Agent Stark looked me in the eye. “Honestly, you and Ben are our best shot at uncovering Ethan Melais’s identity, since you’re right here on the set. Black and I could never have the access you do. We need that Dangerous Double.”
No pressure or anything.
I got out and walked the block to the pier, passing colorful storefronts. The street was so packed with tourists I didn’t even bother riding my skateboard. I reached Ocean, the avenue that runs along the beach, and crossed the bike path. The Santa Monica Pier was up ahead. I saw that the north parking lot had a bunch of trailers parked on it.
But all the crew and cast were gathered near the entrance to the pier, so that’s where I headed. I could hear Floyd yelling from a few dozen yards away.
“This is rubbish!” He crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at Larry’s chest.
Larry calmly bent down to pick it up. He said something to Floyd that I couldn’t hear from a distance.
“I don’t care if it’s a legal document!” Floyd hollered, practically spitting in Larry’s face. Floyd needed to lay off the caffeine, or play some video games to relax a little. The guy looked like he was going to wring Larry’s neck.
I couldn’t see Larry’s face, but I did spot Savannah. She gave me a smile and a little wave, which made me walk twice as fast.
“Everyone, take fifteen.” Floyd waved his hand. “Heck, take an hour for all I care!” he yelled over his shoulder as he stormed off toward the trailers.
He pushed John, the chief camera guy, out of the way.
John gave Floyd a dark look. “You know, there are other people on the set. People who deserve respect.”
But Floyd was too far away to hear him.
“What happened?” I asked Savannah. Around us, crew members scattered, looking defeated and grumpy.
Savannah got closer. She was wearing her hair in a braid this time. “I guess Floyd got a court order. Something to do with money.”
“He’s broke, right?” And he was taking it out on Larry, who was my number two suspect for Ethan Melais. If Larry sold that drone-system prototype, he could bail Floyd out. Or better still: He’d never have to work for Floyd again.
Savannah said, “This place is getting crazy. It’s starting to feel like an Alan Smithee project.”
Huh?
When she saw my confused expression, Savannah explained, “Alan Smithee is a name directors use if they don’t want their own associated with a movie.”
“Like putting someone else’s name on your English paper.”
“Exactly.” Savannah looked troubled. “Nigel is acting like he doesn’t care about this movie.”
“So now what do we do?” I asked.
Savannah exhaled. “We wait.” She stepped closer, and glanced around. “How is your case coming along?”
I hesitated. How much could I tell her? “It’s stalled, like an old car.” No point lying. I spotted the Crepes-to-Go truck and pulled Savannah along.
“Where are we going?”
“Come on. I want you to meet a friend of mine. He’ll help me fix this case.”
28
SATURDAY, 9:35 A.M.
“I HEARD ABOUT THIS PLACE,” SAVANNAH said as we got closer to the food truck. “Apparently these crepes are legendary—the chefs are from France.”
I laughed. “They’ve visited, yeah,” I said, thinking of my first mission, in Paris.
Of course the crepe stand was closed, but the door was open. I peeked inside and was greeted by a cranky Albert Black.
“What are you doing here, kid?” He stood in the kitchen. Stark was hunched over some papers on the counter. She looked very tired.
Henry peeked from around the banquette corner. He grinned, looking relieved to see me.
“Can I borrow Henry for a minute?” I asked.
“Why?”
“I’m using my resources, like you said.”
Henry jumped up.
Black sighed and said, “Go, but don’t take too long.”
Henry rushed to join me, and he let out a groan once he closed the door.
“High stress in there, huh?” I said, thumbing at the Crepes-to-Go truck.
Henry nodded, and straightened when he spotted my sidekick—or partner, as she liked to be called.
“Hi, I’m Savannah.” She extended her hand and smiled.
Henry looked like he was about to faint. He wiped his hand on his pants before shaking hers. “I’m Henry. You were on that TV show, um, You Only Live Once.”
Savannah made a face. “Not the best listing on my résumé, but yes.”
Henry just looked at her with his mouth gaping.
“Dude, we need your brainpower.” I put my arm around his shoulders and directed him to a deserted picnic bench. I sat down and pulled out my notebook. “I need your help narrowing the pool of Ethan Melais suspects.”
Savannah and Henry sat down. Henry looked a bit more relaxed now that he had something to focus his brilliant brain on.
“Tell me what they teach you in junior secret agent boot camp.” I had missed that particular stint of misery, but Henry hadn’t. “I need to follow some sort of procedure, or I’ll never catch Melais.”
Henry snickered. “You know, you sound like Ben.”
“Don’t remind me.” I clicked my pen.
“Okay,” Henry said, getting more serious. “You have to start with a list of Melais’s attributes. I can just get the file and save you some time there.”
Henry went inside the trailer and came out with the file. “Height—average. That’s not helpful. Weight—slender.”
“I already have that,” I said, waving my notebook. “It describes a few dozen guys on the crew.
“I get what you’re doing,” Savannah said. “You’re creating a character profile.”
“You’re aware this isn’t pretend, right?” I said. “We’re not method acting here or whatever.”
She waved my comments away. “I know that. But you’re not sure who this guy is, right? So you have to figure it out with the information you have—I do the same thing when I work on a character.”
“That makes sense,” Henry said. “We’re building a profile, only a criminal one. So let’s describe him. He’s a master thief. Dresses like a gentleman. Knows how to sneak in and out of places without getting caught, but then likes to rub people’s noses in it by leaving a business card. Does that about cover it?”
I nodded, still scribbling in my notebook.
“He’s frustrated,” Savannah said. She stared off into the distance. “This character is someone who wants more credit for what he does—that’s what the business card is all about.”
“‘Look at me—I’m Ethan Melais,’” I mumbled as I wrote it in my notebook. I felt energized. We were getting somewhere. I could feel it.
“Maybe this guy is quiet, but underappreciated,” Savannah mused.
“The cameraman!” I said. I closed my notebook and stuffed it into my backpack. “John was all mad at Floyd, remember? He was talking about deserving respect. That makes sense. He put Ben out in the current.” Turns out Ben was right after all. It was a good thing he wasn’t here, or he’d rub it in. Where was my annoying double anyway?
Savannah said, “John might still be at the pier.”
“Let’s catch him!” Henry jumped up.
Savannah did too.
“You guys know this dude is dangerous, right?” I asked.
They each nodded, which I took as an I-don’t-care. So we rushed away from the trailers.
“We probably shouldn’t be running,” I said. We slowed.
But then I saw Ben walking up on the Santa Monica Pier. What if he beat me to the punch?
No way. I clenched my teeth.
And ran.
29
SATURDAY, 10:25 A.M.
THE SANTA MONICA PIER HAD BEEN BARRICADED for our movie, just like the Chinese Theatre. There were a couple of security guys hanging around. I just waved at them and ran
past.
No one was going to slow me down. Not even Ben Green.
Lucky for me, I saw John, the chief camera guy, up ahead near the Looff Hippodrome. It’s this historical building with an old-fashioned carousel inside. My aunt Jenny took me there once when I was little. The building has many entryways, each arched—my bad dude John was standing near one of them.
He was busy studying papers on a clipboard—probably more plans to kill me, since he was actually Ethan Melais. I was just fifty yards away from him. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to bring in my suspect. There was probably some sort of tactic they taught junior secret agents.
But it didn’t matter what I had planned. Because John turned and disappeared inside the Hippodrome.
It took me another ten seconds to reach the building and get inside. I heard the music—someone had turned on the carousel!
The wood of the deserted carousel creaked as it slowly picked up speed. The old-fashioned horses moved up and down, making it hard to spot my bad guy. I decided to jump onto the carousel. What better way to close in on him without actually having to run, right?
I got on, grabbing a white horse with a purple saddle to steady myself. This thing moved faster than I’d expected. I scanned the area and caught a glimpse of someone disappearing around the center.
There was another person on the carousel! Probably John. I reached behind me for my backpack. All I had to do was grab my bad dude by the wrist and use the Instacuff to attach him to the carousel.
It was a great plan.
I put my backpack back on and clutched the two straps that made up the Instacuff. Confident I could take the guy down, I walked around the moving horses, but it was harder than you’d think, with the carousel spinning at the same time. And I couldn’t see the bad dude anymore.
I hurried to the edge of the carousel so I could avoid the horses and go faster. I rushed, until I was just feet away from John, my bad dude.
I was about to take my last few steps to grab my bad dude. Only I felt a strong jerk at my backpack.
I was stuck on something! It yanked me off the carousel.
I fell back, and realized who’d pulled me off.
Ben Green.
“What are you doing?” I moved away and sat on the floor.
“Saving you from making a fool of yourself!” Ben spat at me. He pushed me aside and stood up. “As usual.”
I sat up, watching John disappear. He didn’t even look back. “You just let my prime suspect escape!”
Savannah and Henry had caught up by now and were watching me be humiliated by Ben.
I stood up and brushed the dirt off my pants. I tucked the Instacuff inside my pocket. “John was my best lead. You know, he put you at the far end of the water, into that strong current.”
“No, he didn’t.” Ben closed his eyes and took a breath, like he was controlling his anger.
I was ready to punch his lights out. “You told me that yourself!”
“Floyd ordered it, or at least John thinks he did. Maybe his assistant director is calling the shots—heck, I don’t know.” Ben stepped closer. “John can’t be Ethan Melais,” he whispered, so Henry and Savannah couldn’t hear.
“What did you say?” Henry called. Savannah looked confused.
“He’s not our bad guy.” I caught Ben’s peeved expression. I added, “Savannah already knows about the case. Now wait—why not?”
Ben still kept an eye on Savannah. “John doesn’t have a passport. No way to travel, so . . .”
“He can’t be Ethan Melais,” I mumbled, feeling the defeat. It was a good thing I hadn’t tried to Instacuff the guy.
“John is heading back to the set. You need to leave him alone, Baker.” Ben straightened his shirt. I noticed he was wearing his usual clothes—a black T-shirt, black cargo pants, and black boots. I guess the airline had found his suitcase. Ben said, “We can’t talk about the case. There are civilians here. You may be comfortable playing this one loose and easy, but I’m not. I’m going by the book.”
“How very predictable,” I said.
Ben turned and walked toward the exit. “You need to just stay out of my way,” he called over his shoulder.
For a split second I was ready to run after him, and tell him what was what. But then I realized: My suspect list for Ethan Melais had just dwindled down to two guys. The ones who controlled the set.
Nigel Floyd and his assistant director, Larry.
30
SATURDAY, 11:00 A.M.
I WAS FEELING PRETTY SMUG AS I walked away from the Santa Monica Pier. Even though Ben had just tackled me, things were looking up: I had narrowed my list to two suspects, and I didn’t even need to update my case file or anything. It was like getting an A on a test without even studying.
Savannah and Henry were walking back to the trailers with me. I scanned the pier for Floyd and Larry, but neither guy was around. Not even past the roadblocks.
“So now what?” Savannah asked me.
I stopped. “I don’t know.” Normally, I like to just fly by the seat of my pants. But this time, I wanted to have some sort of tactical plan, like a real secret agent. And I worried about what Melais had planned for me next.
Savannah checked her watch. “Well, I’d better check with Kate before Nigel decides he’s ready to shoot again.” She huffed. “For a movie set, there’s very little moviemaking going on.”
We watched her walk away. And I kind of got to thinking after what she said about the moviemaking stuff. “You think that Floyd is a stronger suspect?”
“Because he’s not filming much?” Henry pondered that thought. “I guess.” He shrugged. “I’m the tech guy. I didn’t pay attention that much when they covered field-agent procedures.”
I saw the lighting and camera crew approach. “Let’s keep walking.”
“So now what—are we going to bust them both?” Henry asked, all excited.
“We need proof,” I said. We’d stopped in front of the Crepes-To-Go trailer. “Can you find out if either Floyd or Larry was in Frankfurt when Ethan Melais was there?” I asked Henry.
Henry grinned. “Leave it to me.” He opened the trailer door, and I was about to follow him inside when a voice bellowed behind me.
“We’re shooting in ten, people!”
I felt my stomach twist, like when you miss the second bell at school. Only this was a lot worse. They were shooting another scene. And the bad dude, whether it was Floyd or Larry, was still out there. Wanting me dead.
“That means you, Linc Baker!”
I turned around and came face-to-face with Larry, who gave me the nastiest look I’d ever seen. He shoved the costume at me. Someone had obviously washed and dried it after yesterday’s swim in the Pacific. “Put that on. Now.”
I hurried inside the trailer and changed as fast as I could, transferring the Instacuff straps to my costume pants. I grabbed my backpack.
Before I went outside, Henry said, “I’ll get right on that search.”
I nodded, but my confidence disappeared like a birthday balloon in the wind. Truth was, on that movie set I was basically an easy target for the bad guy. A giant bull’s-eye, a sitting duck—well, you get the idea. I had to find Ethan Melais. Now.
“Let’s go.” Larry motioned toward the Santa Monica Pier with his clipboard.
I hurried along, catching up with Savannah. The pier looked like a scene in a scary movie. It was all fogged over, making the wood planks slippery under my 1930s shoes. I wished I was able to wear my sneakers—heck, I wished I wasn’t there at all.
Reluctantly, I left my backpack with some of the crew.
Floyd showed up, looking distracted. And worried. Maybe he knew he was about to be busted for being Ethan Melais. He sat down in the director’s chair. “Let’s shoot, yeah?”
“Whatever you want, Nigel,” Larry said. He walked over to have a conversation with John.
“They want us to ride the Ferris wheel.” Savannah pointed to it. There was a
roller coaster that looped around it like a snake. The cars were like cups, with umbrellas above them, alternating red and yellow.
“Don’t they have stunt people for this?” I asked.
“Floyd doesn’t use those—it’s more authentic,” Savannah answered.
That’s what I was afraid of. Looking at the Ferris wheel, I felt a tinge of dread inside my gut, but I shrugged it off. I mean, people took this ride all the time, right?
“Nigel, are you ready?” Larry asked.
Floyd looked lost in thought.
“Nigel!”
He looked up. “Yeah, sure.”
Seemed like Larry was calling a lot of the shots. That put him at the top of my suspect list—if only I could go check in with Henry, see if he’d been able to link Larry or Floyd to the exact times and locations of the Ethan Melais thefts.
“You kids walk around, like you’re here for the first time in your life.” Floyd pointed to the Ferris wheel. “Then you’ll walk over there, and we’ll cut.”
“That’s it—we’re just walking?” I felt relief wash over me like a wave.
“We’ll superimpose this scene over one we’re shooting next week, with David Graham.” Floyd added in a mumble, “If we can get the funding to come through.”
It got so quiet on the set you could hear the wind blow around us. I took it that this money issue was a biggie. And a huge motivation to want to steal those secrets at the summit, if Floyd was Melais.
“We’re running out of time, Nigel,” Larry said behind us, having snuck up like a ninja again.
“Let’s do this thing, then.” Floyd stepped back and returned to his chair. He sat down and called, “Action!”
Savannah walked, and I followed. I felt like an idiot, if you want to know the truth. How was this going to make for a good movie?
We reached the Ferris wheel and Larry hollered, “Cut! Next scene.”
Savannah and I turned around. Floyd was motioning to someone behind the Ferris wheel. This guy in a blue polo shirt turned a switch on the control panel and walked to the front.
“You kids ready to get on?” he asked. The wheel made a little creaking noise as it came to a stop.
The Alias Men Page 11
