“Hello? Anybody here?” he called. Peering behind the counter, he saw an open door leading to a back room. Andy walked behind the cash register and peeked through the door. A light was on at the bottom of a worn staircase. He paused for a moment, unsure as to whether he should disturb the person below, but then called down.
“Excuse me!”
There was no answer.
“I’m just going to leave money on the counter,” Andy called. “Two candy bars and a postcard.”
Still no reply.
Andy shrugged and walked back to the counter. He took out his Zoomwriter and grabbed a scrap of paper from the receipt pad. Andy had just finished writing the note to let whoever was in charge know that he’d left the money for the items he’d purchased when he heard a sound that made him jump.
ROOOOAAAAR!
Andy whirled toward the window and saw, to his horror, that Yaw’s plane was starting up.
They’re leaving without me!
With his heart pounding nearly as fast as the propellers were turning, Andy rushed out the door and, waving his arms wildly, yelled for the plane to stop. He raced after the aircraft, hoping to get someone’s attention before it took off.
“Hey! Wait! I’m still here! Stop!” he shouted.
But Andy was not loud enough to be heard over the roar of the engine. And although he ran as fast as he could, he could not catch up with the plane rolling resolutely down the wide swath of dirt.
The wind from the propellers nearly knocked Andy off his feet as, with a loud whine and a deafening roar, the airplane rose into the air, leaving him standing there with a shocked expression on his face.
“I can’t believe they l-left without me,” he stuttered. Andy gazed stupidly at the flashing running lights on the wings of Yaw’s plane as the aircraft receded farther and farther from sight.
With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Andy wondered what he should do. But no sooner had he had the thought than a jovial and all-too-familiar voice spoke from somewhere behind him.
“Tough luck, son. Need a lift?”
Andy sighed. He supposed he really didn’t have any choice but to accept Bartlemore’s offer. Well, technically he did have a choice, but hanging out in the middle of nowhere and hoping his companions would notice he was gone and then come back seemed somewhat foolish when he could more easily board Bartlemore’s plane and catch up with them. As much as Andy didn’t like him, going with the actor certainly seemed like the best choice.
Andy walked up the stairs and boarded the striking steel-plated plane. Once he was through the doorway, he couldn’t help being impressed by the lavish surroundings.
“Welcome aboard the Phantom,” Bartlemore said. “Have a seat.”
The actor indicated a regal leather seat at a table with a linen tablecloth.
Andy sat down and Bartlemore took the seat opposite him. This plane makes Yaw’s look like a toy, Andy thought. The walls were covered with a rich, polished mahogany, and all the fixtures had gold fittings. The window next to him had cream-colored curtains, and in a small holder next to his armrest was a neat arrangement of newspapers.
Andy noticed that Charlie the cameraman had taken a seat toward the back of the plane. He was without his camera for the first time.
A man in a crisp uniform and dark glasses who Andy assumed was the pilot leaned down next to Bartlemore and said something low in his ear. Bartlemore nodded, and the man walked up to the cockpit.
Andy studied Bartlemore. His expression had changed from the one that he’d presented to the group before. Gone was the smug smile and jovial devil-may-care attitude. In its place was a graver, more focused expression.
Neither of them spoke as the plane’s engine started and the massive aircraft rolled down the runway in the same direction Yaw and the others had gone.
As they roared skyward, Bartlemore absorbed himself in reading something in a leatherbound folder. At first, Andy wondered if it might be a script—perhaps lines he was memorizing for a film. But try as he might, he couldn’t get a glimpse of whatever it was Bartlemore was reading.
When the plane had leveled off, a woman in a flight uniform appeared with a silver teapot and two china cups. Placing them in front of Andy and Bartlemore, she asked, “Will you be having luncheon?”
Bartlemore glanced at Andy and then said, “I expect the boy’s hungry. Do we have any sandwiches left in the galley?”
“I think so,” she replied.
“Let’s have those. Thanks, Virginia.”
The woman smiled and nodded, then turned and walked back down the aisle.
Bartlemore leveled his gaze at Andy. The actor seemed to be studying him, as if weighing something in his mind. It took only a few moments of that unbreakable gaze for Andy to grow uncomfortable. He was about to ask Bartlemore what was bothering him when the actor’s expression relaxed. Seeming to have made up his mind about something, Bartlemore broke the silence between them.
“I’m not exactly who you think I am, Andy Stanley. But I know all about you and can assure you that I mean you no harm.”
Andy was taken aback. “What are you saying? That you’re not John Bartlemore, the actor? Not to seem disrespectful, but I’ve seen you in plenty of films. Plus there’s the fact that you’ve been following us around with that camera.”
Bartlemore chuckled. “I am indeed John Bartlemore. But the whole I’m out here on a movie shoot and happened to find you all by accident thing is just an act. I’m a federal agent working for the US government.”
Now it was Andy’s turn to laugh. Bartlemore? A secret agent? It was too much to believe! “Sorry, but you must think I’m pretty naive if you expect me to believe that. No offense…”
Bartlemore waved the comment aside. “None taken. And I’m glad
