I don’t pay attention to clothes, but I would have noticed Nanny X’s new hat no matter what. It was a fishing hat with lots of hooks and feathers, plus some lures that were shaped like minnows. Also, the hat was bright orange. That’s good if you are trying to blend in with an orange grove. It’s not so good if you are trying to be inconspicuous, which was one of my old reading-connection words. It means “not noticeable,” and it’s an important thing to be if you’re a special agent.
Nanny X wasn’t worried about being inconspicuous in our living room. She plunked down her suitcase and the bunny slippers.
“Arf,” Yeti said. “Arf-arf-arf-arf-arf.”
Nanny X took off her mirrored sunglasses and gave him a look. Ali says that Nanny X must have taken dog-training classes. I think she took classes in mind control instead, because Yeti stopped barking and lifted a paw to give Nanny X a high five.
“Here’s my mother’s room number at the hospital,” my mom was saying. “And here’s our cell phone number, and the pediatrician, the dentist and Jake’s baseball coach. And here’s a list of people you can call if there’s an emergency.” I bet Nanny X had her own list of people to call in case of an emergency, but I didn’t say anything.
“They’ll be fine, Gloria,” my dad said. “Right, team?”
He waved from the passenger seat while my mom, who is a better driver, backed out of the driveway.
“What next?” I asked Nanny X.
“Dinner and then bed.”
“Bed?” That was not the answer Ali and I were looking for. But sure enough, right after dinner that’s where Nanny X sent us.
“But it’s a Friday night!” Ali said. She had a growl in her voice, but she’d been growly all week so it was hard to tell if this was a new mad or just a leftover.
“The early bird catches the worm,” Nanny X said, and turned out the lights.
She wasn’t kidding—about being early birds or about the worms. It was darkish when she woke us up, but in the light of the kitchen she showed us a tub that said Weinrib’s Premium Quality Canadian Night Crawlers. I wondered if it was one of her special gadgets. But when I opened the lid, I saw a bunch of worms wriggling around in a handful of dirt.
“That,” said Ali, “is disgusting.”
“Then we won’t count baiting hooks among your many talents,” Nanny X said. She seemed cheerful, which made me realize that she’d been a little growly all week, too.
The dark had turned to gray when we climbed into Nanny X’s van, which was nothing like the kind of van a special agent would drive. She had some fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror, and a canoe on the roof.
“Where are we going?” Ali asked as Nanny X buckled Eliza into a car seat.
“Downtown,” said Nanny X.
“Downtown” is what people around here call Washington, D.C., which is only about ten minutes away from our house in Lovett, as long as there aren’t a bunch of other cars on the road. At that time of the morning, there weren’t any. Soon we were standing on the bank of the Potomac River with our canoe beside us. I wondered how sturdy it was.
“Don’t worry,” Nanny X said. “You’ll be wearing a life jacket.”
I guess she knew swimming was not one of my special talents; sinking was. At the pool, I was still in the Tadpole Group. My friend Ethan was a Shark.
We strapped on our life jackets and helped Nanny X shove the canoe into the water. Yeti sat in the front like a mermaid statue on a pirate ship. Except his hair stuck out all over instead of just flowing out of his head. Plus, his tail did not have a fishy shape.
Nanny X loaded Eliza’s stroller and dropped the diaper bag next to it. It made a Mooooooooooooo when it landed. Ali smiled for the first time all morning when she heard it. The sound was from Moo, Sweet Cow the noisiest book ever written and one of Nanny X’s secret weapons.
It was a sign.
“I knew it!” I said as Nanny X used a paddle to push us off. She handed the other paddle to Ali. “This is more than a fishing trip, isn’t it?”
“There are fishing trips,” Nanny X said, “and there are fishing trips.”
“So we have a case?” asked Ali, who might have been holding her breath a little.
“We have a case,” said Nanny X. “We would have had it sooner, but HQ said they wanted a nanny who had more experience with fish. ‘I know fish,’ I told them. ‘Hoo boy, do I know fish.’ Then they said they wanted a nanny who could blend in. ‘I blend,’ I said. ‘Like a chameleon, I blend.’ Finally they said we could have the case. It’s a big one. It concerns the president.”
She gave us these details: Earlier in the week, someone going by the name of The Angler sent a note to the president with a fishhook inside it. The note came with a giant package, and in the package was a giant fish. A sculpted fish, not a real one.
“How big?” I asked.
“This big,” said Nanny X. She raised one arm over her head. Then she went back to paddling.
I used to think an angler was somebody who studied angles, until I found out from Ethan that it was someone who fishes. Plus, it could be someone who thinks up crazy schemes. Ethan does both of those things. I wondered if the new bad guy did, too.
“The sculpture is described as being nine feet tall and made out of copper,” Nanny X said. “The note contained instructions. And a threat.”
“What kind of instructions?” I asked. I knew we were in deeper water because I could see seaweed and things. What I couldn’t see was the bottom.
“What kind of threat?” asked Ali.
Nanny X answered both of us. “The Angler wants the sculpture to be installed on the White House lawn and treated like a national treasure. If it’s not installed by noon today . . .” She paused. “If it is not installed by noon, The Angler says that some of the nation’s greatest treasures will be in jeopardy.”
“Be in jeopardy how?” said Ali. “Jeopardy” is a reading-connection word that means “at risk or in danger.”
Nanny X shrugged. “The note didn’t say.”
“Why don’t they just put the sculpture on the lawn?” I asked. “They have lots of empty space.” Plus, a fish sculpture would be a lot more interesting than a bunch of roses.
“The president must not succumb to threats,” said Nanny X. “Otherwise, think of what other people will try to do. Blackmail. Extortion. Not to mention the fact that the White House lawn could end up looking like Lulu’s Cement Garden.” Lulu’s was a shop in Lovett that sold fountains and birdbaths, plus twelve-foot chickens. I thought it was a very interesting shop. I guess the president didn’t agree. Neither did Nanny X.
“Shouldn’t we be guarding something?” Ali said. “Like the art museum or the Declaration of Independence?”
“Guards we have,” said Nanny X. “It isn’t noon yet. If he’s calling himself The Angler, he may be fishing at this very moment. I’d like to catch him before he strikes.” She steered the boat close to Roosevelt Island, where the current wasn’t as strong. Then she put down her paddle and pulled out a night crawler. “As long as we’re here,” she said, “who wants to go first?”