The X-Factor

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “I’m positive. Don’t you remember? Nick kept muttering and complaining about how he wanted to try it out—kind of acting like his dad had delayed it on purpose just to spite him.”

  That sounded like Nick. He and his dad didn’t exactly get along. Maybe he resented the fact that McKenzie had dumped Nick’s mother and remarried—twice. First to Erica’s mom, then to Delfina, who was only a few years older than Nick himself.

  Not that he could complain too much, in my opinion. Delfina’s picture was probably in the dictionary under the word “hot.”

  To distract myself from that thought, I took a better look at Bomber Pilot. It was a type of swing ride—a bunch of cars dangled from a central pillar. The cars were shaped like mini fighter planes, each of them attached to the pillar by two massive chains.

  “Hmm,” I said. “Doesn’t really seem up to GX’s standards, does it? I mean, it’s just another swing ride.”

  “Not quite,” Frank corrected. “For one thing, the center part oscillates so the swing-out is unpredictable. Besides that, there’s laser technology that lets riders try to shoot at holograms of enemy planes while they’re riding.” Off my surprised look, he added, “Read about it during my research on this place.”

  I rolled my eyes. Frank’s middle name might as well be “Research.” But I had to admit the ride did sound pretty cool. Plus, it fit right in with the patriotic military theme of this section of the park. I glanced up at the nearest roller coaster, known as Old Glory, and then over at the entrance to some kind of military tank attraction we hadn’t had a chance to check out yet.

  By now the photographers were packing up their equipment. McKenzie looked up and saw us.

  “You two!” he barked out, hurrying over. “Find that Wolff girl yet?”

  I’d just started wandering toward the neighboring attraction, curious for a better look at the full-size tanks parked in there. But now I hurried back. Not that it made much difference. McKenzie never paid much attention to me when Frank was around. He claimed Frank reminded him of himself at that age. Whatever. I was just happy to be out of the line of fire most of the time.

  “Not yet, sir,” Frank was replying. “Er, is Bomber Pilot opening soon? I thought it wasn’t ready yet.”

  McKenzie scowled and glanced over his shoulder at the ride. “Well, we made it ready,” he snapped. “I mean, I had to do something to replace all those attractions that got wrecked in the explosion. Not to mention take everyone’s minds off the disaster that this grand opening has been!”

  He had a point. When Mount McKenzie had exploded, the park’s guests had thought it was just part of the show. But there were tons of reporters and other media types around for the grand opening, and they’d figured out the truth soon enough—especially since the demise of the mountain meant that most of the attractions located on its slopes were kaput too. That meant no more downhill skiing, no rock-climbing walls, no snowboarding—you get the picture.

  McKenzie had managed to pass it all off as an accident with the opening-day fireworks. But when more stuff kept going wrong, it got harder to explain away. Stuff like Frank and Cody almost getting filleted by the Leap. Or various other attractions breaking down. And especially the death of superstar boy bander Bret Johnston, who’d been electrocuted by a microphone David Sanders had rigged for Cody. Yeah, that one was going to be tough to keep quiet. Based on what Frank and I were hearing around the park and seeing online, people were starting to think GX was cursed.

  I noticed that McKenzie had turned to glare at Baldie over at the smoke machine or bomb simulator or whatever it was. I looked that way too. The dude was huge. Muscle on top of muscle. I’d seen him around the place ever since we’d arrived—he was hard to miss!—but I wasn’t sure who he was.

  “Okay, thanks for the info, sir. I was just curious,” Frank was saying in his superpolite Eagle Scout way. “I was under the impression that there was a lot more work to do on this ride, that’s all.”

  “There was,” McKenzie snapped sourly. “My people are working triple-time to get it ready to open tomorrow. It was the only one we even had a shot of finishing in time. I mean, things are all messed up over at the Jungle, so that was out. And the morons who were supposed to deliver the safety barriers and whatnot for Whitewater Wipeout just called to say they’re delayed again, and the stupid inspectors won’t let us open the ride without them.”

  He degenerated into a round of cursing. Then he turned and stabbed a finger toward Baldie. “Make sure the crew gets back on the job right away!” he yelled. “If this ride isn’t ready to go first thing tomorrow, heads will roll!” With that, he stomped away. I glanced at Baldie. If looks could kill, McKenzie would be in about the same shape as the mountain he’d named after himself. Yikes. Whoever he was, Baldie was one scary-looking dude.

  “Guess we’re all finished here!” Delfina trilled. She hoisted Tyrone Jr. onto one shoulder and toddled away on her four-inch heels.

  The photographers were all gone by now too. Nick and Erica drifted toward us. I wasn’t thrilled to see Nick—the guy was kind of a dweeb. But Erica was another story. Not only was she easy on the eyes, but she was smart, too. Our first day there, she’d hotwired one of the roller coasters to take us for a ride. I mean, what’s hotter than a cute girl gearhead?

  “You guys are still here?” Nick said. Then he smirked. “Oh, right. You still haven’t figured out who’s trying to wreck this place. Bummer for you. In case you couldn’t tell, my father doesn’t like losers.”

  I gritted my teeth as he hurried off. Meanwhile Erica sidled up to Frank, standing so close they were almost touching. I hid a grin as Frank’s face went beet red. Okay, it was pretty annoying that she had the hots for him. I mean, what was I—chopped liver? Still, watching my nerdy brother’s reaction to her obvious crush made for some top-flight entertainment.

  “So what’s up with the case, anyway?” Erica tilted her head up at Frank. “I assume it’s open again?”

  “Looks that way,” the lobster that had taken over my brother’s body replied. “David Sanders claims he had nothing to do with that bomb on the skateboard. Plus, we still haven’t figured out who blew up Mount McKenzie—Sanders wasn’t even here yet when that happened.”

  I nodded. “Looks like there might be someone else around here who doesn’t like GX. Or your stepfather.” I looked at Baldie again. He’d gone back to fiddling with the equipment.

  “But don’t worry,” Frank was telling Erica. “We’re on the case. We’ll do our best to track down the culprit before anyone else gets hurt.”

  Erica touched Frank on the arm. “I love it when you talk like that,” she cooed. “You know—all the secret agent stuff.”

  Frank opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Instead his face just got redder than ever.

  I could hardly hold back my laughter this time. Frank could be so lame that sometimes it was hard to believe we were related.

  Still, I decided it might be time to come to his rescue. If he spontaneously combusted, I’d be stuck finishing the mission on my own.

  “Yeah, the first thing we need to do is talk to Lenni Wolff,” I told Erica.

  She looked surprised. “That skater chick? You really think she’s behind all this?”

  “Nope,” I replied. “But we’re hoping she can help us figure out who might be.”

  Erica nodded. Then she checked her watch and grimaced. “Oops, I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’m stuck with babysitting duty today.”

  “Bummer,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Especially since Delfina takes, like, all day whenever she goes to the hairdresser over on the mainland. Guess it takes time to create that shade of blond that’s not found in nature.”

  She said good-bye and hurried off. “So I guess this means we’re back on Lenni patrol?” asked Frank. His face was already returning to its normal color.

  I shrugged. “Might as well, unless you’ve got a better plan.” We headed toward
the main path. “By the way, who’s Mr. Clean back there?” I added.

  Frank glanced back over his shoulder. “You mean Ox?”

  “Okay, Mr. Clean, Ox, Paul Bunyan, whatever you want to call him.”

  Frank chuckled. “No, that’s his name,” he said. “Ox Oliver. He’s the head of maintenance for the whole park. Don’t you pay attention to anyone who’s not a cute girl?”

  “Hey, we can’t all be lady-killers like you, Mr. Smooth,” I shot back. “Just ask your girlfriend Erica.”

  That shut him up for a while. We kept walking. Finding Lenni in the crowds seemed like a hopeless cause. But we were also keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Until we figured out who was behind the latest mischief, it was impossible to guess when or how the culprit might strike again.

  About an hour later, we ran into Nick. He was leaning on the fence, watching a bunch of guests enjoy the demolition derby attraction. When he spotted us, he hurried over.

  “Yo, I just heard your good pal Lenni Wolff is causing trouble again,” he said with a frown.

  “Really? Where?” I asked.

  “Cliff diving.”

  “Thanks for the info. Come on, Joe.” Frank was already breaking into a jog.

  The cliff-diving attraction was way off in one corner of the park. Actually, the “cliff” was built out from the high perimeter walls over there. It looked pretty realistic. Divers plunged down into one end of an enormous man-made lake that also held a bunch of boating attractions.

  When we got there, we found a chain stretched across the entrance. A sign on it read SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED.

  “Why’s it closed?” asked Frank. “Wasn’t McKenzie just talking about how important it is to keep stuff open?”

  “Maybe our friend Lenni has something to do with it,” I said, ducking under the chain. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

  A narrow set of steps led directly up to the cliff wall. The top was hidden from us most of the way up, though anyone walking along the shores of the lake had a great view of people diving. It would be a fantastic choice for someone who wanted to attract a lot of attention—like Lenni.

  “Maybe she’s up there trying to hang one of her anti-GX banners,” I panted as we took the steps two or three at a time.

  But when we reached the top, there was no sign of Lenni—or anyone else. The place was deserted. The door of the operator’s shed was ajar, and a huge tractor with an even huger plow attached was parked a few yards back from the edge.

  “So where’s Lenni?” I stepped carefully around the enormous, sharp-looking plow blades to peer over the edge of the cliff. No banner. “And what’s with the farm equipment? Are they planning to plant corn up here or something?”

  “Maybe that’s how McKenzie’s planning to make back all the money he’s losing from the sabotage,” Frank quipped, joining me at the edge.

  I looked down at the gleaming expanse of water below. “Wow, this is cool!” I said. “How’d we miss this place before? I hope they open it up again soon so we can give it a try.”

  From the look on Frank’s face, I could tell he was about to remind me for the millionth time that we were at GX to work, not play. But before he could open his mouth, we heard an ominous rumble behind us.

  “What’s that?” Frank turned to look. His eyes widened, and he let out a shout.

  But I could barely hear it. That’s because the tractor’s engine had just started up with a roar. It immediately lurched forward.

  “Out of the way!” I yelled, even though I doubted Frank could hear. I made a move toward the entrance path.

  But it was already too late. The edge of the plow clipped the wooden wall of the operator’s shed, its sharp, spinning blades digging chunks out of it and sending them flying like deadly missiles. I spun toward the other end, but the plow was scraping against the rock wall on that side, sending out a shower of sparks.

  We were trapped!

  High Dive

  “Come on!” I yelled directly into Joe’s ear. I hoped he could hear me over the roar of the engine. “There’s only one way out—straight down!”

  We rushed back to the edge of the cliff. A few seconds ago diving off it had looked like fun. Now, not so much. I took a deep breath.…

  “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaargh!” I shouted as I leaped off the edge.

  Nearby, I could hear Joe yelling too. Most of my attention was on the sparkling sheet of water approaching extremely rapidly below. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I caught a glimpse of the enormous tractor tipping over the edge of the cliff and falling after us. Whoa. Suddenly the dive itself didn’t seem like the scariest part of this. Not by a long shot.

  SPLASH! I hit the lake at an awkward angle. But I recovered quickly, kicking and pulling at the water for all I was worth, hoping I was going in the right direction. If not, I was going to be in a world of hurt when that tractor splashed down.…

  A few seconds later there was an enormous WHOOOOOOOOSH! as the tractor hit the water. The wave that went up swamped me, sending me back underwater and tumbling head over heels. But the tractor itself missed me by at least a few feet. Whew!

  My head was spinning and I wasn’t sure which way was up. I just aimed for the light, hoping my air held out. When my head popped up again, I gulped in gratefully. For a second I thought my ears were still ringing from the noise of the tractor. But no. It was actually the distant sound of cheering. That was weird. But I had other things on my mind.

  “Joe!” I shouted hoarsely. “Where are you?”

  My brother’s head popped up at that moment. He was only a few feet away. I was surprised we hadn’t bumped into each other underwater. I smiled with relief.

  Then I finally looked over at the shore. A bunch of people were gathered there, staring our way. Some were cheering. Others were jumping up and down, pumping their fists.

  “Guess they thought that was part of the GX show,” I said breathlessly.

  Joe spit out some water. “Yeah,” he said. “McKenzie can call it Tractor Diving. It’ll be a huge hit. Come on, let’s go in and let someone know what happened.”

  A few minutes later we were onshore, wringing the water out of our clothes. “Yo, that was awesome, dudes!” Some random park guest shouted, hurrying over to us. “This place is killer!”

  Yeah. He could say that again.

  Most of the spectators seemed to agree with the first guy. But a few were looking nervous.

  “I dunno,” one skinny little teenager mumbled. “I heard this place might be, you know, unsafe. Like, for real.”

  Joe and I traded a surprised look. “Hang on,” Joe said, grabbing the guy as he started to wander off. “What are you talking about? Who said it was unsafe?”

  The dude shrugged. “Read it on a website,” he said. “You know—that StopGX one. Said there were a bunch of accidents. People getting hurt. Stuff like that.”

  “Whoa,” Joe murmured as the guy took off. “I thought our man Tyrone was keeping a pretty good handle on publicity. Guess not, huh?”

  “Even McKenzie can’t control the Internet. Especially if someone here is feeding inside info to the webmaster.” I bit my lip. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Only if you’re thinking Lenni could be that someone.” Joe shot a glance out toward the lake. It was pretty deep in the spot where we’d landed, and the surface had closed over the tractor, giving no hint that it lay beneath. “But she wouldn’t have done that, would she?”

  “You mean try to kill us?” I shook my head. “Doubtful. Actually, I still don’t think she’s behind any of the dangerous stuff. But I definitely wouldn’t put it past her to spread bad publicity about this place. That’s kind of what she’s all about.”

  “Good point. So then who just tried to take us out?”

  I was wondering the same thing. “Do you think the tractor thing was meant for us specifically?” I mused, rubbing my chin and staring up at the cliff. “Or was it just more sabotage against the park in gene
ral?”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “I don’t know,” he said. “But come to think of it, someone sure sent us over here—you know, specifically.”

  “Nick,” I said, realizing he was right. “You think he had something to do with it?” McKenzie’s son had been a suspect for a while earlier. We’d speculated that he might be sabotaging the park as a cry for attention from his distant father. He hadn’t turned out to be the culprit that time. But that didn’t necessarily let him off the hook for the new stuff.

  “Dunno,” Joe said. “But it’s worth asking him a few questions, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. “Let’s call McKenzie and tell him what happened. Then we can look for Nick.”

  Joe fished his cell phone out of his shorts pocket, shook off the water, and flipped it open. Luckily, it was working despite the dunking. McKenzie didn’t answer, so Joe left a message on his voice mail. Then we set out to find Nick, also keeping an eye out for Lenni.

  We were still looking for both of them half an hour later when we noticed a hubbub near the main gate. “What’s going on over there?” I wondered aloud.

  “One way to find out.” Joe took off at a jog.

  I followed. There were tons of people milling around in the main plaza. We pushed our way through until we could see the area right in front of the gate. There, about a dozen people—mostly teenage and preteen girls—were standing around holding up posters, T-shirts, and CDs. Most of them were sobbing or wailing.

  “Hey,” Joe said. “Looks like some kind of teenybopper vigil for the late Mr. Bret Johnston.”

  I nodded. “Guess McKenzie couldn’t really keep that news from getting out.”

  It had been less than two days since Johnston was killed. If this many distraught fans were here already, I could only imagine how many more were on their way. And I had a feeling McKenzie wasn’t going to be happy about it.

  “Bret! Bret!” the girls wailed at the top of their lungs. Then several of them started singing an out-of-tune version of one of Bret’s band’s biggest hits, “(No More) Mr. Nice Guyz.” Soon all of the mourners were singing along.