by Roland Smith
Vanessa shook her gray-haired head. “It stands for Some Old Spooks,” she said.
With the exception of Felix and Uly who were younger (but not spring chickens), some very old spooks, I thought.
“After 9/11,” Boone said, “I called in some intel to the FBI and overheard the agent on the phone say to someone else: ‘Some old spook is on the line and you won’t believe what he thinks. These washed-up nut cases are coming out of the woodwork.’ Needless to say they ignored my information.” Boone shook his head. “They should have listened.”
“I made a similar call,” Vanessa said.
“I got brushed off too,” X added.
Boone continued. “About a year later the FBI realized their mistake. They called me back and offered me a contract to look into something for them. They wanted to know the name of my organization. SOS seemed as good a name as any.”
“Where’s Eben and his organization this morning?” I asked.
“Ziv, Eben’s driver is still in the hospital,” X said. “Rumor has it he’s headed home to Tel Aviv and that he’s going to have a limp for the foreseeable future. Carma is in her hotel room nursing her sore knee. Devorah, Eben’s other cohort with the dislocated shoulder, is sitting outside in the smashed rental car with a telephoto lens pointed to the warehouse. She has to be getting tired by now. She’s been there all night.”
“And Eben?” I asked.
X shrugged. “We have no idea where he is. All we know is that he’s probably pretty ticked off about getting his butt kicked by a little girl and outfoxed by an amateur magician last night. I don’t suppose you’d show me how you pulled off that royal flush trick?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Top secret.”
X grinned. “You and I, Q, are going to get along just fine.”
“What about Everett?” I asked. “Is he okay?”
“Everett wasn’t normal before he hit his head,” X answered. “But yes, he’ll be fine. Except for a headache, a mangled ear, and a bad attitude—which is nothing new for Everett—he’s his old irascible self. He checked himself out of the hospital two hours ago…meaning he walked out the front door without telling them. He’s keeping an eye on Carma’s hotel. Uly is trying to find Eben, but so far he hasn’t had any luck, which is not good. We’ll be okay though. Our reinforcements are here. Uly will bring them up to speed, and put them in place.”
“You brought more people in?”
“A lot more,” Boone said. “After last night we realized that we needed to harden our security. We’ve brought in some specialists.” He slid a pad of paper across the table. Scrawled on the front page was: The coach is bugged. They’re listening to every word we say. Follow my lead.
I looked around (rather stupidly) thinking that I might be able to see the bugs and wondering if I’d already said something stupid.
Why didn’t you tell me! I wrote back.
Boone wrote: So you would speak naturally and not give us away.
I wrote: How did they get into the coach to plant the bugs?
Boone wrote: Bribed or charmed a security guard. Or one of the guards is a sympathizer. Or a Mossad agent. Ask me how Angela is doing?
“How’s Angela doing?” I asked as naturally as I could.
“She’s not feeling too well,” Boone said. “Which is understandable after last night. She’s distraught. We finally got her to sleep about an hour ago. We had to give her a sedative.”
I knew this wasn’t true because the curtain across Angela’s berth had been wide open when I climbed down and she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in our parents’ room either because I’d looked before I came into the kitchen. Since Felix was the only person Boone hadn’t mentioned I assumed they had moved her during the night and he was guarding her. Although, after watching Angela in action she seemed more than capable of taking care of herself.
I wrote: Where is she?
Boone wrote: Safe.
I didn’t like this vague, evasive answer, but I let it go and wrote: Why don’t you just get rid of the bugs?
Boone wrote: Because this way we can feed Eben information we want him to hear. Ask me what I think Eben will do?
I did.
“He will either bring in more people,” Boone explained. “Or he’ll try to rectify the situation himself with his present team—damaged as they are. He now knows that you and Angela can extradite yourselves from a dicey situation. Next time he’s going to be more careful and come in much harder.”
“Smashing into our taxi, a high speed chase through downtown Philadelphia, and a fistfight at a hospital wasn’t aggressive?” I blurted out.
“I think that was Carma or Devorah,” X said. “After we figured out who they were I accessed their dossiers. They’re notoriously impulsive and violent. If it had been one of them that spotted Malak in Paris instead of Eben’s brother they would have taken the shot with a gun not a camera and none of us would be sitting here.”
Boone gave Ray a frown. Ray shrugged and wrote: We have to keep this real or they’ll know we know the coach is infested with listening devices. We need to “worry” them with the intel we have.
Reluctantly Boone said, “Ray’s probably right, but it was still a stupid move on their part. You and Angela could have been killed. Where would they be then?” He looked at his watch. “We’d better head over to the Electric Factory.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because your parents have already made their first appearance on national television. If we hurry we might be able to catch their second performance.”
In all the terrorist spy stuff I’d completely forgotten about that little detail. “What about—”
Somehow Boone read my mind and interrupted me just in time. “Your parents?” he asked. (Like an idiot I was actually going to ask about Angela and if she was someplace where she could watch The Today Show. It was going to take me awhile to get used to double thinking everything that came out of my mouth.)
“Yeah,” I said nervously. “Have you talked to them?”
“Early this morning,” Boone answered. “I promised that I would find a place for you and Angela to watch the show, although we’ll have to get a tape of it for Angela. I don’t want to wake her.” He pointed to the sofa and held his finger to his lips. “I’ll wake Felix up and he’ll stay here with Angela.”
Croc was alone on the sofa cleaning up after his delicious breakfast. Felix was nowhere to be seen.
Boone got up from the table. “They have a television over at the Electric Factory and they’re waiting for us. Also, I think you promised a couple of doctors tickets to the concert tomorrow night.”
I was happy to get away from the bugs. I finished my cereal, then went into the bathroom to change. While I was in there I got a long text message from Angela with several things she wanted me to do. It looked like something Buddy T. would write. I wrote her back.
By the time I came out Vanessa and Ray were gone.
No More Secrets
Boone, Croc, and I stepped out of the coach. There were three security guards watching the warehouse—two at the entrance and a third sitting at a desk reading the sports section of the newspaper. They were all overweight and sleepy-looking. None of them looked like they could possibly be Mossad agents or terrorists. In fact, they couldn’t have looked more regular. But I guess that was the point. Spooks aren’t supposed to look like spooks.
Boone stopped at the desk. “The gal is inside sleepin’,” he said. “Felix is with her. Don’t go disturbin’ her. If Felix needs something he’ll come on out and ask.”
The guard looked up from his newspaper. “We won’t bother them.”
“Thanks, partner,” Boone said. “By the way, has anyone come by tryin’ to get into the warehouse?”
“It’s not exactly a secret that you’re parked inside here,” the guard said. “We had some reporters come by this morning, but they took off when we told them Match was in New York doing The Today Show. We didn’t tell them the kids
had stayed behind. And that reporter or paparazzi woman is still across the street with her camera. We told her that no one was here but you guys, but she’s hanging tough. There’s nothing we can do about her sitting in her car. It’s a free country.” He picked up a clipboard and flipped through a few pages. “Yesterday after you left there were a couple of fans who tried to talk their way into the warehouse, but they were turned away.”
“What’d they look like?” Boone asked.
The guard shook his head. “It doesn’t say in the report and I wasn’t here.” He nodded at the guards standing at the entrance. “They weren’t here either. We had a different crew yesterday.”
“We’ll be back in a bit,” Boone said.
I followed him outside. The so-called paparazzi/reporter was Devorah with the dislocated shoulder. Her smashed car was still parked across the street. She didn’t even bother trying to hide. In fact she took a one-handed photo of us.
Boone paused outside the entrance, completely ignoring Devorah, and scanned the street in both directions including the buildings, windows, and the rooftops.
“I think we’re clear,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll know in a minute, but I think Devorah has us solo this morning. If she follows us it means that Eben, or someone else, is watching the warehouse waiting to see if Angela comes out. When Ray and Vanessa left the warehouse a few minutes ago on foot, one headed to the right one headed to the left. Divide and conquer. No one followed them. Unless Eben has a lot of people on the ground—and I don’t think he does—he can’t watch all of us.”
Boone started walking toward the Electric Factory.
“Did Devorah and Carma plant the bugs in the coach?” I asked, catching up.
“Probably,” Boone said. “Electronic surveillance isn’t their specialty, but I’m sure they’ve been trained to do it. I’m not going to underestimate them…” He glanced back at Devorah’s car. She was still inside. “…or Eben, ever again.”
“Like they underestimated Angela?” I said.
“Like we all underestimated Angela.” Boone looked at me. “We underestimated you too. Getting those doctors to keep you company was a stroke of genius.”
I still didn’t think the trick was that big a deal, but I flushed a little at the compliment.
“I might as well get this out of the way,” Boone said, stopping. “I made a terrible mistake last night. I should have had a cover team on you in case Eben made a move. It was stupid of me. I nearly threw in the towel because of the blunder. I was going to call your parents and tell them what was going on, but Angela and Vanessa talked me out of it. I’m still not sure that was the right decision. If something had happened to you and Angela…” He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Where did you have this conversation?” I asked.
“In a quiet corner of the warehouse where we couldn’t be overheard,” Boone answered. “Luckily, Vanessa discovered the bugs inside the coach right after you climbed into your berth or Eben would have gotten an earful.”
This explained how I had missed all the action the night before—not that I would have heard anything in my comatose state. I asked him how Angela and Vanessa talked him out of calling Mom and Roger and spilling his guts.
“Angela brought up again the fact that your parents would quit the tour before it got started,” Boone explained. “With an added twist… If they canceled their tour without telling people why, there would be a firestorm of media coverage and speculation that would burn for months. So far no one’s paid much attention to Roger’s supposedly deceased wife. It wouldn’t take long for them to dig up the fact that Malak was a Secret Service agent who died in the line of duty under mysterious circumstances.” He started walking again. “If that came out who knows where it would go. Angela said…and I quote: ‘If you figured out that my mom had an identical twin, a reporter will figure it out.’ I’m not sure she’s right. The secret is buried pretty deep, but a tenacious reporter might unearth it. If that happened, Malak, or Anmar—as we hope Malak is calling herself now—would at the very least fall under a veil of suspicion among her own people. Terrorists are even more paranoid than spooks.”
Angela had put together a pretty good argument. “What did Vanessa say?”
“She was much more direct,” Boone answered. “She said Malak was a dead woman if the twin theory got out. And if the cell got a chance they’d probably make a move on you, Angela, Blaze, and Roger for good measure. Terrorists tend to have scorched-earth sensibilities. I think they’d come after you.”
“We could go into the Witness Protection Program,” I said.
“It’s called the Witness Security Program,” Boone corrected. “And I don’t think that’s a viable option. Your parents are already too well-known to be candidates. They’d have to undergo major plastic surgery. And of course they’d never be able to play music again…publicly, anyway. Roger might be able to compose and write songs under an assumed name, but that could be risky too. His music and lyrics are as distinguishable as his face. Even when a different artist performs his music you know it’s a Roger Tucker tune…at least I do. And if I can tell, others can tell, and with the Internet and so forth…” He let the sentence drop.
“So we’re stuck with you,” I said.
“For the time being,” Boone said.
This was as good a lead-in as I was going to get for Angela’s To-Do list. “Where’s Angela?” I asked again.
“Like I told you,” Boone said, “someplace safe.”
I stopped walking.
Boone turned around and faced me. “What?”
“That’s not good enough,” I said.
“Why do you need to know?” he asked.
“Because Angela’s my sister,” I said. “And if we’re going to be in on this thing with you then we deserve to be in on everything. No more secrets.”
Boone sighed. “I didn’t come into this to recruit you and Angela into SOS,” he said irritably. “I came into it to protect you and find out what happened to Malak.”
“Believe me,” I said. “When we left California I had no desire to be recruited by SOS, but if we’re stuck with you Angela and I deserve to know everything that’s going on.”
Boone sighed then said, “Angela is in a hotel. Felix is with her. Is that good enough for you? Now let’s go or we’re going to miss your parents’ performance.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not good enough.”
“Well, that’s all you’re going to get,” Boone said and started walking away.
I held my ground. “Last night you said we were either in or out. We’re in, but you’re not treating us like we’re in.” I pulled out my phone. “I checked Angela’s location before we left the coach. She’s at the Comfort Inn on Columbus Boulevard.”
Boone stopped. “If you knew that, then why did you ask me?”
“Call it an IQ test,” I said. “And you just failed. I want to know what’s going on and so does Angela. She sent me a text message. She feels like a prisoner. She wants out of the hotel.”
Boone shook his head. “That’s not happening. At least until your parents get back to town. If Eben’s crew sees her they’re going to try to grab her. And for your information, she was totally behind the decision to move to the hotel last night.”
Angela hadn’t mentioned that in her message. And Boone was right about Eben. He was going to try to grab her the first chance he got. He couldn’t grab her if he didn’t know where she was. So far I wasn’t doing well with Angela’s To-Do list.
“What about the secrets?” I asked. “Are we in or out?”
Boone gave me a reluctant nod. “You’re in,” he said. “But you’re going to wish you weren’t.”
I already wished I wasn’t, but I didn’t tell Boone that. We started out again for the Electric Factory.
“I’m not surprised Angela changed her mind about the hotel after some sleep,” Boone said. “Felix is not mu
ch of a conversationalist. By now he’s cleaned his gun at least a dozen times and I’d be shocked if he’s said more than ten words since they got to the hotel. He was the only one available to keep an eye on her.”
“So, you guys carry guns?” I said.
“It’s optional,” Boone answered. “But after what happened last night I made it mandatory. I don’t like the idea, but if they have guns we have to have guns—not that we’re going to use them. Soldiers and cops use guns. Spies use their brains, or at least we try to. Guns are like magnets. They attract each other and all the violence that goes along with having them.”
It was hard to imagine Boone, Vanessa, or Ray shooting anyone. But Uly and Felix looked like they might shoot people for sport.
“How did you get Angela out of the warehouse without her being seen?” I asked.
“Through a little window on top of the warehouse,” Boone answered. “She and Felix crawled across a board to the next building and slipped out the back. The biggest problem was distracting the security guards while Angela climbed the ladder. Vanessa bet them a hundred dollars that she could stick a knife in a telephone pole from a hundred feet on the first throw. A buck a foot. She won. It also gave us a chance to show Devorah, who watched the whole show from her car, that we aren’t as defenseless as we appeared.”
I would have liked to have seen that. It would have been like seeing my grandmother throw a knife.
Boone’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and said, “Perfect.”
“What?” I asked.
“Text message.” He looked back toward the warehouse. “Devorah’s not following us, which we hope means she’s the only resource Eben has on the ground here. And we just got a hit on SOS. Devorah just called Eben and told him who we were.”
“How do you know all that?”
“X,” Boone answered.
“The intellimobile,” I said. The word popped back into my head from the night before.
Boone nodded. “Vanessa wasn’t exaggerating when she said X was a wizard. The intellimobile is equipped with the most sophisticated surveillance gear in the world. Some of which our own government doesn’t have because X invented it and hasn’t shared the technology with them.”
