The Genius Files 2 Never Say Genius Page 16

  “Not yet,” Archie Clone said. “Not here.”

  He pulled a photo out of his pocket and showed it to the twins.

  “As you know, I have a … thing … for hats,” he told them. “This one was made by J. Y. Davis, a Washington hatmaker. Lincoln had the black silk mourning band added in honor of his son, Willie, who got sick and died at the age of eleven. And do you know when Lincoln wore this hat for the last time?”

  “When?” Pep asked.

  “April fourteenth, 1865,” Archie Clone said, “on his way to Ford’s Theatre.”

  “The night he was shot,” Coke said.

  “That’s right,” said Archie Clone. “After the assassination, the hat was given to the Patent Office, and they transferred it to the Smithsonian Institution in 1867. The hat was stashed in a basement storage room for twenty-six years. After they put it on display, it became one of the most treasured objects in the museum. And soon it will be part of my unique hat collection! Hahahaha!”

  “Hahahahahaha” went the fake SWAT team.

  “I thought all you cared about was getting Dr. Warsaw’s million dollars for being the last surviving member of The Genius Files,” Coke said.

  “A million dollars?” Archie Clone said with a snort. “That’s petty cash! Do you have any idea how much Lincoln’s top hat would be worth?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Pep said. “As soon as you try to sell it, you’ll get caught. Nobody would buy it from you. They’d know it was stolen from the museum.”

  “All very true, Pep,” Archie Clone said, looking at his watch, “but I can ransom it, and for a lot more than a million dollars. My good friend Mrs. Higgins is downstairs stealing the top hat right now, as we speak.”

  “So you and Mrs. Higgins are working together!” Pep said.

  “She’ll never get away with it,” Coke said. “It’s under glass. There are security guards.”

  “Hahahahahaha” went the fake SWAT team.

  “Glass? Security guards?” Archie Clone said. “You must be joking, Coke. Take them upstairs, boys.”

  The fake SWAT team shoved Coke and Pep up the stairs to the next level. There were no more stairs above that. A gray door had three words stenciled on it in black—MUSEUM ROOF ACCESS.

  Coke and Pep stopped instinctively. Roofs are dangerous places. They’re high, for one thing. People fall off them, for another. And die.

  “What do we have to do with Abraham Lincoln’s hat?” Pep asked. “Why don’t you just steal it and leave us alone?”

  “I’m glad you brought that up, Pep,” said Archie Clone. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you two for a long time. Dr. Warsaw tried to kill you on several occasions, but he failed. After he died and I took over The Genius Files program, I dipped you in boiling oil, but you somehow managed to escape. I tried to drown you in ice cream, but you escaped again. That impressed me. I like your style. You two almost seem … unkillable, if that’s a word.”

  Coke said a few words to Archie Clone that you have undoubtedly heard on the playground or perhaps even when your parents are really, really mad. Needless to say, they are not nice words.

  “I’ll disregard that remark,” Archie Clone said. “Because I could really use a couple of resourceful kids like you in my operation. Geniuses, so to speak. It would be a big improvement over the current personnel, if you know what I mean.”

  “We’re not geniuses,” Pep said. “Never say genius again!”

  “I’m going to give you kids a choice,” Archie Clone said. “Join me. I’ll cut you in on whatever I do. We’ll be equal partners. Stick with me, and we’re going to have a lot of fun and make a lot of money. You’ll be set for life. This is a golden opportunity for you.”

  “What’s our other choice?” Coke asked.

  “Your other choice?” Archie Clone said. “Well, your other choice, of course … is to die.”

  “We would never work for you!” Pep said, almost spitting out the words in his face. “Not if our lives depended on it.”

  “That’s too bad,” Archie Clone said, “because your lives do depend on it. Take them up to the roof, fellows. Maybe they’ll change their tune once we get up there.”

  One of the bowler dudes pushed open the roof access door, and Coke and Pep were shoved through it.

  They were outside now. From this height, the Washington Monument appeared to be very close, almost looming over them.

  There were three helicopters parked on the roof. Nobody was inside them, but their rotors were turning slowly. One of the bowler dudes shoved the twins toward the nearest chopper.

  “Did you know that when the president of the United States travels by helicopter, there are always three identical helicopters in the air?” Archie Clone said. “That way, if somebody wanted to shoot his helicopter down, they won’t know which one to shoot at. It also means that if there are three helicopters flying around Washington, the police don’t bother them because they assume the president is inside one of them. Get in.”

  Coke and Pep didn’t have any choice. The bowler dude pushed them into the helicopter, and Archie Clone climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  “Where is Mrs. Higgins with my top hat?” he asked nobody in particular. “What’s taking her so long? She probably stopped to wash her hands or some such nonsense.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Pep demanded.

  “Not far,” Archie Clone replied. “If you don’t want to join my team, I’ll drop you two off at the Washington Monument.”

  “You mean you’re going to let us go after you steal Lincoln’s hat?” asked Pep hopefully.

  “No,” Archie Clone said as he fiddled with the controls. “I said I’d drop you off at the Washington Monument. The key word is drop. I can’t have you two blabbing about my plans.”

  “You’re going to drop us on the Washington Monument?” Pep asked.

  “It’s a beautiful structure, isn’t it?” Archie Clone said as he gazed skyward. “Looks like a gigantic, sharpened pencil. Most people don’t know this, but there’s an aluminum cap at the top, with eight lightning rods attached to it. Each of them are six inches long. Get the point?”

  “You’re a lunatic!” Coke shouted.

  “I know, I know,” Archie Clone said. “It won’t be easy to drop you two right on the point. But if I miss by a few inches, it’s okay. You’ll fall 555 feet, 5 and 1/8 inches to the ground. The impact will finish the job. So it’s a win-win for me.”

  He pushed a button on the dashboard, and the helicopter’s rotors started spinning faster. The bowler dudes ran over and climbed into the other two helicopters.

  Pep was paralyzed with fear. She gripped the seat tightly, as if that would somehow protect her. In his head, Coke frantically calculated their options. He and Pep could jump out and make a run for it. They could try to overpower Archie Clone. Or they could just sit there and hope somebody would rescue them. He looked up at the Washington Monument. Once the chopper was up in the air, all bets were off.

  Archie Clone pulled out a cell phone.

  “Hurry up, Higgins!” he barked once he’d made the connection. “What’s taking so long? I haven’t got all day. I want my top hat, and I want it now!”

  While Archie Clone was talking, Coke leaned over to his sister.

  “When I say so, we’re going to jump out,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I can’t!” she whispered back. “We might get killed!”

  “We’re sure to get killed if we don’t jump out,” Coke said. “Come on. Just like we jumped off the cliff. You’ve got to trust me.”

  Archie Clone cursed and slapped his cell phone shut. He saw something in the distance that the twins didn’t—another helicopter coming from across the National Mall. He flipped a few switches, and the rotors spun faster.

  “Where is Higgins?” Archie Clone said, looking around angrily. And then, “That’s it, forget the stupid hat. I’m getting out of here.”

  Coke saw the helicopter approaching too.


  “Look! I’ll bet it’s the real cops!” he shouted. “You might as well surrender. You’re done for.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Archie Clone said.

  He pulled back on the joystick, and the helicopter began to lift off the roof.

  As the other helicopter got closer, Coke could see that there were no policemen in it.

  “It’s Mya and Bones!” he shouted, pointing.

  “Not them!” Archie Clone spat.

  “I told you they’d be here!” shouted Pep.

  The helicopter the twins were in was five feet above the roof.

  “We’ve got to jump now!”

  “I can’t!”

  As the other helicopter reached the roof, Mya jumped out. She had a bag around her neck. She reached into the bag and pulled out an orange Frisbee.

  “It’s a Frisbee grenade!” Coke yelled. “She can’t see us! She’s going to blow us up!”

  Their helicopter was almost ten feet above the roof now. Coke couldn’t wait any longer. He gave Pep a shove and pushed her out. Then he jumped out himself, landing clumsily on the roof next to his sister and twisting his ankle painfully.

  Mya got into position to throw the Frisbee at Archie Clone’s chopper. She was about to let it loose when—

  Fttttttttttttttttttttttt!

  A dart hit Mya on the side of her neck! Coke looked to the right and saw one of the bowler dudes sitting in a chopper with a blowgun in his mouth. Then that chopper flew away.

  Mya stopped, her eyes rolling back in her head. She crumpled to her knees, dropping the Frisbee.

  It was like everything was in slow motion as the Frisbee fell to the concrete. Coke put his hands on his ears in anticipation of the inevitable explosion.

  But nothing happened. There was no explosion.

  “The Frisbee detonates on the second impact!” Pep shouted. “Remember? She skips it off the ground!”

  Pep ran over and grabbed the Frisbee. Archie Clone’s chopper was about fifteen feet off the roof now, and moving horizontally. In a few seconds, it would be out of range.

  “Throw it!” Coke shouted to his sister.

  “He’s leaving!” Pep shouted back. “I can’t—”

  At that moment, Archie Clone stopped his helicopter and swiveled it around.

  “You kids think you are so smart,” he shouted out the open window. “Well, nobody is smarter than me.”

  He pulled out what appeared to be a gun but was in fact much worse than a gun. It was a missile launcher, the kind that terrorists use. One well-placed shot could take off the roof of the museum. Archie Clone pointed the monstrous thing at the twins and looked through the scope.

  “Throw it, Pep!” Coke shouted. “Now!”

  Pep reared back and whipped the Frisbee hard, so hard that she fell down as she let fly. The Frisbee hit the chopper just above the fuel tank. A moment later there was a flash, followed by a fireball that enveloped the whole chopper. I’m talking about a big, orange, action-movie fireball.

  Coke covered his eyes to shield himself from the flash of light, the heat, and the flying debris.

  “Nice throw!” he said, genuinely impressed by his sister’s skill.

  The flaming chopper spun crazily for a few seconds, and then crashed into the ground next to the museum, resulting in another fireball. Terrified tourists scattered to avoid getting hit.

  Coke and Pep looked over the edge of the roof to watch the twisted wreckage smoke and burn. Nobody climbed out of the chopper. There would be no survivors.

  Pep began to sob. Her brother put his arm around her.

  “I killed somebody,” she said quietly.

  “We both killed him,” Coke told her. “There was no other way.”

  Bones landed his chopper on the roof, jumped out, and ran over to the twins.

  “Get out of here!” he implored them. “Quick, before the police show up to find out what happened.”

  By five o’clock, when the museums closed for the day, teams of very official-looking workers had carted away most of what was left of the burned helicopter outside the Museum of American History. There had been a story on the news about a helicopter crash near the Washington Monument, but government officials had managed to keep the details of the accident away from the press. Life had returned to normal on the National Mall. People were jogging and skateboarding as if nothing had ever happened.

  Coke and Pep were lying around on the grass when their parents came strolling out of the National Air and Space Museum.

  “So did you kids have a good time?” asked Dr. McDonald. “Did you see Albert Einstein’s pipe?”

  “How about Warren Harding’s pajamas?” asked Mrs. McDonald.

  “It was really cool,” Coke told them. “We saw the actual flag that inspired Francis Scott Key to write ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”

  “And we saw that John Bull train. Did you know it used to take two days to get from New York to Philadelphia?”

  “And Dumbo the flying elephant…”

  “And Dorothy’s ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz…”

  “We learned a lot about American history,” Coke told his parents. “I think it’s going to really help us in school this year.”

  “Great!” Dr. McDonald said. “I’m so glad you kids went there. See? It’s possible to go places that are fun and educational at the same time.”

  “You’re limping, Coke,” Mrs. McDonald said. “What happened?”

  Coke looked at his sister.

  “Well, the truth is,” he said, “we were kidnapped by this crazy teenager who looked like Archie from the comics. He dragged us up to the roof of the museum, where he was going to take us by helicopter and drop us on the point of the Washington Monument. But we jumped out at the last moment and Pep threw a Frisbee grenade at the chopper and blew it out of the sky. I twisted my ankle when I jumped out of the helicopter.”

  Their parents looked at him for a long time.

  “Ha, ha!” laughed Dr. McDonald. “That’s a good one. You kids crack me up.”

  “Hey,” Mrs. McDonald said. “What do you say we go watch some fireworks tonight? Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, you know.”

  “I don’t think so, Mom,” Pep said. “It’s been a long day.”

  Chapter 22

  TILL DEATH DO YOU PART

  Coke and Pep’s long nightmare was finally over. Archie Clone was dead, a victim of his own greed and insanity. Dr. Warsaw was dead, a victim of a very high fall from The Infinity Room at The House on the Rock. Mrs. Higgins was, in all probability, in police custody, after foolishly trying to steal the top hat that Abraham Lincoln was wearing on the night he was assassinated. The bowler dudes had flown away in helicopters, but neither of them seemed to have the smarts to mount a serious campaign of terror without the guidance of an inspiring leader.

  There was nobody left to bother Coke and Pep. When they woke up on the morning of July Fourth, they were both smiling for the first time in a long time. A burden had been lifted. Finally, they could enjoy their summer vacation.

  Everyone rushed to get dressed. Aunt Judy’s wedding was scheduled for noon on the grass in front of the Lincoln Memorial. The McDonald family had packed their nicest clothes for this occasion, and had waited the whole trip to wear them.

  Before this year, Pep had never cared much about clothes or what she looked like. But today she was all decked out in a lovely blue skirt with a ruffled white blouse and a necklace with a butterfly on it. Coke hated to wear a jacket and tie, and put up with them as long as it was just for the occasional wedding or funeral. His pants and sleeves were just a little short, because he had grown a few inches in the last year but had refused to go shopping to get new clothes that fit. Dr. McDonald had on the jacket he wore to work every day, with a red, white, and blue tie. Mrs. McDonald wore a conservative flower print skirt. She didn’t want to put on anything that might outshine her sister, the bride and star of the show.

  Everyone in the McDonald family was used to
throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt in the morning. So getting ready took longer this day, fussing with all the ties and buttons and zippers and belts. But in the end, they looked good. The all-American family. People stared at them as they boarded the Metro heading into Washington.

  The Fourth of July is a special day. It’s America’s birthday, after all, and everyone wants to go to the party in the nation’s capital. People were holding little flags. Red, white, and blue was everywhere.

  Mrs. McDonald was understandably nervous about the wedding. She had not seen her sister, Judy, in many years. Bridget and Judy had grown up together in California, but after college Judy had moved to Washington to take an entry-level job in the government. For a short time, she worked at the Pentagon. Bridget and Judy had a falling-out when Judy started going out with—and almost married—a boy that Bridget didn’t like. He seemed mean and abusive, and she didn’t want her sister mixed up with a guy like that. Judy broke up with the boy a long time ago, but she and Bridget didn’t reconnect after that. They had stopped speaking, and neither one wanted to be the first to apologize. Bridget was surprised when she received an invitation to Judy’s wedding. Maybe it was a signal that their feud was over.

  In any case, the sisters hadn’t seen each other in ten years. Coke and Pep didn’t remember meeting their Aunt Judy when they were very little.

  The McDonalds were already running late for the wedding, and there was a delay on the Metro that made them even later. They got out at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop and rushed about half a mile toward Potomac Park, where the Lincoln Memorial is located.

  “I barely remember what Judy looks like anymore,” Mrs. McDonald said as they hurried down Twenty-third Street.

  “She probably looks the same,” said Dr. McDonald. “Just a little older and grayer. Like us.”

  “What should I say to her?”

  “Just say congratulations.”

  “What if she’s marrying some jerk?”

  “That’s her business, not yours,” Dr. McDonald advised. “Don’t judge her. That’s what caused all the problems last time. Besides, how bad could he be?”