The Alias Men by F. T. Bradley

barricades was roaring, and seemed to be applauding, for some reason.
    Floyd looked shocked. “What the—” He said some four-letter words that I won’t repeat—let’s just say he was madder than my parents on report-card day.
    A couple of security guards ran from inside the Chinese Theatre, looking at the building and the damage the car had caused. One of the guys threw his hands in the air.
    â€œOh no,” Savannah said. “The theater . . .”
    â€œWe almost got hit by a speeding car,” I said. “Who cares about the building?”
    Savannah gave me a shocked look. “This is the Chinese Theatre we’re talking about,” she said, like I was supposed to get it now. “The Oscars will be held here Sunday. It was built in 1927—it’s a movie-history landmark!” Savannah was trembling.
    So I let it go, since one of the camera guys was already calling the police. I walked over to the car, where Larry and Floyd were checking out the exterior of the theater. Of course the car was empty.
    â€œHow did it even drive here?” Savannah asked.
    I peered inside, and saw something wedged against the gas pedal. It took me a second to realize what it was. “A coat hanger,” I said, more to myself than anyone else.
    â€œWhy would anyone stick a coat hanger against the gas pedal?” Savannah asked me.
    â€œI don’t know,” I lied. Because I did know what this was about.
    Ethan Melais. I’d bet my Xbox and all my games that he knew Pandora was on his tail. This car was meant to hit me. Ethan Melais was trying to protect his identity, and the Dangerous Double.
    The good news: This close call with a car bumper meant that I was hot on Melais’s tail.
    The bad news: Melais was willing to kill me to keep his identity a secret and use the Dangerous Double on Monday to get that drone-system prototype for the terrorists.
    This case had just gotten really dangerous.
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    The police showed up a few minutes later and taped off the area. After they questioned Floyd and the cameraman, Larry managed to get the rest of the cast and crew out of there about an hour later without giving a statement or anything. Talking to the police might get sticky, with me working for Pandora and all, so I was happy to scram. The set was closed, and people were gathering equipment and hitching trailers to trucks, ready to go to the next location, which apparently was at the beach.
    â€œThat was scary,” Savannah said as we walked back to the trailers. “Thank you.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œSaving me.” She laughed. “You did shove me out of the way on purpose, didn’t you?”
    â€œYeah, I did.” I guess that kind of made me a hero. That had to be a good thing with pretty girls, right?
    â€œWell, I owe you one,” Savannah said, giving me the nicest smile in the whole world. She turned to walk the other way, probably to catch a ride or answer fan mail or something.
    â€œWait,” I said, not wanting her to walk away. “Maybe you can help me.”
    She stopped. “Anything you want.”
    I swallowed. Why was this girl making me so nervous? “You’re right: I have no idea what I’m doing here.” I felt my face flush. I hoped Savannah didn’t notice. “Can you help me? You know, with the acting and stuff?”
    â€œSure.” She smiled. “You’ll be fine. Floyd is an unconventional director. He just goes to the set and waits for inspiration to strike, like Charlie Chaplin used to do. Basically, he flies by the seat of his pants,” Savannah added with a laugh.
    That was pretty much my approach to Pandora missions, so I could relate. “I like that.” I laughed, and it sounded weird, like I was nervous or something.
    But Savannah didn’t seem to notice. “If you want, I can give you a ride to the next location.”
    â€œSure,” I said. “But