Fireworks at the FBI (5 page)

Marshall pointed to a row of seats. “Watching a race,” he said. “What did the president say?”

“He and Mr. Smiley are on their way,” KC said. “He said to stay put and not go near those guys!”

KC and Marshall found seats several rows behind Mr. Rinkel and the other man. Marshall watched the dogs racing in a blur around the track. KC kept her eyes on Mr. Rinkel. She bit her nails, looked at
her watch, then went back to work on her nails. What was taking so long?

“Those dogs sure are fast!” Marshall said.

“I wish the FBI were as fast!” KC moaned. She checked her watch for the hundredth time.

Marshall grinned at her. “Calm down, KC,” he said. “They’ll be here soon.”

When the race was over, Mr. Rinkel went to the betting window. He came back a few minutes later to join his friend.

More dogs were brought to the starting gates. At a signal, the dogs charged ahead, sprinting after a fake rabbit. Before the race was finished, KC felt a hand on her back. It was the president. Mr. Smiley from the FBI and two men in black stood behind the president.

“You made it!” KC said.

“Where are they?” President Thornton whispered.

She pointed.

“They’re all yours, Desmond,” the president told the FBI director.

Desmond Smiley and his two men walked slowly toward Mr. Rinkel and the man in green. KC couldn’t hear what was said, but she did see handcuffs flash in the sunlight. A few minutes later, the two FBI agents led Mr. Rinkel and his companion away.

The president sat down between KC and Marshall and pulled a picture from his pocket. He held it up for them to look at. “Recognize this guy?” he asked.

“It’s the man with Mr. Rinkel!” KC said.

Marshall took the photo from the president to look at more closely. “Except he doesn’t have a mustache in this picture.”

“His name is Bart Framer,” the president said. “One of the nation’s Ten Most Wanted.”

“I was right! We saw his picture in the post office,” KC explained.

“What did he do?” asked Marshall.

“A lot,” the president said. He ticked things off on his fingers. “Counterfeiting, forgery, and extortion.”

“What’s extortion?” Marshall asked.

“It means threatening people to make them give you money!” KC said.

“That’s right,” President Thornton said. “And Bart Framer is probably behind the theft of the Witness Protection Program’s list. I’ll bet a pickle he’s the one who convinced Mr. Rinkel to do the dirty work.”

Desmond Smiley joined them in the grandstands. He had a big, contented smile on his face. “Great work, kids,” he said to KC and Marshall.

“Are they on their way?” the president asked.

“Oh yes. Rinkel sang like a bird even before we stuck them in the FBI van,”
Mr. Smiley said. “He’s a gambler and has huge debts, so when Bart Framer came to him with a briefcase full of money, he listened. Framer wanted Rinkel to steal the Witness Protection Program list. With that list, he could extort money from hundreds of the witnesses on it.”

“And Lawson Rinkel figured out how to get the list while pointing blame elsewhere,” the president said. “He disguised himself as a pizza delivery man, slipped past Joe Cellucci, and hacked into the computers.”

“Rinkel was clever,” Mr. Smiley said. “He worked late Friday nights to set a pattern. Somehow, he managed to get a key. He wanted Cellucci to assume he was up there last night, but he wasn’t. He was outside getting into his dreadlocks disguise.
That’s why he had to use his cell phone to call Mr. Cellucci.”

“I can’t figure out why he said he was waiting for a call from London,” Marshall said.

“He had to, in order to have a reason to call Mr. Cellucci on his cell phone,” the president said. “Only he forgot that London time is ahead of ours. You guys figured that out!”

“So why did Mr. Rinkel shoot the rockets out the window after he hacked into the computer?” KC asked.

“To create confusion. Rinkel knew what Framer was planning to do with the list of names,” Mr. Smiley said. “Once that first witness got a threatening phone call, Rinkel had to know the FBI would start searching.”

“He planted that pizza box so you’d look for some mysterious pizza guy,” the president added.

“But instead they blamed poor Joe Cellucci,” KC said.

“Yes, I’ve already apologized and invited him to the White House as my guest,” the president said.

He patted KC’s hand. “And you two will get the FBI reward for finding Bart Framer!” he said. “What will you do with the money?”

Marshall looked at KC. They both nodded. “I think we’ll give some of it to the greyhound fund,” he said.

“Great idea!” the president said.

“I know,” KC said. “Let’s go by that greyhound adoption tent right now.” KC and Marshall grinned at each other.

When they entered the tent, the woman behind the table stood up and smiled. “Hello, Mr. President, I heard you were at the track,” she said. She held a leash attached to the collar of a beautiful silvery greyhound. “We would like to present you with Natasha. Someone told me you have a big yard and a warm heart for animals.”

Grinning, the president took the leash. He gave Natasha a scratch on the head, for which he received a doggy lick on his hand.

The president gave KC and Marshall a searching look. “I wonder how she knew I wanted a dog,” he said.

KC smiled at her stepfather. “Maybe there’s a spy in the White House,” she said.