Read Online Riley Mack and the Other Known Troublemakers by Chris Grabenstein - Free Book Online Page A

case the high school. This afternoon. There’s a big baseball game. Crosstown rivals. Fairview versus Western Prep. Jake?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWe need to get Mongo into the stands.”
    â€œNo problem. I’ll dummy up a ticket with a legit bar code.”
    â€œGood. Mongo, you’re in the cheering section. Up with the freshmen. We give you a little lip fuzz, maybe a dorky Fairview High baseball cap to help you pass as a ninth grader. I want you sitting acouple rows behind Brown.”
    â€œOkay. Why?”
    â€œReconnaissance mission. Briana? You’ll work the crowd. I’ll line you up a gig selling peanuts and Cracker Jack. Roam the stands. Keep one eye on Gavin Brown, the other eye on whoever he has his eye on.”
    â€œOh-kay,” said Briana. “I have this red-and-white striped apron and a paper hat that’ll make me look very concessionairey.”
    â€œWorks for me.”
    â€œBut how do I get the vendor job?”
    â€œI know this guy who runs the food stand. He owes me a favor ever since I helped him recover his popcorn popper.”
    â€œWhere was it?”
    â€œYou don’t want to know. While you two are in the stands, I’ll be down on the field with a camera. Jake?”
    â€œYou need a press pass?”
    â€œYou read my mind. I’ll also need your camera. The one with the really long lens.”
    Jake made a note. “No problem. You sure Brown will be at the game?”
    â€œPositive,” said Riley. “Before Jamal and I left the antiques tent, I heard the chief tell Grandma Brown that ‘Gavin has the rest of the day off.’ Said he was going to ‘the big baseball game because he has a crushon one of the cheerleaders.’ Granny was cool with that. Said, ‘I can’t move half the crap he hauls in, anyway.’ She wanted more plasma screen TVs, fewer karaoke microphones.”
    â€œYou want me at the game?” asked Jake.
    â€œNo. We need you to babysit Jamal Wilson.”
    â€œCome again?”
    â€œHe’s in on this thing, on account of the stash of fifth-grader swag Grandma’s peddling in her pup tent. He can help you on the computer, too.”
    â€œI don’t know….”
    â€œHe’s a good kid. Smart. Very manually dexterous. Worked a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute.”
    â€œNo. Way!” said Briana.
    â€œWay. He can also crack locks.”
    â€œFor real?” said Mongo. “Like in the movies?”
    â€œFor real,” said Riley.
    â€œOkay. He can hang at my house,” said Jake.
    â€œExcellent. Once we dig up the intel, we’ll need you guys to find her phone number.”
    Jake furrowed his brow. “So, um, whose number, exactly, are we looking for again?”
    â€œWhoever this cheerleader is that Gavin Brown has a mad crush on.”
    â€œNo problem. You tell me her name, I’ll tell you her landline, cell, fax, whatever. I can even fish for her email, Twitter, and Facebook pages, too.”
    â€œNo thanks. All we need is her phone number.”
    â€œUm, pardon me for asking, Riley,” said Briana, “but, why, all of a sudden, do you want some high school hottie’s phone number?”
    He smiled at Briana. “So you can call her.”

15
    THAT SAME SATURDAY MORNING, TWO shady men sat hunkered behind the tinted windows of a battered blue van.
    The driver had pulled into the perfect parking spot: directly across the street from the First National Bank of Fairview.
    â€œYou see what they’re calling us?” said the one in the passenger seat, flipping through the back pages of a tabloid newspaper.
    â€œYeah,” said the driver, who was rolling a toothpick from one side of his lips to the other. “I seen it.”
    â€œâ€˜The Suburban Buckeye Bandits.’” The man in thepassenger seat angrily wadded up the paper. “I am not buckeyed.”
    â€œI know this,” said the