“Tobin,” Fiona said.
“Of Tobin…uh…uh…”
“Colorado.”
“Colorado,” Mr. Trouble repeated, “As much as that would be nice, this is actually our first time here. As you can imagine, our work takes us all over the place. So we need mobile headquarters. Make sense?”
“I guess,” Eric said. Of course, none of it made sense.
“If you came in the plane, then whose car is this?” Maggie asked.
“Well, technically it’s Eric’s,” Mr. Trouble said. “We picked it up for the job, after all.”
“You picked it up. You mean you rented it?”
“No,” Mr. Trouble said, laughing as if it were the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “You think someone would rent a clunker like this? We bought it. See, sometimes our cases can be a little rough on vehicles. We learned long ago it’s better to buy than rent.”
“Bought it?” Eric asked. “Well, what about that truck this afternoon?”
“Bought it, too.” Mr. Trouble pointed through the windshield. “See? It’s parked near the Lady Candice, and it’s also yours.”
Maggie scrunched up her face. “Lady Candice?”
“Name of the plane,” Fiona said. “Grandpa named it after Grandma.”
“Who gives a plane a name?” Maggie said, clearly thinking it was a stupid idea.
“A lot of people,” Fiona told her, clearly thinking Maggie had no clue.
Eric didn’t care if the plane had a name or not. All he could think about were the cars Mr. Trouble said were his. “I can’t afford to pay for these.”
“Who said you had to pay for anything?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“Hello?” Fiona said. “We went over this on the phone, remember? Free of charge? No cost to you? You do know what that means, right?”
“Then how can you afford to pay for them if you don’t charge anything?”
Mr. Trouble shrugged. “We’ve saved a few bucks here and there over the centuries.”
Over the centuries? Sure, Eric thought. “If you don’t want to tell me, then just say so.”
The sedan jerked to a stop and Mr. Trouble killed the engine. He then clapped his hands together and said, “Time to get to work.”
The first thing Eric noticed as he climbed out of the car was smoke billowing up out of the center of the plane. “Hey, your airplane’s on fire.”
No one reacted.
“Hey! Fire!”
“What?” Fiona asked.
“There’s smoke coming out of your plane,” he said.
“Relax. Mom’s just cooking dinner.” She leaned down a little and pointed under the plane.
Eric took a look. On the opposite side of the aircraft was what could only be described as an outdoor kitchen. The smoke he had seen was rising out of a pipe at the rear of a large, black stove.
As he stood up again, he caught sight of two men wearing white lab coats standing near the landing gear, staring at him. They were remarkably similar in appearance — receding hairlines, slightly overweight, large noses, small ears — and looked a few years older than Eric’s dad.
Mr. Trouble put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Gentlemen, he’s all yours.”
“Excellent!” one of the men said. Then he and his lookalike began walking rapidly in Eric’s direction.
Mr. Trouble took a step toward the airplane. “Maggie, this way.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m staying with—”
“He’ll be fine,” Mr. Trouble said, taking her arm.
“Really, I shouldn’t leave—”
“I guarantee you he’ll be back with you very, very shortly. Fiona, I need to check something onboard, so why don’t you take Maggie over to the kitchen and see if there’s any ice cream left?”
A small smile grew on Maggie’s face. “Ice cream?”
“Follow me,” Fiona said.
Eric looked at the two men walking his way, then at Fiona and Maggie heading for the kitchen, and finally at Mr. Trouble moving toward the ladder hanging under the plane’s door. “What am I supposed to do?”
Mr. Trouble glanced back. “Just stay where you are. It won’t take long.”
“What won’t take long?”
Mr. Trouble merely waved, hopped onto the ladder, and climbed up into the plane.
“I’m serious! What won’t—”
“Hello, hello,” one of the lab-coated men said. Now that they were close, Eric could see that the talker was slightly taller than his companion. He was also the only one smiling.
The shorter man wasn’t even looking at Eric now. All his attention was focused on a plastic-looking rectangular box in his hand. It was about the size of a paperback book, and every few seconds he would wave it back and forth through the air in front of him.
“I can’t tell you how pleased we are to finally meet you,” the first man said. He spoke with an accent that Eric thought was probably Irish. The man thrust his hand out. “So very pleased.”
Not knowing what else to do, Eric shook it, but when he tried to let go, the man held tight.
“You are Eric, of course. Eric Morrison?”
“Well…yeah.”
“I’m Colin,” the man said, his smile growing even broader. “Though, if you wish, you can call me Uncle Colin. Everyone else here does.”
“Can I have my hand back?”
“What? Oh. Of course, of course.” But instead of letting go, he pulled something out of his pocket with his left hand. It was a rectangular box only a couple of inches long, maybe as wide as a Magic Marker. “Which finger do you prefer?”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. Any one of them is fine.”
He stuck the end of the box over the tip of Eric’s ring finger.
“What are you doing?” Eric asked. “That’s — ow!”
The box had pinched him. He tried to pull his hand back but Uncle Colin held tightly on to it. When he removed the box, Eric thought his finger would be bleeding but there was only the tiniest of scrapes.
“So sorry. Always the most painful part. Everything from this point forward is downhill.”
He pulled a plastic baggie out of his pocket and sealed the small box in it. He then applied some ointment on the scrape and covered it with a Band-Aid. Surprisingly, as soon as the ointment was applied, the pain went away.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” He put a hand on the other man’s back. “This is my brother Carl. Uncle Carl. Again, only if you wish.”
The corners of Uncle Carl’s mouth moved up and down in what Eric guessed was a smile, but his eyes never left the device he was carrying. “Troubling,” he muttered. “Very troubling.”
He moved the box closer to Eric, then began waving it around like it was one of those security wands Eric had seen used at the airport when he’d flown to visit his grandparents the previous summer.
“What’s he doing?” Eric asked.
“Routine. Simply routine,” Uncle Colin said. “Don’t you worry a bit.”
Eric glanced at the plane, wishing the others were still here.
“Hold him still,” Uncle Carl insisted. “Can’t get a clean reading if he keeps moving around.”
“A reading of what?” Eric asked.
“This is merely an initial assessment,” Uncle Colin explained. “Data gathering, that kind of thing. You understand.” The look on his face turned very earnest. “It will help us. You need to believe that. It will definitely help us.”
“Help you with what?”
“Helping you, of course.”
“Got it!” Uncle Carl announced, raising the device a few inches into the air.
“Excellent!” Uncle Colin exclaimed.
Without another word, Uncle Colin and Uncle Carl began walking quickly toward the rear of the plane.