Bonfire Masquerade by Franklin W. Dixon

recognized me at the door. I guess they don’t see that many teenagers with national security clearance. He raised an eyebrow atGeorge, but once he scanned her badge, he waved us both in.
    â€œWhat do you guys need?” he asked.
    â€œAndrew Richelieu’s phone. And if you have it, a spare office with a big desk?”
    â€œIt’s Mardi Gras,” the desk sergeant grumbled. “Almost all the desks are empty, other than mine.”
    â€œSorry, man,” I said.
    â€œSo what’s the story on this phone?” asked George, as we sat down in a bare office, home to a desk, two chairs, a single dead plant, and nothing else.
    â€œIt was stolen during a parade. Andrew didn’t even notice it was gone until the police called him about it. Apparently, he’s so rich, he has half a dozen different phones.”
    â€œAnd you guys got something off it?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t power up when the police found it, but Joe managed to get it on. The only thing we found was a video, which led us to the Bywater, and a dead end. Here, I’ll show you.”
    I powered up my laptop and played the video, which I’d copied off the phone just in case it stopped working entirely. Right as it finished, the desk sergeant appeared.
    â€œOne cellular phone, bagged and tagged. Make sure you put it back the way you found it.” He handed us a plastic bag. Inside was Andrew’s phone.
    George took it out and began examining it. She weighed it carefully in her hand.
    â€œIt’s superlight,” she marveled. She looked at the make and model. She frowned. “Mind if I use the laptop for a second?”
    â€œGo right ahead,” I said, pushing it toward her.
    She tapped on the keyboard and pulled up a search engine. After a few seconds, she was deep into the world of technology blogs.
    â€œThat’s what I thought!” she exclaimed.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe phone is so light, and I didn’t recognize the make or model. So I did a little searching—it’s a beta version of a phone that won’t even be on the market until next year. A few have surfaced on the Internet, and people have been blogging about them, but this is definitely something you can’t get in stores. This thing is worth a small fortune. I’m surprised it survived being stolen and dropped, really. These beta version phones tend to be pretty flimsy.”
    â€œThat explains why the thieves went out of their way to steal it. It breaks with their pattern, but they must have seen him using it and known what it was.”
    Already I was glad George was there. I fired up the phone and showed George how most of the menus were inaccessible. Together, we began working on it, connecting it to my laptop to try and bypass its brokenoperating system and get right at the data stored inside.
    It was hours of painstaking work, trying different pathways, all of which ended unsuccessfully. But each time we came a little bit closer. Finally, after nearly four hours, we had a breakthrough.
    â€œGot it!” I yelled excitedly. A bar popped up on the desktop, showing the download progress of Andrew’s contacts, text messages, and recent calls. It was going v-e-r-y slowly. It would probably take at least an hour, and there was a good chance it would damage the phone’s hard drive and wipe the information off it forever. But we had done it!
    â€œHigh five,” said George.
    â€œWant to leave that downloading and grab some lunch?” I asked.
    Before George could answer, the door burst open.
    â€œHey! You’re working on those robbery/arson cases, right?” the desk sergeant asked breathlessly.
    â€œYes, why?” I said.
    â€œBecause we just got a call, and there’s one going down right now! We’ve got a squad car and a fire engine on their way, but they’re stuck in Mardi Gras traffic!”
    George and I shot out of our chairs. We got the address of the call from the