Trapped!

  Praise for VANISHED!

  2018 EDGAR AWARD WINNER

  “As in Framed! (2016), fast brain- and footwork saves the day at the last moment, but watching Florian wow everyone . . . with Holmes-style connecting of dots along the way is just as satisfying. A splendid whodunit: cerebral, exhilarating, low in violence, methodical in construction, and occasionally hilarious.” —Kirkus Reviews, starred review

  Praise for FRAMED!

  2017 EDGAR AWARD NOMINEE

  2016 PARENTS’ CHOICE AWARD WINNER

  “Mystery buffs and fans of Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider series are in for a treat. . . . With elements of Alex Rider, James Bond, and Sherlock Holmes stories, this is likely to be popular with mystery and action/adventure fans.” —School Library Journal

  “What stands out is the portrayal of Florian’s and Margaret’s intelligence, their close friendship, and athlete Margaret’s sports prowess. Refreshingly, the adults aren’t portrayed as completely clueless; they are respectful of the kids’ crime-solving abilities, even though the preteen sleuths, as they realize themselves, are not infallible. Young readers will enjoy this first caper in a projected series.” —Booklist

  “The real draws here are the two resourceful leads’ solid, realistic friendship, bolstered by snappy dialogue, brisk pacing, and well-crafted ancillary characters—not to mention behind-the-scenes glimpses of the FBI. More escapades are promised in this improbable but satisfying series starter.” —Kirkus Reviews

  “Florian resembles a young Sherlock Holmes, and together he and Margaret use the TOAST technique to prove that things are not always as they first appear. This book will grab readers from the first page with its witty characters and nonstop action.” —School Library Connection

  “TOAST—the Theory of All Small Things—leads to a great big, hugely fun, ginormously exciting thrill ride of a mystery!” —Chris Grabenstein, New York Times bestselling author of Mr. Lemoncello’s Library

  “Framed! is an enormously fun, deviously clever novel. It has everything you could possibly want in a book: intriguing characters, surprising plot twists, an excellent mystery, action, suspense and plenty of humor. I wish I’d written it myself. Florian Bates is a fantastic protagonist, a worthy—and dare I say smarter—successor to Sherlock Holmes and Encyclopedia Brown. I look forward to many more adventures with him.” —Stuart Gibbs, New York Times bestselling author of the Spy School series

  “Clever, touching, and a ton of fun—Florian is my new favorite twelve-year-old spy!” —Wendy Mass, New York Times bestselling author of The Candymakers and the Willow Falls books

  “Florian Bates is awesome! I want him to be my best friend and solve the mystery of all my missing stuff.” —Liesl Shurtliff, author of Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin

  “This book is a delight from beginning to end. Lots of twisty clever fun with a healthy dose of danger. Move over, Encyclopedia Brown—Florian Bates is on the case!” —Lisa Graff, author of A Tangle of Knots

  “Framed! is a captivating mystery where relatable characters string you along to a surprise ending. Readers will have fun picking out the little clues and piecing them together to solve the big case. Ponti has created a fascinating story that will make you value the power of simple observation.” —Tyler Whitesides, author of the Janitors series

  For librarians everywhere: Without you, our world would be so much smaller. You are my rock stars.

  1.

  Geek Mythology

  YOU CAN’T JUDGE A BOOK by its cover.

  My name’s Florian Bates, and if you looked at me, you’d see a twelve-year-old boy and think, Seventh grader. And while that wouldn’t be wrong, it wouldn’t begin to tell you the whole story. For example, it wouldn’t tell you that, in addition to doing homework and mowing the lawn, my list of chores typically includes solving cases as a consulting detective with the FBI’s Special Projects Team.

  And if you looked at the copy of Albert Einstein’s Relativity that was checked out from the Tenley-Friendship branch of the DC Public Library nine days ago, you’d think, Science book. (Okay, first you might look at the picture of Einstein on the cover and wonder how he got his hair to look that way, but then you’d think, Science book.) However, you’d never guess that the book triggered an international incident involving a Russian spy ring, the theft of national treasures, a European crime syndicate, and a joint task force of the FBI, CIA, and National Security Agency.

  And finally, if you looked at our plan to break into the Library of Congress, evade its state-of-the-art security system, and somehow find the single piece of information necessary to solve our case, you’d think my best friend—Margaret—and I were absolutely bonkers.

  Okay, so sometimes you can judge a book by its cover.

  The plan was totally nuts.

  To be honest, it wasn’t so much a plan as it was a list of nearly impossible objectives with no idea how to accomplish them. We knew it was bad. We just couldn’t come up with anything better. We had to unmask a spy who’d spent decades as a deep-cover agent stealing US government secrets. But more important, we had to help Marcus.

  Marcus Rivers was in charge of the Special Projects Team. But he wasn’t just our boss; he was family. He was also an amazing agent who never once hesitated to risk his life and his career to protect us. It was our turn to return the favor.

  At some point during the case, we slipped up and the spy used our mistake to make it look like Marcus was guilty of theft, corruption, and espionage. Marcus who’d spent his entire career fighting criminals was now accused of being one.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  “You’re the mastermind,” I said to Margaret as we approached the library. “What are we going to do?”

  “Get inside, find the evidence, and prove Marcus is innocent,” she said.

  I gave her a sideways glance. “You have any specific details about how we should do those things?”

  She shrugged. “I figured we’d just make it up as we went along.”

  Like I said, absolutely bonkers.

  OBJECTIVE 1:

  Crash the “It’s All About the Books” Gala at the Library of Congress

  First, we had to get inside the library by crashing a gala reception in the Great Hall of the Thomas Jefferson Building. When we arrived, there were about fifty people in tuxedos and gowns waiting to pass through security.

  “How are we going to do this?” I asked.

  “Clothes and confidence,” Margaret answered as if that were a complete sentence.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I looked up ‘crashing a formal party’ online, and it said the two most important things were clothes and confidence. You’ve got to dress like you belong and act like you belong.”

  Between my tuxedo and Margaret’s dress, we had the clothes part covered. It was the confidence component that had me worried.

  “Speaking of clothes,” she said. “Why do you have a tux?”

  “Because it’s a formal event,” I answered, stating the obvious.

  “No. Not why are you wearing it. Why do you have it in the first place? What twelve-year-old owns a tuxedo?”

  I couldn’t believe it. “Let me get this straight. You’re giving me a hard time for having something we need?”

  “I’m not giving you a hard time,” she said. “I just think it’s a little . . . unusual. Call me curious.”

  “Both my parents work in museums,” I explained. “I’ve been dragged to more fund-raisers and exhibition openings than I can remember. They’re usually formal events like this one, so they bought me a tux.”

  “Okay, that makes sense,” she said. “It’s also good news. Since you’ve been to a lot of these things, you should fit right in.”

&n
bsp; “Well, there’s one big difference between those events and this one.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We had invitations.”

  She gave me a conspiratorial smile and said, “You’re not going to let a little piece of paper stop us from solving the mystery and saving Marcus, are you?”

  She always knew what to say to get me to go along with her schemes. “No, I’m not,” I answered. “Let’s do this.”

  There were two lines with security guards manning metal detectors. At the head of each line was a woman with a computer tablet checking invitations. One of the women looked to be in her mid-twenties and wore a black cocktail dress and very high heels. The other wore a longer dress with shoes that were nice but more comfortable. She also had a wedding band on her ring finger.

  “The odds are better that the one on the right is a mom,” I said. “That might mean she’s nicer to kids.”

  “True,” answered Margaret. “But the one on the left is more likely to think all kids are stupid.”

  “Good point,” I said as we got into the line on the left.

  During an FBI training session called Outsmarting Your Opponent, we were taught that the biggest advantage you can have is for the other side to underestimate your abilities.

  “When she asks for our invitations, we’ll tell her our moms have them but are already inside.”

  “If our mothers are inside, then why are we out here?” I asked.

  “That’s where the stupid comes in.” Margaret suddenly adopted the voice of an airheaded middle schooler who spoke in endless run-on sentences. “I was texting my friend Maddie about the party but I had trouble getting good reception so I started walking around trying to get more bars but it just got worse and worse so I went through a door and accidentally got locked outside. OMG, my mom’s going to kill me if she finds out.”

  “Do people really think kids talk that way?” I asked.

  “I’m counting on it,” Margaret said.

  “And why am I outside if you were the one on the phone?” I asked.

  “You’re my best friend. You go wherever I go.”

  “So we’re both stupid.”

  “That’s the plan unless you’ve got a better one,” she said.

  I exhaled slowly. “Tragically, I don’t.”

  We were about halfway through the line when she realized we had a potential problem. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” I asked nervously.

  “She’ll probably want a name to check against the guest list. We’ll need some TOAST help on that.”

  TOAST stands for the Theory of All Small Things. It is the method we use to read people and situations in order to solve cases. The idea is that if you look for little details, you can add them up to discover otherwise hidden pieces of information. At the moment we needed the names of two potential “mothers” who were already inside the gala.

  “I got it covered,” I said.

  I pulled out my phone and started searching.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Looking on social media for any pictures tagged with that.” I pointed to a banner that read, #ITSALLABOUTTHEBOOKS.

  “Oh, that’s kind of brilliant,” she said as she did likewise.

  Even though the party was barely an hour old, there were already dozens of photos to scroll through of people inside having fun.

  “Find one posted by someone with an unusual name,” I said. “It’ll seem less likely that we made it up. Also, find out where they work in case that’s included on the guest list.”

  By the time we reached the front of the line, we were ready to go. Margaret’s airhead act worked like a charm, and when asked, I became the son of a kids’ book publisher named Mara Anastas. I even spelled it out for her so that she could find it on her tablet.

  “See what I mean,” Margaret said as we walked through the entrance. “Clothes and confidence.”

  OBJECTIVE 2:

  Avoid Detection While Sneaking into the Library’s Secure Area

  It was amazing how different the Great Hall looked compared to when we’d come during normal hours. Multicolored lights gave it a party feel, and giant reproductions of famous book covers were hung as decorations. People mingled in clusters while a jazz quartet played on a stage.

  A waiter walked past us carrying a tray of finger food, which caught Margaret’s attention. “Ooh, those look delicious.”

  “We’re working a case,” I reminded her, “not going to a party.”

  She gave me that Margaret smirk. “Actually, we’re blending in at a party so that we can work the case. Besides, if I pass out from starvation, that will attract even more attention.”

  She chased after the waiter, and I scanned the room. Now that we were inside, we needed to find the computer server. The library had an automated system that kept detailed records of its secure areas. If we could access them, we thought we could prove Marcus’s innocence.

  Margaret returned carrying a little plate with two toothpick skewers of beef. “The waiter said it’s called bulgogi, and it’s amazing,” she said as she tasted one. “I think it’s Korean.”

  “Is that one for me?” I asked, pointing to the untouched skewer.

  “I thought you said we weren’t at a party.”

  “Well, now I’m worried about passing out due to starvation.”

  She reluctantly held up the second skewer, and I snatched it before she could change her mind. It was delicious.

  “You’re right,” I said between chews. “We’ve got to track him down and get more.”

  “No, no, no,” she said. “This is not good.”

  “What do you mean? It tastes great.”

  “Not the food,” she replied. “Him.”

  She nodded over my shoulder, and I turned to see one of our suspects about fifteen feet from us. It was Alistair Toombs, the director of the library’s Rare Book and Special Collections Division. Luckily, he was facing the other way. We had a run-in with him earlier during the case and couldn’t risk being seen.

  We worked our way to the opposite side of the room and tried to disappear into the crowd of people milling around chitchatting.

  “We’ve got to find the server room fast,” I said as I studied the building’s layout, trying to logically deduce where it should be. “It has to be cool and dry, which means it won’t have any exterior walls. Humidity can seep through those. They’d also stay away from the lower basement to avoid potential flooding. As far as wiring . . .”

  “I hate to interrupt your little Sherlock moment,” Margaret said. “But it might be quicker if we just follow him.”

  Next to the stage a computer tech was making adjustments to the audio and lighting boards. He looked like he was just out of college. As soon as he was done, he took his tool kit and left.

  “Change of plans,” I said. “Let’s follow him.”

  The guy led us back across the room before he got into an elevator labeled STAFF ONLY. After the doors closed, we rushed over to watch the display to see where he got off.

  “Two floors down,” said Margaret. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “Yeah, except we’re not getting anywhere on that elevator. At least, not without a key card.”

  The call button was attached to a card reader.

  “Not a problem,” she said. “We’ll just hang around here until somebody gets off the elevator. Then we’ll slip in before the doors shut.”

  It was a good plan. At least until Alistair Toombs spotted us. Because we’d followed the computer tech, we were no longer hidden in the crowd. I could tell by Toombs’s expression that he recognized us. He looked angry and was headed our way.

  Luckily, at that moment the elevator dinged, and the door opened. We had to wait for a man as he struggled to push an oversized catering cart. We helped him by giving it a tug, and by the time he was finally gone, Toombs had almost reached us. We jumped into the elevator and pushed the buttons as quickly as we could.

&n
bsp; “Wait one moment!” Toombs called out as the doors finally closed and we began to descend.

  “We’re not going to have much time before he takes the next elevator down and starts chasing us,” said Margaret.

  When the doors opened, we hurried out into the hallway. We didn’t want to run because it might attract attention, but we did our best speed walking.

  “What are we looking for?” Margaret asked in a hurried whisper.

  “Any place we can hide,” I said.

  Down here the building showed its age. Over the course of 120 years, it had been built and rebuilt so many times the hallways and storage rooms were mazelike in their complexity. The good part was that that would make it harder for Alistair to find us. The bad part was that it meant it would be difficult for us to find our way around.

  When we heard the ding announcing the elevator’s return, we picked up the pace even more. We just kept making turn after turn until we ran into a dead end. Behind us we could hear Alistair’s footsteps in the distance. We had three doors to choose from. Amazingly, one was marked COMPUTERS.

  Margaret and I shared a smile. Fate had shined on us.

  “Better lucky than smart,” she whispered.

  We slipped into the darkened room as quietly as we could and closed the door tightly behind us. We didn’t dare turn on the lights for fear he’d be able to see the glow under the door.

  We could hear him getting closer.

  More frightening, we could tell that he was trying each door along the way. Most of them were locked, and we heard the rattle of the handles.

  “What do we do?” I asked. “Hide?”

  Next to the door was a small electronic display that had a keypad and a glowing red button marked LOCK.

  I pressed it, and we heard a click.

  I cringed at the sound, hoping it wasn’t too loud.

  We stood silently in the darkness. Through the space underneath the door, we could see a pair of shoes come to a stop. On the other side, Toombs jiggled the handle, but it didn’t budge. He tried again, but it still didn’t open. Finally he went on his way.

  We remained motionless for at least two minutes, and all I heard were Margaret’s slow, measured breaths.