"Dammit, Brown!" Matthew cursed. "I never signed on for the kids to be involved! When I agreed to help you out, you mentioned that the kids would never, could never, know about this spy ring. Now, you're suggesting that they be a part of things. It's too risky."

"It's your call, Matthew. In the end, it's your call. But they won't be a part of it. Not at all. We need you on this one. You have an apartment; your kids are clamoring to host their friends. It's the perfect cover because it gives you every reason in the world to be at the Rockefeller center treating your kids and their friends to a meal. No one will ever suspect you're making a drop."

"There's no way my place will hold all those kids. You seem to have forgotten we're talking about teenagers. Teenage boys in particular have raging hormones, and instead of the four I already have to contend with, we're adding two more into the mix. There's no way in hell those boys are staying in my apartment with my daughter and her friends. It's not that I don't trust them, it's just that I remember what I was like when I was fifteen or sixteen. A couple of them are seventeen. They're responsible enough, but there's no point in tempting them. One late night encounter in the bathroom and next thing you know …." He didn't need to finish. They both knew the implications.

"Oh, hell Wheeler, just bring your governess, isn't that what she's for? Not to mention, you can be with them part of the time, if it helps you feel better. I'm just saying you need an iron clad reason to be at Rockefeller Center that night, and I can't think of a better reason than being there with your kids and their friends. Host the group in the city, and then go to work each day. They can explore the city, and that one night, just be clear you're taking them all to dinner, and while you're at it, you should be able to make the drop. No one will be the wiser."

Matthew pushed a hand through his ruddy hair, wondering, not for the first time, how he had ever let himself be convinced to become a part of this. Mr. Brown had preyed on his sense of patriotism and duty to country: the time he'd been at West Point, and the few years he'd been in the military before he had to resign his commission. He contemplated the mission and finally nodded. "Very well, but don't ask me to involve these kids. It's not right to put them in any danger."

"No, it's not," Mr. Brown agreed. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The day is coming Matthew, when one of those kids is going to be our next recruit. You know it and I know it. Hell, we're not even the only two operatives that know it. Every person involved in our New York ring has mentioned her name to me. It's just a matter of time."

Matthew groaned and dropped his head into his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know it. But not now. She's too young."

 

 

"I understand, sir." Margery Trask was her usual professional and brisk self. "But that is the same week Mrs. Wheeler gave me time off to take care of my sister. She may have mentioned to you that my sister Doris is having a procedure that week and it's not something that can be postponed or rescheduled."

Matthew winced. He'd pulled everything together for his kids. Everything. Planning with his Manhattan neighbor to use their apartment for the boys, while the neighbor and his wife spent their summer in the Hamptons. Then working out a detailed schedule for the entire week that culminated in him playing host to a late-night dinner at Rockefeller Center where he could make the drop. He also managed to add a completely legitimate business trip to Washington DC for Wheeler International to his schedule to avoid any suspicion about his work and cover story. Everything was in place and now Marge reminded him of her time off.

There was no doubt he had agreed that she could be off, but there was no way he could allow those kids to be in the city unsupervised.

"You don't plan to stay at the hospital with her day and night, do you?" he finally asked. "Could you come back to our apartment to sleep and keep a general eye on things? The kids are old enough they don't need constant supervision. I'd just be more comfortable if there were an adult around to monitor things. There will be six teenage boys hanging around my daughter and her friends. Trust me, I know what a sixteen-year-old boy is thinking, and the girls aren't oblivious to them."

Miss Trask nodded her head. "They've never shown any sign …" she began.

"But they have," Matthew interrupted. "It wasn't on your watch, but you must know about that damn bracelet that Jim gave to Trixie after the trip last spring. This is going to be that same group of kids and we need to …" He threw his pen down on the desk. "Oh hell, we need to do whatever we can to slow their roll."

"I see," she said. "But with all due respect, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to put the brakes on teenage hormones, nor am I at all certain how much longer you can expect things not to heat up again." Her eyebrows went up in skepticism.

"Jim promised to wait until she was sixteen," Matthew replied. "There will be no individual dating until the girls are all sixteen. Jim promised me and Peter both, and Peter Belden assured me that he would have a similar conversation with his own sons. However, we're bringing those Iowa kids back into the situation, and I don't want anyone getting ideas."

"Very well." She hesitated a moment, and Matthew waited, realizing she was about to make a suggestion.

"If there is no need for me to be around during these various activities, I don't see why I can't supervise at night, at the various evening meals. Make sure they aren't out too late, and that everyone stays together in one group."

"You could do that and take care of your sister?" He dared to hope there was a solution after all.

"Yes, I believe that I could. Visiting hours end at seven and I'll be required to leave the hospital at that time each day. Doris will be in the hospital and I'm there to advocate for her health as well as keep her company. If you have no problem with me leaving early each morning and returning each evening, then I'm willing to act as chaperone." She paused before continuing. "Assuming, of course, that this will not count as time off for me, since technically I'll be working."

"Absolutely not," he agreed hastily. There was no point in even trying to argue that she wouldn't be working, probably more than she envisioned.

 

 

It had been a bad idea from the start. He had tried to tell Brown, but the man wouldn't listen. Trixie had gotten embroiled in a mystery, just as he'd warned. To protect Trixie, the Bob-Whites, and their friends from Iowa, he'd taken the idol from her earlier that day. The decision to keep the idol with him for safe-keeping backfired. That one simple decision to retrieve the idol from his pocket made him the mark of international jewel thieves.

He was stupid to pull the idol out at the restaurant never thinking something so simple could compromise his mission for Brown. Sliding his hand into his pocket to retrieve the idol let the thieves know exactly where the idol was. All they had to do was use an age-old, but effective, pickpocket trick. In the moments that followed the simple jostle of his arm it felt as if all eyes in the restaurant focused on him and his party as they searched for that damn idol. All he could think of was he had endangered the mission and jeopardized completing the pass.

Fortunately, everything came together as the maitre d'hotel arrived.

"Ladies and gentlemen …"

He almost froze. That was the code phrase. His mission transpired in mere moments as he discretely pulled out a few bills to pass along to the man with the other information in the middle.

The maitre d'hotel continued. "Is there something I can do to help?"

Acknowledgement. Matthew understood. The pass was complete.

"Not a thing," he replied more tersely than he intended. But those three words ended the assignment and the maître d disappeared.

Although the mission was accomplished, he still had to contend with the disappearance of the idol. Trixie Belden had managed to drop a completely different and unrelated mystery in his lap, and he owed it to Trixie to help her out. Taking her with him, he asked Jim to take over as host and the two of them went to notify the local police.

"I'll call the police," he told her when they arrived at the phone. "I know the number, and we should both know it by this time. Now calm down, Trixie. We're doing the only thing I know to try and get your statue back."

When they finally returned to the table, Matthew was too weary to try and explain to the wide-eyed kids; they were completely enthralled over their adventure unfolding around the mysterious idol.

They have no idea, he thought to himself. As the exchange continued, all about the prophecy again, and a blinking eye, his mind wandered, and he tuned out most of the surrounding conversation until he heard Margery speak for the second time.

"A person can twist words to get almost any meaning out of them he wants," she said. "Right now, you're endowing that little idol with qualities no one ever noticed before."

"Miss Trask is dead right," he interjected. "Suppose we eat dinner. Let's descend from fancy to fact before everything gets cold. We'll let our fine local law enforcement take its course."

He picked up his fork and poked at his cold meal. His eyes surveyed the table as the kids kept talking. Miss Trask's eyes were fixed on her own plate, and she did not look his way.

A person can twist words to get almost any meaning out of them he wants. He repeated what she'd said in his head. Was she talking about the prophecy? Or was she talking about the exchange of code words between himself and maitre d'? He shook his head. He was already becoming paranoid, doing exactly what Marge had said, twisting words to give them a different meaning.

Matthew was aroused from his reverie when the girl, one of the Iowa twins, spoke. "We've just got to know how it all turns out."

"We may never know," he spoke quickly. He would absolutely head off any suggestion from his daughter that the kids stay over. The sooner they were all back to Sleepyside and Westchester County, the better. But damn if Brown hadn't been right at the beginning of all of this. Trixie Belden had a nose for solving mysteries and his own daughter was only half-a-step behind. He suppressed a sigh and wondered what the future would hold for all of them.