by C. J. Hill
“It’s okay,” Jesse said. “This is more important.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Dr. B was briefing Jesse and Kody while he drove them toward Capitol Hill in an inconspicuous-looking beige sedan. Theo sat in the front, typing away on his laptop as if it were a piano and he was playing a concerto—a concerto he hated.
“I want to know what’s on Senator Ethington’s computer,” Dr. B said, slowing the car to merge onto the beltway. “It might lead us to Overdrake or give us forewarning of an attack. Unfortunately, the senator’s computer won’t be easy to hack.”
Jesse didn’t bother commenting on that. If it were easy to do, Dr. B wouldn’t have called them in.
Theo grumbled in frustration and hit the delete button a bunch of times.
“Senator Ethington has his own server,” Dr. B went on, “and it’s well protected. We’ll need to physically go into his house and install some specialized, undetectable spyware on his computer.”
This was worse than Jesse expected. “You want us break into the guy’s house? In broad daylight?”
Kody let out a laugh. “At least we’re missing school for a good reason.”
“Actually,” Dr. B said, “Senator Ethington’s security system makes breaking into his house without detection almost impossible. His doors have coded key locks, his windows have alarms, and he has multiple security cameras both inside and outside. It’s imperative that Senator Ethington not realize anyone has been in his house, or he’ll check his computer.”
“So what exactly are we doing?” Jesse asked.
Dr. B reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, thin black piece of plastic. It looked like something that had broken off a keyboard. “You’re going to plant this disabler chip on Senator Ethington’s phone.”
“To bug it?”
Dr. B handed the chip to Jesse. “No, we’ve already hacked into his phone. This is a frequency scanner. Once Senator Ethington carries the chip into his house, it will pick up the alarm system’s and the cameras’ frequencies and send them to Theo. He’s working on a program to disable them so you can break into his home tonight and gain computer access.”
Theo pounded something especially hard, and muttered things about wavelength and one hundred and twenty-eight bit encryptions.
Kody scratched the back of his neck doubtfully. “Are you sure Theo can get that working by tonight?”
“Oh yes,” Dr. B said, speaking over Theo’s angry commentary on frequency-agile computer systems. “Right now, all you need to worry about is a way to get the microchip under the Senator’s phone cover.”
He gestured to the sack on the car floor between Kody and Jesse. “That has the same model as the senator’s phone so you can practice. You’ll also find two school uniforms and some glasses. For your cover, you’re students from St. Jude, and you want to get a quote from the senator for your school newspaper.”
Jesse picked up the bag. “We’re going to his office?”
“No.” Dr. B slowed the car even further as the beltway traffic became a sluggish crawl. “The senator is in the habit of having breakfast with his aides at different cafés on Capitol Hill—mingling with the common man and all that. Hopefully you’ll be able to catch him before he finishes his meal. Booker is already downtown, near the restaurant with the simulator.”
Jesse rummaged through the bag until he found the phone, an android with a black cover. He jiggled the case’s top. It didn’t come off smoothly, but once it was off, he slipped the disabler chip inside easily enough. The hard part would be getting the case open without anyone noticing.
“When you’re near Senator Ethington, message me,” Dr. B continued. “I’ll call him. After he takes out his phone to see who’s calling”—Dr. B turned and gave Kody a nod—” you knock it out of his grip.”
Kody stretched his hands, warming up his fingers.
“Do it with one of your blasts,” Dr. B clarified. “We wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for actually bumping into the senator.”
“Right,” Kody said. “I knew that.” He emptied the clothes from the bag onto the seat, then handed Jesse a pair of tan polyester pants, a white button-down shirt, and a blue sweater vest with a coat of arms embroidered on it.
“Wow,” Kody said holding up the sweater vest. “Makes you feel sorry for the St. Jude students.”
“My school uniform is just as bad,” Jesse said.
Kody pulled off his shirt, picked up the white one, and began undoing the buttons. “These are wimp clothes. If anyone wore this to my school, he’d find himself dangling from a flagpole.”
Jesse pulled off his shirt as well. “Rich people don’t have to worry about getting harassed at school. They’ve got lawyers.”
Dr. B leaned toward his window then checked the rearview mirror. “The car behind us is driving erratically. I think they might be following us.”
Jesse’s eyes went to the rearview mirror, his senses immediately alert. Could Overdrake have found them? “Which car?”
With rush-hour traffic, no one was moving quickly. It was stop and go—mostly stop. Dr. B’s car would have a hard enough time changing lanes, let alone going anywhere quickly if they needed to escape.
“The blue one behind us on our right side,” Dr. B said. “Two young women. They’re behaving strangely.”
Before Dr. B finished speaking, Jesse used the camera on his phone to see the car. The women were probably in their early twenties, with long hair and lots of makeup. Not the usual sort of tail. In fact, probably not a tail at all. When he turned to look at them, one woman whistled, and the other blew a kiss and giggled.
Kody peered around Jesse at the car. “Do you know them?”
“No,” Jesse said.
Theo looked at the blue car, then glanced back at Jesse and Kody and grunted in annoyance. “Would you two put on your clothes? You’re making a spectacle.”
Jesse had been so worried about Overdrake that he’d forgotten he was shirtless.
Kody chuckled, lifted his arms in a body builder pose, and flexed his muscles.
Both women in the other car shrieked with laughter. The driver made fanning motions with her hand. The other woman took out a tube of lipstick and began writing her phone number on the window.
Theo lifted his hands in exasperation. “I’m trying to work!”
“The good news,” Jesse said, unbuttoning the white shirt so he could put it on, “is that they’re not Overdrake’s men. The bad news is we’ve still got to change our pants.”
* * *
Forty minutes later, Jesse and Kody were speed walking toward The Red Kettle Café. The traffic had been bad—it was always some degree of bad in DC, but today’s had outdone itself. They might miss Senator Ethington altogether.
Jesse really hoped not. He didn’t want to repeat the performance of changing his clothes in the backseat of a car while people in surrounding vehicles watched. And clapped. And threw money.
Because that’s what had happened. Traffic had come to a complete standstill, and the women in the blue car made such a big deal of it—rolling down their windows and asking for Jesse and Kody’s numbers—that everyone around them noticed what they were doing.
It didn’t help that Kody kept striking poses, or that after he took off his jeans, he rolled down his window and twirled them around before putting on his tan pants. Kody had no concept of discretion.
“If any of this morning’s ride shows up on YouTube,” Jesse said as they walked, “I’ll kill you.”
“You’re too uptight,” Kody said. “I thought Greta and Krissy were nice.”
“No, they weren’t. Nice girls don’t try to chuck dollar bills into your car window.” Jesse thrust his hands into his pockets. “I still can’t believe you added them as contacts on your phone.”
“I might want to call them someday.”
“I thought Dr. B was going to have a heart attack.”
“Yeah,” Kody said with a laugh.
“It’s funny that he trusts us with dragons and armed men but not lonely interns.”
Down the street, the café came into view. A green awning stuck out over the door, which somehow didn’t match the more pretentious marble that made up the front of the restaurant. Arched windows looked onto the road, giving a glimpse of the people seated inside. They all wore suits or dresses, making the dining room look like a high-powered business meeting.
“We’ll need prep school sounding names,” Kody said. “Something with a lot of syllables.”
“I’ll be Sebastian,” Jesse said. “You can be Pierpont.”
“Pierpont? Is that a real name?”
“Yeah. It was JP Morgan’s name. He was one of those robber barons we had to learn about in US history.”
“No wonder he went by JP,” Kody said.
They’d reached the café door. Kody tugged at the top button of his shirt. He had a neck like a pro-wrestler, and the shirt was too tight. “What school are we from again?”
“St. Jude.”
“Wait, isn’t he the patron saint of lost causes?”
Jesse raised his eyebrows in surprise that Kody knew that information, then dismissed the omen. “Not today he isn’t. Today he’s going to be the patron saint of cell phone thieves.”
They walked inside and went past the hostess station with a hurried explanation that they were meeting someone. The room was warm, and the scent of bacon and pancakes enveloped everything. Jesse would have felt hungry if he hadn’t been so focused on the mission. Despite practicing in the car, slipping the disabler chip into Senator Ethington’s phone would be tricky. So many things could go wrong.
Jesse spotted the senator and four other men eating in the middle of the room.
He looked like he did in his campaign spots: stocky, with graying black hair and a contemplative, serious expression. He had a sort of trustworthy air about him that you expected in a politician. Could someone so involved, so high up in the government, be working with Overdrake?
“Let me do the talking,” Jesse whispered to Kody. “My mom is a big Ethington supporter, so I know his positions.”
They started toward his table, Jesse in front. The clatter of silverware and noise of people talking grew louder, increasing due to Jesse’s sharpening senses.
He and Kody were nearly to the table when a man who’d been standing near the wall intercepted them. He was all muscle and height, with a face that seemed permanently fixed in a glower. His shaved head made his earpiece stand out even more. Obviously security detail.
“You’re not allowed to come over here,” the man said in a deep, severe voice.
Jesse had known Senator Ethington would have a bodyguard or two; Tori complained about them often enough. He just hadn’t expected them to be so efficient.
A second bodyguard sat alone at a table behind the senator. His gaze continually swept around the room. He had the build of a bouncer and short, black hair that was gelled into place.
Jesse gestured to the senator’s table apologetically. “We want to get a quote from Senator Ethington for our school paper.”
“We’re from St. Jude,” Kody put in. He lifted his hand to shake the bodyguard’s. “I’m JP. This is Sebastian.”
The bodyguard didn’t move, didn’t take Kody’s hand. “You can find plenty of quotes on his website.”
No good. “We were hoping for a picture too,” Jesse said. He’d brought a cell phone—not his, as he couldn’t have anything on him that could be traced.
The bodyguard shook his head. “The senator is meeting with his staffers right now.”
So much for Dr. B’s assurance that Ethington was eating breakfast out in DC so he could mingle with the common man. Apparently Jesse and Kody were too common.
“Can’t we please go over and just get his autograph?” Jesse asked. “My mom is a really big fan of his.”
The bodyguard looked skeptical about Jesse’s explanation, which was ironic, seeing as it was the one thing Jesse was telling the truth about.
“Seriously,” Jesse added. “She’s a die-hard Democrat. She’s even got a donkey tattoo.”
The bodyguard’s gaze skimmed the room, checking for more interesting dangers than two high school kids. “Some other time. The senator is busy right now.”
Plan B was for Kody to walk across the restaurant and knock the senator’s phone to the floor from there. The move would be harder to pull off since a hit from that distance would require more force and might seem unnatural. It was one thing to drop your phone; it was another thing to have an invisible force smack your hand so hard your phone flew several feet and slid across the floor.
Jesse didn’t want to risk Plan B. “Are you sure I can’t get an autograph? It would make me my mother’s favorite child for a long time.”
The bodyguard remained unmoved. “Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway,” Kody said, then turned to Jesse. “I’m going to ask that waitress if we can get something to go.” He headed toward the back of the restaurant, positioning himself on the other side of the senator’s table.
Plan B it was then. Jesse inconspicuously scratched his wrist, pressing his watch button to signal Dr. B to make the call.
The first bodyguard still stood by Jesse, waiting for him to leave or follow Kody. Jesse adjusted his fake glasses. They didn’t fit right and had slipped down his nose.
“Haven’t you ever done something,” he asked, stalling, “and you needed to make up for it by doing something really nice for your mom?”
“No,” the bodyguard said, still waiting for him to leave. His lips were pressed into an impatient line.
“Wish I could say the same.” Why hadn’t Dr. B called yet? Jesse rocked back on his heels, trying to think of something to say to prolong the conversation. “So, if I were to uh, show up at Senator Ethington’s house sometime to get his autograph, would you be there keeping the riffraff away?”
The bodyguard’s stare quickly became a threatening glare. “I answer his front door.”
Senator Ethington reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
Finally.
Jesse glanced at Kody. Not too hard, he thought. A gentle shove is all we need.
A second later, a plate on the senator’s table exploded, sending bits of omelet everywhere. Not only did Ethington drop his phone, he let out a startled exclamation too.
Yep, that would be too hard.
The bodyguard who’d been sitting near the senator’s table jumped from his seat and pulled out his gun. “Get down!” he yelled. “We’ve got a shooter!”
People across the restaurant screamed, ducked, and covered their heads while they peered around, looking for a gunman.
The bodyguard near Jesse also whipped out his gun and sprinted toward the table. “Everyone on the ground!”
This just made things worse. Several diners assumed that the rushing bodyguard was the gunman, and more screaming ensued, along with people fleeing to the door. Other people huddled under the tables and got out their phones—either recording the event or calling 911.
Jesse crouched as if he were obeying the bodyguards’ commands, and made his way as stealthily as he could toward the senator’s phone. When Kody blasted the table, the phone had flown from the Ethington’s hand, hit a chair and ricocheted back underneath the table. It lay just out of Jesse’s reach under a tangle of chair legs.
The continued screaming must have spooked Senator Ethington. He half-stumbled, half-crawled in the direction of the door.
The bodyguard with the gelled hair clearly thought this was the wrong decision. He grabbed the senator by the back of his suit coat and yanked him to the ground, overpowering any flailing attempts to stand. He then bent over him protectively.
Well, that probably wouldn’t make Senator Ethington look particularly presidential when the video of this hit the internet.
Jesse was almost to the phone. As he moved closer to the table, the bald bodyguard pointed a gun in his direction. �
��You, stop right there! What are you doing?”
So close. “Getting the senator’s phone for him.” Jesse made a move to pick it up, but one of Ethington’s staffers reached down and grabbed it first.
The bald bodyguard glared at Jesse, not buying his story. He grabbed Jesse by the sweater vest, hauled him out from under the table, and pushed him against the wall. Jesse could have fought back—could have thrown the man across the room—but that would have only made things worse. Especially since several diners were recording the event.
He held up his hands as though he was baffled by his treatment. “I didn’t do anything.”
The guard started patting Jesse down, searching for weapons. “Let’s see what you’ve got on you, punk.” He looked over his shoulder at staffers. “Don’t let his friend get away.” The bodyguard felt Jesse’s front pockets, stopping when he felt Jesse’s phone. He pulled it out and tossed it to the floor. “Somehow I doubt you’re just a couple of school boys.”
He was right about that, and Jesse hoped the guard didn’t think to call St. Jude. In the distance, sirens wailed a warning; police were on the way. Yeah, this kept getting better. Would the officers do background checks on him and Kody?
The bodyguard proceeded patting down Jesse’s legs.
“You won’t find anything but my socks,” Jesse said. “And I’m pretty sure you’re violating my rights. Are you allowed to do this to minors?”
Satisfied Jesse was unarmed, the bodyguard turned to pat down Kody. The gelled-haired bodyguard was still crouching in front of the senator, keeping him on the ground.
Kody stood there, good-naturedly holding his hands up while being frisked. “We came in to get a quote for our school newspaper,” he said conversationally, “but this is going to make for a much better story—getting roughed up by Senator Ethington’s security.” He waved to get the attention of a group of people who were huddled under a booth watching. “Hey, could you send me some pictures of this?”
The bodyguard scowled and stepped away from Kody. “He’s clean.”
