“Gotcha!” I crowed as I leaped into the car beside him.
The dude turned toward me with an angry growl. I gulped, suddenly realizing how much bigger he was than me. And that we were currently at least fifty feet in the air over solid concrete.
He grabbed me by the shoulders. Uh-oh . . .
“Wait!” I shouted as he gave me a shove. My rear end hit the edge of the car. One more push and that would be it. “Listen, man. You really don’t want to do this!”
I felt the guy’s hands tighten like a vise on my shoulders. I scrabbled for the edge of the car, even though I knew I’d never be able to hang on.
“No!” the dude exclaimed suddenly. He yanked me back into the car so hard I almost fell on him. “You’re right. I can’t do this!”
I was so surprised at still being alive that it took me a second to react. I just watched in amazement as the guy sort of crumpled down on the seat and dropped his head into his hands.
“Uh, wha—?” I stammered.
“I can’t do it,” the guy sobbed. “I won’t let anyone else get killed. I’m turning myself in!”
I blinked. His voice sounded sort of familiar, though I couldn’t place it at first.
Then he reached up and yanked off his ski mask. My eyes widened in amazement. “It’s—it’s you!” I blurted out.
With a Bang
Squish, squish, squish . . .
My sneakers slapped wetly and rhythmically against the pavement as I ran. Falling into the wave pool hadn’t exactly been fun. But it sure beat the alternative. As a bonus, it had rinsed away most of the gooey gunk that guy had dumped on me.
As soon as I’d swum to the edge and climbed out, I’d started heading off after Joe. But I hadn’t gone far when I heard the roar of motors somewhere off to one side. I’d headed that way, but the engines had stopped. They’d started up again a few moments later, and once again I’d turned to follow. But whatever Joe and his quarry were riding—unless I missed my guess, it sounded like motorbikes—they were way too fast for me to keep up. All I could do was run in the direction of the noise, hoping Joe was on top of things.
Finally I’d heard the motors stop. I’d also heard an alarming crash a few seconds later. Uh-oh . . .
I was almost relieved when I heard Joe shout shortly after that. Hey, at least that meant he was alive! Still, he sounded kind of panicky. That couldn’t be good. It takes a lot to panic Joe.
Putting on an extra burst of speed, I raced around a bend in the path and came within sight of the roller coaster Erica had taken us on the day before, Old Glory. We were close enough to the park’s main walls for the security lights to illuminate things a little. That gave me a great view of Joe and someone else clambering down the tracks.
“Frank!” Joe cried as he spotted me. “You’re okay!”
“You too.” I glanced curiously at the other person, who had just jumped down. My eyes widened as I recognized him. “Wallace?” I exclaimed. “Uh, it is Wallace, right? You were the one who did all this?”
The security guard’s pudgy face sort of crumpled. “It was me,” he admitted breathlessly. “Sorry to put you guys through this. So you two must be the secret agents McKenzie brought in, huh? This whole time I thought that was just a rumor.”
I briefly wondered who had spilled our secret and how many people knew. But I supposed it didn’t really matter.
“So you were the one who tampered with all the rides and stuff?” I asked. “The motocross tire, the black ice . . .”
“The UTV,” Joe added. “The mechanical bull. And, of course, the climbing wall that killed Mr. Smith.”
“Yeah, that was all me.” Wallace looked pained. “But you have to believe me—I didn’t want anyone to die. I swear!” He dropped heavily onto a handy bench. “I didn’t even think anyone would get really hurt.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenged him. “You had to know Erica would get at least a little hurt when you tossed that rock at her.”
“Huh? You mean the boss’s daughter?” Now Wallace looked confused. “I didn’t throw anything at Erica. I’d never do that. Maybe one of the others . . .”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. If you really didn’t want anyone hurt, maybe you should’ve stuck to the graffiti and the e-mails.”
“E-mails?” Once again Wallace looked perplexed. “What e-mails?”
“You know. Those lovely little threats from your alter ego, Skater Hater,” Joe said.
Wallace shook his head. “Look, I’m confessing to the stuff I did,” he said. “But I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Joe looked annoyed, but I was ready to change the subject. The local police could deal with dragging a full confession out of Wallace. In the meantime, I had another question.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked. “I mean, you work here. Why sabotage your place of employment?”
A stubborn look came over his face. “Look, are you guys cops, or what?” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to read me my rights or something?”
“We’re not cops,” Joe said. “But I bet the real cops will be thrilled to read you your rights, especially when they hear you’re responsible for Mr. Smith’s death.”
At that, Wallace’s defiant expression crumpled once more into despair. He let out a sob, though he swallowed it quickly.
“You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t protect him.”
“Him?” I prompted.
“Uncle Frederick. This was all his idea.”
“Uncle Frederick?” cried Joe. “Wait, you don’t mean that old dude with the cane, do you?”
“W. Frederick Jackson,” I said grimly. “Let me guess. The W stands for Wallace?”
“It’s a family name,” Wallace said with a sigh. “He’s actually my great-uncle.”
After that, he spilled his guts. It turned out that old man Jackson’s family not only owned a lot of property in the islands, as we already knew. He had actually owned this very island until McKenzie came along. He’d refused to sell, so McKenzie had managed to have it taken from him through eminent domain for much less than market value. According to what Wallace claimed, there might have been some bribes and shady dealings involved, though he didn’t seem to know any details.
In any case, Frederick had been furious with McKenzie. He’d planned to sell the extra land for much more money so he could pay off some medical debts. So he’d convinced Wallace to help him, promising to pay his great-nephew enough to open his own mechanic’s shop if they were successful.
“At first it didn’t seem like a big deal,” Wallace told us with a heavy sigh. “He got me a job here at GX, and I was just supposed to sort of spy on things and report back. He made sure I was on duty the night he came out to spray paint that graffiti. Stuff like that.”
“But then things got more serious?” I prompted.
“Uh-huh.” Wallace swallowed hard. “I’m pretty good with mechanical stuff, so Uncle Frederick wanted me to mess with a few things. Like that UTV. And the mechanical bull. And that fake bomb. And the snowmobiles—”
“Hang on,” Joe interrupted. “The snowmobiles?”
Wallace bit his lip. “Yeah, that hasn’t, you know, happened yet. You might want to do something about it before tomorrow.” He shrugged. “Anyway, none of it seemed like a big deal. But then people started to get hurt, and then Mr. Smith . . .” He trailed off with another sob.
Joe and I looked at each other. It was time to call in the police to take over. “Do you have your phone on you?” I asked him. “Mine got soaked.”
Then I glanced at Wallace, hoping he wouldn’t panic and run off. But he was still slumped on the bench. Maybe it was the dim light, but he definitely didn’t look panicked. More like relieved. Somehow, I didn’t think we’d have any trouble hanging on to him until the cops arrived.
• • •
By the next morning, it was all over. Wallace and his great-uncle were in jail. They still hadn’t confessed to the rock throwing o
r the e-mails—in fact, Jackson claimed he didn’t even own a computer. Still, they’d owned up to the more serious mischief, and that was enough for the police.
McKenzie was thrilled with the collar. He told us so for about the fifteenth time as we stood atop the little walkway directly over the main gate, looking down on the crowd of eager fans gathered outside. The protesters were still out there too—minus W. Frederick Jackson, of course. But they’d been shuffled off to the side by the people lined up to get inside. It was about nine thirty a.m. At ten the park would officially open to the public.
Most of the celebrities were up on the walkway with us. They wanted to have a good view of the fireworks that were supposed to go off as soon as the gates opened. I wasn’t sure how exciting daytime fireworks would be, but McKenzie had assured us it would be an awesome display, with tons of colored smoke and other cool stuff.
So now we were just waiting for the last few minutes to tick down on the big clock down in the main square. Joe and I were standing in a little cluster with McKenzie, Delfina and the baby, Nick, and Erica.
“I’m glad I called in ATAC,” McKenzie said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You guys know how to get things done! Thanks to you, that sorry pair will rot in jail for a good long while.”
“Er, speaking of that, sir,” I said. “Any chance you might take it easy on Wallace? I don’t think he’s a bad guy—he was just going along with his uncle.”
McKenzie stared at me thoughtfully. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said. “If you’re willing to stand up for him, Frank, it’s worth considering.”
Nearby, Nick heard and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile Erica moved closer, grabbing my arm and pressing herself against my side. For a second I was startled. Then I glanced over and saw Bret Johnston, the Mr. Nice Guyz singer, staring at us from nearby.
“You’re so brave, Frank,” she cooed at me, sounding way girlier than usual. I thought about pointing out that Joe had made the actual collar. But I kept quiet, figuring this was just part of her request for me to play boyfriend.
Just then Cody Zane loped over to join us, which meant we had to stop talking about the case. McKenzie had already warned us that he didn’t want anyone to know. Maybe that meant bad publicity really wasn’t just as good as good publicity.
Cody looked none the worse after his close call the day before. “Yo,” he greeted us all before turning to Joe. “Listen, I’m totally bummed we never got to test out that motocross course. If there’s time later, want to give it another shot?”
Joe grinned as goofily as if Cody had just asked him to the prom. “Sure thing,” he said, trading a high five with the skateboarder. “This time maybe we’ll even get bikes that stay in one piece!”
Both of them laughed at that. Then they sort of drifted away into the crowd, chatting about who knows what.
That left me feeling a little claustrophobic, stuck between McKenzie and his stepdaughter. Erica was still leaning into my side, even though Bret Johnston had disappeared.
A few other celebrities came over to talk to McKenzie. I stood there feeling kind of awkward, since Erica still wasn’t letting go of me. What felt like hours passed like that, though it was only about fifteen minutes, according to the big clock. At that point McKenzie was still so busy schmoozing that Erica had to reach over and poke him on the arm when the clock hit ten o’clock.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s time.”
McKenzie glanced up sharply, then chuckled when he caught sight of the clock. “Oops,” he said. “Okay, here we go. . . .”
He fished a remote control out of his pocket. Holding it up, he made a big show of pushing one of the buttons.
“Galaxy X is officially open!” he shouted as a bunch of cameras clicked and a cheer went up from the crowd below. A band started playing down in the square. The gates creaked open.
KA-BOOM!
An earsplitting explosion rocked the entire park, making Delfina scream and a few other people gasp or shout in surprise. I glanced up, expecting to see fireworks bursting overhead. Instead I saw that the top of Mount McKenzie had just blown sky-high in a huge, fiery explosion!
Meanwhile the crowd was pouring in, cheering and hooting and dancing around as they watched the top of the mountain crumble. Sparks rained down everywhere, drifting toward us on the breeze. Most of the spectators seemed to think it was all part of the show.
But one glance over at McKenzie told me otherwise. His face was a mask of fury.
“Was that, uh, planned, sir?” I asked him quietly.
“No,” he spit out through tight lips. “Definitely not. Why would I blow up the centerpiece of this place? If you knew how much it cost to build that mountain . . .”
Joe had already split off from the crowd and hurried over to rejoin us. He was just in time to hear what McKenzie said.
“Any chance it was a mishap with the fireworks?” he asked.
McKenzie shook his head. “They’re being shot off from way over there across the powerboat lake—see?”
I glanced over and saw a flash of light speed upward and burst into a pinwheel of lights and smoke overhead. The crowd gasped and cheered again. An urgent beeping sound brought my attention back. It was McKenzie’s PDA. He pulled it out and blanched as he glanced at it.
“What is it?” I asked.
Wordlessly, he held it out so I could see the text message blinking there: I WARNED U!
I stared at Joe. He stared back. I was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing I was. There was no way Wallace or his uncle could have sent that message from jail.
That could mean only one thing. Sk8rH8r was still out there.
My gaze slid back to the ruins of Mount McKenzie. Another set of fireworks burst overhead, bringing more excited cheers from the crowd. The huge, innocent crowd.
It seemed this mission wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
THE END (for now . . .)
#1 Extreme Danger
#2 Running on Fumes
#3 Boardwalk Bust
#4 Thrill Ride
#5 Rocky Road
#6 Burned
#7 Operation: Survival
#8 Top Ten Ways to Die
#9 Martial Law
#10 Blown Away
#11 Hurricane Joe
#12 Trouble in Paradise
#13 The Mummy’s Curse
#14 Hazed
#15 Death and Diamonds
#16 Bayport Buccaneers
#17 Murder at the Mall
#18 Pushed
#19 Foul Play
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Super Mystery #1: Wanted
Super Mystery #2: Kidnapped at the Casino
#22 Deprivation House
#23 House Arrest
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#28 Galaxy X
Available from Simon & Schuster
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
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Copyright © 2009 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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BROTHERS, and related logos are registered trademarks of Simon &
Schuster, Inc.
Designed by Sammy Yuen Jr.
The text of this book was set in Aldine 401 BT.
First Aladdin Paperbacks edition May 2009
Library of Congress Control Number 2008939521
ISBN: 978-1-4169-7801-5
ISBN: 978-1-4391-6427-3 (ebook)
Galaxy X Page 10
