I sat on the front steps outside school on Wednesday afternoon, my motorcycle helmet on my lap and the spare helmet next to me. We had an hour before class started at the Rising Phoenix.
“Hi, Joe,” Chet called, stumbling out of the school doors while zipping up his jacket. He gave me a cheerful smile and came over.
“Hey,” I said. “What did you think of Petersen’s bio test today?”
“It was a killer.” He rolled his eyes. “And I think Brian Conrad was trying to cheat off me.”
“Figures.” I laughed. “Listen, I thought you might want a ride to the Rising Phoenix. I mean, since we’re going there anyway.” I offered him the spare helmet.
Chet gazed longingly at it. He loves our bikes—who wouldn’t? He’s always trying to find excuses to borrow a motorcycle, but Frank and I never let anyone ride on their own. The bikes are far too valuable to risk—and so are the people. Still, Chet is usually pretty happy just to get a ride on the back of one.
But instead:
“Um . . . no thanks,” he said.
Huh?
“But how are you gonna get to class?” I asked. “Is your mom picking you up?”
“No. I have my mountain bike.” He gestured to the bike rack, where a tangle of bikes were chained up. “I’ll ride.”
“We can bring you back here after class to pick up your bike,” I said.
Chet shuffled his feet and looked away. “That’s okay. I want the exercise. I’m trying to get in shape, you know? Sensei Huang inspired me. He says you have to be strong to do your best work in karate. He encourages everybody to eat right and work out and take vitamins and stuff.”
“Okay,” I said. “Good for you.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Thanks for the offer, though.” He went over and began unlocking the chain from his mountain bike.
Frank showed up just as Chet hopped on and started pedaling away.
“I thought you were going to give Chet a ride,” Frank said.
“He didn’t want one.”
Frank’s eyes went wide. “I told you there was something strange going on with him.”
“Yup.” I stood up and put on my helmet. “That’s why we’re gonna follow him.”
Sounds easy, right? But you try following a guy on a bicycle when you’re on a superpowerful, completely torqued motorcycle. Our rides aren’t the quietest in the world. And it’s nearly impossible to go slow enough to stay behind a regular bike.
Frank and I ended up pulling over to the side of the road, letting Chet get nearly out of sight on his bicycle, and then following him at the lowest speed with our hazards on. Sometimes we even walked our bikes after him.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe super-cool, standout motorcycles aren’t the best vehicles for detective work,” I told Frank.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Frank replied.
Luckily, Chet wasn’t the greatest cyclist in the world. He weaved a little as he rode, and he stayed totally focused on the road in front of him. He never even glanced over his shoulder to see why the noise of two motorcycles was constantly behind him.
By the time we got to Holtsville, I was sick of riding slow. Chet was obviously just going to the Rising Phoenix. “You wanna knock off and head to school?” I said.
“Not yet,” Frank said. “Look.”
Chet was turning—seven blocks before the turn for the Rising Phoenix. I pulled over and waited for Frank to pull up next to me. He yanked off his helmet. “Where is he going?”
I squinted after Chet, who was riding down a deserted, industrial-looking street. “Isn’t this the road to the Holtsville train station?” I asked.
“I think so.” Frank frowned. “But why would Chet go there?”
“Only one way to find out.” I kicked the bike into gear and took off—slowly—after our friend. Frank put his helmet back on and followed me.
Sure enough, after five blocks the street came to an end in a T-intersection with the train tracks. A tiny, run-down station stood near the tracks, surrounded by a huge parking lot filled with the cars of people who commuted to work on the train. But since it was the middle of the afternoon, the place was deserted. Nobody would be back from work for another few hours.
“Where’s Chet?” I asked. I couldn’t see him anywhere.
“Over there.” Frank pointed to a small strip mall across a side street from the station. Chet was chaining his bike to a lamppost.
“Okay, this is seriously bizarre behavior,” I said.
Chet grabbed his backpack and headed over to a tiny restaurant with a neon sign that said CALIFORNIA DINER. Another neon sign was shaped like a palm tree—the only remotely Californian thing about the place. And a third sign read LUNCH SPECIALS.
“Maybe he’s hungry from riding his bike so hard,” Frank guessed.
But before Chet could even reach for the door handle, the glass door swung open and a tall, thin man stepped out. He spoke to Chet for a few seconds, then handed him a big, bulky package.
Chet put his backpack on the ground and struggled to get the package inside it. Finally he managed to stuff it all in. He pulled the zipper closed and looked up. The tall guy nodded and went back inside. Chet headed for his bike.
“I think we’ve seen enough,” Frank said. “Let’s get to the Rising Phoenix.”
“Yeah, and keep a watch out for Chet,” I added. “Showing up for karate class with a full backpack seems to be a habit for him. I think we ought to find out what’s inside.”
I gunned the engine and took off at top speed. It was a rush to be able to ride full-out after twenty minutes of inching along like I was on training wheels.
When we got to the Rising Phoenix, we changed quickly into our gis. We wanted to be sure we were ready for action by the time Chet got there. I glanced around the locker room for Billy Lee, but I didn’t see him.
I went out into the hallway and hung around near the front door. Frank took up a position just inside the dojo entrance. He practiced the shiko tsuki punch we’d learned at the last class, but he kept his eyes on Huang’s office. After a while, I noticed that Liz Campbell was also hanging around in the hallway. I glanced at her, but she looked away.
Finally it got too weird. I went over to her. “Hey, Liz,” I said. “What are you up to?”
She blushed. “Oh, I was just waiting for Chet,” she admitted.
I grinned. “You kinda have a thing for him, don’t you?”
“I’m being stupid. He barely even says hello to me,” she said.
I glanced over her shoulder. I could see through the front doors, and Chet was just pulling up on his bike, huffing and puffing with the effort. “Tell you what,” I said to Liz. “When Chet comes in, just act like I’m saying something really funny. It will look like we’re flirting and Chet will get jealous.”
She stared at me like I had just grown a horn from my head or something.
“Trust me,” I said. “I know how the romance thing works.”
Chet pushed open the door and dragged himself inside, still breathing hard. Liz looked panicked, but she started to laugh loudly. So did I. Hey, it was a good cover for me—I could see everything Chet was doing, but it looked as if I was just standing there, flirting with Liz.
Chet immediately looked over at us. He seemed surprised to see me with Liz, but he quickly turned away. He went to Huang’s office and pushed open the door without even knocking.
I took Liz’s elbow. “Let’s walk into the dojo together,” I suggested.
She laughed nervously—she probably wasn’t used to guys actually touching her—and she went along with me toward the dojo. I slowed down as we passed Huang’s office door.
It was standing open a little—wide enough for me to see Chet inside.
He had taken the bulky package out of his bag.
And he was giving it to Paul Huang.