Double Vision (17 page)

The mission was a failure. We were all going home.

I followed Agent Stark into the conference room, but I didn't get far. Someone slammed me into the doorjamb. Benjamin Green—but you probably guessed this.

“You grade-A amateur!” He was right in my face.

“Dude, say it, don't spray it.” I made a show of wiping my face. To be honest, I was just trying to get away from his bear claw of a grip.

“Agent Green,” Agent Stark scolded as she sat at the table. But she didn't get up to help me out or anything.

Ben held on to my shirt a moment longer, giving me a death ray. But he obviously never met my mom. His stare-down was a joke compared to hers, so I wasn't about to back away. “You actually managed to lead the enemy to the
objective,” he snarled. “That is
beyond
mission failure.”

“You didn't exactly perform so great either, showing up after the fact, now did you?” I pushed him away. “At least I found the coat.”

“And you handed it to the enemy while putting the first daughter in danger.” Ben crossed his arms.

“She chose to join me, you know.” I sat down at the table, a few seats away from Stark. “And she's a hundred times the secret agent you are.”

Ben practically had smoke coming out of his ears he was so mad. “You set me up to take the fall for your dumb break-in at Langley.”

“Oh, that was just a bonus,” I blurted out. “See, unlike you, I actually had a mission strategy. What did you think you were going to do with that fake George Washington coat: use your magic wand to turn it into a Dangerous Double?”

“SILENCE!” Albert Black's voice made the conference table shake. And me, too, if I'm honest.

Henry scurried in behind Black and sat next to me. He looked like he was about to cry.

Black slowly walked to the head of the table. He leaned on it and looked at Agent Stark. She looked back at him, and her whole face was a question mark. Black dropped his eyes to his big hands, like he was counting his fingers.

It was so quiet, I was afraid to breathe. Henry sniffled next to me.

Albert Black took a breath. He kept staring at his hands, like maybe they would magically fix everything at the last minute.

Ben shifted, still standing with his arms crossed.

“You all know why I called you here,” Black said, his voice deep and tired. “The mission was . . . a stretch from the start.” He looked up at each one of us.

Then he slammed the table. Making everyone jump.

Next to me, Henry made a squeaky noise.

“You're all dismissed,” Black said, no longer leaning on the table. “The mission was a failure. We're done.”

“Permission to speak, sir!” Ben said from his corner of the room.

“There is nothing left to talk about, Green.” Albert Black pointed to the door. “Pack up. Go home.”

“But the coat is still out there!” Ben yelled. He'd now completely lost his whole super-junior-agent cool. He looked like any other twelve-year-old when an adult put the hammer down. Me, I knew a lost argument when I saw one.

Black walked out in big steps, shoulders stooped. Whatever Pandora was, his operation was a failure. Albert Black looked like a guy who'd just gotten a report card full of Fs.

Ben stomped out, trying to catch up with Black.

Henry sniffled next to me.

“Dude, you can't be crying,” I said as I watched Stark get up.

“I'm not,” Henry whispered. He exhaled, and I hoped that meant he was pulling himself together.

“Your flight leaves tomorrow at seven,” Stark said from the doorway. “The cab will pick us up at five. Don't—”

“Don't be late,” I said, finishing her sentence. “I know.”

She smiled. “I was going to say, don't feel bad. This
mission was near impossible from the start. You kids just got caught in the crossfire.”

Agent Stark's words were still ringing in my ears as Henry and I sat in his room, having chocolate chip cookies and hot cocoa that we snatched from the lobby.

Don't feel bad.
Like that was possible.

The cookies were better than the pastries, but I couldn't eat. The mission failure sat in my stomach like cheap birthday cake. I hung out near the window that was painted shut, watching the cars below zoom by. And there was a truck, parked a little ways up the street. Far enough away from the entry not to be spotted but close enough so the driver could keep an eye on things. That driver was John Smith, of course.

He was wasting his time. The case was closed.

I'd called home and got reamed out by Mom for not checking in on Wednesday. Then she asked me if I was eating well and if President Griffin was nice. I lied and told her we had vegetable stir-fry for dinner the night before. She asked about the Junior Presidents Club and that dumb certificate. I lied some more, saying I was getting it tomorrow.

I hung up knowing Mom was happy, but feeling like a total loser myself.

“This is so wrong,” Henry said as he stuffed a whole cookie in his mouth. “Wht mbt Aym?”

“What?”

He washed down his cookie with some hot cocoa. “What about Amy?”

I shrugged and walked away from the window.

“This Steve guy is going to wear the coat, isn't he?” Henry took a bite of another cookie, getting more hyper from the sugar. “He's going to take his bomb and go to the ball tonight.”

“You don't know that.”

But Henry was on a sugar-boosted roll. “Steve is going to take that bomb and set it off. Kill the president, and Amy.”

“Henry, calm down.”

“I'm not going to calm down!” He tossed his half-eaten cookie on the bed, sending crumbs flying. “This is our fault for not seeing Steve for the evil dude he was.”

I couldn't really argue with that. It never occurred to me that Steve behaved so strangely because he was the mole. I wiped the crumbs off my bed. “My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow evening.” I checked the clock—it was just after noon. “We have almost seven hours until the ball.”
Until Steve would blow up the White House and everyone in it
.

Henry sat back down on his bed. “So what are we going to do?”

I looked around the room for an idea, something to tell my freckly friend. And then my eyes found it.

Ben's box, the one with the George Washington coat in it.

I smiled. “Are you ready to party, Henry?”

THE HOT DOG STAND OUTSIDE THE VISITOR
center owed me a frequent customer discount or something, because I went there for lunch again. This time, I was with Ben. It was busy at the vendor, so I left Henry to wait in line while I told Ben about my plan.

We stood near one of the concrete planters, away from other people. I scratched at the knit hat and pushed the glasses up the bridge of my nose. This getup was a real pain, but necessary to keep our double status a secret.

“Let me get this straight,” Ben said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear. He was wearing a tracksuit and gym shoes, like I caught him in the middle of
one of his secret agent workouts. “You want me to disobey orders.”

“No,” I said slowly, trying to think of a way to sell my plan to him. “Our orders were to save the president and her family, remember?”

Ben crossed his arms. “Albert Black told us to go home.”

“And we will!”

Ben punched me in the arm. “Keep your voice down!” He glanced around, but the tourists were all busy eating their hot dogs. Henry watched us from his spot in line—there were four people ahead of him. I was still amazed that his upset stomach at the CIA didn't stop his appetite for hot dogs.

I leaned closer to Ben so he would be sure no one else could hear. “Look, we'll go home like Black said. But that doesn't mean we can't continue our mission and try to save the president and her family.”

Ben thought about that. He frowned. “But wasn't the mission canceled?”

“Black said that the mission was a
failure
, but he said nothing about it being over.” I was an expert at working within the limits of the rules—even if I was pretty sure I was pushing it. “Why not try to make the mission a success?”

“How do I know this is not just another trap?” Ben asked.

“You don't,” I answered honestly. “You'll have to go with your gut—if that's something you even know how to do.”

Ben uncrossed his arms. “We both have the same objective.”

“Save the president and her family, that's right.”

His frown faded, and I knew I had him.

“Imagine if we can get the Dangerous Double,” I whispered, watching Henry move up in line. “The mission would be a success, right? And we'll get those medals from the president.”

That sealed it for Ben. “Okay, so what's your plan?” he asked.

I forced myself not to smile. “Tonight, at the ball, you go in as part of Amy's protection detail. Just tell Secret Service it was planned that way. Last-minute orders, blah blah.”

Ben nodded. “That should work.”

“Henry and I will find our way in.”

Ben frowned. “Your plan is to sneak inside the White House?”

“We'll all wear costumes, so we blend in,” I said. “We need the element of surprise—and we have one.”

“Our double status, correct?” Ben asked.

“Exactly. Steve will be looking for the president and Amy, since they're the target. You'll be there to watch out for her. Steve will feel confident knowing where you are—he doesn't know there are two of us.”

“Copy that,” Ben said.

My plan was to just catch Steve at the ball and stop him—not the best idea, but it was what I had. Like Wilson said: Sometimes, simple is best.

“We can't give up,” I said as I saw Henry approach with a tray of hot dogs. “Amy's life depends on it.”

Ben nodded. “Agreed. I'll see you tonight, then.”

“So you're in?” Henry asked just a little too loudly.

Ben gritted his teeth and got up in Henry's face. “Yes. Now keep it down!”

“Okay, okay,” Henry said, taking a spot at a planter's edge. “You want a hot dog?”

“No.” Ben gave him a disgusted look. “Do you know what they put in those things?” He went on to tell us—not that it mattered, because Henry just took bigger and bigger bites in defiance.

I couldn't eat. Not because of Ben's speech, but because of what I knew was coming.

I had to catch Steve, the guy with the bomb and the George Washington invincibility coat.

And there were only six hours left.

I ended up watching Henry eat four hot dogs and two bags of chips, washing it down with two sodas. The guy was like a bottomless pit. He threw out his trash and waited for me to join him.

But I saw a familiar truck. Smith—he was parked just up the street.

“I think I'll just stay outside a little while longer,” I said from my spot on the edge of the concrete planter outside the visitor center.

Henry shrugged. “Okay. I'll go back to the motel, since my lab space is gone. I'll print out some maps of the White House and work on tracking down those costumes.” He left me, letting out a belch as he crossed the street.

I got up from my spot and casually walked over to Smith's truck. Went in on the passenger side. I had to push against Nixon, who seemed to think he deserved the seat more than I did.

“Heard you lost the Dangerous Double,” Smith said. He gave me his death-ray glare. “After I practically handed it to you by leading you to the book. The Culper Ring kept that coat safe for over two hundred years!” Some spittle flew in my direction. It landed on Nixon, who put his head down.

I petted the dog, not knowing what to say.

“So what are you going to do to get the Dangerous Double back?” Smith asked, a little calmer now.

“ Well ,
technically
, we're supposed to just go home,” I said.

Smith laughed. “Sounds like you have other ideas already.”

I explained my plan, what little of it I had. How we were going to crash the party and catch Steve in the act.

Smith nodded. “Maybe I can help,” he said.

“How?”

He smiled. “I'll get you inside the White House.”

WHEN THE WHITE HOUSE THROWS A
party, they don't mess around. We drove by in Smith's truck—for recon, he said. There were Secret Service guys at every corner, valets parking cars, dudes in fancy uniform getups, and ladies in giant hoop skirts that barely fit through the door.

And I was wearing one of those ridiculous getups, too. The wig made my head itch, and the pants were these baggy leggings. The only good news: Ben was inside the White House, wearing the same monkey suit. We managed to rush-order three kid-size Revolutionary War costumes from the store where Ben got the George Washington coat replica, and Henry took a cab ride to pick them up himself. I couldn't wait to get back to my jeans and T-shirt.

“So how are you getting us inside, exactly?” I asked Smith.

Earlier that day in Henry's motel room, Ben, Henry, and I pored over maps of the White House, making sure we knew the layout. But we realized pretty quickly that we simply had to wing it and catch Steve before he could set off his bomb. Ben took off to get inside the White House on his own, while Henry and I found Smith.

“I'll get you inside that white mansion. Be patient, Young Abe,” Smith mumbled. We drove past the White House, where we could see the party crowd arriving off in the distance.

I got to sit in front, but that meant I had Nixon on my lap. His tail was smacking against my leg. “I mean, look at all this Secret Service.”