Enemy Spy (6 page)

We stared each other down for a solid minute. Then he stood and said, “You're coming home.”

“But—”

“You're coming home!”

He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of there. I had my backpack, but he wouldn't even let me get my homework books! He marched me across school, stuck his head in the office door, and called out to Mrs. Holler, “I'm taking Nolan home!”

“Uh…,”she said, then leaned out the office door, calling, “Wait a minute, Mr. Byrd! Is this for illness, or what?”

“It's for attitude!”he shouted back at her. Then he hustled me across the street.

“All right,”Dad said when he'd muscled me through our front door. “Show me what you e-mailed to Sarge.”

I thought about saying no. If he didn't want to help fight for truth and justice, then why should he get to know what I was doing? But I'd never seen my dad this upset before, and I was feeling bad and a little scared. Not of him, but of him not liking me anymore. Maybe I didn't have any friends at school, but at home I had two really good ones.

Or at least I used to.

So I led him down to my room.

There were messages in my Shredderman in-box—one was from [email protected]. I
was dying to know what Sarge had mailed me, but I clicked on the SENT folder and opened the e-mail I'd sent Sarge instead. “Here,”I said, and let my dad sit down.

He looked at the pictures and read the words slowly. Out loud. “Why would this guy… Pay this guy… A hundred thousand dollars… For a dozen pages of these? I think you should investigate. And check your snail mail. I'm sending you the classified documents.”He turned to me and asked, “Nolan, who
are
these people you took pictures of? When did you… Where did you…
How
did you…?”He couldn't seem to finish his sentences. But then he practically spit out,
“What
classified documents?”

“The ones I snail-mailed to Sarge.”

“The ones you…”

He took me by the shoulders.

He looked me square in the eye.

“Nolan, start from the beginning, and tell me everything.”

He wasn't looking angry.

Or even upset.

He looked worried.

“It's okay, Dad. They didn't see me! I was getting a drink from the river because I was so, so,
so
thirsty. I'd been lost for hours! I'd been walking, and my backpack was heavy, and I knew Mom would be mad at me, and—”

“Nolan! The men. Where did you see these men?”

“At a bridge on the road where I hid my bike. The guy with the trench coat stopped first. I was going to ask him to call you, but he took that boulder out of his car and…”

“Boulder? What boulder?”

I took my digital camera out of my backpack, connected it to my computer, and started a slide show for my dad, showing him all the pictures I'd taken of the trench coat guy and the shabby guy, explaining what had happened as I went along.

When I was done, Dad said, “This is incredible. It sounds like something out of a cartoon. Or a Cold War spy mission or something!”

“Cold War? What's that?”

He looked at me, then took a deep breath and nodded. “It was more a situation than a war. The United States and the Soviet Union tried to learn each other's secrets. There was a lot of spying going on. And among the spies were traitors—people selling their own country's secrets for cash or diamonds or whatever.”

“Wow.”I looked back at the computer monitor. “Do you think these guys are
spies
?”

“Like I said, it seems incredible. But that boul-der is sure clandestine.”

“Clandestine?”

“You know—sneaky. Cloak-and-dagger. Underhanded.”

“Oh.”

“Someone would notice a briefcase by a river,
but the boulder could sit there for days. Weeks!”

“So do you think they're spies, Dad? Or traitors?”

My dad frowned and tapped the trench coat guy on my monitor. “Well, this turkey is sure
dressed
like a spy.”He looked at me and said, “Nolan, why didn't you just tell your mother and me about this?”

I shrugged. “Because you don't want me to be Shredderman anymore!”

“We never said that!”

“But that
is
what you want.”

“No, it's not! We just want you to…”He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Look, Nolan. Shredderman aside, if you had told your mother and me about this, we could have taken all the information directly to the police. There was no reason to hide behind the Shredderman mask!”

I just stared at him. Going to the police as Nolan Byrd had never even crossed my mind.

He shook his head.

He scratched an ear.

He sighed, and sighed again.

“Okay,”he finally said, “I want to catch Mom up on what's going on. Maybe Mr. Green, too.”He shook his head again. “Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time! If this is as serious as it seems, do you realize what these men might have done to you if they'd seen you?”

I shrugged. “But they didn't see me.”

He dropped his voice and held my shoulders. “But they know someone saw
them.”

“What do you mean?”

He hitched a thumb at my monitor. “Mr. Trench Coat there didn't get what he paid for.”

“But he doesn't know
I
took the papers.”

Dad nodded. It was a real serious nod. Then he took a deep breath and headed for the phone, saying, “We've got to make sure it stays that way.”

Mom always gets home from her job as a com-puter programmer before I get home from school at 3:05. She even works from home some days— like when I'm sick, or have some school event she wants to go to. Mom says working at Tech-Key lets her have the best of both worlds. Dad says he wishes Mr. Zilch was even half as understanding about his hours at the
Gazette.

But there it was, 2:30 in the afternoon, and we were all three someplace we weren't supposed to be—home.

We'd gone over everything three times.

Maybe four!

But Mom was still pacing around. Shaking her
head. Throwing her hands in the air. All she could seem to say was, “But, Steven, what are we going to
do
about it?”

Then the phone rang.

Mom looked at Dad.

Dad looked at Mom.

They agreed to let the answering machine pick up, and we all waited through “You've reached Eve 'n' Steven's. Please leave a message at the beep.”

A gruff voice said, “Steven, if you're there, pick up!”

Dad pulled a face at Mom that said
Uh-oh,
but Mom held his arm and whispered, “He doesn't know you're here.”

“Steven!”the voice barked. “Look, man, I'm getting heat from all angles. I need everything you've got on Shredderman, and I need it now!”

Uh-triple-oh!

It seemed like the caller was starting to hang
up, but then his voice was back, snapping, “And why don't you have your cell phone on?”

Click.

“Ho-boy,”Dad sighed.

“Was that Mr. Zilch?”I whispered.

“Yes, it was.”He kissed my mom on the forehead. “Guess I'd better get to the
Gazette,
pronto.”

“What are you going to tell him?”my mom asked.

Dad looked at her and shook his head. “I have no idea.”Then he looked at me. “But I'm afraid it can't be the truth.”

The minute they were out of the room, I zoomed over to my computer and clicked on my in-box.

I opened the e-mail Sarge had sent me.

It was short.

To the point.

Shredderman: Please call the CVPD. We need to talk ASAP.

Talk
to him? I couldn't do that! There was no way I could disguise my voice enough! What was I going to do?

I was lost in thought, running through some crazy ideas, when Mom called, “Nolan! Nolan, come quick!”

I ran into the living room where she was looking out the window, her hand held up to her mouth.

“What, Mom?”

She just pointed across the street to the school.

My jaw dropped.

My eyes popped.

Police cars were blocking the teachers' parking lot! Their blue lights were flashing like crazy! I tore down to my room and got my backpack. I pulled out my binoculars and looked at the parking lot. There were kids all over the place!

And teachers!

And… Oh, no! There was Chatty Adams and her camera crew!

Then I spotted Sergeant Klubb putting someone in the backseat of his police car!

My heart sank.

They were arresting Mr. Green!

“Why are they arresting Mr. Green?”I cried.

“Calm down, Nolan,”my mom said. “We don't know that he's being arrested. Maybe they just… maybe they just want to ask him some questions.”“Like
what
?”

She shook her head but didn't answer. Instead, she said, “I'd better call your father.”I stayed glued to the window. Chatty Adams was chasing after Sarge, sticking her microphone in his face. She even tried to block his way into the police car!

Finally Sarge managed to get past her. He dove into the car and drove away.

I left the window and ran to Mom's desk, where she was punching buttons on the phone. “He's not answering at work yet,”she muttered. “I sure hope he turned on his cell phone.”She finished dialing and waited while it rang. “Steven? Oh, thank heavens. They just took Elmo off in a police car… Uh-huh… Uh-huh… No, no hand-cuffs… I don't know!”She listened for a minute, then said, “Well, call us the minute you find something out, okay?”