of me was okay.

I hurried to untangle myself from the banner—George Washington was right in my face, if you can believe it. Then, leaving my blowup boat (sorry, Smithsonian), I rushed out of the museum without a hitch.

It was a miracle, honestly.

Amy was already outside with Steve. As I walked up, I could hear bits and pieces of conversation. Bottom line: Steve was fed up with Amy's antics. He was making her walk double time back to the motel so he could get his car. And I couldn't help but feel guilty. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be running all over the place.

“That Ben is a piece of work!” Amy whispered, shaking her head, looking miffed.

Me, I was ready to run the guy over with my skateboard. I was so mad I couldn't speak.