Double Vision by F. T. Bradley

Mona Lisa .”
    â€œBut you don’t.” Henry smiled. “Nice bluff.”
    Agent Stark said, “Benjamin Green was supposed to trade the phony evil Mona Lisa for Jacques Mégère in an exchange with Drake. The deal is so big, Drake’s coming himself.”
    â€œWhy Ben?” I asked.
    â€œHe’s a kid,” Fullerton said, like it all made sense.
    â€œThey’re less likely to shoot him,” Henry added as explanation.
    Fullerton looked at me. “That’s where you come in as our Benjamin Green double.”
    I felt better already.
    Agent Stark turned the projector off. “Your objective is to get Jacques Mégère back. And that’s your only objective. Once we have him, we’ll get him to tell us where the Dangerous Double is, so we can neutralize the threat.”
    â€œHow do you do that?” Henry asked.
    Agent Stark got up. “There’s only one way. We destroy the evil Mona Lisa .”

11
PLACE: CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT
(THAT’S IN PARIS)
    TIME: TUESDAY, 7 A.M.
    STATUS: JETLAGGED
    RIGHT AFTER OUR BRIEFING, HENRY WAS whisked away to his lab on the other end of the plane, to invent tech stuff for me to use. Whatever that was. The agents were busy pounding the keys of their laptops or talking on the phone. The only thing I had to keep me busy was a classified file of Ben facts with funky-tasting lasagna and a turkey sandwich for dinner or lunch, depending on the time zone you chose.
    Sometime during the flight, I used the phone in the armrest to call home so I could hear a friendly voice. But instead, I got Grandpa.
    â€œWhere are Mom and Dad?” I asked.
    â€œYou’re mom’s at work, and I think George is working on his shop finances. Listen, Linc, do you know how to turn the answering machine off? There’s this fellow with that lawyer’s office, whatsit—”
    â€œZachary Quinn.”
    â€œI know his name,” Grandpa snapped. “He’s been calling about our bank statements or some such, and I’m tired of hearing about it.”
    â€œJust hit the off button, Grandpa.”
    â€œOkay.” And he hung up on me.
    After my call, I tried to nap, but all I could think about was evil paintings, Zachary Quinn, and this bad guy Drake.
    What if Jacques Mégère caved and told him where the painting was?
    And how bad was this guy Drake, exactly? Would he believe I was Benjamin Green at the exchange? What was going on at home with the lawsuit—now this lawyer wanted to see how much money Mom and Dad have? Definitely not a million bucks.
    By the time we landed at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris that Tuesday morning, we’d been on the plane for over ten hours, and I was tired. Henry and Agent Fullerton left together so they could clear customs with Henry’s gear and move his lab to the hotel. I got stuck with Agent Stark.
    â€œChange your watch,” Agent Stark said as she fixed hers while we waited in line at customs. “It’s seven a.m., Tuesday.”
    â€œWait—we lost a day?” I adjusted my watch. “What a rip-off.”
    â€œWelcome to international travel.”
    Lights in the arrival hall were way too bright. People were rushing everywhere, and they didn’t seem one bit concerned about pushing me out of the way. Some kid in a hooded sweatshirt bumped into me without even apologizing. I turned to say something, but he took off too fast.
    Agent Stark rushed down the airport hall to get outside. The November wind was cold, especially when you consider that I’m a California kid. I was about to dig into my suitcase of Ben stuff for an extra sweater when a taxi drove straight for me. I jumped out of the way. “Hey, now,” I said, too tired to yell.
    The black taxi came to an abrupt stop, parked all crooked. “Bonjour!” A tall skinny man with a big nose got out of the small car. If it weren’t for the Taxi Parisienne sign on the roof,