“Thank you for bringing them home. I’m sure it won’t happen again. But, say. As long as you’re here, how about sticking around for a barbecue? Wienies on me!”
“Mr. Holt,” Agent McIntyre said slowly, her tone verging on exasperation.
“Doctor Holt, actually,” Uncle Newt said, correcting her.
“Doctor Holt—”
“Or stick with Mister, if you prefer.” Uncle Newt shrugged. “I’m not a medical doctor. I don’t want to turn into one of those stuffed shirts who wants everyone to call him ‘Doctor So-and-So’ because he has a PhD in modern dance.”
“All right. Mr. Holt—”
“You know what? Let’s skip the formality altogether. Just call me Newt!”
By this time, Agent McIntyre’s normally pale face was flushed as crimson as her strawberry-red hair.
She turned to the other agent.
“You tell him,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Your niece and nephew played a cruel trick on Agent McIntyre and me,” said the other agent, “resulting in the waste of our valuable time and a distraction from our important duties.”
Uncle Newt cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “They played a cruel trick on you?”
The man nodded.
“In their bathing suits?” Uncle Newt said.
“Yes.”
“Look,” Tesla said, interrupting, “our parents are on the run from spies—one of whom turned out to be our uncle’s neighbor.4 Didn’t you think we’d try to find out what’s going on?” The old lawn chair creaked as Tesla jumped to her feet. “If you’d just tell us the truth and check in with us from time to time,” she said, glaring at the two agents, “we wouldn’t have to play stupid tricks to get your attention.”
Like his partner, the male agent was pale, though his skin seemed more ash gray than white. Where Agent McIntyre looked as if she didn’t get enough sun, this guy looked like he’d spent the past year gathering dust in a closet.
“Agent McIntyre and I are special operatives of the United States government,” he said to Tesla. “We’re not going to give out our phone numbers and e-mail addresses to children.”
“You could’ve kept in touch with me,” Uncle Newt pointed out.
The man returned an icy stare. “Like I said … we aren’t going to give out our contact information … to children.”
Uncle Newt scratched his head. “Hey,” he said, mumbling, “have I just been insulted?”
“The point is,” the agent said, turning back to Tesla, “locating your parents is our job, and you’re not making it any easier by—”
“Doyle!” Agent McIntyre snapped.
But it was too late. Agent Doyle had already said too much.
Tesla’s eyes widened. Nick stood up. Even Uncle Newt, who usually looked like he was drawing blueprints in his mind when someone else was talking, stared at Agent Doyle with complete attention.
“Locating their parents?” Uncle Newt said. “You mean you don’t even know where Al and Martha are?”
Agent McIntyre shot her partner a glare before answering. “There have been … setbacks over the past few weeks,” she said.
“Losing my mom and dad isn’t a setback!” Nick cried. “It’s a disaster!”
“The last time we saw you, Julie, the spy from next door, was your prisoner,” said Tesla. “You said you were closing in on the others. What happened?”
“Julie escaped,” the male agent said.
Just in case anyone missed his name the first time McIntyre said it, she blurted it out again: “Doyle! SHUT! UP!”
“No, McIntyre. I won’t! They need to know what we’re up against.”
Doyle took three steps forward so that he was looming over Nick and Tesla.
“This isn’t a game,” he said to the twins. “This is serious business. Life and death business. You two want to help your parents? Stay out of it.” And with that, Agent Doyle spun on the heels of his shiny black shoes and marched away.
“I’m sorry,” Agent McIntyre said. “I don’t think he should have said any of that. But Doyle’s right. Just trust us and everything will turn out fine.”
Agent McIntyre turned and quickly walked away, following Agent Doyle around the side of the house in the direction of the street.
As they listened to the black SUV pulling away, Nick and Tesla looked at each other. Their expressions were grim but determined, and each knew exactly what the other was thinking.
To their surprise, it was Uncle Newt who said it aloud.
“ ‘Just trust us’?” he sputtered. “Trust the people who lost your parents and let one of the bad guys escape? I don’t think so.”
“So we’re not staying out of it?” Nick asked.
Uncle Newt shook his head.
“You two have taught me a lot this summer,” he said. “The importance of getting involved to solve problems. The power of friendship and collaboration. How to make a grilled cheese sandwich. So, no. When I hear that my brother and his wife—your mother and father—are missing, that maybe they’ve been kidnapped by some sort of spy ring, I am not going to stay out of it.” Uncle Newt paused and caught his breath. “I’m going to get into it!” he said. “I’m going to get into it all the way up to my neck! And you can get in with me if you want.”
The speech wasn’t quite as inspiring as Uncle Newt seemed to think it was, but Nick and Tesla appreciated the sentiment all the same.
“Thanks, Uncle Newt,” said Nick.
“So, what’s the plan?” asked Tesla.
Uncle Newt beamed at them with an expression that said he knew exactly where to start. “First,” he declared, “we’re going to have lunch!”
“Lunch?” said Nick.
“Or breakfast, I guess. It’s still early. Whatever, don’t split hairs. We’re gonna eat!” Uncle Newt retrieved the cardboard box that he had set down earlier, opened it, and pulled out a red tube about a foot long.
“Behold!” Uncle Newt said, using the “science reveal” voice he favored when unleashing a new invention. “The creation I’ve been perfecting just for you! A solar-powered hot dog cooker!”
Nick and Tesla gaped at the little canister their uncle was holding.
“That’s what you’ve been working on in the basement all these weeks?” asked Tesla, after about thirty seconds of gaping.
Uncle Newt nodded proudly.
“Then what’s been blowing up?” asked Nick. “That thing looks like it’s made out of an old Pringles can.”
“That’s the beauty of it! It is!” said Uncle Newt. “The early prototypes were a bit more ambitious. And big. I tried to boost the photovoltaic energy by surrounding the cooking chamber with alkane gases.”
“Huh?” said Nick.
Nick loved science, but chemistry wasn’t his forte.
“He was pumping them full of methane,” Tesla explained.
“Mostly propane, actually. And butane a few times,” Uncle Newt said, correcting his niece. He sighed wistfully. “But the result was always the same.”
“Boom?” Nick guessed.
Uncle Newt nodded. “I guess it was for the best,” he said. “I was only trying to build a sun oven because you two had become so interested in solar energy. So souping it up with gas was kind of missing the point. I wanted to end up with something bigger than a hot dog cooker, though. I was going to bake an entire ham with heat energy from the sun! But then, like you say—boom!—so I asked Hiroko to bake it for us instead. The last time I tried to cook—”
“We remember,” Nick said. The local fire department probably remembered, too. It’s not often an entire company of firefighters is required to extinguish a pan of brownies.
“Speaking of ham,” said Uncle Newt, “have either of you seen it? I could’ve sworn we still had half of it in the fridge—”
“Show us how the hot dog cooker works, Uncle Newt!” Tesla blurted out.
“Yeah, I’m starving!” Nick said. “A hot dog would really hit the
spot.”
Uncle Newt grinned and began searching for the perfect place to operate the solar cooker.
Nick and Tesla looked at each other with relief. Neither one felt like explaining what had happened to the ham.
“Here’s a nice sunny spot,” Uncle Newt said after a few minutes of wandering around the yard. He knelt and positioned the cooker just so on a far corner of the patio. “Before you know it, we’ll have delicious cooked hot dogs and then we’ll be ready to get to work. After all …”
He stood up and rubbed his hands together.
“You can’t bust an international spy ring on an empty stomach!”
UNCLE NEWT’S
GUARANTEED-NOT-TO-EXPLODE FRANKFURTER HEATER-UPPER
THE STUFF
• A Pringles-style potato chip tube
• An uncooked hot dog
• A 12-inch bamboo skewer
• Clear tape
• Plastic wrap
• Scrap cardboard
• Scissors
• A small magnet (optional)
• A hobby knife
• A drill
• A hot-glue gun
• A responsible adult (to assist with the hobby knife, drill, and hot-glue gun)
THE SETUP
1. Have a party and eat all the potato chips! Then ask an adult to drill a hole in the center of the metal bottom of the can that is just large enough for the skewer to fit into. Then use the skewer to poke a hole in the center of the can’s cap.
2. Don’t let the responsible adult leave! You’ll need help making three cuts in the can with the hobby knife, as shown in the diagram. Then open the flaps.
3. Cut the scrap cardboard into three pieces: one large 12-by-4-inch piece (30.5 cm by 10 cm), and two small 5-by-4-inch pieces (12.5 cm by 10 cm). Before the adult makes the cuts, be sure to check that the large piece is longer than the potato chip can. Use the skewer to poke a hole in each of the smaller pieces, along the center line of the cardboard about 2 inches (5 cm) from the end (measuring the cardboard lengthwise).
4. Assemble the base of the heater-upper by hot-gluing the two short cardboard pieces upright on the ends of the large piece, as shown. Space the short pieces just a bit father apart than the length of the can. Place them with the holes closer to the top than the bottom.
5. If you have a magnet, hot-glue it onto one of the upright cardboard pieces; place it on the inside, near the hole. It will hold the bottom of the can in place. Now you’re ready to cook!
THE FINAL STEPS
1. Place the lid on the can. Holding the hot dog inside the can, carefully slip the skewer through the hole in the lid, and then through the length of the hot dog. Push the skewer carefully until it comes through the other end of the hot dog and out the hole in the bottom of the can. Center the hot dog in the can.
2. Cut a piece of plastic wrap slightly bigger than the window that your adult assistant cut into the can. Tape one end of the plastic wrap to the can, and then stretch the rest tight across the opening; tape it in place. This will trap the sun’s heat in the can to cook the hot dog.
3. Place your heater-upper in a sunny spot, positioning the plastic window in direct sunlight. Adjust the position as needed to keep the hot dog facing the sun. A single hot dog will take 15 to 30 minutes to cook on a bright sunny day. It may take longer, depending on the air temperature, cloud cover, and time of day.
4. Once the hot dog appears cooked, remove the plastic wrap and carefully remove it from the skewer. Then stick that dog on a bun and eat up!
3 That was also at the end of Nick and Tesla’s Secret Agent Gadget Battle. Hey, a lot happened in that book! Don’t blame us if you haven’t read it yet!—The authors
4 We don’t need to tell you which book that was in, do we? You know by now.—The authors
By the time the first hot dog was ready to eat, Nick and Tesla had changed into dry clothes and built their own heater-uppers using spare parts from the lab. (“No wonder Uncle Newt’s been eating so many Pringles lately,” Nick said, realization dawning.) Uncle Newt graciously offered to eat the first hot dog so that his niece and nephew wouldn’t argue over it.
“We could just split it,” Nick suggested.
But Uncle Newt couldn’t hear his nephew over the sound of his own, rather loud chewing.
“Now,” Uncle Newt said, wiping at the mustard from one side of his mouth (and smearing it all over his chin), “it’s time to figure out our first move.”
But before they could make any plans, a voice called out from the side of the house: “Hey! You’re having a barbecue and you didn’t invite us?”
The person yelling was a tall, burly boy with long, curly hair—Nick and Tesla’s friend Silas. With him, as usual, was his polar opposite—a slender kid with hair shaved so short, he almost looked bald: their other friend DeMarco.
“You could smell hot dogs all the way over at your house?” Tesla asked as the boys joined them on the patio.
“It wasn’t the hot dogs that brought us here,” said DeMarco. “It was this.”
He held up a newspaper. It was the morning edition of the San Francisco Chronicle.
Uncle Newt squinted at the front page.
“The Giants lost again?” he sighed. “That is a bummer.”
“I don’t think that’s the story that caught their eye,” said Tesla.
She was looking at another headline running across the front page. In large, blocky black letters it read:
PRESIDENT TO SIGN NEW “STAR WARS” BAN
“Don’t worry, guys,” Nick said. “ ‘Star Wars’ is slang for space-based weapons. That’s what they’re banning, not the Star Wars movies.”
“I know that,” Silas snorted. He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, effectively covering the Star Wars: The Force Awakens logo on his T-shirt.
“Well, you did after we read the article,” said DeMarco.
“OK, yes. I admit that I was a little freaked out at first,” Silas said. “Some people really hate the prequels, you know. A ban could happen! But then, once me and DeMarco realized what was really being banned, we thought of your mom and dad. You guys think they’re working on some kind of space laser thing, right?”
“Not exactly,” said Tesla. “Space-based solar power. Satellites that collect energy from the sun and beam it to Earth as microwaves.”
Silas squinted warily at the sky, as though he half-expected a red ray to shoot down through the clouds and fry him on the spot. “Sounds like a weapon to me,” he said.
“Couldn’t there be a connection between what’s happening with your parents and the treaty?” DeMarco asked.
Nick and Tesla looked at each other, their brows furrowed.
“Could there be?” Nick said.
“I don’t see how,” said Tesla. “Mom and Dad would never build something that could hurt people.”
“Not on purpose, Tez,” said Nick. “But what if someone was trying to take their solar-power satellite and turn it into exactly the kind of weapon the treaty would ban? Maybe that’s why Mom and Dad were kidnapped.”
Silas and DeMarco’s eyes widened.
“Kidnapped?” they said together, gasping.
“Now, now. Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Uncle Newt. “All we know is that Nick and Tesla’s mother and father mysteriously disappeared right after one of the spies who’d been after them escaped from …”
Uncle Newt stopped and scratched his head.
“Never mind,” he said. “They’ve been kidnapped.”
“How do you know all this?” DeMarco asked.
Nick told them what they’d learned that morning from Agent McIntyre and Agent Doyle. When he finished, Silas shot a look at the house next door—the one that had been, for a time, the home of Julie Casserly. Uncle Newt’s neighbor, and a spy. “And to think I used to mow her lawn,” Silas said.
DeMarco placed a comforting hand on his friend’s broad shoulder. “At least you were terrible at it.”
>
Silas nodded, looking grimly satisfied. “Yes. Yes, I was.”
He suddenly stopped, midnod. “Hey,” Silas said, “someone’s inside Mrs. Casserly’s house right now!” He squinted and then added, “And she’s watching us!”
Everyone spun around.
Silas was right. A woman was staring at them through one of the windows on the first floor of the what used to be Julie Casserly’s house. She had long, straight, platinum-blonde hair and high cheekbones that were powdered pink with a heavy layer of blush. The window woman looked none too pleased by what she was seeing. Almost as soon as Nick and Tesla and everyone else got a look at her, she darted out of sight.
“Another spy!” said DeMarco.
“Or another secret agent,” said Silas.
DeMarco glared at him. “Spies and secret agents are the same thing.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Agent McIntyre isn’t a spy,” Silas insisted. “She’s an agent.”
“But if she were a secret agent, she’d be a spy,” DeMarco shot back.
Silas shook his head. “No. She just wouldn’t call herself Agent McIntyre.”
“Actually, that woman over there isn’t a spy or an agent,” Uncle Newt said, interrupting the boys’ banter before Tesla could tell them to knock it off (one more second of debate and she would have). “She’s a realtor who’s been trying to sell Julie’s house,” Uncle Newt explained. “I’ve seen her bringing people by to look at it. I tried to introduce myself a few times, but I always seem to catch her at the wrong moment. Every time I go over to say hi, turns out she’s late for a showing at another house.”
Uncle Newt stuffed the last third of his hot dog into his mouth, smearing ketchup over the mustard already plastering his cheeks. “Iss ’oo ’ad,” he said with his mouth full. He swallowed, gulping loudly, and added, “I never get to welcome her clients to the neighborhood.”
That’s just how the realtor wants it, Tesla thought but didn’t say aloud. Instead, she said: “This might be our chance.”
Nick and Tesla's Solar-Powered Showdown Page 3
