“I’m fine.” Spencer pulled away. “But other people are in danger. Garth Hadley broke into the school and kidnapped the janitors. I’m pretty sure he took them to the Best Western Hotel, so we’ve got to rescue them.”
“Hold on,” Alice said. “Garth Hadley?”
Daisy suddenly appeared in the doorway, lending credence to Spencer’s story. “Saw it with our own eyes, while we were training . . . I mean, in detention.”
Alice fumbled for the phone. “This is bad,” she muttered. “We need to call the police.”
Spencer slumped to the couch, defeated. “Not the police. I knew this would happen.”
“Hello,” Alice said into the telephone. “I’m calling to report an abduction. Two janitors from Welcher Elementary School.”
Pause.
“Yes, janitors.”
Pause.
“No, but my son saw it.”
Pause.
“Twelve years old. He thinks they’re being held at the Best Western Hotel.”
“We’ve got names for a search,” Daisy whispered. “Garth Hadley, Leslie Sharmelle, and Sarah Bently.”
Alice repeated the names to the dispatcher.
Pause.
“Okay, thank you. ’Bye.” The phone went dead in Alice’s hand.
“Did they believe you?” Daisy asked.
“They said they’d send someone over. But who’s going to believe a twelve-year-old witness?” Alice clapped her hands. “I’ve got to run to the neighbor’s.”
“Why?”
“We need a babysitter. Go get in the car.”
Chapter 35
“They’re here, I know it.”
The Best Western stood at the far edge of town, beside the highway that came from Pocatello and went on to Boise. Praised as Welcher’s finest hotel, it sported a nice pool and spa along with a continental breakfast for guests. It was a lofty two stories with the lobby entrance under a covered driveway. The parking lot had only a few cars in it. Spencer was disappointed not to see the white BEM van or Garth Hadley’s blue Toyota.
It was dusk as the Zumbro station wagon pulled into the hotel parking lot. The front bumper was sagging, crooked from an old accident. One of the headlights had burned out. The car, in its own way, seemed to imitate the expression of its surprised driver.
Alice’s mouth was sagging open, crooked in disbelief. One eye was squinted shut as she tried to process what her son had just explained on the drive from Hillside Estates.
“And you’ve seen these . . .
creatures
every day?” she verified.
“Yes,” Spencer said. “The janitors were teaching us to defend against them when the BEM broke in and kidnapped them.”
“And those brooms and mops in the backseat? Those are
magical
weapons?”
Alice pulled into an empty stall near the entrance to the hotel. The car rocked back as she parked it, and she too leaned back against her headrest, running fingers through her hair. “This is absolutely crazy, Spencer. I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“We’ll show you, Mom,” he replied. “But first, we have to rescue the janitors. They’re here, I know it.”
Daisy leaned forward from the backseat. “And we can’t let them get this.” She held out her hand, showing Alice the little bronze nail in her palm. “No matter what.”
Before Alice had any more time to digest their story, headlights flashed. A police car pulled under the covered awning and two officers casually climbed out.
“Let’s go check this out,” came the muffled voice of the female officer as they strode into the building.
Spencer glanced at Daisy, who quickly closed her fist around the nail. When he looked at his mom, her expression was determined.
“You two stay here,” Alice said. She opened the car door. “I’m just going to be a fly on the wall. Be right back.” Spencer and Daisy watched her vanish through the hotel entrance.
“I knew she would trust you,” Daisy said. “It makes a difference when you tell the
whole
truth. No one can trust a chameleon.”
Spencer grinned and popped his door open.
“What are you doing?” asked Daisy.
“Preparing for an ambush. I have a feeling that the police won’t find anything. When they leave, I want to be ready.”
Daisy helped him pull the equipment from the backseat. They stashed the mops and brooms behind a trimmed landscape bush near the entrance. In the fading daylight, the janitorial equipment was hardly visible.
A moment later, Alice emerged from the building. Spencer called quietly from his hiding spot in the bushes.
“They’re here,” Alice said. Spencer pumped a victorious fist into the air. “They have a room in Sarah Bently’s name: 211. Been here for about two weeks.” Alice shook her head. “The officers told the receptionist not to worry. The call about kidnapped janitors was most likely a prank.”
“No way,” Daisy said. “Somebody prank-called about kidnapping janitors? What a coincidence!”
Spencer shared a look with his mom. There was no point in trying to explain it to Daisy. She was obviously in a gullible mood. A mood that Spencer suddenly understood.
Seeing Daisy anxiously chew her lip, leaning against the wall of a hotel full of dangerous enemies, it clicked. Daisy Gates was most gullible when she was nervous. That’s why Dez brought it out in her so often.
Spencer’s pity for Daisy melted into understanding. Daisy couldn’t help being gullible any more than Spencer could help washing his hands before lunch. It was instinct.
“What do we do now?” Daisy asked.
“We wait for the police to finish their
investigation,
” Spencer said.
Spencer glanced at the row of hotel windows. Room 211 would be on the second floor. If this one was like most hotels Spencer had visited, the even rooms would be on one side and odd rooms on the other.
“I’ve got an idea,” Spencer said. “Count by odds for me.”
Alice looked puzzled, but Daisy was used to doing what she was told, unquestioningly. She counted odds, and Spencer held up a finger for each number she said. When Daisy reached eleven, Spencer was showing six fingers.
“So,” Spencer said, walking around the side of the building. He counted six windows from the end on the second story. The drapes were open wide and the flashing, bluish light of a television could be seen in the oncoming darkness.
“I need a broom.”
Daisy dug in the bush, accidentally handed him a mop, then traded it for the broom.
“Spencer?” his mother said. But this was beyond her now.
Spencer jogged to the wall, estimated the distance to the window, and tapped his broom on the ground. He floated up slowly, using one hand to guide himself along the wall. Staying clear of the window, he peeked sideways into the hotel room.
An old man was lying on his back under the covers, his fat stomach rising and falling with the rhythm of his snores. The TV blared a rerun of
Wheel of Fortune.
Spencer descended to the ground next to Daisy, shaking his head. “Not it. Must be on the other side,” he said.
Suddenly, Alice snatched the broom from Spencer’s hand. “What is . . .” She shook it, like she was strangling the broom handle. “Spencer! This is . . . dangerous, crazy—I don’t know! Where did you get this?”
“This,” Spencer took the broom from his mother, “is just the beginning. We’re up against worse things than this, Mom. I told you it was real.”
“You shouldn’t be . . . you can’t . . .”
Just then the officers emerged from the hotel. Spencer, Daisy, and Alice ducked into the concealment of the bushes.
“ . . . the lady’s son was probably confused,” said the woman officer.
“Yeah,” chuckled the other. “Who’s going to abduct a school janitor?”
“Probably a high ransom. Didn’t you know that janitors make millions?”
They both burst into laughter, climbing into the police car. The automobile pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the highway.
“Did you hear that?” Daisy whispered. “I had no idea Walter was a millionaire!”
“Yep,” said Spencer. “And Marv’s a brain surgeon.” He tightened the straps on his pink backpack and dug into the bush for the other supplies.
“So, what does
that
do?” Alice pointed to the mop. “Does it fly, too?”
Spencer grinned. It was weird to know so much about something that his mom had never even imagined possible. “There’s no time to explain it all, Mom. The BEM knows we’re coming. I’m sure the police gave us away. The longer we wait, the better chance for them to get away.”
“Hold on, son,” Alice said. “You are
not
going in there to take them by force. Do you remember that you’re only twelve years old?”
Spencer didn’t want to argue with his mother. This was the risk of bringing her along. She had been supportive so far, but no mother would knowingly let her son go into a fight.
“What should we do, then?” Spencer asked. “If the police won’t get involved, who will?”
“Oh, the police are getting involved, so help me.” Alice slapped her pockets. “Shoot, I left my phone in the car.” She turned to Spencer. “You two—
stay.
”
Spencer fidgeted as his mom jogged across the parking lot. “Daisy,” Spencer said without breaking his gaze toward his mom, “I need you to follow me.”
“But we can’t. Your mom said
stay.
”
Stay
was a dog command, meant for animals. But dogs didn’t plot or plan. Dogs didn’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders, the future of education hanging over their heads.
Stay
was fine for a dog . . . but not for Spencer.
Alice had just looked up from the station wagon, cell phone in hand, when Spencer and Daisy bolted into the hotel. The kids sprinted through the lobby, mops and brooms in hand, backpacks jangling. They saw the stairs, but that wasn’t the plan.
Spencer and Daisy exited the hotel as quickly as they’d entered. But now they were on the other side of the building, the side that Spencer was sure had a window to room 211.
“This has got to be it,” Spencer said, counting six windows again. “You still got the nail?” Daisy patted her pocket, face grim and nervous.
“I need you to stay down here,” Spencer explained. “In about a minute, my mom is going to show up. Try to calm her down, convince her that I know what I’m doing.” As he talked, Spencer slipped the latex glove onto his right hand and hastily stocked both pockets with quick-access vac dust. “Okay. I’m going up.”
It was almost fully dark outside and a narrow strip of light leaked out where the curtains didn’t seal together. That gap was all Spencer needed.
He floated up to the window and pulled himself close until he was almost standing on the narrow brick ledge. All Spencer could see was a dim corner of the hotel room. But tied in that corner was big Marv Bills.
Spencer strained around, trying to locate Walter and see how many BEM workers were in the room. He didn’t have much time to decide how to attack. His broom was already trying to descend. The window was wide open, so only the screen and the curtain kept him out.
“Is that someone at the door?
Again?
” Garth Hadley’s voice drifted out the window.
Someone at the door?
But who? For a moment, Spencer wondered if the police had returned.
“I’ll get it,” answered a woman. It was Leslie Sharmelle, or Sarah Bently, or whoever she was. “Put the Rebels in the bathroom again.”
Spencer pressed his ear to the screen. He heard the door open. “My son!” shouted a frantic voice. “Where is he?”
Spencer nearly toppled from the windowsill. It was his mother at the door! Alice must have thought he and Daisy had gone upstairs . . .
There was no time to lose! His mother was in danger and the opportunity for a surprise attack was dwindling. He acted—impulsively, instinctively, but not without surprise. A twelve-year-old boy flying through a second-story window was always going to be a surprise.
Chapter 36
“Thanks, kid.”
Spencer used the mop, flicking it at the screen as hard as he could. The Glopified strings ripped off the screen and entangled the curtains, stripping them from the curtain rod.
Spencer didn’t have time to wait for the mop to retract, so he threw it down. At the same moment, he lunged through the open window, striking his broom against the sill to give him an extra boost.
Spencer’s mother was standing in the doorway, fear and surprise flashing across her face. Only a few feet before her stood Leslie Sharmelle wearing a baggy sweatshirt and stretch pants. The pink streaks were gone from her spunky hair and now she was platinum blonde. Leslie barely had time to turn away from the doorway before Spencer hit her with a palm blast of vac dust, suctioning her to the floor.
Garth Hadley was in a much more strategic position. As Spencer shot across the room, the strong BEM worker seized the boy’s foot . . . only to find that it slipped through his hands like Jell-O.
Spencer noticed an adjoining door that linked rooms 211 and 209. In the corner, Marv was struggling to his feet, hands still bound. Walter was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the warlock was in the next room.
“Gloves!” Garth shouted as he scrambled toward Marv. But Spencer was already there. The broom clattered against the wall as Spencer ducked behind the big janitor, checking the knots at his wrists. He tugged at them for a moment, but the ropes were too tight.
Garth leapt forward and grabbed Marv by the front of his shirt, Spencer cowering behind. Garth would have punched the big janitor square in the nose, but Marv suddenly slipped through his grasp.
“Ha ha!” Marv exclaimed, feeling Spencer shove the sweaty latex glove onto his bound hand. Marv flexed, but the ropes still held.
“What the . . . ?” Hadley said. Marv threw his full weight forward and checked Garth Hadley to the floor.
Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer saw his mom lunge forward, tackling Leslie as she recovered from the vac dust. “Mom!” he shouted.
Alice had Leslie’s arms pinned. She blew at an errant strand of hair in her face. “Don’t worry about me, Spence.” She drove an elbow into the middle of Leslie’s back. “Get out of here and find Daisy!”
Spencer gave a half grin. If Alice was anything, she was independent. Spencer ducked behind Marv. “Go!” he shouted, using the big janitor as a shield to cross the room.