Fireworks at the FBI Read Online Free Page A

President,” Lawson Rinkel said. He was a short man with a round belly. His gray suit matched his gray hair. He had a thin nose and small dark eyes that darted around.
    Mr. Rinkel explained that he stayed late in his office every Friday, writing a novel. He always ordered a pizza at nine o’clock, when he took a short break to eat. Then he’d keep working on his book till around ten, when he left the building.
    “I was waiting for an overseas call from London at nine o’clock,” Mr. Rinkel wenton. “I didn’t want to tie up the phone, so I called Joe on my cell phone and told him to send the pizza guy up when he got there.” Mr. Rinkel shrugged his shoulders. “The pizza never showed up.”
    “But the delivery guy came in at nine o’clock,” Joe Cellucci said. “I checked his ID, he signed in, and I waved him toward the elevators. After about fifteen minutes, my phone rang, and it was Mr. Rinkel, asking where his pizza was. I told him I had sent the guy up. Next thing I knew, the fire department showed up. They said someone was firing rockets out of one of the upstairs offices!”
    KC gave Marshall a look. “There was never a pizza!” she whispered in his ear.
    “Mr. Rinkel, why do you work on your book in the FBI building?” the FBI director asked.

    Mr. Rinkel blushed. “My house is too noisy, so I stay late after work. But just on Fridays. I use my own laptop, so I didn’t think anyone would mind.”
    “What’s your job?” asked the president.
    “I’m a computer technician,” Mr. Rinkel said. “I fix problems for the other computer workers.”
    “Did you see or hear anyone on your floor while you were busy on your laptop?” the president questioned.
    Mr. Rinkel shook his head. “No, sir.”
    “And what time did you go home?” the FBI director asked.
    “About ten-fifteen,” he said.
    “Did Mr. Cellucci see you leave?”
    “No, he wasn’t at his desk, so I just left,” Mr. Rinkel said.
    The FBI director looked at JoeCellucci. “You were away from your desk?” he asked.
    “I guess I must’ve been in the rest-room,” Joe Cellucci said. “I don’t remember.” His face had turned red. He stared at his shoes.
    There was a silence, and then the president nodded at the FBI director. The director turned. “Mr. Cellucci, I’d like you to come back to my office,” he said.
    “But I have to get back to work,” Joe Cellucci protested. His face turned even redder.
    “As of now, you’re suspended until further notice,” the FBI director informed the man. “And you’ll have a chance to call a lawyer.”
    Mr. Cellucci gulped. “A lawyer? But I didn’t do anything!”
    “Please come with me,” the FBI director said.
    The two men left the room.
    The president looked at Mr. Rinkel. “Thank you for coming in,” he said. “Tell me, what is your novel about?”
    “It’s a mystery,” the man said. “About spies in Washington.”
    “Sounds good,” the president said as he walked Mr. Rinkel to the door. “Please send me an autographed copy when you get it published.”
    “I certainly will, Mr. President!” Mr. Rinkel said.
    Behind the drapes, KC held her breath. She was afraid to peek out in case someone was still in the room.
    “You two can come out now,” the president said.
    Marshall poked KC in the side. She poked him back. “Nice going,” Marshall hissed. “Siberia, here I come!”
    KC and Marshall stepped out from behind the drapes. The president was sitting in a chair, waiting for them.
    “Did you hear what you wanted to?” the president asked.
    Both kids mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
    “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but I’m serious, KC. Please don’t eavesdrop anymore,” the president said. “Now go get some fresh air. It must have been pretty hot behind those drapes.”
    The president grinned, then walked out of the room.
    KC and Marshall left the White House by the back entrance. They sat on a bench in the Rose Garden.
    “That was terrific, KC,”