by Ben Mezrich
Of course, such a crime would be nearly impossible. Looking up past the fluorescent bulbs, Charlie could see that there were cameras everywhere. Little black, buglike eyes, reminiscent of the security he’d seen deep inside Incredo Land. If a theme park had had tight security, he imagined that the place where all of America’s money was minted would function on a whole different plane altogether.
“Okay, friends,” the guide said as he led them toward the middle of the circular room. “This is most people’s favorite part of the tour.”
He pointed toward a large glass cube, about three feet tall and wide, held up by four cast-iron legs. As Charlie approached, he noticed a fair amount of wear and scratches across the glass—the thing had been touched by many many hands over the years. Once he saw what was inside, he understood.
“A million dollars,” the guide continued, “in ten-dollar bills.”
Charlie pressed in next to Crystal and Jeremy at one side of the case, while Kentaro and Marion hovered over the other.
“Now, that would make a nice coffee table,” Jeremy said. “I wonder if these legs are bolted to the floor.”
“If Charlie couldn’t carry a quarter million in twenties,” Crystal said. “I doubt you’d get two inches before this flattened you like a pancake.”
Kentaro pointed to his ever-present neon backpack, hanging from his left shoulder.
“How about just a little goodie bag? I could buy a lot more toy planes with a few inches of freshly printed green.”
The guide strolled past them, toward another hallway. Charlie heard a loud whirring from the guide’s direction and saw beyond the man’s uniformed shoulders that the hallway ahead of him was lined by glass windows overlooking one of the money printing presses. Even from that distance, he could see the sheets of green speeding along the press, a blur of untold fortunes.
Kentaro, Marion, Jeremy, and Crystal moved after the guide, toward the presses. Charlie was about to follow when he felt Anastasia’s hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
“Let’s stay here for a moment and talk, Charlie.”
She came around to the other side of the million-dollar cube, placing her palms flat against the scratched glass.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.”
Charlie shrugged. “I assume that seeing all this money is supposed to make us think about the prize money we could win.”
Anastasia drummed her fingernails against the glass.
“That’s partly correct. Money can be a great motivation. Although I don’t think you’re here because of the money, are you? There are many other teams in the competition who would benefit much more from winning the cash prize.”
Charlie thought about Kelly and the team from New Haven, even Ryan. It was true—money wasn’t really that important to Charlie. He’d learned that lesson before: that for all its temptations, money could be more trouble than it was worth. Friendships and people always trumped money.
“Money, Charlie, that’s just paper. Printed like pages in a book.”
“NASA,” Charlie said, eyeing his friends as they moved farther down the hallway, toward those printing presses. For some reason, Charlie really wanted nothing more than to chase his friends down the hall to get away from Anastasia. She didn’t seem at all like the fascinating, friendly—if mysterious—woman who had first come to him at Nagassack to ask for his help. There was something much more frightening and determined about her now. “We’re really excited to have a chance to make a good impression with your organization. We all want to be scientists when we grow up.”
Anastasia nodded, her fingers still bouncing against the case.
“Closer,” she said. Then she seemed to change tack. “You know, they ought to have put some of these bills facing the other way, because the thing about money, and impressions, is that there are always two sides to them. Heads or tails, dead presidents and important buildings. A good recommendation to a government space agency—or a charge of perjury for lying on an official document to enter a national contest to win a cash prize.”
Charlie felt his entire chest grow cold. He stared at Anastasia. “What?”
“You heard me. You lied on your applications to enter this contest.”
Charlie took a step back from the glass case. “We didn’t lie. You did.”
Anastasia smiled beneath her sunglasses. “Me? I’m just a proctor. I’m not on the verge of getting to the finals and potentially winning that cash prize. And I think you’ll find that the signatures on your applications look pretty familiar. You can argue about it all you want, and maybe the contest authorities will believe you, or maybe they won’t. Either way, I doubt NASA will take your word over mine, considering I was an engineer there for many years.”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. The anger was boiling up inside of him. “What do you want from us? We made it to the semifinals. I’ve befriended Richard Caldwell.”
“And tonight you’re going to dinner at his father’s house. It will be the perfect opportunity to begin looking for evidence of the missing moon rocks.”
Charlie swallowed, hard. “You want us to snoop around his house, during dinner?”
“You’ll gain access to his private study, while the other kids are busy with the appetizers. Once inside, you’ll go through his desk, filing cabinets, whatever might contain information that isn’t left out in the open.”
Charlie had known all along that he had entered the contest to help find the moon rocks, but this was something different. This was sneaking around an astronaut’s house, breaking into his study. This was unethical. And probably illegal.
Charlie wished he had never kept the real reason he had entered the competition from his father; he wished he could call his dad now and explain about the moon rocks, tell him how Anastasia had faked their applications and was now threatening to use that against them. His father would certainly believe him, but would it help? If Anastasia had really faked his signature, which wouldn’t have been too difficult for a former NASA engineer, it would be Charlie’s word against hers.
“Who do you really work for?” Charlie asked. “You’re not with NASA, even if you used to be. And I don’t think you’re with any governmental organization, or law enforcement. Why do you want these moon rocks?”
Anastasia tapped her fingernails against the glass one last time, then took a step backward toward the hallway leading to the printing presses.
“We better rejoin the tour,” she said, instead of answering. “There isn’t much time to get you and your friends back to the hotel to get dressed for dinner. And Charlie . . .” She looked him up and down, then sighed. “Try to wear something nice. The Caldwell family is one of the most esteemed in all of Washington. You don’t want to show up looking like some kid sent to mow their front lawn.”
With that, she turned and headed after the tour guide.
Charlie stood alone in front of the million-dollar case for a long, long time.
13
“MAN, I DON’T KNOW if this is a house or a museum. There’s more marble around here than on the Lincoln Memorial.”
Jeremy pulled at the oversize paisley tie clipped to the wide collar of his pale blue shirt. The fact that he was twelve and still wearing clip-on ties told Charlie everything he needed to know about Jeremy’s knowledge of fashion; instead of a blazer or a suit jacket, he was wearing denim, with dinosaur-emblazoned patches on each elbow. Standing in the center of the marble front foyer of the Caldwell’s home, bathed in the orange glow of twin crystal chandeliers hanging from the high arched ceiling, Jeremy put the truth into Anastasia’s jibe: Charlie and his friends really did look like they were here to do yard work.
“Over here, guys,” Crystal called out. At least she had put on a nice white dress with frilly sleeves and blue buttons running down the back. Of course, she was wearing jeans beneath the dress, and for some reason had chosen high rubber rain boots to complete her look, the very boots she usually wore when trolling st
reambeds looking for water-polished stones for her collection. “This is really cool.”
She’d crossed to the far end of the foyer, where a row of glass display cases took up much of the wall. Charlie reached her side just as Kentaro and Marion entered through the double doors behind him. They’d gotten into an argument on the front porch—something about a Milky Way bar that had gone missing from their hotel room while everyone was getting dressed for the dinner party. Kentaro’s denials of having anything to do with the missing candy would have gone over better if his mouth hadn’t been covered in chocolate. But they’d obviously reached some sort of détente; Marion’s face had returned to its usual pasty-white color, a perfect match to his baggy dress shirt and even baggier beige pants. And Kentaro had wiped most of the chocolate onto the sleeves of his bright red zippered jumpsuit.
“Dude, he really wore this in space. Maybe even in the International Space Station.”
The astronaut suit hung in the center case. The suit was mostly white, with dark gaskets at the wrists, neck, and ankles, and patches on both shoulders. An American flag was emblazoned on the right, the NASA logo on the left. Charlie felt chills ride down his spine as he was immediately transported back to the money printing plant, and his conversation with Anastasia. “Conversation” was the wrong word—“threat” was more accurate. He felt his jaw tighten as he shifted his gaze from the astronaut suit to a helmet, in a smaller case to his left. The faceplate was shiny and tinged with gold, so clean he caught his own reflection bugging across the surface. He didn’t like what he saw. His jacket and tie—the one nice outfit he’d brought with him from Massachusetts—were fine, but his face looked pale and weak.
What am I doing here? Of course he didn’t ask the question out loud; he hadn’t yet told his friends about the conversation with Anastasia. It was his fault they were all there. He was the one who had brought them along to the competition. If they were going to get in trouble for faked applications and ruin their chances with NASA, it was going to be because he had trusted Anastasia, a woman he didn’t know. It wasn’t the first time he’d been fooled like that. He thought back to his entanglement at Incredo Land, and how he had gotten his Whiz Kids involved.
He knew he had to think of a way out. He didn’t want to continue to do Anastasia’s bidding, but at the moment, he didn’t see any other choice. And even though he now doubted she ever even worked for NASA, the task still seemed noble: They were looking for evidence of stolen moon rocks. Even if what they were about to do crossed lines Charlie never intended to cross.
He stepped back from the glass cases and listened to the hum of voices and clinking of glasses coming from the end of the foyer, where the hall opened into a wide banquet area.
“I smell bacon,” Marion mumbled, as Charlie led his friends toward the noise. “There’s so much pig in the South, isn’t there? Pork-belly sliders at the dinner last night, ham sandwiches at the hotel, pigs in blankets coming out of my ears.”
“We get it, Marion.” Kentaro rolled his eyes. “Clam chowder is the food of the North. Pig is the food of the South. And since this dinner is free, you’re about to be in hog heaven.”
“Very funny, especially coming from a pipsqueak covered in Milky Way dust.”
“I told you: I didn’t take your darn candy bar. That’s just my toothpaste. It’s chocolate flavored—”
“You infants be quiet,” Crystal hissed.
They were at edge of the foyer, the dining area unfolding in front of them. It was a huge room with curtained windows, lit by another chandelier. A long table spanned the center of the room—like something from a King Arthur storybook—and white-gloved servers were making the rounds carrying trays loaded with food. The other three teams were already there, though only the kids from Dallas were seated at the table, digging into the dishes in front of them as if they had never seen food before. The team from Worth Hooks was over by a juice bar set up in front of a pair of presidential statues—Washington and Kennedy. They were mingling with Richard Caldwell and two of his team members, both blond, athletic, and tall. Charlie spotted Kelly right next to Caldwell, and he couldn’t help noticing how she was looking at the handsome astronaut’s son. “With awe” wouldn’t have been a bad description. He felt immediately jealous, and then even more guilty for the thought. What right did he have to feel jealous? Caldwell was a nice kid, smart as hell, and truly deserved to be here. Charlie had faked his way in—unknowingly, but still—and was now at Caldwell’s house as a spy.
A spy. Well, better a spy than being ousted for perjury. And it wasn’t like he was trying to get Richard Caldwell in trouble; it was Caldwell’s father who had supposedly taken the moon rocks. Though a man who kept a space suit in his front foyer didn’t seem like the type who needed to steal anything.
“So we all know the plan?” Crystal said as they took the first step into the room. “When Charlie gives the signal, we break into two groups. Kentaro, Jeremy, and Marion keep Caldwell and the rest of the room occupied. Charlie and I head for his dad’s study, using the map Anastasia left in our hotel room.”
Charlie knew that Crystal had already committed the map to memory. The fact that Anastasia had access to a blueprint of Caldwell’s house was unnerving—just another stitch of evidence in the mystery of who she really was working for.
“We’ll try to move fast,” Charlie said. “I don’t see any adults in the room, but no doubt they’re in the house somewhere. I believe there’s a separate cocktail party upstairs for the proctors, with Buzz Caldwell himself.”
“You mean we’re not going to meet an astronaut tonight?” Jeremy said. “And I got all dressed up for nothing.”
He tugged at his clip-on tie again, then headed for the long table, with Kentaro, Crystal, and Marion following close behind. They chose seats across from the Dallas team, Jeremy striking up conversation as the servers swarmed over with pitcher after pitcher of water.
Charlie found himself drawn in a different direction. He reached the group by the juice bar just as Richard Caldwell was finishing what must have been an epic story, judging from the expressions on his audience’s faces. Even Ryan’s big mouth was sufficiently slack, his eyes wide beneath his Neanderthal brow.
“And that’s where we came down,” Caldwell was saying. “Right on the White House’s front lawn. Both helicopter engines burned out, smoke coming out of the tail. We must have spun around twenty times. My father barely got control of the thing, by using an old trick he’d picked up in the air force to stabilize the chopper. He’d pulled on the cyclic stick—it’s the lever that controls a chopper—in exactly the right sequence to get it to stop spinning. Left, left, right, left, right, right. Nobody got hurt. Not my dad, not me, not the vice president. But you can bet they left the test flying of experimental choppers to the experts after that, believe me!”
As the Worth Hooks kids clapped in amazement, and Caldwell’s own two team members turned to order matching grapefruit juices from the bar, Caldwell saw Charlie edging in from the back of the group and greeted him with a wide smile.
“Sorry to be grandstanding over here—welcome, Charlie! Glad you could make it. You missed my dad’s speech. He was in here for a whole five minutes—a new record, I think. Now he’s upstairs with the proctors and some VIPs from his aerospace company. Any excuse to talk business. So we have the place to ourselves.”
“Ain’t no party like an astronaut party,” Ryan butted in. “First person to put on the suit and spacewalk across the Jell-O mold wins a moon rock!”
Kelly looked at him like she wanted to slap the grin off his face. Then she gave Charlie a hug, surprising and embarrassing him at the same time.
“Nice showing today. Didn’t have a chance to congratulate you earlier; you guys ran off with your proctor almost as soon as you won. Your plane was amazing.”
Charlie shrugged, smelling her perfume in the air. He imagined those floral particles clinging to his shirt sleeves, and wondered how long he could wait to wash t
he thing when he got home to Massachusetts.
“Even a stopped clock gets it right a couple times a day,” he said. “Hopefully we don’t embarrass ourselves in the semifinals.”
“Oh, you’ll be embarrassed,” Ryan said. “They announced the lineup before you got here. You’ll be playing us to see who ends up in the finals against Richie, here.”
“Hey,” Caldwell said. “We still have to beat the team from Dallas.”
“That glass of grapefruit juice could beat the team from Dallas. Come to think of it, even Charlie here could probably beat the team from Dallas. They’re only this far because they got here on a lucky throw. Too bad he’s got to go up against us,” Ryan bellowed.
Kelly gave Ryan a shove. He stuck his tongue out at her, then led the rest of the Worth Hooks team away toward the long dinner table.
“I feel like I’m constantly apologizing for him,” she said. The words were meant for Charlie, but she kept looking at Richard.
Charlie felt the familiar tinge of jealousy again but pushed it away. “I’m sure we’ll all do our best,” he managed. He couldn’t have sounded more lame.
Caldwell laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll all be working extra hard to keep up with you. And now that I know about your secret weapon, I’m going to be up all night retooling our plane.”
Charlie looked at him. He could feel Kelly’s gaze ping-ponging between the two boys. “Our secret weapon?”
“My dad told me about your proctor. Anastasia Federov. He hadn’t noticed her name on the application sheet at first. Turns out they used to work together.”
“At NASA?” Charlie asked.
“No, this was after they both left NASA. Anastasia was hired by a small start-up aeronautics firm outside DC, just about the same time my father helped found AI. They’re competitors now.”
Charlie’s throat felt constricted. Anastasia worked for a rival aeronautics firm. And he was in Caldwell’s house, as a spy. They had a term for this. Corporate espionage. Charlie was pretty sure it was illegal. Maybe even worse than lying on an application form.
