3 The Spy Who Totally Had a Crush on Me Page 5

  “ Perhaps you are correct. Nevertheless, I feel I owe Mr. Rinteau a debt. He left us somewhat abruptly and I am puzzled that there is so little information about him to be found in official channels.”

  “ Okay. So what do you want me to do?” I said.

  “ Help me find him,” Mr. Kim said.

  “ All right, I’ ll start a computer search after class this evening and see if his name has popped up anywhere else, I could hack… I mean check… ”

  Mr. Kim interrupted me.

  “ Rachel, I doubt your dubious yet no doubt occasionally useful computer skills will be required here and besides that wasn’ t what I was thinking of anyway. You and I will return to the mall and search for him. It seems as good a place as any to find him.”

  Great! Another trip to the mall!

  “ Well sure, I guess. I’ m happy to help if you think it’ s important. Do you want me to meet you after classes?”

  “ That won’ t be necessary, we’ re leaving now,” he said.

  We are?

  “ We are?” I said.

  “ Yes, I’ ve notified your teachers that you’ ll be absent from classes today. Return to your room for your coat. I’ ll make copies of the photos of Rinteau while you are gone, and meet you in the atrium. We can’ t leave through the op center. We don’ t want Mrs. Marquardt to get suspicious.”

  I wanted to tell Mr. Kim that Mrs. Marquardt was always suspicious but he was the boss. I left the office, waved at her as she frowned at me out of her office door and a few minutes later, after returning with my coat, Mr. Kim and I were off to the Philadelphia Galleria in search of Michael Rinteau.

  “ Mr. Kim, I have to ask you something,” I said as we drove.

  “ Ask away.”

  “ Why are you doing this?” I said.

  “ Driving?”

  “ No, not that. I mean going to look for Rinteau? Shouldn’ t we be devoting our energy to finding Mithras? Looking for one of the missing artifacts? Trying to stop him? Instead we are off on a hunt for some kid.”

  Mr. Kim was quiet for a few moments.

  “ I appreciate your concern. But there is something you must understand. We are always on the watch for Mithras. Much happens behind the scenes you are not aware of. Mr. Quinn is constantly working with a team of cryptographers and other scientists at the FBI to unravel the secrets of the book. There is a worldwide network of operatives in place constantly monitoring Mithrian activity. We think and plan and study and we will be prepared to find Mithras and stop him when we do find him. And while Blackthorn Academy is always looking to find students with special abilities that can aid in our cause, it is still first and foremost a school. And it is there to help students regardless of whether they can aide us in the struggle to end this threat. Therefore it is my duty to offer my help to Michael Rinteau if I can.”

  “ I see,” I said. “ But why this kid? I mean I know he helped us out and all, but why do you seem so concerned about him?” I asked.

  “ I sense something about him. He needs help. When I asked about his home and parents at the jail, there was a brief glint of sadness in his eyes. His nervousness and desire to return to the mall made me believe he may spend most of his time there. The lack of any real background information in his file confirms my suspicion. If I had to guess, Mr. Rinteau is a runaway or perhaps an orphan. He probably lives on the street.”

  Wow. Someone like him living alone on the street. What a shame. He should at least be in a school somewhere so that girls my age could properly ogle him.

  “ So you’ re going to help him?”

  “ If I can,” he said.

  I didn’ t have much else to say. Mr. Kim was a hard one to figure out sometimes, but I was starting to learn there was a purpose to almost everything he did. If he saw something in the Rinteau kid, it was good enough for me. Besides, if he could find and convince him to come to Blackthorn Academy, Alex would freak. And how much fun would that be to watch?

  We finally made it to the mall. Mr. Kim and I split up. I started at the food court and worked my way around the upper level. Mr. Kim took the lower level. We had a copy of his photograph from the police file. I asked around in each store. Some clerks told me recognized him, said he was around the mall a lot, but no one had seen him recently.

  He was lounging in the bookstore. I was about half way through my side of the mall, not moving all that fast, mainly because while searching it was really difficult to avoid all the incredible bargains. I snagged a really beautiful sweater at Sweaters Galore and a boss bracelet at one of those little cart kiosks. Rinteau was sitting in a chair reading a copy of Guitar Player magazine. I wasn’ t sure if he recognized me at first. It took every ounce of self-control not to rush up to him and holler, “ Hi remember me? Your soul mate?” but such a display could be potentially embarrassing. I told myself it was just a “ context” thing. He wasn’ t expecting to see me, which accounted for the brief lack of recognition on his part. After all, I’ m very memorable.

  “ Back again?” he smiled. The guy could smile.

  I held up my shopping bag.

  “ 30% off. I couldn’ t resist.”

  “ Aren’ t you in school?” he said.

  “ Aren’ t you?” I said back.

  “ What brings you back to the Galleria?” he said. Subject changer.

  I motioned him over to the café in the bookstore and we sat down at a table. Not knowing what else to do I quietly laid it all out for him. I didn’ t say anything about him living on the street or maybe being an orphan. Not wanting to approach anything too sensitive. But I told him Mr. Kim was obligated by the rules of the Hwa Rang-do to offer assistance and felt obligated to find out more about him. So we came looking for him. I told him Mr. Kim just really wanted to talk to him, mostly.

  “ Wow,” he said when I finished. And his tone wasn’ t ‘ wow’ this is pretty cool these total strangers have taken an interest in me. It was, ‘ wow’ this kind of ticks me off. I needed to change tactics.

  “ Will you at least talk to him?” I said, trying to put in just the right amount of pleading in my voice.

  “ I don’ t think so,” he said.

  “ But why not?”

  He shrugged. “ I’ m fine. Really. I appreciate he’ s all interested in my welfare and stuff, but I’ m just fine.”

  “ But where do you live? I mean, your police file didn’ t even have a permanent address,” I said.

  “ How did you get my police file?” He looked angry all of a sudden. Oy. He even looked good angry. I decided to just change the subject.

  “ Well excuse me for asking, but what about your parents? Your family?”

  “ Don’ t have one. Car accident. I’ m the only child of two only children.”

  “ But how do you live? I mean where? I don’ t get it?”

  “ I live around. Look, I’ d really rather not talk about this stuff if you don’ t mind.”

  “ Okay. But listen, I’ m supposed to meet Mr. Kim at Nordstrom’ s. Could you at least come with me to talk to him? Please?”

  “ For the love of… I don’ t know what good that will do. I appreciate you coming here. You all seem like nice people. Except for maybe that Axel kid… ”

  “ Alex,” I corrected him.

  “ Whatever. But I’ m fine. Tell Mr. Kim thanks, but he needn’ t concern himself with me.”

  “ Will you please just come and talk to him?” I said. “ Please, please, please, please!” I couldn’ t think of anything else to do so I resorted to whining. After all, Mr. Kim had assigned me to find him and I had done so. Now I had to make sure Mr. Kim got a chance to speak to him before he took off again.

  My voice was getting louder and people in the café were staring at us. Rinteau glanced around at all the onlookers and got an uncomfortable look on his face.

  “ All right. All right, quiet down. I’ ll walk you to Nordstrom’ s. Just keep it down.”

  I almost clapped my hands, but I jumped up and gr
abbed my bag and headed for the exit before he could change his mind, sure once Mr. Kim got his hooks into Rinteau, he’ d be enrolled at Blackthorn Academy in no time.

  It’ s likely my plan would have worked. But we never made it that far, because we ran into our friend Mr. Booker again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN— These Gang Colors Totally Clash With My Complexion.

  It was done quietly and almost professionally. As we came out of the bookstore walking side by side and strolled down the promenade, some guy slithered up beside me. In an instant two guys appeared behind Rinteau. And there was Booker leaning on the guardrail over-looking the lower level. I knew it was him because he was wearing a jacket with an empty arm as his recently dislocated elbow was all wrapped up in a sling poking through the folds of his coat. Something sharp was placed at the small of my back. I hoped it wasn’ t a knife, but I was pretty sure it wasn’ t a #2 pencil.

  “ Well, well, well,” Booker said quietly. “ Lookee here.”

  To those passing by, particularly during the holiday season, we probably looked like a bunch of teenagers just having a chat. No big thing. It wasn’ t like they were holding guns on us or anything.

  Rinteau took a step toward Booker and the sharp thing in my back got sharper all of a sudden. I yelped. Definitely a knife. Rinteau stopped and looked at me, his face twisted in frustration.

  “ That’ s right Rinteau. She got a blade ready to slice her kidney. So keep comin’ . You ever had a cut kidney before? Man it messes you up. Never stops bleedin.’ Need all kind of surgeons and operations.”

  “ Let her go Booker,” Rinteau said. “ This is between us.”

  “ Rrrriiight. Sure I’ ll let her go. Not.” He started laughing, like he was hilarious. Great. I’ m being kidnapped by a comedically challenged gang banger. I glanced around, desperate to make eye contact with someone. People were walking by us, entirely focused on their shopping, carrying packages, drinking Starbucks and paying no attention. I wanted to scream or shout but figured I’ d be short a spleen before I could get the sound out. Where were the security guards in this mall?

  “ You better let us go. We’ re expected by someone,” I paused as I spoke and held up my watch, quickly pushing the button that would send Mr. Kim’ s watch an emergency beacon. I hoped he would get here in time.

  Booker paid me no attention.

  “ Shut up. Just walk to the exit and don’ t try anything or it’ s going to get all bloody.” There was one of those ‘ Mall Employees Only’ exits, about 15 yards down the promenade from where we stood.

  “ No tricks. Not a sound,” Booker said. “ Or your girlfriend is going to need a kidney transplant.”

  We walked slowly toward the door and I tried desperately to think of a way out of this. But I couldn’ t come up with anything. Rinteau was rigid beside me, his face a mask of anger.

  Booker opened the door.

  “ You should probably use another door,” I said. “ This one is clearly marked ‘ Mall Employee’ s Only’ and we’ re clearly not mall employees. An observant mall patron or security guard could report you and you’ re entire plan could collapse.”

  “ Tell your girlfriend if she doesn’ t shut her cake hole,” Booker said. Girlfriend! Rinteau grimaced and I gave Booker my best stink-eye glare, although part of me was happy someone saw us as a potential couple. The ‘ someone’ was probably a psychotic killer, but still.

  His crew hustled us through the door and we entered a small hallway that provided rear door access to the mall stores. There was a concrete floor and the passage was too narrow to do anything tricky. Plus I still had the knife stuck in my back. Well not actually in my back, but you get the idea.

  We walked down the corridor and I kept hoping someone would come out of the back doors of one of the stores or something, but we kept going and we saw no one. I tried to think of something do, but I was stumped. I dropped my shopping bag on the floor and stopped to pick it up.

  “ Leave it!” Booker shouted at me.

  “ No way, I got a great deal on this sweater, I’ m not leaving it behind,” I said, scooping it up.

  Again with the sharp knife in the back thing. “ Owww” I said. Rinteau looked at me and quickly shook his head, telling me not to push it.

  “ Keep walking,” said Booker.

  We reached the hallway’ s end and Booker pushed through a door that said, “ OPEN ONLY IN EMERGENCY. ALARM WILL SOUND.” Nothing happened. No alarm sounded. Stupid non-emergency alarm sounding alarm door! We were now in a deserted part of the parking garage hidden from everything by a bunch of dumpsters and trash cans. There was an old, rusted out van parked a few feet away from the door. The back door of the van opened and two more guys got out.

  This is it, I thought. Mr. Kim and Mr. Torres teach us self-defense scenarios in Tae Kwon Do class all the time. There are a few rules they are always drilling into us. Things like look for anything you can use as a weapon: a rock, a branch from a tree, a suitcase or a grocery bag. Don’ t ever get in a car or van if you can help it. Make noise. Fight. Kick. Scream or bite but do not get into the vehicle without a struggle. Push back.

  “ HELP!” I shouted. “ 911! 911!” The guy behind me poked me with the knife again and his other hand grabbed me around the throat. I couldn’ t breathe. Rinteau shouted and lunged toward me, trying to come to my aid, but the two guys behind him grabbed his arms and shoved him to the ground, dragging him toward the van. I tried to kick backward at the guy holding me, but I couldn’ t find his feet or legs and my kicks flailed uselessly in the air.

  All of a sudden, he let go of my throat. I no longer felt the knife sticking in my back. The guy make a whooshing sound and I was suddenly free. I spun around and the guy holding the knife was lying on the ground. It looked like he was sleeping. There was a blur in the side of my vision and I faced the van again. The two guys holding Rinteau had him half in and half out of the van. He was kicking and squirming and Booker was inside leaning out, yelling at them to hurry up and get him in.

  The other two guys who had gotten out of the van when we exited the mall were doing some kind of weird dance with each other. I couldn’ t figure it out for a minute, but then realized Mr. Kim was between them and they weren’ t dancing they were being pummeled. Mr. Kim! He must have followed my watch signal! One of the guys screamed and his arm bent backward in a totally unnatural angle and I heard what might be the sound of a bone breaking. The second guy was clawing at Mr. Kim’ s other hand, which held a handful of his hair. He shook the gang banger like a rag doll and pulled downward and the kid followed the momentum of his body until he was flat on the floor. Mr. Kim gave him a punch to the myung chi, the solar plexus. He went still with a whoosh as all of the air rushed out of his lungs.

  This all took probably less than three seconds. Mr. Kim stepped toward the van in fighting pose and was a few feet away before the van roared to life. There were two guys still holding Rinteau. Booker was screaming at them to get in the van and leave him. Mr. Kim reached the closest one and pulled his thumb backward, so he released his grip on Rinteau and put him down with a front kick to his head. Ouch. It was definitely going to leave a mark.

  It all happened in slow motion. Rinteau’ s body was prone, between Mr. Kim and the other guy holding him. Mr. Kim was trying to reach across to dispatch him, when the kid pulled a knife out of his pocket. It was a switchblade. He raised it high in the air and I could swear I heard it whistling down toward Rinteau. I tried to shout but it seemed like no sound would come out of my throat. Mr. Kim grabbed for the kids arm but he couldn’ t reach it easily across Rinteau’ s body. Rinteau saw it coming and tried to block it with his free hand, but the blade of the knife sliced across his palm and plunged into his side. He didn’ t scream or anything. Just slumped to the ground. The kid with the knife jumped into the van, wielding it to keep Mr. Kim away. The van engine revved and it took off, the doors banging shut. I don’ t remember much after that, except Rinteau lying there, bleeding on the ground and Mr.
Kim hollering into his cell-phone. I looked down realizing I still had my shopping bag clutched in my hand. Some shopping trip.

  CHAPTER EIGHT— It’ s Complicated

  Even a month later, the incident at the mall was still kind of a blur. The police and ambulances came and Mr. Kim drove us to the hospital in his car. We sat in the Emergency Room and at first had a lot of trouble finding out what was happening to Michael because we weren’ t his next of kin. Finally, Mr. Kim pulled a badge case from his pocket and flashed it at the nurse. We were told he was in surgery.

  “ How many badges do you carry?” I asked.

  “ Seven,” he replied.

  “ FBI?”

  He shook his head. “ U.S. Marshal. People will examine FBI badges closely, but most people don’ t even know what a U.S. Marshal does, but it sounds very official so they don’ t give it a second glance.”

  I nodded, filing the information away for future use. “ And Rachel. Just for your information, my Marshal’ s badge is legitimate. I have an appointment by the Attorney General. So promise me you won’ t try to use a fake U.S. Marshal’ s badge to get into trouble.”

  Pfft. Mr. Kim always thinks I’ m going to get in trouble. But that was useful badge information. “ What year did the Attorney General graduate from Blackthorn Academy,” I asked innocently changing the subject.

  “ 1987,” he replied.

  “ Wow. 1987 that would make him… ” I tried to figure it out but was never very good at doing math in my head. Or regular math. “ Gosh. An Attorney General of Pennsylvania graduating from Blackthorn Academy. That’ s very impressive.”

  “ He is the Attorney General of The United States, not Pennsylvania,” Mr. Kim replied with a frustrated sigh.

  “ Really? All fifty of them? That’ s impressive. I’ ll bet he has to put in a lot of hours,” I replied.

  “ Rachel, why do you insist on doing this?”

  “ What’ s that?”