Installment 16

            Man, oh man, oh man, oh man…

            How long has it been now?

            I promise, it’s not my fault. Okay, I guess it is…partly. I haven’t had…

            It’s a bad idea to talk about it.

            Okay, so, it’s probably time for a recap. I was coming home from school one day, and I found a bunch of police officers in my living room. They took me to the police station and I met a mysterious guy named Travis Thatcher who accused me of hacking into his “system,” and trying to steal some top secret computer program called Back Door – and then he practically admitted that he was framing me. He had me try to hack into the system “again” (I never did it the first time), and when I deleted the program instead of succeeding, he just laughed. Anyway, so a girl named Clara Stone helped me get out and we headed off to a bus station to escape the town. Oh, yeah, and Clara’s parents were somehow involved with this whole thing, but we don’t know how or anything like that. We got into Base 13 of the bad guys and looked around on their computer system. And then someone named Pseudonym contacted us and told us that we needed to go to the White House to get inside Base 21.

            Anyway, back to where I was last time…the White House. Yeah. Here we go.

            Clara and I took a train this time. Less possibility that we would be stopped – plus, we managed to sneak onto the luggage car. We sat cross-legged in the middle of mountains of suitcases and played a game of chess on her phone. She was a fantastic chess player, by the way. A better opponent than any I had ever faced, and at the risk of sounding conceited, I’m pretty good. The game ended in a draw, incidentally, with both of us arguing about whether a certain move was legal. (I’m pretty sure I was right.)

            When we arrived in Washington…

            Oh, yeah.

            You’re probably wondering why I can tell you that we went to Washington. That’s because Washington, D.C. is way too well known, and besides, I know that no one saw me. But since I haven’t given you a very good description of myself (practically none), and the only people who saw me in Washington are people who want me dead anyway, I don’t see any harm in telling you a location that everybody already knows.

            Back to the story.

            So when we arrived, we stood outside the train station, a little bit bewildered by the bustling crowds. Neither of us had ever been anywhere this huge – or this crowded – before. And part of me thought that there was no way we would ever be found in someplace with this many people.

            Finally Clara spoke. “What if it’s a trap?”

            I looked at her incredulously. “A trap?” I shrugged. “Maybe. But what other choice do we have?”

            “We could just hide here,” she pointed out. “Find a hole somewhere and stay there.”

            “For how long?” I asked. “No, we have to trust Pseudonym.”

            “Trust a guy whose name means that he won’t tell us his name,” she muttered. But she said nothing further, and we walked down the street.

            We made a few turns, did our best to keep our heads down – not that anyone would notice us, anyway, even though we were two kids wearing shades and a ridiculously heavy purple backpack – and finally decided to head into a little coffee shop. (Not Starbucks, I can tell you that.)

            After hanging out around the corner for a minute, inspecting the room for anything useful, Clara motioned me toward the door – a door right behind the counter and next to the kitchen marked Office.

            “Why there?” I whispered.

            Clara motioned around. “It’s a coffee shop, Einstein,” she retorted. “Since when does a coffee shop have an office for the manager? Besides, I’m guessing that this particular coffee shop has only been in business for about a month.” She gestured toward a menu sitting on a table, a menu with an outdated ad for a Grand Opening special. “They probably don’t even use the office. It was probably here from the last business that was here, so we can probably hide out there.”

            I stared at her. “When did you get this smart?”

            Clara smiled. “Now and then.”

            But when I tried to casually open the door when the waitress wasn’t looking, it wouldn’t open. I caught Clara’s eyes.

            Locked.

            The plan was formulated in seconds – neither of us had to say anything. We both knew what the other was going to do. I guess it was a little bit like back in the alleyway when Clara had pulled out the explosive. We just worked as one unit.

            I think it was then that I knew Clara and I would make a good team.

            Clara walked casually over toward one of the tables and picked up the menu. Then, she gave an exaggerated gasp, looking down at it. Then, waving the menu with raised eyebrows and indignation etched on her features, she marched up to the counter.

            “Excuse me?” she asked.

            The waitress glanced up. “Yes?”

            “Can I talk to your manager?”

            She looked surprised. “If you have a question, I’m sure I can answer it.”

            Clara barked a short laugh. “Ha! As if.”

            “As if…what?” the waitress asked, looking bewildered.

            “Why,” Clara began, shoving the menu into her face, “does the menu have a Grand Opening special on it? I assume you don’t offer it anymore.”

            The waitress glanced at the menu. “Well, no…”

            “So that’s false advertising, isn’t it?”

            “Well, the owner is trying to catch up with things, and we’re a small firm, and our designer is sick, and – ”

            “Is that really an excuse?” she retorted.

            Meanwhile, I was sneaking into the back kitchen. The keys weren’t hard to find. The ring underneath the word “office” was empty, but I found the key knocked underneath the table. In the background, Clara was rambling on and on about false advertising and integrity in work. When I grabbed the key and slipped out again, I gave her the signal and she stopped abruptly.

            “On second thought,” she said, “I guess it’s not all that bad. By the way, I hear someone calling you from the kitchen. Your boss is probably angry.”

            The waitress retreated into the back – probably more out of a desire to escape the crazy girl than a willingness to obey Clara. I opened the office quickly and we slipped inside, locking the door behind us.

            It was a good situation. We had the key, and the door could be unlocked from both the inside and outside. This way, since the room had already been locked, our only problem would be getting inside without anyone noticing. But by the looks of it, the café was not very busy.

            Just then, I got a beep on my phone. I glanced down, not surprised to find another text from Pseudonym waiting for me.

     Password is “crevice”.

     I looked up at Clara. “He’s giving us an entry password.”

            Without hesitating, I responded to his message.

            Any hints on where to get in? Base 21 is the White House, right?

     He answered right away. Man, this guy was a fast typist.

            In a manner of speaking. I think you’d say it’s a little bit…lower than the White House.

     I was pretty sure I knew what he meant.

            Underneath the White House? Like Base 13 under the library?

     You got it.

     “Are you asking him where the entrance is?” Clara asked. I looked down at the incoming text message.

            “He’s got it covered,” I assured her.

            There’s an entrance outside. Find the panel in the middle of the wall and type in the password. You’ll get in – and I promise you’ll find some interesting information as well.

     Won’t they care that we’re there? I asked. I’m pretty sure it won’t be deserted like 13 was.

     I have to interrupt really quickly here to clear something up. Number one, he didn’t actually tell us to look for a panel in the wall any more than my name is Nathan T. Dalton. But I can’t give you the real location of the entrance or else you might go looking for it, and we definitely can’t have that. Anyway, back to the conversation.

            Pseudonym’s answer was swift.

            This is a highly crowded base – which is exactly why you won’t be noticed, especially if you’re wearing sunglasses. Get in and out, ten minutes tops, and you should be fine. Use the same pass code you used to get in to access a computer. Download extra files onto a flash drive. Got that?

     Clara pulled a flash drive from her backpack and nodded.

            Got it, I typed.

            I waited for another text from Pseudonym, but he said nothing. Finally, I put the phone back in my pocket.

            “I guess we’re going to Base 21,” I told Clara. “And breaking in. Again.”

            But this mission was bound to be different from Base 13 – whether harder or easier, I wasn’t sure.

-Nathan T. Dalton