Read Online Confessions of a Teen Sleuth by Chelsea Cain - Free Book Online
Authors: Chelsea Cain
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have that Hannah is a Communist is the fact that she was a party member for three weeks in
1913?"
He nodded again.
"So if those records were to disappear, then they would have nothing? And a youthful affair with a suffragette is far less
harmful politically then an affair with a Communist."
The president considered this. "They probably wouldn't even go public with that," he mused.
"Mr. President, sir," I declared, "I ask that you give us twelve hours."
The president met my eyes with resolve. "Twelve hours, Mrs. Nickerson." He looked us all up and down, a flicker of apprehension
behind his deep-set blue eyes. "I hope that you are as good as the books say you are. For all our sakes."
Back aboard the Sky Queen, hovering fifteen-thousand feet above the Capitol, Frank, Bud, Tom, and I considered our options.
"All right, gang," Frank declared, "let's go over this again. Who would stand to benefit the most from Ike's resignation?"
"Russia?" offered Bud.
"The Netherlands?" Tom asked flatly.
"Richard Nixon," I declared.
They all looked at me. "Think about it," I continued. "Who's to benefit directly? Eisenhower resigns. His vice president takes
office. Richard Nixon. He used to be a member of the Un-American Activities Committee. He's arranged this whole thing."
"Which means that he's bound to have the evidence under lock and key in the vice presidential residence!" Frank gushed. "The
only safe in the residence is in the first-floor den."
"We could use my hydraulic jackscrew!" Tom suggested inventively.
"But how do we get in the house?" mused Bud fretfully.
Tom's eyes lit up. "We don't," he declared. A broad smile spread across the face of the lanky young inventor. "We send a robot!"
As soon as night fell, we huddled in Tom's atomic-powered hovercraft on a quiet street near the vice presidential residence
and set about recovering the evidence that could force a presidential coup.
Tom's eyes lit up. "We don't. We send a robot!"
Tom manipulated the robot using two levers on an instrument panel inside the hovercraft. A binocular camera was mounted on
the robot's head, allowing us to view its progress on a monitor. The robot was two feet tall and had two extendable arms on
each side of its boxy torso.
"It's the first robot ever powered by Swiftonium," Tom explained mechanically. "That's the radioactive isotope we discovered
in South America. Of course, his shell is made of Tomasite, for heat resistance and to absorb gamma rays, but I've taken the
extra step of covering the Tomasite with a coat of black Swiftonite paint, so the fellow can move unnoticed at night through
populated areas." As if to illustrate his point, we watched on the monitor as the robot passed several Secret Service agents
who remained unaware of its presence.
The robot approached the front door of the residence, and we watched entranced as it reached an extendable arm up, picked
the lock, turned the doorknob, and entered the home of the vice president of the United States. We breathed a collective sigh
of relief when the robot was safely inside, only to have that sigh turn to a gasp when an enormous racket exploded over the
speakers on either side of the monitor. Tom expertly spun the robot around to face the source of the noise. We all immediately
recognized Checkers, the Nixon family's cocker spaniel, who now stood snarling and barking at the invading robot.
"Quick," Frank demanded. "Steer the robot into the den before someone comes to check on the dog!"
With lightning reflexes, Tom guided the machine from the foyer to the den, using an extendable arm to quickly shut the door
behind him, locking the crazed canine in the hallway.
"Nice job, old man!" complimented Bud.
"We're not done yet," Tom cautioned.
Our eyes were glued to the monitor as Tom guided the robot over to the wall safe behind the desk. Frank knew about the safe
from the day he had come to the residence to break the news to Truman that
1913?"
He nodded again.
"So if those records were to disappear, then they would have nothing? And a youthful affair with a suffragette is far less
harmful politically then an affair with a Communist."
The president considered this. "They probably wouldn't even go public with that," he mused.
"Mr. President, sir," I declared, "I ask that you give us twelve hours."
The president met my eyes with resolve. "Twelve hours, Mrs. Nickerson." He looked us all up and down, a flicker of apprehension
behind his deep-set blue eyes. "I hope that you are as good as the books say you are. For all our sakes."
Back aboard the Sky Queen, hovering fifteen-thousand feet above the Capitol, Frank, Bud, Tom, and I considered our options.
"All right, gang," Frank declared, "let's go over this again. Who would stand to benefit the most from Ike's resignation?"
"Russia?" offered Bud.
"The Netherlands?" Tom asked flatly.
"Richard Nixon," I declared.
They all looked at me. "Think about it," I continued. "Who's to benefit directly? Eisenhower resigns. His vice president takes
office. Richard Nixon. He used to be a member of the Un-American Activities Committee. He's arranged this whole thing."
"Which means that he's bound to have the evidence under lock and key in the vice presidential residence!" Frank gushed. "The
only safe in the residence is in the first-floor den."
"We could use my hydraulic jackscrew!" Tom suggested inventively.
"But how do we get in the house?" mused Bud fretfully.
Tom's eyes lit up. "We don't," he declared. A broad smile spread across the face of the lanky young inventor. "We send a robot!"
As soon as night fell, we huddled in Tom's atomic-powered hovercraft on a quiet street near the vice presidential residence
and set about recovering the evidence that could force a presidential coup.
Tom's eyes lit up. "We don't. We send a robot!"
Tom manipulated the robot using two levers on an instrument panel inside the hovercraft. A binocular camera was mounted on
the robot's head, allowing us to view its progress on a monitor. The robot was two feet tall and had two extendable arms on
each side of its boxy torso.
"It's the first robot ever powered by Swiftonium," Tom explained mechanically. "That's the radioactive isotope we discovered
in South America. Of course, his shell is made of Tomasite, for heat resistance and to absorb gamma rays, but I've taken the
extra step of covering the Tomasite with a coat of black Swiftonite paint, so the fellow can move unnoticed at night through
populated areas." As if to illustrate his point, we watched on the monitor as the robot passed several Secret Service agents
who remained unaware of its presence.
The robot approached the front door of the residence, and we watched entranced as it reached an extendable arm up, picked
the lock, turned the doorknob, and entered the home of the vice president of the United States. We breathed a collective sigh
of relief when the robot was safely inside, only to have that sigh turn to a gasp when an enormous racket exploded over the
speakers on either side of the monitor. Tom expertly spun the robot around to face the source of the noise. We all immediately
recognized Checkers, the Nixon family's cocker spaniel, who now stood snarling and barking at the invading robot.
"Quick," Frank demanded. "Steer the robot into the den before someone comes to check on the dog!"
With lightning reflexes, Tom guided the machine from the foyer to the den, using an extendable arm to quickly shut the door
behind him, locking the crazed canine in the hallway.
"Nice job, old man!" complimented Bud.
"We're not done yet," Tom cautioned.
Our eyes were glued to the monitor as Tom guided the robot over to the wall safe behind the desk. Frank knew about the safe
from the day he had come to the residence to break the news to Truman that
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