فصل چهل و پنجم

chapter-45

“Far out,” was all Mad Dog said when Kyle told him why he and the four others needed a ride to the library at nine o’clock at night.

When the bookmobile was two blocks away from the library, Mad Dog doused the headlights and shut off the engine.

“We are now operating in what I like to call the silent-but-deadly mode,” he whispered to everybody huddled in the back as the vehicle quietly coasted down the block.

“Cool,” said Miguel.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” said Kyle.

“Couple heavies guarding the front door,” whispered Mad Dog. “No dreadlocks. That means it’s not my buds Clarence and Clement.” “Probably those same cops,” said Angus.

“No, they look more like private security goons,” reported Mad Dog from the front seat, where he was waving and smiling. “They’re wearing navy-blue blazers and gray slacks. Cops don’t wear matching sport coats, man.” Kyle’s heart was racing.

This whole plan might be over before it even starts.

“Angus?” he said. “Are you ready to do something dangerous and crazy?” “Always. Lay it on me.”

The bookmobile came to a stop.

“Uh-oh,” said Mad Dog from behind the wheel. “The hired muscle is walking this way. I must’ve parked where I’m not supposed to park.” “Okay, Angus,” said Kyle. “Slip out the back door. Hide behind that giant oak tree. When the guards start talking to Mad Dog—” “We’ll make all sorts of noise and run around to the back of the building,” finished Akimi.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Angus.

“We’re a team. The two of us can cause a bigger distraction.” “Cool.”

“When the guards chase after you guys,” said Kyle, “Abia, Miguel, and I’ll hightail it to the front door.” “If they chase us around the block,” said Akimi, “we can probably buy you guys like five minutes.” “If Mr. Raymo helps us, five minutes should be all we need.” “Go, you guys,” said Mad Dog. “They’re halfway here.” “Crank up your engine,” Kyle told Mad Dog. He turned to Akimi and Angus. “If you guys are in the lead when you circle back, jump into the bookmobile and take off.” “What?” said Akimi. “How will you guys get home?” “I’m hoping Mr. Raymo will give us a lift. Hurry. Go!” Akimi and Angus slipped out the rear emergency exit.

Kyle put on the heavy backpack, grabbed the handle for the side door, and crouched beside it. Abia and Miguel crouched behind him. Kyle would wait to pop open the door until the guards were chasing after Angus and Akimi.

“Hey there, dudes,” Mad Dog said to someone at the passenger-side window of the boxy bookmobile. “Whazzup?” “What are you doing here?” asked one of the guards.

“Needed some new books,” said Mad Dog, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “We usually reload after nine o’clock every night.” “Not tonight,” said the guard.

“But—”

“Not tonight. The library is under new management.” “But Mr. Lemoncello—”

“Mr. Lemoncello ain’t running things no more. Now move this vehicle.” “The Krinkle brothers need this parking spot to unload a truck full of games they’re going to sell at the gala tomorrow night,” said a second guard.

“Cool,” said Mad Dog, buying time for Angus and Akimi to set up their diversion. “Are the games good?” “Nah. They’re crummy, but they’re cheap. I buy ‘em for my nieces and—” “Come on,” Kyle heard Akimi holler. “I know where there’s a secret tunnel into the library!” “Hey, you kids!” shouted the guard. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Oh, no!” shouted Angus. “Run! They might catch us!” “Hey! You two! Come back here!”

The first guard took off running.

“Move this vehicle!” shouted the second guard as he joined in the pursuit.

Mad Dog checked the side-view mirrors. “Okay. They’re running up the street. Akimi and Angus are in the lead. They’re rounding the corner. The guards are so out of shape, man, they can barely jog. Go! The goons just took the corner!” Kyle yanked open the side door. Hunkered down, he flew to the front steps of the library. He could hear Abia and Miguel running right behind him. They bounded up the three tiers of marble and faced the bank vault door.

Kyle rapped his fist against the steel-clad concrete.

It hurt his knuckles.

“Mr. Raymo? It’s Kyle Keeley. Mr. Lemoncello sent us! Let us in!” He waved at a security camera.

Nothing.

“Mr. Raymo?” He pounded the door.

Still nothing.

“So,” whispered Miguel, “is this when we call Jamal and the gang and tell them to initiate plan B?” “Not yet.”

Kyle stared at the keypad mounted on the wall beside the circular door. It was set up like a telephone but with just numbers, no letters.

Of course, that didn’t really matter.

Because, just like Mr. Lemoncello, Kyle had no clue what the combination might be.