Free Double Vision by F. T. Bradley Page A

here.”
    â€œWe’ll see.” I felt a little guilty fighting over some bet when Amy’s life was on the line—even more so now that the bad guy had a bomb. Still, I couldn’t wait to see what was inside the package. And I had to hurry if I was going to be on time to pick it up. “I guess we better get back to work.”
    We came to the basement, where Ben split off with Stark. Wilson and the president went their way.
    Leaving me with some buff Secret Service guy who escorted me to my ride. I passed through the giant pillars and was on my way out through the North Portico when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
    I turned around and looked at a tall guy in a dark blue suit with a little shine to it. He smiled, flashing super-white teeth.
    â€œUm, sorry,” I said.
    â€œNo need to apologize,” the guy said, and he stepped back. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
    Uh-oh. “Really?”
    â€œYou’re Benjamin Green, aren’t you?”

18
TUESDAY, 9 P.M.
46 HOURS UNTIL THE BOMB
    WHEN SOMEONE IN A SUIT SAYS THEY’VE been looking for you, it can only mean one thing. You’re in trouble.
    But I knew I was supposed to protect the whole double secret, so I rolled with the mix-up over who I was. “Yep, that’s me. Benjamin Green.”
    â€œI’m Sidney Ferguson, director of National Intelligence.” He dismissed the buff Secret Service dude who walked me out and motioned to the pillars behind us. “Take a walk with me.”
    â€œSure,” I said. I really had to go get the package, but Ferguson didn’t look like the kind of guy who takes no for an answer. “What’s up?”
    â€œI just wanted to ask you how things were going,” Ferguson said. He had his hands clasped behind his back as we walked back the way I came between the white pillars.
    â€œGreat,” I lied.
    He led me back to the Cross Hall and went right. “I hear you’re Albert Black’s top junior agent.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œHow’s that working for you?” Ferguson asked.
    I shrugged. “Fine.”
    â€œHmmm.” Ferguson nodded, and he had a concerned look on his face. “You know, an agent’s career often depends on the leadership they’re under. If you want to get ahead, you need to . . . position yourself.”
    Huh? What was he going on about?
    â€œI worked with Albert Black, long ago,” Ferguson said. “And as you can tell, my career has progressed to director of National Intelligence.” We stopped in front of the East Room. Ferguson looked inside, like he was searching for something. Then we turned back around.
    I was beginning to get what this was about. Ferguson was the popular kid in school—or in this case, at the White House. “You’re saying Albert Black is a loser.”
    Ferguson laughed. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’m Benjamin Green.”
    Ferguson got all serious again. “All I’m saying is that Albert Black is not who he appears to be. I would hate to see a young promising agent like you get caught in his web of lies.”
    We’d left the Cross Hall and were back in the North Portico. “Isn’t Black on your team, CIA and all?” I asked.
    Ferguson didn’t answer my question. He dug into his pocket and took out a business card. “Albert Black may have used a favor to get himself inside the White House. However, he’s not who he seems.” Ferguson handed me his card.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do with this?”
    â€œCall me when you find out the truth and decide to get on the right team.” He stepped closer. “I wouldn’t mention our talk to anyone.”
    â€œWhy not?” Usually, when an adult tells you to keep a secret, it’s bad news. Unless it involves a birthday present or something.
    â€œFor your sake, Agent Green.” And Ferguson turned