Secret Weapons by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Read Free Book Online Page A

suddenly froze. And then the short, round-headed guy turned around—and he froze too.
    The tall terrorist moved first. Putting down the big backpack, he strolled around the van, slowly and casually as if he was trying to act extra relaxed and unconcerned. When he was standing right next to the short, round-headed guy he began to talk. Ari couldn’t hear what they were saying but after a minute the short guy strolled, also casually, back to the back of the van, closed the doors, and then came on down the sidewalk. Down the sidewalk toward where the clump of kids were still standing.
    Nobody moved. At least nobody turned and ran down the street, although it did occur to Ari that it might not be a bad idea. Instead they all just squeezed into a tighter clump.
    When the short, round-headed guy had almost reached them he stopped suddenly and looked up, and did a kind of surprise thing, as if he’d just noticed that they were there.
    “Well, well. Hello there, gang,” he said in a friendly voice. A too-friendly voice, Ari thought. “What’s up? You playing some sort of neighborhood game? Hey, I remember neighborhood games that we played when I was a kid. Kick the can and things like that. Bet that’s it. Bet you’re playing some sort of a game.”
    “Who are you?”
    From where he was standing at the back of the pack, Ari couldn’t see who’d said it, but it sounded like Kate. A little squeakier than usual, maybe, but definitely a Kate kind of remark. Just a flat-out “Who are you?” to anybody she wanted to say it to. Even a terrorist.
    “Who am I?” The round-headed guy laughed a too-loud laugh. “Nobody important. We’re just old friends of the people who live here. The Andersons? Just old friends of the Andersons’.”
    “The Andersons aren’t home.” This time it was definitely Eddy’s voice. And then Bucky’s and a couple of others, saying things like, “Yeah, they’re not home.” “They went to the mountains.” “To Tahoe.”
    “Is that right?” The round-headed terrorist did another “big surprise” act. “Well, I guess I must have gotten my calendar mixed up. I was sure Mr. Anderson said I should come over this afternoon. Well, what do you know.” Reaching in his jacket pocket, he pulled out a little notebook and leafed through it. Looking at his calendar—or pretending to.
    Pretending to, Ari thought, and suddenly he felt sure of it. The guy was pretending about the calendar. And probably about a lot of other stuff too—like being an old friend of the Andersons’.
    Ari watched closely as the guy put away his notebook and with the same computer-graphic type smile said, “By golly. What do you know. You kids are right. Guess we’ll just have to come back later when the Andersons get home.”
    The short terrorist turned around then and went back to where the tall one was waiting beside the van. He said something short and snappy to the other guy and then they both got in the van and drove away. And everybody just stood there watching them go.

Chapter 11
    W HEN THE BIG, POWERFUL-LOOKING black van pulled away and silently moved off toward Castle Avenue, the whole bunch of kids oozed in the same direction, drifting on around the cul-de-sac circle to where they could watch it disappear.
    Ari went, too, although he was still staying at the back of the pack and keeping his mouth shut so as not to attract anyone’s attention. Like Bucky’s, for instance.
    They had drifted almost to Prince Field when Bucky said, “Well, there they go. Did we scare those dudes off, or what?”
    “I don’t know,” Carlos said. “I guess we did. But who were they? That’s what I want to know.”
    “Yeah,” Eddy said. “Like, maybe they really are just some old friends of the Andersons’.” He laughed. “Some old friends of the Andersons’ who think they’ve got some pretty weird-acting kids living in their cul-de-sac.”
    “Yes.” Carlos started grinning too. “Kids who stand around in a bunch