Amos Binder, Secret Agent Read online

  OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY:

  HARRIS AND ME, Gary Paulsen

  THE HAYMEADOW, Gary Paulsen

  THE COOKCAMP, Gary Paulsen

  THE VOYAGE OF THE FROG, Gary Paulsen

  THE BOY WHO OWNED THE SCHOOL, Gary Paulsen

  THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen

  THE MONUMENT, Gary Paulsen

  THE WINTER ROOM, Gary Paulsen

  HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell

  HOW TO FIGHT A GIRL, Thomas Rockwell

  YEARLING BOOKS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.

  For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,

  write to Dell Readers Service,

  P.O. Box 1045, South Holland, IL 60473.

  Published by

  Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers

  a division of

  Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

  1540 Broadway

  New York, New York 10036

  Copyright © 1997 by Gary Paulsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The trademarks Yearling® and Dell® are registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80401-3

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Yearling Books

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper had his dad’s video camera trained on his best friend for life, Amos Binder. Amos was watching television. He had been staring at the screen nonstop for thirty-two hours, fifty-seven minutes, and eleven seconds.

  “Three more minutes, Amos, and you’ll have the world’s record. You’ll be famous. I left a message with a reporter down at the Globe. She said she’d get back to me.” Dunc inched around the overstuffed chair to get a shot of Amos’s profile from the other side. “Aren’t you excited?”

  Amos nodded dully. “Ecstatic.” His face was puffy and one eye was trying to close on him.

  “Two minutes, Amos. A minute and a half …”

  The telephone rang.

  Amos was out of the chair before Dunc could blink.

  Dunc hadn’t counted on the telephone. It was Amos’s greatest weakness. Amos spent his life waiting for a call from a girl named Melissa Hansen. To him Melissa was the most perfect female on the planet and he worshiped her—from a distance. To Melissa, Amos was about as important as a dust ball under the bed. She ignored him completely.

  Amos had the strange idea that if Melissa did call, she’d want him to answer on that all-important first ring. As a result, sometimes his body was in motion before his brain kicked in.

  This was one of those times.

  Amos forgot about the root beer in his left hand and the bowl of cheese puffs on his lap. They crashed to the floor on his first jump. He also forgot about the dozen or so electrical cords plugged into the photographic lights that Dunc had set up around the room.

  Amos cleared the first cord, but the second one was knee-high and waiting for him. He hit it full speed, tripped, and pulled over his mother’s antique ceramic lamp. It smashed on the corner of the end table.

  He tried to catch his balance, wobbled, and rolled into the next string of cords. The telephone had finished its first ring and was starting its second. Amos was desperate. He made a valiant effort to stand up. By now cords were wrapped around his entire body. He stepped forward but the cords snapped him back, seat first, into his mother’s rubber tree plant.

  Dunc taped the whole thing.

  Amos’s older sister, Amy, strolled in from the kitchen. She popped her gum and looked over at Amos, who was sitting in the plant with a mass of tangled electrical wires hanging off him. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust.

  Amos struggled to pry his rear out of the plant holder. “Did you get the phone, Amy? Amy?”

  Amy rolled her eyes again. “I told Mom and Dad we should have moved away while you were at camp. It was the perfect opportunity. But would they listen to me? No-oo-o.” She turned and headed back into the kitchen. At the door she stopped. “By the way, some reporter called. She said to tell you two goon-heads she wasn’t going to be able to make it.”

  Amos reached into the Binders’ mailbox and pulled out a stack of letters. He was sorting through them when he heard someone call his name. He turned and dropped a couple of the letters on the porch.

  Dunc was pedaling up the sidewalk waving something. “I’ve got it figured out, Amos. Don’t worry, we’re still going to be rich.”

  Amos ignored him and picked up a large manila envelope addressed to Mr. A. Bender with an official-looking government seal and no return address. He scratched his head. “That’s odd. Somebody got my name wrong.” He tore off the top and looked in.

  Dunc carefully parked his bike and jumped onto the porch. “You’ve got to see this, Amos.” He held up a videotape. “It’s great. It’s you trying to get to the phone yesterday. If we send it to one of those funny home video shows we’re a cinch to win.”

  “Airplane tickets?” Amos wrinkled his nose. “Now who do you suppose would be sending me round-trip tickets to a place called …” He pulled out a letter and unfolded it. “Denison Falls, Arizona?”

  Dunc forgot the video and read the letter over Amos’s shoulder. “It’s signed ‘Cyrano.’ I didn’t know you knew anybody named Cyrano.”

  “I don’t. He says my escort and I should meet him at the airport in Denison Falls and he’ll explain everything.”

  Dunc grabbed the letter and read out loud:

  Dear A.B.,

  Once again, your government has need of your special talents. Bring your escort and meet me at gate thirty-seven and I will explain your assignment. Your code name is Popeye. Guard the key with your life. If for some reason I am detained, proceed to the Claymore Hotel on Broad Street.

  Cyrano

  Amos fished around in the envelope and pulled out a gold key. “Here it is. I wonder what it goes to?”

  Dunc sat down on the edge of the porch. He looked at the envelope and then back at the letter. “We have a problem here, Amos. Someone thinks you’re this A. Bender and they’re counting on you to get this key to Arizona.”

  “Well, that’s tough. I can’t go to Arizona. My parents grounded me for ten years because of the mess we made in the living room. Besides, my cousin Little Brucie is coming to visit for spring break, and my mom says I’m stuck watching the little monster.”

  Dunc rubbed his chin.

  Amos saw a familiar gleam in his friend’s eyes. He held up his hand. “I know that look, and you can count me out right now. We should take this letter back to the post office and let them handle it.”

  “You’re probably right, Amos.” Dunc sighed a long, sorrowful, noisy sigh. “After all, you are grounded and I kno
w how much you love baby-sitting your cousin.”

  “Wait, I never said—”

  “And it probably wouldn’t be right to tell our folks some big story like … we’ve won a free trip to Denison Falls for spring break and the key to the city.” Dunc stood up and brushed off his jeans. “No, even if the government needs you because the security of our country is at stake, I guess it just wouldn’t be right.”

  Amos thought about it. “I suppose Amy could watch Little Brucie.”

  Dunc waited.

  “And I’m really not all that anxious to be around when my uncle Alfred gets here and takes off his shoes and picks his toes through his smelly socks.”

  Dunc waited.

  “After all, it is for our country and everything. Okay, I’m in. When do we leave?”

  Dunc smiled. “Just as soon as we can convince your parents to un-ground you.”

  “Did you have to wear that?”

  Amos tightened the belt of his white trench coat and straightened his dark glasses. “What’s the matter with it? I am supposed to be some sort of secret agent, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t think they want you to advertise.”

  Amos pulled off his glasses and glanced around the busy airport. “I’m not sure it matters. It doesn’t look like this Cyrano guy is gonna show, anyway. We’ve been waiting here at gate thirty-seven for almost an hour. I’m getting hungry.”

  Just then, a short man with jet-black hair and beady eyes walked furtively across the lobby and sat in the chair beside them. He was wearing a designer suit. “Do you have it?” he whispered.

  The two boys looked at each other. Amos slid his dark glasses on. “I’ll handle this.” He turned to the man. “What’s the password?”

  The man’s face turned ugly. “Don’t play games with me, kid. Either you have it or you don’t.”

  Amos glanced back at Dunc and shrugged. “Do we have it?”

  “Look, mister.” Dunc stood up. “We just got here. Give us a chance to do some sight-seeing, maybe get a bite to eat, some rest—”

  “Rest! Why, you …” The man leaped up and grabbed the front of Dunc’s shirt.

  “Is everything all right here?” A tall security guard with a long crooked nose was suddenly standing behind them.

  The man with the beady eyes dropped his hand. “Quite all right, Officer. I must have mistaken these nice boys for some other boys.” He stepped away and walked quickly down the corridor.

  The officer smiled. “Seems like we get our share of weirdos around here. Can I get you guys a cab?”

  “That’d be great,” Dunc said. “We’re staying at the Claymore Hotel.”

  The officer led them to the front of the airport and helped them put their luggage in the trunk of a yellow cab.

  Dunc got in the back next to Amos and was about to thank the officer for his trouble when the security guard opened the front door and slid in beside the driver.

  Amos whistled. “Wow. I’d say you’re really going beyond the call of duty.”

  The officer turned in the seat. “Name’s Cyrano. Which one of you is Popeye?”

  “Uh, him.” Dunc jerked his thumb toward Amos. “I’m the escort.”

  “I expected someone a little older for the escort. Oh well, I guess the brass knows what it’s doing. Sorry about the wait back there, but I was hoping the other side would tip their hand.”

  “Did they?” Amos asked.

  Cyrano nodded. “That unpleasant fellow back at the airport was Beltron. We have a file on him two inches thick. He works for whoever pays the most and he usually doesn’t care what the job is. Did he ask you for the key?”

  Amos asked, “What do you mean, he doesn’t care what the job is?”

  Dunc ignored Amos. “Beltron didn’t exactly ask for the key. He wanted to know if we had it.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let that key fall into the wrong hands,” Cyrano said.

  “I’ve got it right here.” Amos patted his foot. “I figured it would be safe inside my sock. Although”—he frowned—“it is starting to make a big blister and …”

  The tall man pulled a folder out of the glove compartment. “We don’t have a lot of time for your briefing so here’s the case in a nutshell. There are some high-ranking foreign officials from the Middle East visiting our country. One of the ambassadors brought his daughter along and they’re staying at the Claymore. Because of your martial arts skills and your age the brass thought you’d be the perfect inside man.”

  “Absolutely right,” said Amos, puffing out his chest. He leaned over to Dunc and whispered, “What’s an inside man?”

  The cab pulled up in front of an enormous hotel. Cyrano jumped out and retrieved their bags from the trunk. He handed Amos the folder. “Read this. You and your escort are in room one thirty-four. I’ll check back with you later. Good luck.” The big man stepped back into the cab and it sped away.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong”—Amos looked up at the fifteen-story hotel—“but did I hear him say that I know martial arts?”

  “That’s what it sounded like.”

  Amos picked up his bag. “I have the strangest feeling that you’ve gotten me in trouble again.”

  Amos flipped a switch on the wall. “This room has everything. Even electric curtains.” He watched the drapes swing back and forth.

  “Quit playing around, Amos. This is important.” Dunc had the contents of the folder spread out on the floor around him. “This girl you’re supposed to meet is the granddaughter of a sheik. Her name is Fatima Khalil. Your job is to get her to trust you and then report everything she says back to Cyrano. Look, they gave us two invitations for a big party in her honor down in the ballroom tonight.”

  Amos made a flying leap for the middle of the king-sized bed. He settled back against the pillows. “This is the life. I’m going to call Room Service. You want anything?”

  “Order me a cheeseburger.” Dunc studied one of the reports. “It says here that Fatima travels with over a million dollars in jewels.”

  Amos put the phone down. “Room Service said they’d be right up with the food.” He picked up the remote control. “Maybe the ambassador’s daughter will decide she likes us and force us to take a couple of thousand in diamonds off her hands.”

  Before Amos could turn the television on, there was a loud knock on the door.

  “That was fast.” Amos slid off the bed and went to the door.

  When he opened it a pretty young girl with brown eyes and long dark hair rushed into the room. She clutched Amos’s arm. “Please, you have to help me. Someone is following me.”

  Dunc came out of the bedroom carrying the folder. When he saw the girl, he shoved it behind his back. “What’s going on?”

  The girl fell to the couch exhausted. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you like this but I didn’t know what else to do. A man stopped me in the elevator and tried to take my necklace.” She fingered a diamond chain around her neck. “When the elevator stopped I managed to get away and I ran to the first room I came to. I think he’s still after me.”

  Dunc went to the door and cautiously peeked out. There was no one in sight. “All clear.” He shut the door. “Do you want us to call the police for you?”

  “No!” The girl jumped up. “That would cause international problems. You see, my father is a goodwill ambassador to your country.”

  “Hey, that’s a coincidence.” Amos chewed on a fingernail. “We were just— Ouch!”

  Dunc had stomped on the toe of Amos’s tennis shoe. “What my friend means is we were just about to explore the hotel and we’d be happy to walk you to your room,” Dunc said.

  “How kind of you.” The girl fluttered her long eyelashes at Dunc. “Our entourage is staying in the penthouse. You must meet my father. I’m sure he will want to reward you for your compassion.”

  Dunc slid the folder under the nearest chair cushion and opened the door. The hallway was still empty. “Amos, you check the elevator and I’ll
bring Ms.…” He turned to the girl. “What was your name?”

  “You may call me Fatima.” She winked and flashed him a brilliant smile. “What’s yours?”

  A light shade of pink spread over Dunc’s face. “Duncan. Dunc for short.”

  “Hurrummmp.” Amos cleared his throat. “In case anyone is interested, my name is Amos and I really hate to break this up, but can we hurry? My food is due here in a few minutes …”

  “Right.” Dunc blinked as if to clear his thoughts. “Go ahead, Amos. We’re right behind you.”

  The elevator opened and Fatima led them to the door of the penthouse. She put her card in the key slot and the door opened.

  The boys followed her inside and were instantly grabbed from behind and slammed up against the wall.

  “Enough!” Fatima clapped her hands and the boys were dropped to the floor.

  Amos rubbed his throat. Their attackers were two large men with bulging muscles. They were standing guard like pit bulls on either side of the door.

  “Don’t let Riyah and Hejaz bother you,” Fatima laughed. “They’re pretty much harmless.”

  “Sure.” Amos moved behind her. “Sort of the same way a crazed grizzly bear in a salmon stream is harmless, right?”

  Fatima laughed again. “They are my father’s bodyguards. They won’t hurt you unless they have orders.”

  An elderly woman with wrinkled skin and a stooped back hobbled into the room. Fatima took off her necklace and handed it to her. “Put this in the safe, Mesha. Someone tried to relieve me of it today.”

  The woman didn’t comment. She reached inside her shirt collar and pulled out a chain with a gold key on the end.

  Dunc’s eyes bugged out. The key looked identical to the one Amos had hidden inside his sock. He watched the old woman kneel beside the fireplace and put the key in what appeared to be an electrical outlet. A secret panel popped open. She placed the necklace inside a black case and closed the door.

  “Mesha, make our guests comfortable while I speak to my father,” Fatima ordered. She turned to Dunc and smiled sweetly. “Make yourself at home, Duncan. I’ll be right back.”