The Alias Men

by F. T. Bradley

  13

  FRIDAY, 8:55 A.M.

  I WAS SO BUSY IMAGINING HOW I WAS going to catch Ethan Melais and prove to everyone that I was a great junior secret agent, I didn’t even register that we’d left the highway. We were now somewhere in downtown Los Angeles.

  “Why stop here?” I asked when Stark put the car in park. We were in a creepy-looking alleyway. There were a couple of overflowing Dumpsters and a dirty white stucco wall. “I thought the movie was supposed to be shot at the Chinese Theatre.”

  “We’re a block away,” Stark said. “I have to leave you here, so we don’t blow your cover.”

  That made sense. I opened my door and got out, still feeling a little weird about the conversation. Also, the alley smelled kind of funky, so that didn’t help things.

  “Linc,” Stark called, leaning on the passenger seat. “Keep this between us, all right? Don’t tell Ben.”

  Like I was going to tell him anything. “Sure.”

  And Stark was off. Me, I was feeling a little stressed out at this point. I had to find Ethan Melais and the Dangerous Double, and save the city and my family. Oh, and on top of that, I had to act in a movie. Next to a pretty girl, no less.

  No pressure.

  I took my skateboard off my backpack and rode on the sidewalk. I was kind of nervous over the whole movie stuff, to tell you the truth.

  I made my way to Hollywood Boulevard, and already it was busy with the usual pedestrian traffic. Tourists gawking at the sights. Some dude was taking a picture of the street sign and a palm tree. I gave up riding my board and walked the rest of the way. LA was pretty cool. I felt a rush of excitement—I was going to catch a bad guy, impress everyone.

  Beat Ben Green.

  As I got closer to the Chinese Theatre, I reached a big crowd. There was a roadblock made out of sawhorse barricades, and security guards dressed in navy blue were guarding the open street behind it. Floyd even got permission to block off the Chinese Theatre. This movie was a bigger deal than I thought.

  I told one of the security guards who I was, and after he checked with someone over his earpiece, I got permission to pass. I strapped my skateboard to my backpack and walked toward a cluster of trailers. There were about ten or so of them, set up to create a U shape. Savannah was sitting on the small steps in front of one of the trailers. She was dressed like it was the 1920s or something: dark gray dress, hair in a long braid. She was eating an apple. And giving me the stink eye.

  “If it isn’t the one-hit wonder,” Savannah said with a fake smile. Why did this girl hate my guts?

  “Who messed with your cereal this morning?” I said, figuring I would give her a taste of her own medicine.

  And that’s when I saw the door of a red trailer open, a few spaces down from where Savannah sat. A kid came out, wearing pants and a white shirt with suspenders, hair messed up, smears of dirt on his face.

  Ben Green. He beat me to the set.

  He smirked. Then he made a big deal of checking his watch, only to realize he wasn’t wearing one with his 1920s wardrobe. “Made it out of bed, did you, Baker?”

  “We were supposed to start at nine, so I’m right on time, Baker,” I hissed, reminding him of the cover, and that he was a Baker too.

  Ben lowered his voice so no one could hear. “Larry phoned and told me the call time had been changed to zero eight hundred. He didn’t notify you?”

  “No he didn’t! He probably thought you’d tell me, with us being twins and all.”

  Ben shrugged and gave me one of his annoying smirks.

  Just then Larry, the assistant director, stalked over, looking seriously angry. At me. “Call time was moved to eight, Linc.”

  “But I—”

  Larry waved his hand in dismissal. “At least your brother is here on time. He already gave me his contract—you have yours, at least?”

  I handed Larry my signed contract.

  Larry snatched it from my hands and stuffed it in a big folder without looking at it. He turned to Ben. “We’re shooting in five. You too, Savannah.” And he stalked back the way he came.

  Savannah walked over. The girl already hated my guts; I didn’t need her to think I was a hothead too. I’d get Ben back later.

  “Ready to start, Ben?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Wait,” I said, almost pulling Savannah’s arm but stopping myself. “You hate me, but he’s your friend?”

  “Ben spent three years with the Camden Acting Studio in London, and he told me that you never even passed the first round of auditions.”

  Ben gave me a triumphant grin.

  “He may be doing you a favor, getting this part, but I know who you are.” Savannah raised her left eyebrow and looked at me like I was a day-old bologna sandwich. “An amateur.”

  “We should go,” Ben said, pulling her along. I think he knew I was about to lose my cool.

  “Let’s get to work.” Savannah straightened her spine, turned, and walked away, with Ben trailing along.

  I’d been outplayed. By the dumbest junior secret agent ever, no less. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the dumbest. It was a smart move, I had to admit.

  I just had to be smarter.

  Because while Ben was playing actor from the whatever studio in London, I would beat him where it mattered: figuring out who on the set was Ethan Melais. And I’d arrest him, and bring him to Stark. Then I’d get the Dangerous Double.

  I looked around the area at the center of the trailers. There were a couple of people buzzing around. A dude with a clipboard, talking to a woman carrying a stack of papers. Another guy, carrying a tray of coffee cups, trying not to drop it. And Kate, the makeup artist I’d met at Floyd’s party. She waved and gave me a smile before disappearing inside her trailer.

  And that’s when I spotted this guy leaning against the red trailer that was parked right next to Kate’s. He had long curly hair and wore a faded brown fedora hat. The guy popped a piece of gum in his mouth and gave me a nod.

  That red trailer was where Ben had come out, wearing his 1920s outfit. I’d bet it was the costume department on wheels. What better place to hide a Chaplin hat without arousing suspicion, right?

  I made my way over. Let’s face it: I had no leads, so the costume trailer was a good place to start.

  “Gum?” the guy asked.

  I shook my head. “No thanks.”

  “I’m Kurt.” He put the gum pack back in his white shirt’s breast pocket. He adjusted his fedora. “You’re Linc, right?”

  “Yeah.” We shook hands.

  “I saw you at Sterling yesterday, when those security guards busted you.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the trailer. “I had just loaded her up out back.”

  The Dangerous Double! It had to be in there. But wait—did that mean this dude Kurt was Ethan Melais? I tried to picture him as Melais but was having a hard time.

  “So Floyd cast you, but now your brother is out there,” Kurt said, smacking his gum. “You’re competitive, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I get it. I have a brother who lives up in Seattle. He’s an accountant. Always likes to remind me he makes more money than me.”

  This was fascinating, but I had to get to the case already. I glanced over Kurt’s shoulder at the costume trailer. “You think I can have a tour?”

  “Of the trailer?” Kurt shook his head. “Naw, wish I could. Got a guy coming for a fitting any minute now.”

  Behind him, I could see some boxes—even a couple of those fancy hatboxes. One of them could have the Dangerous Double inside! “Don’t you have a costume for me?”

  Kurt shook his head. “Only got one, since we didn’t think we’d be having twins. I’m working on making a duplicate, but right now you’re gonna have to swap with your brother at lunch. Once I finish your costume, maybe you can have a tour.”

  “No sweat.” I would just have to come back later to check the place out. And once I found the hat, I’d have proof that Kurt was Eth
an Melais.

  This case turned out to be a breeze after all.

  I said, “I’ll go watch the set. You think that’s okay?”

  Kurt laughed. “Yeah. If you can handle it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see.” He turned to go back inside his top secret trailer. “Let’s just say Floyd lives up to his reputation. And then some. I’m glad I’m not an intern or a grip is all I’m getting at.”

  “A grip?”

  “Those are the people who move stuff around on the set. Floyd will yell at them the loudest,” Kurt said before he closed the door to his trailer.

  I left and made my way between the trailers, toward the set. Several cameras were set up, and groups of movie-crew members hung back, watching the Chinese Theatre. I couldn’t see the handprints by big movie actors in the concrete along the Hollywood Walk of Fame out front, but I knew they were there. Years ago, Mom and Dad took me for a trip here.

  The theater itself looks exactly like what you’d think: Chinese, with a really tall pagoda-style entry. There are two lion statues on either side, and golden double doors that lead inside. It looks kind of ridiculous, if you want to know the truth. I mean, we’re not in China, right?

  Not that anyone cared: Behind the sawhorse barriers on the street, there were a few hundred people gawking, trying to snap pictures of the actors.

  As I walked closer to the set, I saw Ben and Savannah standing on the road, next to the red carpet that ran to the theater entrance. Ben looked nervous and kind of pale, like he was ready to lose his breakfast.

  “No, no, NO!” That was Nigel Floyd, having a fit. He shook his head.

  I stopped—let’s face it: Normally, if there was a grown-up yelling, it was at me. So for once, I was happy to be out of range.

  Floyd pointed his finger at Ben. “You’ve got it all wrong. ALL. WRONG!”

  Ben looked shocked, and a little angry. But he didn’t say anything. Savannah took a step to the left, and another, distancing herself from Ben.

  “You studied at Camden Studios in London? My foot!” Floyd was practically spitting at Ben now. I actually felt bad—but only a little.

  “Sir, you need to calm down now,” Ben tried. His voice trembled.

  But that only fueled Floyd’s fire. “I need to do no such thing, you little . . .” He waved, until his assistant director, Larry, appeared at his side. “Get him OFF MY SET!”

  “You got it, Nigel,” Larry said, not looking at all stressed out. He was obviously used to these outbursts. Larry tried to grab Ben by the elbow.

  But Ben pulled away. He looked like he was about to blow up—I’d never seen him this mad.

  They passed me, and Larry brushed my shoulder. He smelled faintly of something chemical—toothpaste, or mints? “You’re up, kid,” he said.

  I turned and watched Larry walk away, expecting me to follow. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  Was Larry actually Ethan Melais?

  14

  FRIDAY, 9:30 A.M.

  I WAS ABOUT TO CHASE AFTER LARRY, when Floyd motioned me over. “You!”

  I froze. My suspect was getting away!

  “Lincoln Baker,” Floyd called. “Get yourself over here.”

  I walked over, feeling like all the tourists at the barricades were staring at me. “Me? But I thought you had Ben.”

  “Ben reeeeally stank,” Savannah muttered under her breath as I passed.

  Floyd held me by the shoulders, squeezing me like my aunt Jenny likes to do. “I always knew you were the real talent here.” He smiled. “Get dressed; you’re up.”

  “Okay.”

  “EVERYONE!” Floyd hollered. “TAKE FIFTEEN!” Then he waved his hand in a circular motion. “And Larry.”

  “Yes,” Larry said right next to me. This dude was like a ninja—and now another suspect as Ethan Melais.

  “Get these barriers pushed back before I kill me some tourists.”

  “Yes, Nigel.”

  Floyd stalked away, leaving me with Larry. Savannah was smart and had disappeared.

  “Come with me,” Larry said without looking at me. “Go see Kurt in costume and Kate for makeup. Be back in ten minutes, or you’re next to be axed.” And he walked away. Nice, these Hollywood people.

  But at least Ben was out of the picture—literally.

  I made my way back to the trailers and almost got run down by Ben. He was back in his airport gift-shop outfit and shoved a bundle of clothes in my hands. “There’s only one costume for now, since they weren’t prepared for twins,” he said, repeating what Kurt had told me earlier. “Take it, Baker.” He gave me a death-ray stare and then shoved me in the shoulder as he walked away.

  “I can’t help it that I’m a better actor than you,” I called at Ben’s back. Not that I actually knew that for sure, but I couldn’t possibly be as bad at it as Ben. Right?

  Behind me, Kurt came out of the costume trailer and locked the door. So much for a chance to get inside and look for the Dangerous Double. This mission was turning from a breeze into a thunderstorm in a hurry.

  “What are you still doing here, man?” Kurt asked me. He pointed to a small white trailer parked across from his. “Go see Kate. You don’t want to get Floyd mad.”

  “Everybody just chill already,” I mumbled to myself. But I did hurry over to Kate’s trailer, where I found her waiting for me near a chair that looked like the one in the dentist’s office.

  “Have a seat,” she said.

  I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat down, holding the pile of clothes Ben had given me on my lap. “Is this movie stuff always so stressful?” I asked as Kate smeared tan makeup on my cheeks and forehead.

  “Not always.” She worked quickly, covering my face and neck. “It depends on the director. Floyd likes things his way.”

  “No kidding.”

  She stepped back and nodded. “That’ll do. You can change in here if you want; I’ll step outside.” Kate checked her watch. “You have five minutes to get back to the set, so you better hurry.”

  “I know, I know.” I waited for her to leave and then quickly changed into my costume. I stuffed my shoes, jeans, and shirt inside my backpack. The costume pants were scratchy, and the suspenders cut into my shoulders. Plus, this makeup kind of smelled and felt like when your mom makes you wear five pounds of sunscreen. It was a good thing this movie was only a temporary gig. As soon as I caught Ethan Melais and got my hands on the Dangerous Double, I was out of here.

  I hurried outside, passing Kate and Kurt, who were having some kind of serious discussion I wasn’t going to stick around for. I made it to the set just as Larry handed Floyd a stack of papers.

  “Great, you’re here.” Floyd looked up, and seemed happy to find that the barricades had been pushed back. No more nosy tourists. “Let’s get started, everyone!”

  Savannah was standing near the red carpet, and straightened when Floyd motioned for her to come over.

  “Linc and Savannah, you’re over there.” Floyd motioned to the spot Savannah came from. “Maybe you’ll be able to get this right instead of your untalented brother.”

  Larry let out a small laugh behind Floyd. Even though I hated Ben, I thought that was mean.

  “So what are our lines?” I asked.

  Which got me the stink eye from Floyd. “You have no lines.”

  Savannah snickered.

  “Why not?” I asked. It was a valid question, right? I mean, wasn’t I supposed to be the star here and everything?

  “It’s an homage to silent movies,” Savannah said, sounding like my English teacher when I flunked a test. “None of us speak. Didn’t you see that there’s no boom man?”

  “What’s a boom man?”

  “The guy holding the microphone—never mind.”

  Floyd waved his hand to our spot. “You’re at a movie premiere. Just stand over there and watch the people on the red carpet.”

  That seemed easy enough. And I got to stand next to
Savannah, which was pretty nice, even if she did hate me.

  “How did Ben mess this up anyway?” I whispered, as Floyd walked away to talk to someone inside the parked car. “I mean, all he had to do was stand here.”

  Savannah sighed. “It’s more than just standing. You have to imagine what your character feels in the moment. ‘We think too much and feel too little’—that’s what Chaplin said.”

  I still didn’t get it. “We’re just standing here. Maybe his feet were tired?”

  “Never mind,” Savannah said, and straightened. She closed her eyes, obviously concentrating.

  Everyone in Hollywood is a nut job. You agree with me, right?

  “Quiet on the set!” Larry called. Not that it was very noisy or anything—I mean, we didn’t even have any lines.

  “The Hollywood Kid, take six,” some lady I couldn’t see called.

  I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Not that it mattered, because I noticed something else. The tourists, far off behind the barricades, were pointing—only not at us, but down the street. A few of them were taking pictures.

  I looked to my left, to where this big guy was pointing. Past Savannah, who was busy looking sad. The crowd parted; some people were screaming.

  And I saw this speeding red car. Heading straight for us.

  15

  FRIDAY, 10:01 A.M.

  AT THAT MOMENT, I DIDN’T THINK. I grabbed Savannah and pushed her aside. She landed a few feet away, on her behind.

  And the red car kept moving toward me—even though there was no driver behind the wheel. I stepped back just in time so I wouldn’t get hit.

  The car kept going, until it crashed into the building, where it died on the spot. Smoke came from the crumpled hood.

  “What was that?” Savannah said as she got up next to me.

  “A runaway car,” I said, like it wasn’t obvious. The crowd behind the barricades was roaring, and seemed to be applauding, for some reason.

  Floyd looked shocked. “What the—” He said some four-letter words that I won’t repeat—let’s just say he was madder than my parents on report-card day.

  A couple of security guards ran from inside the Chinese Theatre, looking at the building and the damage the car had caused. One of the guys threw his hands in the air.