by Amanda Hosch
In back of the building there were no bushes around to hide behind if anyone was on patrol, but I decided to take a chance. I walked up to the back wall of the warehouse and pressed my ear to the metal. Some type of machinery was in use — clang, whoosh, clang, whoosh. Stanley joined me, his eyes closed, eyebrows wiggling, and mouth open.
“We don’t have all day,” Montgomery said. I flinched at the sound of his voice. I whipped my head around, but he wasn’t outside. He must have been standing really close to the wall inside. “I don’t know where your troublesome niece went, and I don’t want to be here when she figures it out.”
“You worry too much. What can Moppet do?” That was Frank. “She’s just a girl.”
I can figure out the suitcase’s code, which unlocked Thomas Jefferson’s gold spoons, I thought. And break into the museum without setting off the alarm. And track you to a remote location.
They spoke some more, but their voices and footsteps grew fainter as they walked away from the window, making it difficult to make out their words.
“Once the print job is complete, we’re leaving,” Montgomery said. “And you’re coming with me.”
Print job? Was that the clang, whoosh sound?
“Just tell me where you put the red suitcase, Gert,” Frank said.
I was right. Aunt Gertie was being held here. Where are the park rangers?
“I’ve never seen a red suitcase. Our parents didn’t have one. We never traveled anywhere.” Aunt Gertie’s voice sounded hoarse and tired. “Frank, if I knew where it was, I would tell you.”
I thought about the size of the warehouse. Big enough to park six school buses — three rows of two deep — inside. Since I could hear them clearly, that meant Aunt Gertie and the men were at the back. How can I get Aunt Gertie out of there without Frank and Montgomery noticing me?
“Sad about leaving the warehouse, Frank?” Montgomery’s tone was joking. “Are you going to miss this place?”
Frank grunted in reply.
“It was a good setup for you — rent-free with no one bothering you,” Montgomery continued. “Wouldn’t you agree, Frank?”
I couldn’t hear Frank’s answer.
“True,” Montgomery continued. “Living in the woods is fine in the fall with its warm, sunny days. Winter, especially up here on the mountain, gets downright frosty at night.”
A memory fell into place. Victoria had smelled of the woods that first morning when she’d taken video of me sleeping. This must be where Frankenstella had been living, plotting against my family. No wonder they wanted to take over my house.
“So, leaving you here — all tied up — wouldn’t do, Ms. Baies,” Montgomery said. “Tell me where the red suitcase is, and I’ll release you before I leave the country.”
“I still say we should just leave her,” Frank said. The clang, whoosh sound stopped. “It’s done.”
“She knows too much,” Montgomery said. “I’ll bring her with me. She’ll talk.”
“No, I won’t,” Aunt Gertie said. “Because I don’t know anything.”
“They all talk eventually,” Montgomery said.
“I want what’s mine,” Frank said.
“The suitcase has been hidden for thirty years. A few more days won’t make a difference,” Montgomery said. “Pack the car, Frank. We’re leaving now.”
“Why the car?” Frank asked. “We’re taking the helicopter.”
Not all three of you, I thought.
“It’s a two-seater,” Montgomery said, “and you don’t know how to fly it. We’ll meet at the rendezvous in three days.”
(Rendezvous was a French [and spy] term for an agreed upon meeting spot.)
There was the sound of a chair being dragged on the floor and more talking, but the voices had moved away again.
I couldn’t let Montgomery take Aunt Gertie in the helicopter. With the Robinson R22 Beta II’s range of two hundred and fifty miles, he could fly almost anywhere. The Canadian border was about two hundred miles north. The Pacific Ocean was less than one hundred and thirty miles west, and who knew if he had a boat waiting for him in international waters? I tugged Stanley’s arm and led him into the undergrowth. “You go to Silverton and tell Sheriff Baker what we’ve discovered.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked me.
“Stop Montgomery from getting on that helicopter,” I said.
“The park rangers should be here soon,” Stanley said. “I’ll make sure Frank won’t be able to drive anywhere.”
“How?” I asked.
Stanley pulled out his pocketknife. “Can you disable the helicopter?”
“I’m too short to reach its engine,” I said. “I’ll just have to keep them here.”
“Be careful,” he said. We walked together around the side of the warehouse. I stood next to the open doors, but out of sight from the inside.
Stanley ran to the car, slashing the first tire with a quick cut. He darted around until all four were cut. I could hear the hiss of air from where I stood. I watched Stanley running down the path. When he was no longer visible, and the car’s tires were flat, I walked into the warehouse’s open doorway.
“Hi,” I said to three very startled adults.
31
Never leave a fellow agent behind. You’re in this together. Go team Secret Agent!
— Rule Number 25 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent
“Run!” Aunt Gertie yelled.
Frank stared at me, slack-jawed.
Montgomery merely sighed. “Miss Pear,” he said. “Someone really should put a tracking device on you. A bell, at the very least.”
Aunt Gertie stood barefoot between the two men, her ankles tied together with rope and her wrists handcuffed. When she saw that I wasn’t going to run, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you,” I said. I walked into the warehouse, hoping they would follow me. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a large industrial machine. Waves of heat rolled off of it. I picked up a piece of paper from the ground. “Who is Judge Phoenix and why does he or she have so many different signatures?”
“Never you mind,” Montgomery said, approaching me.
I darted away before he could snatch the paper or me. I needed to keep Montgomery away from the helicopter and Frank away from the car as long as possible. As soon as the slashed tires were discovered, Montgomery’s survival training would kick in and he would try to escape. I needed to keep them there until the park rangers came.
I walked closer to the industrial machines, passing sleeping bags and a camping stove. The footsteps behind me let me know that my plan to stall them was working.
Computers and what looked like a giant printer took up an entire corner of the warehouse. Stacks of paper in various sizes were laid out on a table. Oddities from the past few days fell into place. The warrant, the judge’s order, my guardianship papers were fakes. Counterfeits. If they’d produced them here, it was a big-time crime.
“OK, Miss Pear,” Montgomery said. “What do you want?”
“Why are you asking her?” Frank said before I could answer. I waited a few seconds, still stalling, to see if the inspector would say anything, but he was focused on me.
“A trade,” I said directly to Montgomery, ignoring Frank. “You release my aunt, and I’ll tell you exactly where the red suitcase is.”
“She’s lying,” Frank said. “Bluffing. Stella searched her room. It wasn’t there.”
I waited a few more beats before addressing Montgomery again. “If you promise that you can guarantee that he,” I said, pointing to Frank, “never bothers us again, I’ll even tell you the case’s code so that you don’t have to smash an antique.”
“There really is a red suitcase?” Aunt Gertie’s shoulders sagged. She looked from her brother to me and back. For once
, I couldn’t read her expression. “Mabel, what do you know about my parents?”
Mom had omitted the truth so that Aunt Gertie wouldn’t have the burden of knowing their parents were criminals. But wasn’t it worse to be the only one who didn’t know the truth? I had been keeping so many secrets (good, important secrets), I had almost forgotten I could trust my family and friends. Choice time, Sunflower. Either I lied, keeping this secret and betraying Aunt Gertie, or I broke my promise to Mom. Sorry, Mom.
I had to reveal the Great Reverse Heist, and I didn’t have any time to waste. “Your parents dealt in stolen goods,” I said to my aunt. “Thirty years ago, Montgomery here was a carrier for their criminal gang. He delivered the suitcase to the house several months before your parents died. The museum was used as a place to store stolen property before it could be sold. All of the jewelry you thought was your mom’s was actually stolen. I’m sorry.”
“The statute of limitations is past,” Frank said. “That suitcase and everything in it is mine.”
Montgomery looked at me, and I could’ve sworn he was fighting a smirk. He turned to Frank. “There is no time limit on stolen property. The spoons will forever be considered stolen, which is why we must be discreet when trying to sell them.”
I knew the Thomas Jefferson spoons were stolen! I thought.
“That’s absurd,” Aunt Gertie said, but her voice wavered. “Our parents would never have done that.”
“All of the spoons displayed in the museum are legitimate,” Montgomery said. “I had some of my people check it out during the summer. The Pear house, however, has many interesting hidden treasures.”
“How long has Jane known?” Aunt Gertie asked.
I couldn’t answer that, so I just shrugged.
“You never wondered how our parents paid for everything?” Frank asked.
Aunt Gertie shook her head.
“Do you remember that Christmas before they died, Gertrude?” Frank asked. “We each got one present — a lousy pair of new shoes. Then, in the spring, Mom and Dad suddenly had enough money to not only fill in the cracks in the walls of the house, but to add a second floor, a basement, electricity, and indoor plumbing. Where do you think they got the money from?”
“I never did think about that,” Aunt Gertie said, confused.
“You inherited everything — the house, the museum, all the goods,” Frank spat.
“You left.” Aunt Gertie shook her head, her voice rough. “You ran away in the middle of the night, two weeks after Mom and Dad died. You stole all the money in their bank account — I could barely buy food.”
“I was searching for the red suitcase.”
“For thirty years?” Aunt Gertie laughed bitterly.
“I tried to give you and Jane a chance to share with me last summer,” Frank said, “but you refused. There are a lot more things hidden. There are other boxes with things to sell.”
“I had to raise our baby sister all by myself, Frank! I didn’t go away to art school. I barely graduated from high school.” Aunt Gertie used her special glare that could freeze someone in their tracks. “I didn’t find anything of value in the house.”
“Don’t lie. You must have sold some of it to build your own house and fund your stupid coffee shop.”
“No, Frank. I borrowed money from Jane and Fred.”
“Well, where did they get it from?” her brother asked.
Montgomery winked at me, as if he was enjoying sharing a secret.
Aunt Gertie glanced at me, panicked. There was no good answer to that question without giving away that Mom and Dad had other jobs besides Mrs. Museum and Mr. Telephone. “They saved their pennies.”
“Ha.” Frank sneered.
“This lovely reunion is not helping me achieve my objective: collect the red suitcase and get out of town,” Montgomery said. “Nor yours, Frank.” He turned to me. “When you’re on a mission, Mabel, you have to focus. If you can remember your goal, you’ll be able to measure your success rate.”
“Why are you talking to Moppet like that?” Frank asked.
Montgomery shrugged. “She’s got potential, unlike others.”
“Well, Montgomery,” I said. “What about my offer?”
“If Moppet is lying to us about where the suitcase is,” Frank said, “and if we go to get it and it’s not there, we’ll end up with nothing.”
“Good point,” Montgomery said. He turned to me. “Prove it.”
“It has letters from Thomas Jefferson in it.” I held my breath.
The two men exchanged a look. “Hold on, Baies.” Montgomery walked toward me, a genuine smile on his face. “Well, well, Mabel Opal Pear. Where did you hear that?”
“Nowhere. I saw them when I opened the silverware case.”
“I am impressed.” Montgomery did that slow-motion clapping thing again. “Maybe I should have hired you for my organization.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
Montgomery grabbed me by the arm and started pulling me toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Frank asked.
“To retrieve the elusive red case that neither you nor your wife seems to be able to find.”
“No.” Frank walked up to us and grabbed my other arm. “If the sheriff sees you in town with the kid, she might question you. I’ll take her since I’m her legal guardian. No one can say a thing if they see me driving her home.”
“You’re not really, legally, her guardian. You understand that, right?” Montgomery asked. “I made up the document, I’m the boss, and I’m taking Miss Pear, since you’ve had days to complete the assignment and you failed.”
Frank raised his hands in defeat.
Montgomery and I took two steps toward the door. I couldn’t risk getting in the helicopter, but if we went near the car, he’d discover the slashed tires. Think, Sunflower.
A swoosh of air from behind us should have warned Montgomery what was coming, but grown-ups never do pay attention when they’re in a hurry. Montgomery fell to the floor with a low moan. Frank stood behind, his hand still clenched in a fist.
“I was king of the boxing ring in high school.” Frank waved his hands high in the air like a champion. “Who’s the boss now?” His belly jiggled in joy.
“Not you.” Montgomery spun his legs around, knocking Frank down with a kick. The two grown men went at it, just like the fifth-grade boys at recess.
I ran to Aunt Gertie and pulled out my pocketknife. I opened it to the tiny skeleton key and inserted it in the handcuff lock. I twisted the key — click — and the cuffs fell off. Aunt Gertie wiggled her fingers. I opened my knife to the saw blade and cut through the rope in no time. Bruises circled her ankles where the ropes had been tied too tightly.
By this time, Frank was sitting on Montgomery’s torso, screaming, “It’s my silver! It was my idea!”
“You morons would still be living in that flea-infested, rundown motel in Nome if it wasn’t for me,” Montgomery shouted, punching Frank’s stomach.
Holding the handcuffs gave me an idea. Approaching them as I would a bird — quiet and unseen — I cuffed Montgomery’s right ankle. “Hey!” he shouted.
Frank snorted. “Stupid kid.” He stood up. “That does no good.”
Montgomery took the opportunity and kicked him in the back of his knees. Frank fell forward with a thud.
I grabbed hold of Frank’s right ankle and cuffed it, then jumped away from the wiggling mess of angry men.
Frank stood up and tried to walk, but Montgomery’s weight prevented him.
Montgomery staggered up, fists clenched. “You’re gonna pay for that.”
But before Montgomery could do anything to make Frank pay, Frank jerked his leg, making Montgomery fall down again. This time Montgomery stayed down, eyes closed.
“Are you OK, Aunt Gertie?” I as
ked.
“I’m fine, child,” Aunt Gertie whispered. “Are they?”
Frank groaned on the ground. I checked Montgomery’s vital signs. His pulse was strong and his breathing was steady.
Using the rope that had been around Aunt Gertie’s ankles, I bound Montgomery’s hands behind his back. Frank grunted, so I left him sitting on the floor, cuffed to Montgomery. “The park rangers should be here soon to get them,” I said. “And Sheriff Baker knows we’re here.” For good measure, I took Montgomery’s key ring out of his pocket.
“Well, we’ll wait for rescue, then,” Aunt Gertie said. “There are lots of chips and soda, if you’re hungry.”
“We can’t wait. Stella could be ripping apart the Spoon right this very minute.” What if she found the New Orleans collection hiding in the cabinet? I thought. And was selling it? “We have to start walking now.”
“You have the inspector’s keys, right? I’ll drive.”
“Umm… we can’t. Stanley slashed the tires so they wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“I don’t have shoes,” she said. “Even if I did, I’m too tired to walk.”
I held up my cell phone, which was supposed to be a direct link to Roy. I punched in the numbers, but nothing happened. I tried again. “The batteries must be dead.”
“No. The mountain prevents any service coming through.” Aunt Gertie put her hand on my shoulder. “If you have to go, there’s an old mountain bike over there.” She motioned to the corner with Frankenstella’s camping gear.
“Help should be on its way soon.”
“Not soon enough,” Aunt Gertie said. “Go.”
32
Double-crossing a double agent makes double the work. Don’t do it, unless there is no other choice.
— Rule Number 33 from Rules for a Successful Life as an Undercover Secret Agent
After riding the too-big bicycle on a bumpy gravel road that was filled with potholes and tree roots, I realized why I preferred hiking with my own two feet.
With aching legs and hands that hurt from gripping the handlebars so tightly, I rode into Silverton. Everything appeared normal. The clock over Mai’s Diner read 4:15. My bike ride had taken more than thirty minutes, which meant that Aunt Gertie had been watching over Montgomery and Frank for that long. I had to hurry.
