Gold Medal Murder by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

George, and I headed over to her.
    â€œReady to go?” she said as she slung her bag of gear over her shoulder.
    â€œYou don’t want to change or anything?” I asked.
    â€œNah. I’m kind of avoiding using the lockers as much as possible. You know?”
    I nodded.
    â€œHow was talking with Alex?” Lexi asked.
    George snorted. “He’s a piece of work!”
    â€œI know, right?” said Lexi. “He’s so irritating. I guess it’s his job and all, and Lee says that all the press is going to be great for Scott, but I wish he’d just buzz off.”
    We headed out to the street. At the door, I hesitated. I looked both ways. It was getting dark now, and I didn’t see the car anywhere.
    â€œUhh… anyone remember where I parked?”
    Lexi laughed. “Some things never change, eh?”
    â€œLuckily, Bess and I have taken care of this problem.”
    It took me a moment to figure out what George meant. Then I remembered: the remote starter they had installed in the car! I hadn’t had a chance to use it yet. I pulled out my keys and clicked the big button they’d put on my key ring.
    BOOOOOOMMM
!
    Two hundred feet down the street, a giant ball of fire erupted into the sky.

CHAPTER 12
 RESTRAINING ORDER
FRANK
    You’d think that being a secret agent on a deadly mission in the middle of the Olympics would have to be exciting all the time, right? Well, you’d be wrong. This was crunch time for the athletes, and if they’d been focused before, now they existed for only one reason: to train. I was a ghost in the arena, pretty much the only person there without something to do.
    Of course, that did have one benefit: No one noticed me keeping an eye on Scott from a distance. Although, truth be told, I could have been standing two feet from him, staring at him, the whole day and I don’t think anyone would have noticed that, either. Even the towel boys and janitors seemed to be feeling the pressure. Everyone was moving at about twice their normal speed.
    And there I was, sitting in the bleachers. I almost wished I had a book with me. Except I knew as soon as I opened it we’d be attacked by motorized snakes or Scott would spontaneously combust or something. To kill time, I got out some pens and found a long piece of cardboard. I spent an hour stenciling “Scott Trevor—Biggest Fan!” on one side of it. I might as well do my best to stick to my cover story, even if it made me look totally lame. I even drew a little pool, with a stick figure swimming through it. When I was done, it looked like an overeager second grader had made it, but I was still pretty proud.
    The sign got me some attention. Scott gave me a thumbs-up, and Lee came over with some official Olympic swag—a tracksuit, a handkerchief, and a bunch of promotional programs and posters. Mr. Adams gave me a dirty look when he saw the sign, but for the most part, he seemed to be keeping a wide berth away from anything related to Scott. Nancy said that Lexi had had a talk with him, and it seemed to have had some effect. Publicly, at least. Who knows what he was capable of behind the scenes? I watched him closely, but though he gave Scott dirty looks at every opportunity, I never saw him get close to Scott.
    Making a sign wasn’t exactly wrestling bad guys to the ground, but at least it gave me something to do. For a while. Then it was back to just staring out at the arena.
    â€œBiggest fan, eh?” said a voice behind me suddenly.I looked over my shoulder to see a woman in one of the Olympic athlete jackets standing a little behind me. Her hair was wet from the pool, and because she was standing on the bleachers and was already quite tall, she towered over me. Joe had pointed her out to me yesterday—Isabelle Helene. He’d briefed me on their short interactions, and I wasn’t surprised that my sign about Scott caught her eye.
Maybe
, I thought,
this