Mr. Lemoncello's Great Library Race Read online

  “Well,” said Abia, “perhaps we should return to the library. I have found that sometimes, in the quest for knowledge, you must go backward before you can move forward.”

  “I guess that’s why they call it research,” said Andrew. “Sometimes you have to re-search for things you might’ve missed the first time you searched.”

  “Riiiight,” said Akimi, rolling her eyes. “That’s why they call it that.”

  “Okay, here’s our big problem,” said Kyle. “I mean besides getting past the cops into the locked library, of course. Where exactly in the library did Mr. Lemoncello store that shoebox?”

  “Easy answer,” said Akimi.

  “Where?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “In the Dewey decimal rooms?”

  “No, I mean Mr. Lemoncello is upstairs. Why don’t we just go up there and ask him?”

  —

  When Kyle and Akimi returned to the second-floor reading room, Mr. Lemoncello had his nose buried in a new book—Unstoppable, a football story by Tim Green.

  “The kids in this gripping gridiron saga never give up,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Very inspirational.”

  “We won’t give up, either,” said Kyle. “But we need to know where you stored your backup material for your very first patent. The one for Family Frenzy.”

  “In the library.”

  “Is it in the Art and Artifacts Room?” asked Akimi.

  “Oh, no. That would be far too showy.”

  “So it’s in the Lemoncello-abilia Room?”

  “Oh, no. Too pretentious. You see, friends, I am a modest man. That’s why I did not want a holographic exhibit about me until Dr. Zinchenko’s mother insisted. The patent and all its supporting paraphernalia are downstairs. In the basement. In the stacks.”

  “Do you know where?” asked Kyle.

  “Yes. The shoebox is in a carton. A cardboard carton.”

  “Can you be a little more vague?” cracked Akimi.

  “You’re right. I should be better organized. You might ask Miguel or Andrew. They moved a lot of those old cartons around a couple weeks ago—all the papers from my early years in the game-making game. Back when the Imagination Factory wasn’t even a full-fledged idea. It was more of an inkling, which, by the way, is not a small pen.”

  “Okay,” said Kyle, “we’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To sneak into your library!”

  “I see. Do you have a permission slip?”

  “Nope. But we’re going to do it anyway!”

  “Oh-kay,” Akimi said to Kyle. “Now you’ve completely flipped your lid. We’re going to go all ninja-slash–Mission: Impossible and break into the heavily guarded library building?”

  “We have to,” said Kyle. “This is the real race. We have to go back to the library, find the proof we need, and show it to the world before the Krinkle brothers find it and destroy it!”

  “Might I offer a suggestion?” said Mr. Lemoncello.

  “Only if it’s ‘quit,’ ” said Akimi.

  “Oh, no. If you quit once, it becomes a habit. Never quit! My new chum Michael Jordan taught me that.”

  “What’s the suggestion?” asked Kyle.

  “While you’re down in the basement, you might also look for a box labeled ‘The Benjamin Bean Affair.’ I never pressed any charges against the Krinkle brothers, even though Max, my lawyer, said we had more than enough evidence. The contents of that particular carton might prove extremely embarrassing to the Krinkle brothers.”

  “It might also show the world who the real thieves and plagiarists are,” said Kyle, his competitive drive kicking into gear big-time.

  “Oh, that would be wondermous,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “It would also be hazardific. The getting-back-into- the-library part, I mean. I feel quite certain Mayor O’Brady has beefed up security.”

  “I don’t care,” said Kyle. “The truth is the truth, and people need to know it.”

  “But how are we going to get into the library?” asked Akimi. “One of those deals where we drop through a skylight in a zip-line harness?”

  Kyle shook his head. “No need. Mr. Lemoncello already gave us the combination to the front door. The same one he uses for everything: R-E-A-D!”

  “Actually,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “Mr. Raymo changed that lock.”

  Once again, Kyle and Akimi were gobsmacked.

  “You don’t know how to open your own front door?” said Kyle.

  “No. Not anymore. You see, once we installed the Nonfictionator, Mr. Raymo insisted that he take over major security issues such as front door lock combinations. As you two have pointed out, I tend to be a little lax in that department.”

  “But Mr. Raymo is working for the Krinkle brothers!”

  Mr. Lemoncello arched a bushy eyebrow. “Kyle Keeley, must you always jump to conclusions?”

  “You mean he isn’t?” said Kyle.

  “What I mean is, like all of us, Mr. Raymo is innocent until proven guilty.”

  “He walked into the building with those oily Krinkle brothers,” said Akimi, throwing up her arms in exasperation. “What more proof do you need?”

  “More than that,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Who’s to say Mr. Raymo isn’t one of my most loyal employees and that he volunteered to risk his life, fortune, and sacred honor to go undercover and keep an eye on the nefarious Krinkle brothers for me?”

  “Seriously?” said Kyle. “He’s still a good guy?”

  “One of the best,” said Mr. Lemoncello proudly. “He may be new to the library, but he has worked for me in New York City for three decades!”

  “Would he let us in?” asked Akimi.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” said Kyle. “Come on, Akimi. We need to find out where Andrew and Miguel stored those cartons!”

  “You guys?” Kyle said to all the others assembled in Mr. Lemoncello’s dining room. “We need to head back to the library and find that shoebox.”

  “Plus some other very important papers,” added Akimi.

  “You better do it soon,” said Elliott, gesturing toward the TV wall. The sound was muted, but Kyle could read the headlines: “Mayor O’Brady Suggests Renaming Former ‘Lemoncello’ Library After His Wife, Bernice. People in Bowling Green, Ohio, Laugh at the Suggestion.”

  “We’re doing it tonight,” said Kyle. “Where’s Andrew?”

  “He went home,” said Sierra. “He said he needed time to figure out what to wear at the gala tomorrow.”

  “Okay, then it’s up to you, Miguel.”

  “Yo, that’s cool. What do I need to do?”

  “Help us find those cartons you and Andrew moved around in the stacks a couple weeks ago. The ones about the early years at the Imagination Factory.”

  “No problem. I remember where we put them. Kind of. Well, you know, sort of. There were a lot of boxes to reorganize.”

  “Just do your best,” said Sierra.

  “Angus?” said Kyle. “Are you in?”

  “Sure. What do I need to do?”

  “Probably something wild and crazy and dangerous,” said Akimi.

  “Awesome.”

  “I would like to go as well,” said Abia.

  “Great,” said Kyle. “Because I was just about to ask you to join the team. When it comes to doing research and finding junk, you’re the best.”

  “Thank you, Kyle Keeley.”

  “We might need some research in Kansas City, too.”

  “I can handle that,” said Katherine. “After all, it’s my hometown.”

  “Great,” said Kyle. “We’ll have Mr. Lemoncello’s corporate jet fly you and Elliott out there. Be sure you both bring your permission slips. And tell your parents where you’re going.”

  “Um, we should probably do the same thing,” said Akimi.

  “Already did,” said Kyle. “Sent them a text saying Mr. Lemoncello was feeling blue so we’re all watching The Sound of Music
with him.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Hey,” said Kyle, “whiskers on kittens can cheer up anybody! You guys might want to text the same thing.”

  Akimi, Miguel, Angus, Abia, Elliott, and Katherine all shrugged, then thumbed their phones.

  Kyle turned to Katherine and Elliott. “While you’re in Missouri, see if you can grab a video interview with an actress named Beth Bennett. You already know her granddaughter Jessica.”

  “We’ll tell this Bennett dame that we know the truth,” said Elliott, still sounding like a TV detective. “Maybe that’ll make her spill the beans!”

  “Beth Bennett is an actress,” said Katherine. “She’ll loooove being in front of a camera again. Don’t worry. She’ll talk.”

  “Awesome,” said Kyle. “Send any media files to my phone.”

  “You got it!”

  “What about the rest of us?” asked Jamal Davis. “We want to help, too.”

  “I know,” said Kyle. “But if too many of us try to sneak into the building tonight, they’ll catch us for sure.”

  “And,” added Akimi, “if we’re busted, you guys need to be plan B.”

  “Cool,” said Pranav. “And what will be plan B?”

  “Something besides what we just tried,” said Kyle. “Because if we need you to go to plan B, that means plan A totally tanked.”

  Pranav nodded. “We’ll be standing by.”

  “Is Mad Dog still outside?” asked Kyle.

  “Yeah,” said Jamal, peering out a window. “His bookmobile is parked in the driveway.”

  “Perfect. We have our ride back to the library.”

  “That’s not going to be too stealthy,” said Miguel. “A big honking bookmobile driving up to the library when everybody knows the place is closed.”

  “Mad Dog can tell whoever asks that he came back because he needed a new load of books. While he’s doing that, we’ll sneak up to the front door.”

  “And how are you guys going to open it?” asked Katherine. “Do you know the combination?”

  “No, but Mr. Raymo will help us with that,” said Kyle. “We hope.”

  “He’s still one of the good guys,” added Akimi. “In fact, he’s one of Mr. Lemoncello’s most loyal employees. He’s just pretending to work for the Krinkle brothers.”

  “That is so nice,” said Sierra.

  “Here are some flashlights I found in the kitchen pantry,” said Diane Capriola, floating back into the room in Mr. Lemoncello’s drone slippers. “They were on one of the highest shelves. Figured you guys might need them.”

  Kyle’s eyes were focused on the floating footwear. “We might need those, too,” he said.

  “For what?” asked Diane.

  “I don’t know. We’re kind of making this up as we go.”

  The flashlights and slippers went into the bright yellow backpack Kyle and Abia used during the last leg of the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy. Kyle looked around the dining room. He saw the portable Nonfictionator sitting on a table.

  “We’ll take this, too.”

  “Why?” asked Akimi.

  “It’s a universal remote. Maybe it will work like a garage door opener on the bank vault lock.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “Fine. Whatever. We need to hurry. The longer the Krinkle brothers are alone in the library, the more damage they can do.”

  “They’re probably looking for the exact same evidence,” said Sierra. “If they find it first…”

  Kyle nodded. Sierra was right.

  If the Krinkles found Mr. Lemoncello’s patent and Family Frenzy shoebox before the undercover research team did, they’d probably toss it all into the trash!

  Or burn it!

  “Far out,” was all Mad Dog said when Kyle told him why he and the four others needed a ride to the library at nine o’clock at night.

  When the bookmobile was two blocks away from the library, Mad Dog doused the headlights and shut off the engine.

  “We are now operating in what I like to call the silent-but-deadly mode,” he whispered to everybody huddled in the back as the vehicle quietly coasted down the block.

  “Cool,” said Miguel.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” said Kyle.

  “Couple heavies guarding the front door,” whispered Mad Dog. “No dreadlocks. That means it’s not my buds Clarence and Clement.”

  “Probably those same cops,” said Angus.

  “No, they look more like private security goons,” reported Mad Dog from the front seat, where he was waving and smiling. “They’re wearing navy-blue blazers and gray slacks. Cops don’t wear matching sport coats, man.”

  Kyle’s heart was racing.

  This whole plan might be over before it even starts.

  “Angus?” he said. “Are you ready to do something dangerous and crazy?”

  “Always. Lay it on me.”

  The bookmobile came to a stop.

  “Uh-oh,” said Mad Dog from behind the wheel. “The hired muscle is walking this way. I must’ve parked where I’m not supposed to park.”

  “Okay, Angus,” said Kyle. “Slip out the back door. Hide behind that giant oak tree. When the guards start talking to Mad Dog—”

  “We’ll make all sorts of noise and run around to the back of the building,” finished Akimi.

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Angus.

  “We’re a team. The two of us can cause a bigger distraction.”

  “Cool.”

  “When the guards chase after you guys,” said Kyle, “Abia, Miguel, and I’ll hightail it to the front door.”

  “If they chase us around the block,” said Akimi, “we can probably buy you guys like five minutes.”

  “If Mr. Raymo helps us, five minutes should be all we need.”

  “Go, you guys,” said Mad Dog. “They’re halfway here.”

  “Crank up your engine,” Kyle told Mad Dog. He turned to Akimi and Angus. “If you guys are in the lead when you circle back, jump into the bookmobile and take off.”

  “What?” said Akimi. “How will you guys get home?”

  “I’m hoping Mr. Raymo will give us a lift. Hurry. Go!”

  Akimi and Angus slipped out the rear emergency exit.

  Kyle put on the heavy backpack, grabbed the handle for the side door, and crouched beside it. Abia and Miguel crouched behind him. Kyle would wait to pop open the door until the guards were chasing after Angus and Akimi.

  “Hey there, dudes,” Mad Dog said to someone at the passenger-side window of the boxy bookmobile. “Whazzup?”

  “What are you doing here?” asked one of the guards.

  “Needed some new books,” said Mad Dog, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “We usually reload after nine o’clock every night.”

  “Not tonight,” said the guard.

  “But—”

  “Not tonight. The library is under new management.”

  “But Mr. Lemoncello—”

  “Mr. Lemoncello ain’t running things no more. Now move this vehicle.”

  “The Krinkle brothers need this parking spot to unload a truck full of games they’re going to sell at the gala tomorrow night,” said a second guard.

  “Cool,” said Mad Dog, buying time for Angus and Akimi to set up their diversion. “Are the games good?”

  “Nah. They’re crummy, but they’re cheap. I buy ’em for my nieces and—”

  “Come on,” Kyle heard Akimi holler. “I know where there’s a secret tunnel into the library!”

  “Hey, you kids!” shouted the guard. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Oh, no!” shouted Angus. “Run! They might catch us!”

  “Hey! You two! Come back here!”

  The first guard took off running.

  “Move this vehicle!” shouted the second guard as he joined in the pursuit.

  Mad Dog checked the side-view mirrors. “Okay. They’re running up the street. Akimi an
d Angus are in the lead. They’re rounding the corner. The guards are so out of shape, man, they can barely jog. Go! The goons just took the corner!”

  Kyle yanked open the side door. Hunkered down, he flew to the front steps of the library. He could hear Abia and Miguel running right behind him. They bounded up the three tiers of marble and faced the bank vault door.

  Kyle rapped his fist against the steel-clad concrete.

  It hurt his knuckles.

  “Mr. Raymo? It’s Kyle Keeley. Mr. Lemoncello sent us! Let us in!”

  He waved at a security camera.

  Nothing.

  “Mr. Raymo?” He pounded the door.

  Still nothing.

  “So,” whispered Miguel, “is this when we call Jamal and the gang and tell them to initiate plan B?”

  “Not yet.”

  Kyle stared at the keypad mounted on the wall beside the circular door. It was set up like a telephone but with just numbers, no letters.

  Of course, that didn’t really matter.

  Because, just like Mr. Lemoncello, Kyle had no clue what the combination might be.

  “I need numbers,” Kyle muttered, as much to himself as to Abia and Miguel.

  “What numbers?” said Abia.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Kyle?” said Miguel. “We’ve been buds since like first grade but I got to tell you, this is the most backward game plan you’ve ever come up with.”

  “That’s it!” said Kyle. “Backward. Maybe Mr. Raymo used backward logic. Told Mr. Lemoncello he didn’t use R-E-A-D because he actually did!”

  “Um, okay,” said Miguel. “I guess…”

  “Seven-three-two-three!” shouted Abia. “Those are the alphanumeric positions for R-E-A-D on a telephone keypad.”

  Kyle tapped in the numbers.

  The keypad flashed red.

  The words “false entry” scrolled across an LED window followed by “after two more false tries alarm will sound.”

  Great.

  “Wait a second,” said Miguel. “What about ‘open sesame,’ like on his front door at home?”

  “What’s that in numbers?” said Kyle.

  “Uh, um, er…,” stammered Miguel, staring at the keypad.

  “6-7-3-6, 7-3-7-2-6-3!” said Abia.