“Frank? What is it?” I asked.
Slowly he handed me the receiver and pushed a couple of keys to replay the message. I put the phone to my ear and listened.
“Hello, Frank, Joe.”
The voice was scratchy and muffled. It creeped me out.
“I know the identity of Mr. X.”
I sucked in my breath and waited to hear more.
“Mr. X, you see, is misunderstood. You should be thanking him, really. Would you like to know more about him?”
There was a long pause. The voice got deeper.
“Meet me at midnight. Tonight. In Love Park. And don’t call the police. This will be our little secret.”
Click.
That was it. End of message.
I handed the phone back to Frank.
“Who was that?” asked Chet.
“Nobody,” I told him.
“Well,” said Chet, “it seems like nobody just scared the living daylights out of you two. What’s up?”
“Should I tell him, Frank?” I asked my brother.
Frank sat down on his bed, staring at the scattered press clippings about Ollie’s tragic career. He seemed to be lost in thought. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s tell him.”
We ordered up three Philly cheese steaks from the hotel’s room service and spent the next hour filling Chet in on all the details of the Mr. X case. Of course, we didn’t tell him we were on an undercover mission for American Teens Against Crime. ATAC was a top-secret organization, and he wouldn’t have heard about it, anyway.
“Let me get this straight,” said Chet. “Mr. X has attacked four people, one of whom is dead. He sent you a warning to stop asking questions if you want to stay alive. And now you plan on meeting this wacko in a park tonight at midnight?”
Frank sighed and nodded. “Yup. That pretty much sums it up.”
“Cool,” said Chet. “Can I come with you?”
“No,” I said. “It’s too risky.”
Frank looked at me. “We could use a lookout, Joe,” he said. “He could stand back and watch from a distance. That way, if there’s any trouble …”
“I jump in and start kicking butt!” said Chet, striking his goofiest kung fu pose.
“No, you call the police,” said Frank. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Okay. Everybody synchronize your watches.”
Exactly four hours and thirty-seven minutes later, we were standing in a dance club near John F. Kennedy Plaza and celebrating Jenna’s second-place victory. Her skateboard friends were really cool and lots of fun. They loved going wild on the dance floor. The music was kicking, the lights were flashing—and Chet, to everyone’s surprise, turned out to be a moving, grooving, one-man dancing machine.
“Come on, Frank!” he shouted to my brother sitting near the bar. “Get up and boogie!”
I could tell Frank was nervous.
So was I. But I tried to hide it so I could show Jenna a good time.
“Jenna, do you know a place called Love Park?” I shouted over the music while we danced. “Is it close to JFK Plaza?”
“It is JFK Plaza,” she answered. “Everyone calls it Love Park. The place is part of skateboard history, one of the coolest spots on the planet for doing street stunts. It’s legendary. But nowadays the police arrest people for skateboarding there. Still, that doesn’t stop some kids. They’ll risk anything so they can tell everyone they skated at Love Park. It’s like a badge of honor.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have you ever skated at Love Park?” I asked her.
Jenna smiled mysteriously. “A woman never reveals her deepest secrets,” she said.
Frank came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. He pointed at his watch.
Almost time.
I told Jenna that we had to leave now. It was getting late.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “It’s not even midnight yet.”
I apologized and promised to talk to her tomorrow. Then Frank, Chet, and I headed out of the club and into the darkened streets of Philadelphia.
“I thought we should get there early to find a hiding place for Chet,” Frank explained as we walked down the sidewalk toward the park.
It was a hot, muggy night. The air was damp, and the atmosphere was thick. Heavy gray storm clouds settled over the city, raising the temperature. Even the streetlamps, with their dull hazy glow, seemed to feel the heat.
“There it is, over there,” said Frank. “Love Park.”
I started to sweat. We were about to meet Mr. X—or at least someone who claimed to know Mr. X. I thought about that strange raspy voice on the phone message, and I shuddered.
We walked toward the huge round fountain in the center of the plaza. I watched a tall geyser of water shoot up into the air. Then I turned and scanned the rest of the park. It was easy to see why the place would be a skateboarder’s dream. There were marble benches and steps and ledges everywhere—perfect for street skating.
Frank stopped in front of a tall modern sculpture. “I guess this is why it’s called Love Park,” he said.
I looked up at the cube-shaped structure. It was made of four giant letters cast in steel—a large L and a tilted O stacked on top of a V and an E. It looked like a design from the 1960s.
“Maybe you can hide right here, Chet, in the shadow of the sculpture,” said Frank. “Joe and I will circle the fountain until Mr. X shows up.”
Chet nodded and crouched down at the base. “How’s this?” he asked. “Can you see me?”
“Not if you stay in the shadows,” Frank told him. “Just stay low and keep an eye out for us. Do you have your cell phone with you?”
“Cell phone. Check,” said Chet.
“Okay. It’s almost midnight. Let’s go, Joe.”
We headed quickly and quietly toward the fountain. The city lights bounced off the rippling water and cast tiny flickers of orange and blue across the park. We stopped at the low curving edge of the stone landmark.
I gazed across the street to see if there was anyone on the sidewalk.
Where are you, Mr. X? We’re ready for you. Come out and play.
I couldn’t see a soul. And I couldn’t hear a thing either—just the gurgling jet sprays of the fountain.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” I whispered. “I think we’re being set up.”
“Just hang in there, Joe,” said my brother. “It’s almost midnight.”
Slowly and steadily we circled the fountain until we reached the far side of the plaza. A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead.
Suddenly Frank stopped.
“Turn around,” he said. “Let’s go back.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The fountain is blocking the view. Chet can’t see us here.”
We couldn’t see Chet either.
But we could hear him.
“Frank! Joe!”
It sounded like he was struggling. A loud scream echoed across the plaza.
14 A Real Shocker
It’s Mr. X. He’s here.
Joe and I dashed to the other side of the fountain as fast as we could. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the park.
“Chet!” Joe shouted. “Hold on! We’re coming!”
I heard footsteps running off as we circled the plaza and sprinted toward the Love statue.
Where’s Chet?
I could only make out a dark shape lying in the shadows. A bolt of lightning flashed again—and revealed the still body of our friend underneath the sculpture.
“Chet!”
Joe reached him first. Dropping to his knees, he pressed his ear against Chet’s chest. “He’s still alive,” he shouted, his voice echoing through the park. “Call 911!”
I pulled out my cell phone. “Hello, we have an emergency here!” I barked. “A boy’s been hurt in JFK Plaza! Under the Love statue! Send an ambulance!”
I crouched down next to Joe and leaned over to examine Chet. “I don’t see any serious injuries,” I sai
d. “He’s breathing okay.”
Joe stood up and scanned the park. Another boom of thunder rumbled overhead, but louder than before.
“The storm’s about to break,” Joe said. “And Mr. X is still out there. He’s probably watching us right now.”
I felt a drop of rain on my hand.
A siren wailed in the distance. It sounded like it was only a block or two away—and getting closer. Thirty seconds later, I spotted the ambulance. It barreled down the street, lights flashing, and pulled up to the curb. The door flew open. Carter Bean hopped out from the driver’s seat and raced toward us.
Chet let out a little groan. Slowly turning his head and blinking his eyes, he gazed up at Carter. His eyes widened.
I jumped up and stood in between Chet and the paramedic.
“Hello, Carter,” I said. “Or should I call you Mr. X?”
Thunder and lightning filled the sky. The storm was ready to hit—and it was going to be a big one.
* * *
SUSPECT PROFILE
Name: Carter Bean
Hometown: Philadelphia, PA.
Physical description: 35 years old, 6′3″, 165 pounds, thin wiry build, short brown hair, hazel eyes
Occupation: EMT paramedic, Pennsylvania Hospital
Background: Grew up in poor neighborhood in Philadelphia, worked his way through medical school, became local hero for saving skateboard legend Ollie Peterson’s leg after 1990 accident
Suspicious behavior: Treated every victim in the Big Air Games attacks (unlikely in a city this size)
Suspected of: Assault, battery, sabotage, and murder
Possible motives: To draw attention away from extreme sports heroes, relive past glory, gain fame and recognition for lifesaving work
* * *
The rain came down hard and heavy, but in spite of the sudden downpour, nobody moved.
Carter Bean glared at me, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?” he said. “I’m here to help. You called 911, didn’t you?”
I looked Carter straight in the eye. “No, I didn’t,” I said. “I just pretended to call. I knew you would show up anyway.”
The paramedic smirked. “How did you know? What proof do you have?”
“I saw your picture in the old news clippings of Ollie’s accident in 1990,” I explained. “You got a lot of press coverage, didn’t you? How did the newspaper put it? Oh, yeah. ‘A Legend Falls. A Hero Is Born.’”
“So?” said Carter, blinking the rain out of his eyes. “Everyone in the medical profession is a hero. I was just getting the recognition I deserved.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But real heroes don’t do it for the recognition. Real heroes do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do. They don’t plan ‘accidents’ … like you did at the Big Air Games.”
“Like I said before. What proof do you have?”
“Oh, come on. Every time someone got hurt, you were right there, ready to jump out of your ambulance and save the day.”
Carter scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That doesn’t prove that I attacked anybody. It’s just a coincidence.”
I pointed to his medical ID badge. “Is that a coincidence, too? Your ID number is EMT7654. But backward, it’s 4567TME. That’s the name you used to post threats on the Internet.”
Carter sneered. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” he said. “I must admit—I’m stunned by your cleverness. Absolutely stunned. And I think I should return the favor.”
He pulled a small stun gun from his pocket and thrust it straight at my throat.
“Frank! Look out!” Joe yelled.
I ducked fast. The stun gun swooped over my head with an electric crackle and a little zap of light.
Carter cursed me and lunged again. I tried to sidestep his attack but my knee slammed against the base of the Love sculpture. The impact sent me spinning and stumbling to the ground.
Carter stood over me. “Be a good patient now and take your medicine,” he said.
He lowered the stun gun to my shoulder.
Joe tackled him to the ground.
Get him, Joe!
The two of them hit the wet concrete and rolled across a puddle. Carter held the stun gun between them, aiming it at Joe’s face.
I crawled to my feet and limped toward them. My knee throbbed with pain.
The stun gun buzzed in Carter’s hand, a tiny bolt of electricity sizzling at the tip. Joe gripped the guy’s wrist, struggling to push it away.
“Don’t be afraid, kid,” Carter growled. “It’s just a little electroshock therapy.”
The stun gun moved closer to Joe’s face.
I staggered forward—but I knew I wouldn’t make it in time to save Joe.
“Hey, Carter! Think fast!” I yelled.
I threw my cell phone like a baseball. It hit the paramedic in the ear, knocking his head back.
And he’s out!
But no, Carter Bean was still in the game. Even though he lost his grip on Joe, he held on tight to the stun gun. In seconds the paramedic was up on his feet and waving the defense weapon like a sword.
Joe jumped back with every swoop of Carter’s arm. The rain pounded, even harder than before. My brother almost slipped and fell as Carter forced him backward toward the fountain.
“Careful, kid,” he said. “Accidents happen every day.”
I had to do something—and fast. My knee throbbed, but I had to help my brother.
The lightning illuminated the way as I staggered after them. “Carter! I called the cops! They’re on the way!”
“Liar!” Carter shouted, taking another lunge at Joe. “You threw your phone at me! Remember?”
He zapped the stun gun near my brother’s head, forcing Joe back to the edge of the fountain. I limped forward as fast as I could, until I was right behind them.
I threw my arm around Carter’s neck.
He spun around and kicked me in the knee.
I went down.
But Joe managed to get away. Slipping to the side, he took a few steps back, then charged full-force at our opponent.
Carter was too fast for him. He swung his right hand—stun gun blazing—at my brother’s neck. When Joe tried to block it, Carter brought up his left fist and punched my brother in the jaw.
Joe reeled back—and collapsed to the ground.
“Joe!” I shouted.
He didn’t move. It looked like he was unconscious.
Carter turned to me and smiled. “Looks like this is it, Frank. If you think you can get away from me now, you’re in for a real shocker.” He came after me with the stun gun.
I didn’t stand a chance. My knee was hurting even more now. When I tried to scramble away, Carter stepped down on my leg and pinned me to the ground.
I stared up helplessly, the rain stinging my eyes.
Carter pointed the stun gun at my head.
“It’s a shame, really,” he said. “No matter how hard a paramedic tries to save lives, some patients just don’t pull through.”
He brought the stun gun closer to my face. Blazing sparks of electricity danced on the tip. He aimed it at my neck and …
Wham!
Carter was knocked off his feet.
A bright streak of red zoomed past me. A set of wheels skidded on the wet concrete.
It was Eddie Mundy!
The skateboarder in the red bandanna had plowed right into the paramedic. Carter was flat on his back, groaning.
“Eddie? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, skating around the fallen paramedic. As Eddie started to explain, I saw Carter’s arm move.
He still had the stun gun!
“Eddie! Look out!” I shouted.
Carter jabbed the weapon at Eddie’s leg. The skateboarder kicked down hard on the back of his board. The front end flew up, slamming into Carter’s arm and knocking him down.
The stun gun went flying into the fount
ain.
“Nice job,” I said.
Eddie helped me to my feet. I had to lean against him for support because of my knee—not to mention the fact that my clothes were totally drenched and felt like they weighed a ton. I looked over at my brother. Joe was sitting up in a puddle, rubbing his jaw and smiling.
“Did we get him?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Eddie skated right over the guy like he was a half-pipe.”
“Eddie?”
The skateboarder offered Joe a hand and helped him up. “Actually, I’m an ATAC agent, just like you guys,” Eddie said.
“Dude!” Joe exclaimed. “We thought you were bad news, man. You threatened us at the games today.”
“I was warning you,” Eddie explained. “Back at ATAC headquarters, they were afraid you two were going to be Mr. X’s next targets.”
“Turns out they were right,” said Joe. “Hey, where is that psycho nurse anyway?”
Eddie and I spun around.
Carter was gone.
“Later, boys!” a voice rung out from the other side of the fountain. “I have to go now. It’s an emergency!”
Carter laughed as he dashed around the fountain, heading for his ambulance. Eddie started running after him, with Joe and me staggering behind.
There’s no way we can catch him.
Then I heard something strange. The rumbling sound of wheels seemed to be circling the plaza. Suddenly, out of the darkness came a whole gang of skateboarders, bounding down steps, grinding across benches, and jumping off curbs. They headed straight for Carter Bean and surrounded him, a human fence of skateboarders, zooming so fast that their prisoner couldn’t escape.
“Look! There’s Jenna!” Joe pointed out. “And her friends! They must have followed us out of the club.”
Just then a small brigade of police cars came speeding down the street. One of them blared its siren, and they all pulled up to the curb and stopped. There must have been a dozen officers. Most of them charged at the skateboarders, breaking up the circle and apprehending the suspect. Two of them ran to the Love statue to help Chet, and the others came over to Eddie, Joe, and me. “Are you boys all right?” a tall officer asked. “Sorry it took us so long to track down that missing ambulance.”
“Missing ambulance?” I asked.
Extreme Danger Page 9
