Fireworks at the FBI Read online

  This book is dedicated to Lily, Ian, and

  Ryan—thanks for the chips.

  —R.R.

  Contents

  1. Runaway Rockets

  2. The Clue in the Trash Can

  3. Fooling the FBI

  4. The Disappearing Pizza Guy

  5. Threatening Phone Calls

  6. Two Suspects

  7. A Familiar Face

  8. The Real Crook

  9. A Surprise for the President

  1

  Runaway Rockets

  A fiery ball exploded in the sky over the Washington Monument. Red, white, and blue sparks cascaded slowly down, high above the crowd.

  The sparks twinkled, then winked out. “THAT’S ALL THERE IS, FOLKS,” a man’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “THANK YOU AND HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE FOURTH OF JULY!”

  Three thousand people clapped, whistled, and cheered.

  “Those were the best fireworks I’ve ever seen!” the President of the United States said.

  “And this is the best July Fourth!” said KC.

  She and her best friend, Marshall Li, were watching the fireworks from the lawn in front of the Museum of Natural History. President Zachary Thornton and KC’s mom, Lois, sat near them, holding hands. They had gotten married a few months ago.

  “Shall we go home?” Lois suggested. “I think Yvonne made a cake for us.”

  “Awesome!” KC and Marshall said at the same time.

  “Home” was the White House. KC, her mom, and KC’s two cats had all moved in after the wedding. Marshall was staying at the White House for the holiday.

  The president folded the blanket and tucked it under his arm. Marshall carried the basket, and they walked toward a sleek black car parked nearby.

  Six tall men in dark suits followed them. One of the men spoke quietly into a tiny microphone on his wristwatch. Wherever the president went, secret service men came with him. They protected him at all times.

  “Can we walk back to the White House?” KC asked.

  “Sure. I can use the exercise,” the president said.

  “But I like riding in the car,” said Marshall. “When I learn to drive, I’ll never walk anywhere!”

  KC laughed. “Then your legs will shrivel up and you’ll look like one of your spiders!”

  Marshall was crazy about bugs and spiders. Sometimes he seemed to like them more than people.

  The president handed the blanket to one of the six men, who put it in the car with the basket. Then they walked through the darkness toward the White House. The six men stayed close behind.

  “It feels creepy having those guys following us,” Marshall whispered to KC.

  “That’s what you get for hanging out with the president,” KC joked.

  They all said “Hi!” to a man walking a dog with long, skinny legs. The man’s mouth fell open when he recognized the President of the United States.

  “What kind of dog is this?” the president asked. He stroked the dog’s ears.

  “Manfred is a greyhound,” the man said. “I adopted him in Colorado before I moved out here. He used to race at a dog track.”

  “He seems very gentle,” KC said.

  The man smiled. “Greyhounds make great pets,” he said.

  After saying good night to the man and his dog, they started walking again.

  “I should have a dog,” the president said. “Then I’d get exercise when I walked him around the White House grounds.”

  “You could walk your cat,” Marshall teased.

  The president laughed. “I wonder if George would like that.”

  They passed several large buildings, all dark at nine-thirty on a holiday night.

  Suddenly KC heard a whizzing sound over their heads. She looked up just as a white flame shot out of one of the windows in a sprawling building. “Did you see that?” KC cried.

  “It came out of the FBI building!” the president said.

  “It looked like a rocket!” Marshall said.

  As they stood there gaping, another rocket flew out through the window.

  Right away the secret service men surrounded the president and his group. The president’s car pulled up, and President Thornton, KC, her mom, and Marshall were shoved inside. Then the black car shot forward and streaked toward the White House.

  KC pressed her nose against the window. All she saw was a blur.

  In the backseat, the president yanked out his cell phone and flipped it open. A moment later, he was talking to the director of the FBI, Desmond Smiley.

  “We all saw it, Desmond!” the president said. “Lois and the kids were with me, and about half a dozen secret service agents. I’m telling you, fireworks shot out of one of the windows in the FBI building!”

  The president listened. “Call me as soon as you know anything, no matter how late!”

  He flipped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket.

  “What happened?” KC asked. “Were they really rockets?”

  “We don’t know yet,” the president said. “But Mr. Smiley will have the fire department check it out.”

  Within seconds, they heard sirens.

  “Boy, that was fast!” Marshall said as the president’s car zoomed inside the presidential garage.

  The president, Lois, and the two kids slipped through a private entrance to the White House. The president greeted a few guards, then entered an elevator. KC’s favorite marine guard, Arnold, saluted them as they stepped out.

  “Were the fireworks exciting?” he asked.

  “I’ll say!” Marshall blurted, making KC laugh.

  When they were inside the residence, KC dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. She realized she had hardly taken a full breath since they’d seen the rockets at the FBI building.

  George, the president’s cat, was lying in his bed near the stove. KC’s cats, Lost and Found, were cuddled up with him.

  Suddenly the phone rang. KC jumped. She felt like a coiled spring.

  The president must have felt the same way. He answered on the second ring. “Yes?” he said.

  The president listened, nodding his head.

  “Pizza?” he asked. He sounded surprised. “Okay, good job getting there so fast, Chief.”

  “What about pizza?” Marshall asked after the president hung up.

  “The fire department discovered which room those rockets were shot from,” the president answered. “And they found a burning pizza box in a trash basket.”

  “Who shot off the rockets?” KC asked.

  “The fire chief thinks it was an accident,” the president said. “Apparently, someone left a package of rockets on the desk right above the trash basket. The chief thinks a spark from the fireworks celebration flew in through the open window and set the pizza box on fire, and the fire lit the rockets.”

  KC frowned. It seemed like an awfully big coincidence to her. But the president didn’t seem bothered.

  “My cousin had some rockets last year,” Marshall said. “He told me they won’t fly if they’re lying flat when you light them. You have to set them in a special holder or stick them in the ground.”

  The president had been reaching for a glass of water. But he set it back down without taking a sip. He looked serious.

  “Marshall, it sounds as if you’re saying some person had to aim the rockets,” the president said. “They wouldn’t be able to launch themselves, even if a spark accidentally lit them. Right?”

  Marshall nodded. “Right, sir.”

  “Why would anyone want to shoot rockets out the FBI window?” KC asked the president.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m going to the FBI building in the morning. We may have some answers by then.”

  “Can
Marshall and I go with you?” KC asked.

  KC planned to become a Washington reporter after college. Deep down inside, KC felt this fireworks story was big, and she wanted to be in on it!

  2

  The Clue in the Trash Can

  At ten the next morning, the president, KC, and Marshall left the White House for the FBI building. The black presidential car dropped them off in front of the broad marble steps.

  A pair of marine guards came to attention outside the entrance. The two men reached for the doors and pulled them open.

  “Thank you,” President Thornton said as he and the kids entered.

  The director of the FBI waited just inside, in the lobby.

  He shook the president’s hand. “The fire chief is here already,” Desmond Smiley said. He led the president and the kids through the lobby, past the guard’s desk, to a small meeting room.

  A large man in a blue suit stood up. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said.

  “Good morning, Chief,” the president said as everyone sat around a table. “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 someone needed 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 Federal Witness Protection Program.”

  “What’s that?” Marshall asked.

  “When witnesses go to court for big trials, the criminals usually go to prison. Naturally, they’re angry at the witnesses. So to protect the witnesses, the FBI offers them a new identity and a new place to live. That way the bad guys or their friends can’t find them.”

  “Cool,” Marshall said.

  The president and the kids rode the elevator back to the lobby. A few minutes later, they stepped into the waiting car. “We’re ready to go,” President Thornton told the driver.

  “Um, could we stop and get a pizza?” KC asked. “Seeing that box made me hungry.”

  The president laughed. “Me too,” he said. He leaned forward. “Matt, please take us to the closest pizza place.”

  “What are you doing, KC?” Marshall whispered. “I know you, and I’d bet anything that you’re not hungry. What’s up?”

  “I have a hunch,” KC said, watching the traffic whiz by. “I think the pizza box is an important clue.”

  “Sir, would you like me to call ahead for the pizza?” the driver asked the president. “This traffic is pretty bad right now.”

  “Good idea,” the president said. “Okay, kids, what do you want on the pizza?”

  “Pepperoni!” Marshall said.

  “Broccoli,” KC added.

  “I want cheese and mushrooms,” the president said. “Got all that, Matt? Make it a large, please.”

  Matt called in the pizza order, and soon he pulled the car to a stop in front of ’Round Town Pizza. Inside the wide glass windows were booths, an old-fashioned jukebox, and a counter holding stacks of empty pizza boxes.

  “It’s under my name, sir,” Matt said. “Would you like me to go in?”

  The president smiled. “No, the kids can handle this deal,” he said. He gave KC some money.

  KC and Marshall hopped out of the car and entered the shop. The man behind the counter smiled. “Welcome to ’Round Town, best pizza for miles around!” he said.

  “We’re picking up a large pizza for Matt,” KC told the man.

  “Just pulled it out of the oven,” the man said. “Let me box it up for you.”

  KC and Marshall watched as the man expertly slid the large pizza into a flat box. “That’ll be twelve dollars,” he said.

  KC paid and picked up the box. “Do you know a pizza place that uses red boxes?” she asked the man behind the counter.

  “Nope, most places use plain brown, like ours,” the man said.

  “Thanks anyway,” KC said. Then she frowned. Now why was the pizza box bothering her? It wasn’t just that it was red, not brown. What was it?

  3

  Fooling the FBI

  When they walked into the kitchen, KC’s mom was filling a vase with water at the sink.
She had on a pretty yellow dress and high heels.

  “Mom, why are you all dressed up?” KC asked.

  The president set the pizza on the table. “Did I forget something?” he asked. “Are we going somewhere?”

  “Yes, Zachary, you did forget something,” Lois said, smiling. “We have to go to the New England governors’ lunch.”

  President Thornton smacked himself on the forehead. “Bad president! When do we have to be there, Lois?” he asked.

  Lois glanced at the kitchen clock. “We have twenty minutes. Kids, do you want to come along?”

  “No thanks, Mom,” KC said, rolling her eyes at Marshall. “Boring!”

  “So we get the whole pizza to ourselves?” Marshall said as he peeked inside the box.

  “You’d better save me some!” the president said. He rushed out of the room to change.

  KC and Marshall sat at the kitchen table and each grabbed a slice of pizza.

  “I have a cool idea,” KC said.

  “Me too,” Marshall said. “Ice cream after this pizza.”

  “No, I want to get a greyhound for the president,” KC said.

  “What?” Marshall said. He nearly choked on his mouthful of pizza.

  KC slapped him on the back until he stopped.

  “Why get him a greyhound?” Marshall was able finally to ask.

  “Because he wants one,” KC said. “Did you hear him talking about it last night?”

  “Oh yeah, when we saw that guy with the dog,” Marshall said.

  KC nodded as she nibbled her pizza. “While you were still sleeping this morning, I found a Web site on my computer,” she said. “It’s called adoptagreyhound.com. The place rescues greyhounds after they stop racing at tracks, then finds homes for the dogs. And I want to get one!”

  “Awesome,” Marshall said. “So where do you get them?”

  “There’s a dog track just outside D.C.,” KC said. “It was listed on the Web site.”

  She patted her backpack. “I printed out the directions. Maybe we can check it out today. I need to go out anyway, to mail a letter to my dad,” she said. “And we need to investigate this fireworks mystery some more. Something in the FBI building is real fishy!”