chapter thirteen

I peered down between the metal bars to the pavement. I wasn’t up that high, but I felt woozy when I looked down.

Who’d have guessed Mr. Morgan was a birdnapper? Wait till Dad found out.

I still couldn’t believe he’d refused to sell Elmo. It was because of me, of course. He knew how much Elmo meant to me. Maybe I’d been too hard on Dad. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as I’d thought. And maybe part of our problem was that I’d been changing too.

In the distance, I saw what looked like a black moth flitting its wings. Rodney.

Once he spotted me, he started running in my direction. His cape kept getting caught between his legs.

I inched up as close as I could to the wall and tried to focus on the bricks. It was better not to look down.

I could hear footsteps in the stairwell. Lyle and his partner probably hadn’t had time to try Mr. Singh’s butter chicken.

“Look, Boss,” I heard Lyle say as he trudged into the office, “we were just downstairs.”

Mr. Morgan’s words came out like a hiss. “You know what a bird like that is worth. One of you was supposed to stay with him at all times. That was our agreement.”

The voices came closer as the three men headed for the back room. I stepped away from the window.

“The bird’s fine,” said the guy whose name I didn’t know. “Hey, there are seeds on the bottom of the cage. Guess he got his appetite back.”

That seemed to please Mr. Morgan. “Good timing. The bird needs his energy. He leaves for Paris this afternoon.”

Paris? They couldn’t take Elmo all the way to Paris!

Lyle whistled. “That bird’s got the life.”

“His buyer’s in Paris. Luckily I was able to arrange a new deal.” It sounded as if Mr. Morgan was clapping his hands—applauding himself. “Our job ends once he lands at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Lyle, you and I leave in ten minutes. There’s a van outside. Steve, Lyle will be back for you after he drops us off at the airport. In the meantime, get rid of all traces of the bird.”

I scanned the parking lot. A gray van was parked near the office building.

Just then, I heard another whistle. This one came from the ground. “Shh,” I said, mouthing the word when I saw Rodney.

It was too late. Lyle had heard him too. “Something going on out there?” Lyle walked over to the window until he was so close, I could hear him breathe. Whatever you do, don’t look outside, I thought.

“It’s probably just some bird,” Steve said. Lyle stepped away. I’d been so nervous that for a few seconds, I’d forgotten to breathe.

I started climbing down the scaffolding. It was like a jungle gym, only harder because the bars were farther apart.

When I reached the ground, Rodney sighed so loud you’d think he was the one who’d been climbing.

I didn’t have time to catch my breath. “They’ve got Elmo. You call nine-one-one right now,” I told Rodney. “Give them that van’s license number.” I pointed toward the back of the gray van. “L-Q-Z one-two-four. Got that, Phantom?”

Rodney repeated the number like it was a secret password.

“Phone from Tandoori Palace,” I said.

The van was locked. I ducked behind a nearby convertible and did something that’s really hard for me. I waited.

My mind was racing. But I knew one thing: Now that I’d found Elmo, there was no way I was going to lose him again.

I heard Mr. Morgan before I saw him. “Put that bag of cement in my van, Lyle,” he said. I peeked out from behind the convertible. Lyle looked as mean as I’d imagined. His eyes were close set, like a bug’s.

Lyle’s arms were wrapped around a bag, and he stumbled as if he was carrying something heavy. I knew it was an act. That wasn’t a bag of cement. It was Elmo. They’d wrapped his cage in paper.

Mr. Morgan unlocked the van doors and popped open the back. Then he opened the other doors. “With this heat, we’d better air out the car,” he said loudly. In a lower voice, he added, “I don’t want that bird getting heatstroke. I don’t want to lose my investment.” I clenched my fists. An investment. That’s all Elmo was to him.

Mr. Morgan walked to the back of the van. He drummed his fingers on the roof as Lyle put Elmo inside.

I had to move quickly.

“Not so close to the window,” Mr. Morgan told Lyle.

I thought I heard a squawk, but the sound was drowned out as a jet passed overhead. This was my chance to make a dash for the backseat.

There was a flannel blanket on the floor. Once I was in the van, I threw the blanket over me.

Perfect. Mr. Morgan and Lyle hadn’t noticed a thing. They were too busy arguing. “Not so close to the air conditioning vents,” Mr. Morgan said.

“I know what I’m doin’.”

“If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t have left the bird alone.”

“Want me to drive?”

Mr. Morgan threw Lyle the keys.

I made my next move when the two of them got into the van. I hopped over the backseat into the back of the van. The flannel blanket came with me.

A few seconds later, we were heading to the airport. When Lyle turned on the radio, Mr. Morgan shut it off.

“You got something against techno?” Lyle asked.

I was glad they were arguing again. The more they argued, the less chance they’d notice they had an extra passenger along for the ride.

I had to find some way to get Elmo and me out of the van. Maybe Lyle would stop for gas.

I wanted to put my hand on Elmo’s cage to let him know I was there. Of course, I couldn’t. Instead I thought about Elmo—and what a great escape artist he was. What would he do if he were me?

Elmo loved unlatching things. If he were me, he’d figure out how to unlatch the back door of the van.

We were still on the side streets leading to the highway. If I wanted to escape with Elmo, I had to do it soon.

I wriggled over to the back door. Lyle and Mr. Morgan had begun arguing about money. “If you cut a new deal,” Lyle said, “Steve and I should get more too.”

I reached for the inside handle and unlocked the back door of the van. Then I wedged a corner of the blanket under the door.

Now all I had to do was wait for the right moment.

“We had an agreement,” Mr. Morgan told Lyle.

There was just enough blanket to cover me. I positioned one leg so when the timing was right, I could kick open the back door.

We were nearly at the ramp for the highway. I reached for Elmo’s cage, keeping my arms under the blanket.

When Elmo squawked, I froze. I didn’t want to imagine what Mr. Morgan and Lyle would do if they found me in the van.

I felt Mr. Morgan turn his head. “What’s going on back there?”

“We haven’t finished discussing money,” Lyle said, hitting the brakes. The van screeched to a stop.

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

I thought this had to be the last stoplight before the highway. I bent my knee in toward my chest, and then I stretched out and kicked open the back door. I grabbed Elmo’s cage.

There were cars everywhere. But what I remember noticing most was the blue sky and the sound of a police siren behind us.