Fireworks at the FBI by Ron Roy Page B

“What have you found out?”
    “I believe someone deliberately shot those rockets but wanted to make it look like an accident,” the fire chief said. He glanced at a small notebook. “They’re called Zinger rockets, by the way.”
    “So this wasn’t an accident?” the president asked.
    “That’s unlikely,” the fire chief said. “A spark flying through that open window could have started the fire, but someoneneeded to hold the rockets in a position where they’d fly out that window.”
    KC felt Marshall kick her under the table. “I was right!” he hissed.
    KC nodded but didn’t answer. She wanted to hear what was being said.
    “I think he used the metal trash basket as his launching pad,” the fire chief was saying.
    The president tapped a pen on the tabletop. He turned to the fire chief. “Was anyone in the building when your crew got there?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir, a guard,” the chief said. “Name of Joe Cellucci, worked in the building for sixteen years. He told us it was a normal Friday night, for a holiday, until the rockets started flying out the window.”
    “Who uses that office?” the president asked.
    “Five secretaries,” the director said.
    “Did you question them?” the president asked.
    “Yes,” the director told him. “All longtime employees. When they left, the door was locked and the windows shut.”
    “And I’m guessing none of them admitted to bringing Zinger rockets into the office.” President Thornton sighed.
    “Right, sir,” the director said. “If they are telling the truth, someone else came in after they left and fired the rockets. Why, I can’t imagine, unless it was a Fourth of July prank.”
    The president stood up. “I would like to see the room where this all took place,” he told the FBI director.
    “Certainly,” Desmond Smiley said. “Follow me, please.”
    The president and the kids followed the director to the lobby.
    “Why doesn’t Mr. Smiley ever smile?” Marshall whispered to KC.
    KC shook her head. “Maybe he does when there’s something to smile about!”
    Mr. Smiley led them to a pair of elevators. They took one to the third floor. Mr. Smiley used a key to open an office several doors down the hall from the elevator. “This is where it happened,” he said.
    They all stepped into the room. KC saw five desks, five computers, and a wall of metal filing cabinets. Opposite the door were two windows. Under one sat a metal wastebasket with a red pizza box sticking out.
    “EEEW! What’s that smell?” KC asked. She wrinkled her nose.
    “It’s burned powder,” the fire chief said. “From the rockets.”
    The president walked over and looked inside the trash can. He opened one of the windows, then picked up the can. He tipped it so the can’s opening rested against the window ledge.
    “Could someone have shot the rockets this way, Desmond?” the president asked.
    “I think so, sir,” the FBI director said. “The rockets would shoot straight out the window.”
    “Marsh, look at this!” KC cried excitedly. She pulled the red pizza box out of the can. One whole side was burned and blackened. Bits of the cardboard crumbled when she opened the lid.
    “Empty.” Marshall sighed. “Not even a piece of crust left.”
    “I suppose this will be one of those unsolved mysteries,” the president said. “We’ll never know for sure why someone fired rockets from this room.”
    KC shot Marshall a look. She was sure something weird was going on here. And there was something about that pizza box that bothered her.…
    “Ready to go, kids?” the president asked.
    “Ready!” KC said.
    The director led them from the office.
    “What’s in all these other rooms?” Marshall asked as they walked toward the elevators.
    “We have staff meetings in this room every morning,” Director Smiley said.

    “The office next to it is where we put together the Ten Most Wanted list.” He pointed to a third door. “And this one is the office of the