Fireworks at the FBI

A fiery ball exploded in the sky over the Washington Monument. Red, white, and blue sparks cascaded slowly down, high above the crowd.

The sparks twinkled, then winked out. “THAT’S ALL THERE IS, FOLKS,” a man’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “THANK YOU AND HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE FOURTH OF JULY!”

Three thousand people clapped, whistled, and cheered.

“Those were the best fireworks I’ve ever seen!” the President of the United States said.

“And this is the best July Fourth!” said KC.

She and her best friend, Marshall Li, were watching the fireworks from the lawn in front of the Museum of Natural History. President Zachary Thornton and KC’s mom, Lois, sat near them, holding hands. They had gotten married a few months ago.

“Shall we go home?” Lois suggested. “I think Yvonne made a cake for us.”

“Awesome!” KC and Marshall said at the same time.

“Home” was the White House. KC, her mom, and KC’s two cats had all moved in after the wedding. Marshall was staying at the White House for the holiday.

The president folded the blanket and
tucked it under his arm. Marshall carried the basket, and they walked toward a sleek black car parked nearby.

Six tall men in dark suits followed them. One of the men spoke quietly into a tiny microphone on his wristwatch. Wherever the president went, secret service men came with him. They protected him at all times.

“Can we walk back to the White House?” KC asked.

“Sure. I can use the exercise,” the president said.

“But I like riding in the car,” said Marshall. “When I learn to drive, I’ll never walk anywhere!”

KC laughed. “Then your legs will shrivel up and you’ll look like one of your spiders!”

Marshall was crazy about bugs and spiders. Sometimes he seemed to like them more than people.

The president handed the blanket to one of the six men, who put it in the car with the basket. Then they walked through the darkness toward the White House. The six men stayed close behind.

“It feels creepy having those guys following us,” Marshall whispered to KC.

“That’s what you get for hanging out with the president,” KC joked.

They all said “Hi!” to a man walking a dog with long, skinny legs. The man’s mouth fell open when he recognized the President of the United States.

“What kind of dog is this?” the president asked. He stroked the dog’s ears.

“Manfred is a greyhound,” the man
said. “I adopted him in Colorado before I moved out here. He used to race at a dog track.”

“He seems very gentle,” KC said.

The man smiled. “Greyhounds make great pets,” he said.

After saying good night to the man and his dog, they started walking again.

“I should have a dog,” the president said. “Then I’d get exercise when I walked him around the White House grounds.”

“You could walk your cat,” Marshall teased.

The president laughed. “I wonder if George would like that.”

They passed several large buildings, all dark at nine-thirty on a holiday night.

Suddenly KC heard a whizzing sound
over their heads. She looked up just as a white flame shot out of one of the windows in a sprawling building. “Did you see that?” KC cried.

“It came out of the FBI building!” the president said.

“It looked like a rocket!” Marshall said.

As they stood there gaping, another rocket flew out through the window.

Right away the secret service men surrounded the president and his group. The president’s car pulled up, and President Thornton, KC, her mom, and Marshall were shoved inside. Then the black car shot forward and streaked toward the White House.

KC pressed her nose against the window. All she saw was a blur.

In the backseat, the president yanked
out his cell phone and flipped it open. A moment later, he was talking to the director of the FBI, Desmond Smiley.

“We all saw it, Desmond!” the president said. “Lois and the kids were with me, and about half a dozen secret service agents. I’m telling you, fireworks shot out of one of the windows in the FBI building!”

The president listened. “Call me as soon as you know anything, no matter how late!”

He flipped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket.

“What happened?” KC asked. “Were they really rockets?”

“We don’t know yet,” the president said. “But Mr. Smiley will have the fire department check it out.”

Within seconds, they heard sirens.

“Boy, that was fast!” Marshall said as the president’s car zoomed inside the presidential garage.

The president, Lois, and the two kids slipped through a private entrance to the White House. The president greeted a few guards, then entered an elevator. KC’s favorite marine guard, Arnold, saluted them as they stepped out.

“Were the fireworks exciting?” he asked.

“I’ll say!” Marshall blurted, making KC laugh.

When they were inside the residence, KC dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. She realized she had hardly taken a full breath since they’d seen the rockets at the FBI building.

George, the president’s cat, was lying in his bed near the stove. KC’s cats, Lost and Found, were cuddled up with him.

Suddenly the phone rang. KC jumped. She felt like a coiled spring.

The president must have felt the same way. He answered on the second ring. “Yes?” he said.

The president listened, nodding his head.

“Pizza?” he asked. He sounded surprised. “Okay, good job getting there so fast, Chief.”

“What about pizza?” Marshall asked after the president hung up.

“The fire department discovered which room those rockets were shot from,” the president answered. “And they found a burning pizza box in a trash basket.”

“Who shot off the rockets?” KC asked.

“The fire chief thinks it was an accident,” the president said. “Apparently, someone left a package of rockets on the desk right above the trash basket. The chief thinks a spark from the fireworks celebration flew in through the open window and set the pizza box on fire, and the fire lit the rockets.”

KC frowned. It seemed like an awfully big coincidence to her. But the president didn’t seem bothered.

“My cousin had some rockets last year,” Marshall said. “He told me they won’t fly if they’re lying flat when you light them. You have to set them in a special holder or stick them in the ground.”

The president had been reaching for a glass of water. But he set it back down
without taking a sip. He looked serious.

“Marshall, it sounds as if you’re saying some person had to aim the rockets,” the president said. “They wouldn’t be able to launch themselves, even if a spark accidentally lit them. Right?”

Marshall nodded. “Right, sir.”

“Why would anyone want to shoot rockets out the FBI window?” KC asked the president.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m going to the FBI building in the morning. We may have some answers by then.”

“Can Marshall and I go with you?” KC asked.

KC planned to become a Washington reporter after college. Deep down inside, KC felt this fireworks story was big, and she wanted to be in on it!

At ten the next morning, the president, KC, and Marshall left the White House for the FBI building. The black presidential car dropped them off in front of the broad marble steps.

A pair of marine guards came to attention outside the entrance. The two men reached for the doors and pulled them open.

“Thank you,” President Thornton said as he and the kids entered.

The director of the FBI waited just inside, in the lobby.

He shook the president’s hand. “The
fire chief is here already,” Desmond Smiley said. He led the president and the kids through the lobby, past the guard’s desk, to a small meeting room.

A large man in a blue suit stood up. “Good morning, Mr. President,” he said.

“Good morning, Chief,” the president said as everyone sat around a table. “What have you found out?”

“I believe someone deliberately shot those rockets but wanted to make it look like an accident,” the fire chief said. He glanced at a small notebook. “They’re called Zinger rockets, by the way.”

“So this wasn’t an accident?” the president asked.

“That’s unlikely,” the fire chief said. “A spark flying through that open window could have started the fire, but someone
needed to hold the rockets in a position where they’d fly out that window.”

KC felt Marshall kick her under the table. “I was right!” he hissed.

KC nodded but didn’t answer. She wanted to hear what was being said.

“I think he used the metal trash basket as his launching pad,” the fire chief was saying.

The president tapped a pen on the tabletop. He turned to the fire chief. “Was anyone in the building when your crew got there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, a guard,” the chief said. “Name of Joe Cellucci, worked in the building for sixteen years. He told us it was a normal Friday night, for a holiday, until the rockets started flying out the window.”

“Who uses that office?” the president asked.

“Five secretaries,” the director said.

“Did you question them?” the president asked.

“Yes,” the director told him. “All longtime employees. When they left, the door was locked and the windows shut.”

“And I’m guessing none of them admitted to bringing Zinger rockets into the office.” President Thornton sighed.