Chapter 13: Madness at the Mall

“Can you think of anything more fun than this place?”  Mrs. Schlegel stood in front of the large clothing store at the mall, her grin reflecting off the large display windows stuffed with mannequins exhibiting the latest trends and sale advertisements confirming that now was the time to buy.

Renee, frankly, could think of a lot of places more fun than this.  The dump was even one of them.  She’d never a big fan of shopping for clothes, but she sensed that Mrs. Schlegel would make it much worse.

“Why did I have to come along?” Renee whispered to her older sister as the girls followed Mrs. Schlegel and their “mother” into the store.

Carol squeezed her sister’s hand.  “You might learn something,” she said.  “Anyway, it won’t be that bad.”

“Not that bad?” whispered Renee.  “It’s just a matter of time before Mrs. Schlegel says, ‘Ooh, look at that dress.  I simply have to try it on.’  After fifteen minutes, she’ll decide not to buy it.  It’s as predictable as a scratched CD.”

Carol laughed.  “Don’t worry, Renee.  I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, no?” said Renee.  “You wait and see.”

As it turned out, Renee wasn’t quite right.  “Ooh, look at that dress!” Mrs. Schlegel exclaimed.  “Carol, you simply have to try it on!  It’ll look marvelous on you!”

By the look on her face, it was apparent that Carol disagreed.  However, the point of the trip was to find out whatever they could about Mrs. Schlegel, and Carol went along without complaining.  “You can wait out here, if you want,” she told Renee as they went to the fitting rooms.

“I will,” said Renee.  “Please don’t take long!”

Her plea went unheeded.  Mrs. Hallett and Mrs. Schlegel had to see how the dress looked.  It was thirteen minutes before they emerged from the fitting room, with Carol saying:

“I don’t think that’s the one for me.”

You knew that from the beginning, didn’t you?  Renee thought as she trotted after the group.  They put the dress back, but not before Mrs. Schlegel found a couple more.  “Carol, you must try these on!  I’m sure one of these will be perfect!”

Oh, no!  thought Renee.  It didn’t matter.  Carol duly headed back to the fitting room to get studied once again.  Renee should have been grateful that Carol was the dressing dummy instead of her, but she wasn’t.  She was just impatient.

Standing outside the fitting rooms, her eyes wandered around the store.  There wasn’t much, except for clothes.  Lots and lots of clothes.  This was the dress section, and dresses hung from racks, from carts, on the wall—

Renee found herself staring at the ones on the wall.  They ran all the way up the wall, to heights impossible for a human to reach unaided.  Help was in the form of a large stick with a hook on one end, hanging next to the dresses, right by the fitting rooms.

Wouldn’t it be funny thought the youngest spy in the CIA if one of those dresses were to—oh, wait!  Renee eyed the dresses, then the hook.  A mischievous twinkle appeared in her eye.  She grabbed the hook and brought down one of the topmost dresses.  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a tiny object.  She clipped it to the dress and put back the hook.  Then, reaching into her pocket again, she pulled out something that looked like a small remote control.  She put the dress on top of it and flicked it on.

Immediately, the dress rose up into the air!

How?  Magnets.  The remote control contained a magnet of the same pole as the one Renee had clipped to the dress.  It was one of the special gadgets the Lawrences had, intended only to be used for important, covert operations.  However, when things get boring—

Renee pocketed the controller and walked to the main aisle that led through the store.  High in the air, and following her, was the dress.  Renee started around the store, waiting for people to notice.

Few did at first.  This was a slow afternoon, and the only shoppers there were engrossed in their purchases.  Two old ladies went crazy over a dress (not the dress), a mother dragged her whining three-year old to the checkout counter, and a professional-looking individual stood for a suit fitting.  No one paid much attention to the flying dress.

Except for one person, a store clerk busy filling a rack with stuffed animals.  He looked up and saw the dress, floating across the store.  The man stared stupidly at it, closing his eyes and pinching himself to no avail.

Renee had gone halfway around the store when she felt a hand on her arm.  It was Carol.  “Renee!” she hissed.  “Put that down right now!”

Renee reached into her pocket and found a button.  Instantly, the dress dropped.  She picked it up, and Carol dragged her back towards the fitting rooms.

“I know you’re bored,” whispered Carol as they walked, “but don’t do stuff like that!  We don’t want our cover to get blown!  Got it?”

Renee nodded, without saying a word.  Meanwhile, on the other side of the store…

“Right over there!” the flabbergasted employee said.

His manager stared skeptically.  “What am I supposed to be looking for again?”

The employee turned.  “Why, it’s gone!  It was there a minute ago.”

The manager nodded.  “A flying dress?  Mm-hm.  Get back to work!”

Carol and Renee reached the fitting rooms again, only to find Mrs. Schlegel holding five more dresses.  “Why don’t you try these on, Carol?”

“Sure,” said Carol.  Renee was the only one who saw her sister roll her eyes.  “Wait here Renee, and stay out of trouble.”

So, Renee waited.  Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen, twenty.  No sign of the group in the fitting room.  She found herself getting bored again.

An old lady, arms full of clothes, wandered past Renee into the dressing room.  “Beep-beep,” went a sensor.  There was nothing unusual about this sensor—most stores had them.  They beeped every time something passed them, whether it was a person, a cart, or a bag being swung back and forth by a mischievous kid.  Often, they gave one high-pitched beep and one lower-pitched beep, like a doorbell.  Store employees tuned them out after a while.

Initially, Renee thought of playing the bag trick.  Then, she got a different idea.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature screwdriver set.  Kneeling down next to the sensor, she soon had it off the wall.  She fiddled with it for a bit before replacing it and stepping back to see what happened.

That old lady that had gone in a few minutes ago now stepped out.  “Beep---beep—beep-beep---beep—beep-beep---beep-beep-beep,” it went.  The lady glared at it.

“Well, I never!” she exclaimed.

The group of teens walking by seemed to view it differently.  “Dude!  It’s the Imperial March!”

“That’s cool!”

“I never knew Kohl’s was on the dark side!”

“The force is with this store!”

Carol dashed out, still wearing one of the dresses she’d been trying on.  “Renee!” she said.

“What?” asked her sister.

Carol pointed to the fitting rooms.  “That wasn’t playing movie music a minute ago.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Renee!” Carol knelt down next to her and whispered in her ear.  “We’re looking for someone who might be a killer.  We can’t risk having our cover blown.  If someone finds out who you really are, it could be bad for all of us!”

“I’m sorry,” said her sister.  “I’m just so bored.”

Carol looked around, hoping no one was paying much attention.  “Tell you what,” she said.  “Do you have your cellphone with you?”

Renee nodded.

“You can go for a walk around the mall then.  Just, please—stay out of trouble!  OK?”

Renee nodded.

“Good.  And if anyone bothers you, call me, alright?”

Another nod.

“OK.  Just stop messing with things in this store.”  Carol walked back into the fitting rooms, Darth Vader’s theme sounding behind her.

Out into the mall Renee went, hoping to find something interesting that would keep her out of trouble.  Two stories of shops should have provided at least something.  Renee, however, was in no mood for shopping today, and nothing in any of the stores looked interesting.  Once again, that boredom so suited for mischief swept over her.

She was now on the second floor, wandering by a railing, gazing down at the people on the first floor.  Below was a seating area, empty except for a man on his cellphone.  Renee stopped above him and peered down, but she was unable to make out his conversation.

No matter.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature microphone.  Donning a pair of headphones, she nonchalantly lowered the microphone until it was almost level with the guy’s head.  It was behind him, but it was so small, he wouldn’t have noticed anyway.  Grinning, Renee began listening.

“Hallett.”

The grin disappeared from her face.  It was so unexpected, hearing her fake last name here at the mall.  Surely he meant someone else.

“John Hallett.”

Maybe not.

“That’s the new one, according to our contact there.  He’s brought his wife and kids along too.  What?  Yes, she might be in on it.  Our agent wants permission to remove.”

Silence.

“Sure.  Yes, I’ll tell him.  Tonight, if possible?”  The man laughed.  “I’m sure he can come up with something.  Catch you later.”

Startled, Renee yanked up the bug.  She looked down and saw the man pocket his phone.  He stood up and looked around to see if he’d been observed, but he neglected to look up.  Then, he set off at a brisk walk.

Renee had never seen the man before, but she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight if she could help it.  She ran around the railing to a down escalator and charged halfway down it until she got stuck behind a plump man with a briefcase.  He slowly turned, shot her a look, and stayed right where he was.  As soon as they reached the first floor, Renee bolted past him, just in time to see her quarry head down an aisle.

She charged over to where he’d gone and saw him heading for the exit.  The mall was crowded, and it was hard enough to keep him in sight, but Renee pushed her way through as fast as she could.  Her subject still had no idea he was being followed.  By the time he reached the door, Renee was only about ten feet behind.

Exiting, the man darted across the street towards the parking lot straight ahead.  Renee darted after him without bothering to check the traffic.  She should have.  If she had, she would have seen the taxi headed straight towards her.

Honk!

Renee saw it at the last second, barely managing to avoid it by twisting out of the way.  She lost her balance and fell to the ground.  The door opened, and the driver leaned out to check on her.

“Watch where you’re going, you stupid punk!” he said.  “Don’t try to cross in front of old Greg again!”

Maybe “check on her” didn’t capture the warmth of the L.A. area cab driver, who sounded like a New York transplant.  Renee ignored him and pulled herself up.  She looked around for her quarry, but he’d disappeared into the parking lot.  Her cellphone rang and she answered.

“Renee?  We’re done.”

“Alright,” said Renee.  “Be right there.  Wait till I tell you what I heard.”

“What did you—” started Carol, but Renee hung up on her.  She’d had to wait long enough today.  Now, it was Carol’s turn.

But as she walked back towards the mall, Renee knew full well that her “parents” would have to watch their steps.  No one suspected her and her siblings of being spies, which was great for them.  But it could be very bad for John and Sally Hallett.

Chapter 12: The Game of Life

Drew poked his head into the girls’ room.  “Anyone up for a late-night game of Life?”

Carol and Renee nodded.  “Be right over,” said Carol.

Five minutes later, the four had a game set up.  Drew went first, became a doctor, and coasted to his first payday, a grin of triumph on his face.  He pulled out a pen and began to write something while Edward went next.

“Lawyer,” said Edward.  “Things could be worse.”

Renee laughed.  “I can’t picture you ever becoming a lawyer.”

Carol spun.  “1?”

“Your time will come,” said Edward, as Renee spun.  “2.”  “Yawn.”

“Your turn, Drew,” said Edward.  Drew put down the paper he’d been writing on, spun, and moved his car.

“Congratulations,” said Carol.  “A new baby boy.  I’m so happy for you.”

Edward spun and moved his piece.  Carol was watching him play, when suddenly, she felt something against her leg.  She glanced down and saw a life insurance policy.

It was too early in the game to be getting life insurance, but Carol picked it up without a word and opened it.  “Secret room at the theater,” it read.  “Met Louis LeBlanc, 328049 of the Direction générale de la sécurité intérieure.  Was expecting Bourbon.  Claims they’re trying to keep project from being stolen and has no idea what it is.”

It was now Carol’s turn.  She passed the policy to Edward and spun.  Moving a few spaces, she became a teacher.  Then, she grabbed another life insurance policy and pulled out her own pen.  By the time Drew had finished his next move, she’d passed it to him.

“Do you believe him?”

Drew pulled out a pen, wrote something else on the policy, and handed it back.  “Think so.  Was just about to ask what happened to Pearson.  Doesn’t seem to know.  Should still be a suspect.”

“Oh, boy—twins!” exclaimed Renee.  Her siblings passed her some money as Edward grabbed a policy.  After Drew’s next move, the policy went to him.

“Renee and I eavesdropped on Coffman and Hannah today.  Coffman wants to know what Mr. Blaine’s working on.  Says it’s for his company.”

Drew passed the policy to Renee, who read it, nodded, and handed it back with something else written on it.  “Hannah wouldn’t say which company.”

Drew scribbled something and passed it back.  “We’ll have Washington check on it.”  He pulled out another one, wrote something in big letters on it, and held it up for everyone to see.  “WHAT NEXT?”

Carol grabbed a policy and wrote, “Renee and I are going shopping with ‘Mom’ and Mrs. Schlegel tomorrow.”  She held that passed that one to Drew.  He read it and passed it to Renee, pulled out another one, and began to write.

Renee took it, read it, and made a face.  “Are we?” she mouthed.

Carol nodded sternly.  “Shh!” she mouthed.

Sulkingly, Renee spun the wheel.  Inheriting 100 cats from her aunt did nothing to cheer her up.

Drew passed Carol his policy.  “Edward and I will hang out here and see what happens.  Good luck.”

After that, the only policies passed around were real ones involved in the game.  No one mentioned anything about the assignment.  Anyone walking past the room would have heard normal board game chatter.  If the room was bugged, nothing had been said to blow anyone’s cover.

Once the game ended, Drew gathered up all the scribbled-on policies.  He pulled a flask out of his suitcase, stuffed them through the neck, and poured a few drops from a small bottle into the flask.  He dropped in a match, and the policies quickly burned up.  That was no great loss; the Lawrences had a special Life game, with tons of extra policies.  It was their preferred way of communicating secretly.  No one wanted to lose the game of Life.

Chapter 11: Have a Seat!

“Excuse me, sir, but do you know where Theater 11 is?”

The usher gave Drew a funny look.  “Sure,” he said.  “It’s right next to Theater 10.”

“Thanks,” said Drew, with not-so-subtle grumpy sarcasm.  “I suppose that one’s next to Theater 9?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I’m going to find another usher.  Hey, miss!  Excuse me, but where’s Theater 11?”

Drew’s helpful friend was poised to speak again when the other usher answered.

“See that hallway right there?  Go to the right, and it’s almost all the way at the end.  There’s a large sign in front; you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you very much!” said Drew.  “I appreciate helpful information,” he said, looking long and hard at the first usher.

The usher stared back.  “What?”

“Skip it,” said Drew, starting down the hall to the theater.  The other usher’s directions were good, and he found it in no time at all.

“Now, was this General Admission, or was it a reserved seat?” wondered Drew, looking at his ticket before entering the theater.  It was general admission, but to his surprise, there was a note scrawled on it.  “A28.”

“Sounds like a seat number,” thought Drew, entering the theater.  It was, but when Drew saw where it was, he wished it hadn’t been.  A28 was in the top-right corner of the theater, all the way at the back.

“Hardly the ideal seat,” he thought.  “Well, it could be worse.  I could be on the front row.”  He started up to his seat, reaching it after about a minute.

No one else was around.  Other people were in the theater, of course, but they were all lower down and towards the middle.  It didn’t look like the place would be very crowded this evening.

Normally, Drew would have thoroughly enjoyed going to see a movie all by himself.  He loved his family, of course; but they could—well, there were times when he just needed to get away from them.  This was the perfect break, except for one thing: Day of the Dinosaurs 3 wasn’t very good.

It wasn’t a casualty of failed expectations.  Day of the Dinosaurs (the original) had been a decent film—not great, but worth going to see.  Day of the Dinosaurs 2—well, it was one of those sequels they made just for the sake of making a sequel.  It wasn’t that great.  Okay, but not even very good.  They probably should have stopped with the first one.

But they didn’t, and they weren’t through after the second one, either.  A collective groan rippled across the country as the third movie was announced.  And boy, was it announced!  The studio that produced it signed a contract with a fast food company.  Soon, there were commercials featuring huge lizards, frightened people, and tantalizing food.

Did the commercials help the restaurant?  Who knows.  They did nothing to make the movie a success.  Far from it.  When the film premiered in Los Angeles, it was to a mostly empty theater.  The unfortunate souls that did go to see it sent death threats to the star, Elliot Goldwell.  Examples?

This is the worst movie of all time.  Acting in it was the biggest mistake of all time.

Dear Mr. Goldwell:  In your second film, you were murdered by Nazis.  I can’t find any Nazis, but I can do the same thing to you, regardless.

GOLDWEL PREPAR TWO DYE

Faced with such ominous threats, Goldwell had gone into hiding.  He hadn’t been seen since the film’s premiere.  His studio had been notified that he was on an “extended leave,” and they’d postponed all his other movies.  Wherever he was, one thing was certain.  He wouldn’t be caught dead going to see Day of the Dinosaurs 3.  Or, maybe he would be.  Literally.

That was why Drew had little to look forward to as he leaned back in his chair and watched the previews for the new movies.  There was an exciting one about four kids who escape a fake uncle and travel halfway across the country trying to find their parents, a dull one about a woman who falls in love with the son of her dad’s rival CEO, an OK one about a talking fish, and an interesting one about two men that masquerade as Holmes and Watson of Baker Street fame.

Then, after the customary cell-phone warnings, Day of the Dinosaurs 3 started.  It was somewhat predictable.  Two scientists found a bunch of dinosaur eggs frozen inside a block of ice.  They melted the ice, mistake number one.  Then, they X-rayed them, mistake number two.  Something went wrong with the X-Ray.  Five dinosaurs hatched, grew much more quickly than any normal dinosaur ever did, and started multiplying.  Soon, the world was being overrun by dinosaurs.  A tired story with no new twists to add any life whatsoever.  It didn’t take long for Drew to start yawning.

“At least this chair’s comfortable,” he thought, leaning back.  “I might fall asleep.”  He watched as an ankylosaur chased someone past a desolated city that looked a whole lot like a vacant lot in Newark.

Suddenly, he sat up.  The screen was shifting!  Drew rubbed his eyes, thinking he was going batty.  The picture was moving, up through the theater—

No, wait.  It wasn’t moving: Drew was moving!  He looked down in astonishment and saw his seat sinking slowly into the floor.

“Ah-ha!” he thought.  “So this is why I was supposed to sit here!  I’d better be prepared for the welcome party.”  He reached in his coat, pulled out his gun, and sat at attention as the descent continued.

Above, a panel rolled across the hole once the top of the seat dipped under it.  Shortly afterwards, a crack of light appeared at the side of the platform.  It grew, and Drew found himself lowering into a large room.  He looked around.  Computers lined the yellow walls of the strangest movie theater basement Drew had ever seen.  Most of them were off, but a couple were on.  The monitors showed the entrance to the theater building and the seat in Theater 9—that is, the hole where the seat was supposed to be.  There were a few empty chairs surrounding the computers, and one other one, right next to Drew’s seat.  A man sat in it, his back to Drew, busy flipping through papers.

A grin crossed Drew’s face.  I’ll bet I’m not expected.

The man pushed a paper to one side.  “Ah, 50237,” he said.  “It is good of you to drop in.  It’s been far too long since you gave your last report.  We are all too anxious to learn more about the disappearance of—”

He swiveled around.

“Oh!”

Drew faced him, gun drawn.  “Hello,” he said.  “50237 sends his regards; he had better things to do than sit through that putrid movie up there.  I’m here to take his place.  Now, suppose we get acquainted; I always prefer working with someone I know.  Who are you?”

The man glowered.  “If you were really working with 50237, you’d know.”

“Maybe, and maybe not,” said Drew.  “If you were really concerned with leaving here, you’d probably tell me.”

“Smith,” said the man.  “John Smith.”

“John Smith?” said Drew.  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith.  I’m John Paul Jones.  Got any other lies for me?”

Smith stared at him.  “You’re a little overconfident, aren’t you?” he said.  “Do you really think, when you’re through with me, you can walk right out of here?”

“Sure,” said Drew.  “I have friends who know right where I am right now.”

“As do I,” said Smith.

“Wonderful,” said Drew.  “Hopefully, they won’t have to meet.  Now, why don’t you tell me about this place?”

“This place?” said the man.  “It’s a movie theater.”

“Right,” said Drew.  “A movie theater with a very interesting basement.  Care to explain?”

“Not really,” said Smith.

“Then I’ll start,” said Drew.  “You all have been using Don’s Drive-In to communicate.  Agent 50237 orders the number three with mushrooms, gets the message, and comes here if it’s too important for your little message delivery system.”

Smith nodded.  “You want to just tell me who 50237 is while you’re at it?”

“Don’t think you’re going to get it out of me that easily,” said Drew, “when you don’t really know who he is.”

Smith’s eyes narrowed.  “What makes you think that?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?  They know about it; that’s why they sent me instead of you.  If you can’t tell me who 50237 is, well—you’re through in this organization.”

“You work for us?”

“Sure!”

“Prove it.”

“Uh-uh,” said Drew.  “You prove it first.  Let’s see your badge.”

“You’re in my office.”

“But I’m the one holding the gun.”

“Good point.”  Smith was starting to sweat.  “I’ll just get it out of my pocket—”

Smith’s hand came up holding a gun!  There was a shot—and the gun fell to the floor.  Smith grabbed his hand, wincing in pain.

“Naughty, naughty, Mr. Smith,” said Drew.  “I’ll be sure to tell them about this.  Now, the badge?”

With his other hand, Smith reached into his other pocket and pulled out a badge.  He flipped it open.

Direction générale de la sécurité intérieure

Louis LeBlanc, Agent de contre-espionnage

328049

Drew read it and nodded.  “And the name of 50237?”

“Jean-Luc Bourdon.”

“His real name.”

“Henri Matisse.”

“Very good,” said Drew.

“Now will you tell me—”

“Not so fast!” said Drew.  “Let’s see if you know his purpose.”

“I’ve said all I need,” said the man.  He glared at Drew.  “You’re not one of us, are you?  Where’s your badge?”

“I’m holding it,” said Drew.  “Your hand just felt it.  Now, the purpose?”

“50237’s staying with a guy named Blaine.  Steve Blaine.  He’s an aerospace expert who’s working on a project for the United States—”

“What project?”

“We don’t know,” said LeBlanc.  “All anybody knows is he’s working on something.  It’s common knowledge in the international arena.  Whatever it is, it’s going to be important, and we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.  We sent Matisse to Blaine’s place to make sure nothing happens before Blaine delivers it.”

“I see,” said Drew.  He smiled, knowingly.  “Any changes you want to make before I report that story?”

“I’d like to take the whole thing back, if I may,” said LeBlanc.

“It’s too late for that,” said Drew, “but I’ll keep your honesty in mind when I make that report.”

“Do that,” said LeBlanc.  “Incidentally, since you seem to know so much, what is Blaine’s secret project?”

“A machine that keeps people from asking too many questions,” said Drew.  “So long, LeBlanc.  We’ll tell Matisse to drop in on you one of these days.”

With that, Drew reached out and hit the up button on a little platform next to his seat.  The chair slowly rose towards the ceiling.  Drew kept his gun trained on Matisse until he was through.  The panel reopened, and Drew jumped up and grabbed the edge of the floor.  He hauled himself out just in time.  Behind him, the chair stopped rising, and the panel closed.  LeBlanc had grabbed the controls.

But he was too late.

Picking himself up, Drew worked his way down the aisle and exited the theater as inconspicuously as possible.  He ran into the friendly usher on the way out.

“How was the movie?” she asked.

“Oh, okay,” said Drew.  “Nothing to write home about.  I had a great seat, though.  Good night!”