In Harm's Way Read online

  “I vote yes,” she said. “Get the best camera you can. That pile of money is probably our most powerful weapon, so let’s use it!”

  Robert grinned. “All right! Because I’ve got other ideas about tools and equipment, and some weapon systems, and it’s gonna take some real cash, so this is—”

  He stopped talking, and Ben saw his eyes get wide. Robert’s smile vanished.

  “Incoming!” he whispered. “It’s Wally, twenty feet away and closing in fast. You know what to do!”

  Without another word, all three of them stood up, grabbed their things, walked quickly to the corner, and dropped off their lunch trays. Jill immediately headed out the west door onto the playground, and Robert left the cafeteria through the door that went into the Annex, the newer one-story part of the school.

  That left Ben alone in the lunchroom, but he didn’t leave right away. He walked back to a table and sat down across from Luke and Bill.

  “Hey guys, how’s it going?”

  He smiled at them when they replied, but he barely heard them. He was watching Wally out of the corner of his eye.

  The man was lousy at pretending to be a janitor. He was still back near the corner where they’d been eating, shoving his mop around in a circle. Wally was watching Ben, but his eyes kept darting to the doors where Jill and Robert had disappeared. He had been given the job of tracking the Keepers during lunch, and now two-thirds of them were missing.

  Ben said, “That science quiz on Friday was tough, didn’t you think?” He acted like he was totally into a conversation with the two guys, and in less than fifteen seconds, it happened. Wally bolted toward the door Robert had used, and when he got there, he leaned his mop up against the wall, took one more quick glance at Ben, and then trotted out into the hallway.

  The second he disappeared, Ben said, “Well, guys, gotta go!”

  He was halfway through the door that led toward the old building when Mrs. Flagg stopped him.

  “Do you have a hall pass?”

  Ben wanted to shout, What is your problem, lady? You know I have a pass—I’ve been showing it to you every day after lunch for two weeks!

  But he didn’t yell. He smiled sweetly and handed her the worn slip of bright yellow paper that both Mrs. Hinman and Mrs. Sinclair had signed.

  “All right, you may go,” she said.

  Ben bounced into the causeway and walked as fast as he dared, glancing back once to see if Wally was following. He wasn’t.

  Which was good. Because Ben needed to make a quick trip to the office—that was the whole point of their sudden three-way split at lunch. And he got there in less than two minutes, with no sign of either janitor.

  The school secretary looked up and then smiled at him.

  Ben smiled back. “Hi, Mrs. Hendon. At lunch I noticed there’s a new janitor. I’d like to interview him for that project we’re doing on the school’s history—ask him about his first impressions of the old building. Can you tell me his whole name? I mean, I don’t want to walk up and have to call him ‘Mister Janitor’ or something.”

  Mrs. Hendon nodded and started looking through a stack of papers. “He’s brand new in town, and I just got his paperwork this morning—although why they’re hiring someone at this time of year is beyond me. All right, here it is. His name is Wallace V. Robleton.” And then she spelled out the last name.

  “Great,” Ben said. “Thanks! Well, see you later.”

  Ben left the office and turned toward the library. Mission accomplished! He couldn’t help smiling—he loved this spy stuff.

  He was also happy that the name wasn’t something common. With a name like Wallace V. Robleton, they could probably find out something about him on the Internet, maybe something useful. There was no telling what a careful search might turn up.

  Ben had read a lot of history about real wars, and spying was always important—it was called intelligence gathering. To win a war, you had to learn as much as possible about your enemy.

  Even if his nickname was Stumpy.

  CHAPTER 6

  Game Changer

  Walking out of the school late Monday afternoon, Ben felt a big wave of relief.

  Is this how a soldier feels when he leaves the battlefield and goes home?

  But then he remembered that his life hadn’t been in danger today, not like a real soldier in a bombs-and-bullets war. But there were some similarities . . . .

  For one thing, there were certainly two opposing sides here, each with a different vision of what the outcome of this fight should be.

  And that thing this morning with the principal and the video? That had been a real attack that could have hurt them—but not physically . . . not unless you count being grounded all summer as a life-threatening problem.

  No, this wasn’t much like an armed conflict. This was more a war of ideas. And if he and the other Keepers were going to win it, they were going to have to outthink the Glennley goons.

  Ben thought about that and decided there was some good progress in that area. Because as the war had progressed, their small army of Keepers had become a group of specialists.

  Robert had quickly established himself as the master strategist. He was just so smart! Which was good thing . . . about 99 percent of the time. Ingenious tactics, brilliant plans, clever diversions, even a nonlethal weapons engineer—he was just . . . smart.

  And Jill had become the great questioner, the one who kept pushing everyone to do their best thinking. Plus she was a whiz at Internet research—she was the one assigned to explore the world of Wallace V. Robleton tonight. And she was the one who was always ready with encouragement, always able to see a way out, a next step. Well . . . almost always. And she was fearless—she was the one who had demanded that they recruit Robert, a gutsy move which had turned out to be a great decision . . . about 99 percent of the time.

  Tom Benton, the retired janitor? He had become the treasurer and supplies expert. It had been his idea to set up a credit card linked to the huge Oakes trust fund so they wouldn’t have to rush over to Edgeport Bank and Trust every time the Keepers needed to buy something. At this very moment, he was busy ordering and assembling all the equipment Robert had selected.

  Mrs. Keane wasn’t involved very much, not yet . . . but her husband’s keys certainly were. Plus she made the best chocolate cake in the known universe—an important morale booster!

  But what’s my specialty? Whacking wooden posts with a hardball?

  Ben shrugged off that thought and looked both ways before he crossed Central Street and headed west toward home.

  One of my homes . . .

  Since his parents had separated, he’d been living in two places—one week with his dad on their sailboat at Parson’s Marina, and the next week with his mom at the family house on Walnut Street.

  He shook his head and made himself push all that out of his mind. He had to stay focused on the business at hand.

  The afternoon had been mostly school as usual—with constant surveillance courtesy of Stretch and Stumpy. And the time in the library after school today had been especially frustrating.

  Lyman used to have one big weakness—he had to keep doing all the school custodial work, even though his real job was to protect the interests of his bosses at Glennley. So whenever he got busy elsewhere in the school, the Keepers had been able to search for that next safeguard, the one that might help win the war.

  But Wally’s presence had changed all that, and this afternoon had been their first real taste of it. While Lyman had kept up his disguise, doing the real janitorial duties, Wally had stayed close to the library, just pretending to work.

  The best moment of today’s after school session had been when Ben and Jill and Robert staged another split-up like the one they’d done at lunch. All three of them suddenly left the library and headed off in different directions.

  But even that hadn’t been very effective. Wally and Lyman were using walkie-talkies now, and as Ben left the library, he’d heard W
ally say into the microphone clipped to his collar, “Unit one is headed for the south stairs, unit three is going toward the office, and unit two is in sight.”

  Lyman had replied instantly, “I’m on it. Stick with unit two!”

  When Ben—unit three—came around the corner near the office, there was Lyman, standing at the far corner where he could watch both long hallways at once, a good observation point.

  Completely ignoring him, Ben went trotting past and started up the north stairs, so Lyman had to make a choice—and he did. He followed, and Ben heard his boots pounding along behind him, all the way up to the third floor, then around the hallway to the south stairs, down to the second floor, back around to the north stairs, down to the first floor, and then left, taking the long way around the first-floor hallway back to the library again. And during that time when Lyman was following him and Wally was following Jill, unit two, Robert, was on his own.

  But that was only for about three minutes, barely enough time for Robert to examine the hallway near the art room. He was checking to see if Wally had hidden any small cameras, like the one that had captured their three a.m. visit to the school over the weekend. He didn’t spot any, but that didn’t mean the cameras weren’t there . . . three minutes wasn’t much search time.

  No, there was no doubt about it: Wally was a game changer.

  Ben was about three driveways from his house on Walnut Street when he heard a car coming up behind him, and then a horn tooted. He turned to look and saw a small car, dark green. And Wally was driving.

  His head barely rose above the level of the steering wheel, and the passenger window was rolled down. He tooted his horn once more, waved and smiled, then gunned the engine and sped away down the block.

  Well, that’s creepy, Ben thought.

  But just as quickly, he shrugged it off. So what? Of course they knew where he lived. And of course they would want to know where he was after school. And now that Glennley had doubled the size of its local army, all the Keepers could expect more pressure, more aggressive tracking.

  And why had Wally honked and waved? He wanted Ben to know he was being tracked, that the fight was on. And that the battlefield didn’t begin or end at the doors of the school—not that it ever had, not really. After all, Lyman had snooped around at his dad’s boat over two weeks ago, pretending to be a yacht broker.

  Before Ben even put the key in the kitchen door, Nelson was barking and scratching on the other side. And when the door opened, the corgi came bursting out onto the driveway, running circles around him and yipping like a puppy. Coming home to Nelson was a lot better than walking to the marina and hanging out on the empty sailboat until his dad got home.

  But neither of his parents usually worked late. His mom worked as a real estate agent, so her hours were pretty flexible. He looked at the clock—four forty-five. Mom would be home in an hour or so.

  And soon his dad would be off for the summer—Beecham High School was on the same schedule as the Edgeport schools . . . or was he planning to teach geometry at summer school, or that lacrosse camp? Ben wasn’t sure.

  Before the separation, the big plan for this summer had been a family cruise on the Tempus Fugit, somewhere south—maybe even the Bahamas. It wasn’t happening, not this summer. Maybe not ever.

  Again, he pushed his own worries away.

  I should go up and do some homework.

  But the thought of climbing the stairs all the way up to his attic bedroom stopped him cold, right in front of the family-room couch. He shrugged off his backpack and flopped onto the pillows.

  He stretched out and yawned, and the corgi immediately jumped up beside him. Staring up at the ceiling, Ben reached down and scratched behind Nelson’s ears. The dog snuggled closer.

  It was so peaceful here. So unlike being at school. And unlike the sailboat, too—everything perfectly still. And quiet.

  What do they call this in the army?

  He couldn’t recall, so he closed his eyes and stopped trying. And then it came to him.

  Right . . . R & R. I’m getting a little R & R—rest and relaxation.

  In less than a minute, the soldier and his dog were asleep.

  CHAPTER 7

  Divide and Conquer

  “Nelson, get down off that couch!”

  The corgi yelped, and all four of his short little legs kicked into overdrive as he dove to the floor and scrambled for cover.

  Ben sat up, dazed and bleary-eyed.

  “Benjamin, you know that dog is not allowed on the furniture!”

  “Right . . . guess I fell asleep.”

  “Well, get up and plump those cushions, and help me get this room presentable. And get Nelson’s toys put away too. And then take your things up to your room.”

  His mom was bustling around, gathering up books and newspapers, and wiping dust off the end tables with a cloth.

  “I’ve got a client coming here for a meeting in five minutes—so dinner might be a little late. Did you get a snack? Maybe we’ll order some Chinese. Come on now, get off the couch and help me out, move it!”

  R & R was definitely over.

  Ben did all he’d been ordered to and then trudged up to his room. He sat down at his laptop and checked his e-mail—nothing. He was hoping to hear what Jill had dug up about Wallace V. Robleton, but she probably hadn’t even started searching yet.

  He closed the computer and almost lay down on his bed—he still felt groggy. But then the doorbell rang, and now he was too hungry to nap anyway. Time for that snack.

  He walked quietly down to the first floor, and at the bottom of the stairs he turned right and went to the kitchen.

  The visitor was a man with a strong, deep voice.

  “Well, we’ve heard so much about your work here in Edgeport—it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Ben smiled. His mom was a great real estate agent—she worked really hard at it, and she loved helping people.

  He tried to sneak to the refrigerator—all he really wanted was a cold glass of milk. Chinese food in a little while . . . that sounded so good.

  His mom noticed him through the doorway, and so did the visitor.

  “And is this young man your son? Of course he is—I can see it in his face!”

  “Ben,” his mom said, “come and meet Mr. Birch.”

  The man stood up as Ben came into the room. Ben held out his hand, gave a good strong grip, and looked the man in the eye as they shook, just like his dad had taught him to. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The man held on to his hand. “Pleased to meet you too, Ben. And I’m glad to say that I’m here on a very happy mission—I have been authorized to make your mom a very rich woman. Would you like that?”

  “Yes sir, Ben, you’re mom is going to be a very rich woman!”

  Ben pulled his hand away, confused.

  “Why don’t you tell Ben what we’ve been talking about, Bonnie?”

  Ben didn’t like the way he used his mom’s first name like that. It was too familiar. But his mom seemed flattered.

  “Well, it’s a little complicated, but Mr. Birch represents a company that has been buying up properties both north and south of Edgeport harbor for the past year, and they have plans for some very nice, very tasteful low-rise condominiums.”

  The man winked at Ben. “Strictly classy places—with big price tags! And tell him how many units we plan to lay on, Bonnie.”

  “Between four and five hundred new units over the next three years, and they’ve asked me to be the exclusive listing broker for all of them! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Um, yeah . . . that’s great,” said Ben.

  He knew a little about his mom’s business and started running the math in his head. As the listing broker, she would probably get about 3 percent of every sale . . . and if there were four hundred units, and if each one sold for, say, two hundred thousand dollars . . . then this offer was worth . . . close to three million dollars, maybe more!

  So, yeah, it was a
very big deal.

  Mr. Birch cleared his throat. “Of course, this all depends on that new theme park, Tall Ships Ahoy! We’ve been buying property that’s far enough away so the park’ll just be a pleasant blur of pretty lights on the waters of the bay. And my company doesn’t do anything halfway, no siree. These new properties are going to be a giant boost to the local economy—not to mention what this is going to do for you, Bonnie. And for you too, Ben.”

  The man held Ben’s eye just a moment too long.

  And Ben knew. He knew it!

  But he asked the question anyway.

  “What’s the name of your company, Mr. Birch?”

  The man smiled broadly and looked Ben dead in the eyes.

  “Glennley Properties, son. A great company!”

  Ben narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t blink or look away. It wasn’t so ‘great,’ what Glennley did for the area around the Shiloh Civil War Battlefield, with those rolling meadows turned into strip malls and fast food joints—that’s what your ‘great’ company does best!

  Ben didn’t say that out loud, but he thought it, and he felt like this man could see him thinking it.

  But this guy was tough. He didn’t blink either.

  Ben said, “It’s going to be really exciting to see how all this turns out, isn’t it?”

  The man kept smiling. “Yes, it is, son. Yes, it is.”

  “Well, it was good to meet you Mr. Lyman—oops, I mean, Mr. Birch!”

  The man’s smile wavered and his eyes widened. And then he blinked.

  Ben turned and went to the kitchen and got himself that milk.

  The conversation in the family room went on, but Ben tuned it out and carried the glass back up to his room. It was quiet up there, and he needed to think.

  This was nasty stuff. They’d come to his mom with promises of real money, big money. Because they were after him.

  It was like what Lyman had said to Jill that day in the library, telling her how her dad had bought all that stock in Glennley Group—to get her to stop trying to protect the school.