“I seeeeee you,” said Major Helium in a high, squeaky whisper.

The balloon soldier crouched on the narrow terrace. A pile of colorful deflated balloons lay in the grass by his feet. He adjusted his cap and peeked around the stone doorway to see what the boy and girl were up to now.

They hadn’t noticed him all the way from Lima to Machu Picchu. Now he was on the ground and up close. He didn’t want to be seen—not before he found out their secrets.

With their backs to him, the kids stood looking through an open doorway. Major Helium adjusted his nose ball. The boy smelled awful.

The clown took a long, skinny gray balloon from his pocket. He inflated it quickly and held it up to the terrace wall. It matched the color of the stones nicely. He began to rub the balloon against his sleeve.

“Static eeeeeee-lectrici-teeeeee,” he sang softly.

He held out the balloon, reached into the room where the kids were now standing, and poked the boy’s sweatshirt pocket. He wiggled the balloon and pulled it back carefully.

A rectangular object clung to the balloon. He squinted and saw that it was brown and bumpy. It looked a lot like oats, nuts, and honey. It was very sticky. If all the other clowns of the SUN hadn’t warned him, Major Helium would have thought it was a granola bar. But he knew better.

“The super weapon,” he snickered to himself, “is mine.”

He delicately separated the dangerous, deadly device from his balloon and slipped it into his pocket.

The kids stepped forward into the space beyond.

Major Helium crept into the small square room and continued spying.

“I’m getting read-eeeeee,” he squeaked as he took out a new balloon.

This one was narrow and black. He didn’t inflate it. Instead, he stretched it way back and aimed through the doorway at the girl.

He waited…and listened.