The Alias Men by F. T. Bradley Page A

don’t go causing trouble, messing up the case.”
    â€œWhen have I ever done that?”
    Ben gave me an eye roll, and then took off toward Floyd and the set. I watched Kurt hand him a costume, so at least I didn’t have to change out of mine. Much as I hated to see my overeager look-alike steal the spotlight, I had to focus on the case. Before Ben could catch Melais and get the Dangerous Double. And before someone expected me to do any real acting.
    But first, I had to call home.
    â€œAre they feeding you lunch over there?” Mom asked. She’s really into nutrition, and usually packs me a lunch with all the food groups represented.
    â€œOh yeah,” I lied. “Healthy sandwiches and juice.”
    â€œGood. Is it fun?”
    â€œLoads,” I said, lying some more.
    â€œYou sound worried,” Mom said. She had her mom radar going, even through the phone. “Are they being nice to you?”
    I thought of the near miss with that runaway car. “It’s Hollywood, Mom.”
    â€œDo we need to come get you, Linc?”
    I reminded myself of the mission. The drone-system prototype, and how this Melais dude would sell it to that terrorist group if I didn’t find the Dangerous Double. I had to stay on the case, to keep my family safe. “I can handle myself, Mom.”
    â€œI know. When are you done with this movie?”
    â€œBy Sunday, at the latest. I’ll be there for the barbecue.” One way or another, by Monday nine a.m. this case would be decided. And we were scheduled to drive back from the reunion on Sunday night. So if I was going to prove Pandora wrong, and show everyone I could do more than just get into trouble, I had to get moving. Catch Melais. Get the Dangerous Double.
    I hung up after promising to be home by dinner. Then I made my way over to the trailers. There was a group of people, and it looked like they were angry about something. One dude was waving a stack of paper, saying something about a contract. Thankfully, they disappeared toward the set.
    Because I spotted the costume trailer. I rushed over and walked up the steps. Tried the door handle. It was unlocked!
    I couldn’t believe my luck. I peered around the door. “Kurt?”
    Nothing. The trailer was deserted. So I snuck inside and closed the door. Kurt had a small sitting area at the front, and racks of clothing on either side in the middle of the trailer. Toward the back, there was a small kitchen with a table and benches across it, and past that a half-open curtain. I imagined people might get dressed back there or something.
    I scoured the sitting area, passed the clothes racks, and focused on the kitchenette next. I opened some cabinets, but it was all plastic cups, crackers, and other random snack-type stuff. I ignored my growling stomach—I was on the clock here. If Kurt came back, I’d be in real trouble.
    Since the kitchenette was a bust, I tried the table behind me. This looked more promising: There were stacks of paper, some that looked like script pages and others like printed memos. But then I spotted a white box, shoved in the corner of the bench. Receipts , it read on the side, and I felt my hopes sink. But it was all I had right now, so I opened it. Looked inside.
    Inside there were—you guessed it—receipts. I riffled through them anyway, feeling like I might be better off eating some of those crackers to shut up my stomach, when I spotted something.
    A boarding pass. It said LAX—I knew that was the airport code for Los Angeles—to FRA. I read the ticket, and saw the destination.
    Frankfurt. Stark had mentioned there had been a Melais theft there. Kurt was Ethan Melais!
    â€œYesss,” I said to myself, because this was good news. I caught the bad guy; now I could focus on finding that Chaplin hat.
    Only then I heard the trailer door open.
    I was busted, again.

19
    FRIDAY, 1:33 P.M.
    â€œKURT?” KATE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY, and