He never thought he would be chauffeur to a car full of clowns.
Lee drove the Cherokee, while Emily and Amanda adjusted their costumes in the back seat. A metal bucket filled with silk flower petals rested on the floor, and a fat plastic baseball bat balanced precariously across Emily's knees.
Turning onto the highway, Lee stole a glance through the rear view mirror. Amanda's features were obscured by greasepaint, her body was covered in gaudy multi-colored rags, and her hair was hidden under a halo of kinky, green curls. She caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled. He forced himself to focus on the road.
Minutes later, he pulled off the highway and onto the lot. The circus tent loomed ahead, a monstrous gray mushroom squatting in the middle of the Mall parking lot.
"Wow. Look at the size of it. It's huge!"
He grinned at Amanda's reaction. "I think that's why they call it a Big Top."
Hearing an odd, nails-on-chalkboard squeak from the back seat, he glanced at the rear view mirror. He should have known better.
Emily pinned the second of two large balloons under the front of her voluminous red, flowered dress. He couldn't tear his gaze away. But he kept trying. "Do you have any idea how that looks? Gives a new meaning for 'Big Top.'"
"Wait until you see the entire effect with the ones attached behind," Emily said, giving her dress a final tweak.
"No, please stop . . . stop . . . oh, Lee, the look on your face . . ." Amanda choked out, between snickers. "Please, don't make me laugh, or my makeup will run . . . you really don't want to see that."
Several other clowns walked toward the midway, and Lee pulled to a stop behind them. "Why don't I drop you off here, and you can walk in with the rest of the clowns. You should feel right at home. I'll drive around back and slip in through the back door. Let's try to meet up compare and notes during the lunch break."
Emily picked up her yellow plastic bat and reached into the car for Amanda's bucket.
"What are those for?" he asked.
"Props," Emily answered.
"Weapons," Amanda said, at the same time.
"Props and weapons. What do you intend to do, drown 'em or tickle 'em to death?"
The bat bounced off his shoulder with a hollow thwack. "Ouch! What did you do that for?'
Emily shook the bat in his face. "Tickle, huh? Oh, ye of little faith. Just keep yourself out of sight and out of trouble."
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Lee concentrated on keeping his balance as he walked along the thin catwalk that linked the three massive center poles. Ducking under the bale ring for the main pole, he tugged at the tent rigging and inspected the canvas, trying to look busy.
With each gust of wind that rippled the canvas overhead, the spider web of ropes and cables that connected the rigging to the poles shivered, and the catwalk swayed. He was glad he didn't get seasick.
Below him, clowns of every conceivable description swarmed, filling all three performance rings and spilling out onto the hippodrome track that curved in front of the grandstand seats. Amid the kaleidoscope of greasepaint and frenetic activity, it was hard to keep his attention on his targets.
Amanda and Emily seemed to have worked out a routine involving bat swinging, flower tossing, and balloon popping. They ducked and dodged, swung and dipped, in choreographed precision. How had they mastered those moves so quickly?
Perhaps there's a little clown in everyone.
Ugh . . . that was an image he could live without.
Two clowns climbed a rickety rope ladder to the crow's nest at the top of a nearby quarter pole and checked the rigging for the wire that joined their platform to another quarter pole on the other side of the ring. They assembled a bicycle around the wire, attaching counterweights and a balance pole. Apparently heedless of the distance between the wire and the net, they took turns pedaling back and forth across the ring and tossing confetti, which fell like slow rain onto the pandemonium below.
It was a surreal scene. Nightmarish.
Edging further along the catwalk, Lee marked the three Soviet agents as they practiced with the others. They were working together now, with several props. A tubular confetti canon was their current toy.
As one Soviet in clown's clothing clambered into the box seats, another scampered up with the canon and let the spectator trigger it. They cavorted back and forth along the track in front of the box seats, blowing confetti toward the ring.
Lee staggered to the end of the walkway, clinging to the guide ropes and fighting to stay on his feet as the boards shifted underfoot. He leaned past the last row of spotlights and peered over the edge, hoping for a clearer view.
The blazing lights were hot on his back, and the smell of wet canvas, stale popcorn, and overheated clowns was almost enough to knock him off his perch. He was missing something--he could feel it.
It was there. It had to be. He ignored the sounds and the stench and just focused on the clowns below.
And saw it.
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Lee leaned against the Pie Car, while clown after hungry clown filed in for lunch. Keeping his back to the colorful horde, he waited for Amanda and Emily to emerge. When they walked past him and sat against the sidewall of the main tent, he strolled by, with his hands in his pockets, and stood just outside the main entrance, watching them out of the corner of his eye.
"Someone in the front row is going to pass something to the Russians tonight. They used that confetti canon of theirs to . . . well . . . it's hard to describe. I saw them drop the tail end of the canon over a soda bottle that the other was holding. When they lifted the thing, the bottle was gone. It must have a false bottom."
"Can't we just pick them up now?" Amanda mumbled, around a mouthful of hotdog.
"No, that wouldn't be a good idea," Emily said. "We need to know who they're meeting and see the transfer--and catch them in the act."
Lee nodded. "I called Billy, and there'll be a few of our people in the audience tonight. But we need to be careful. We can't come in with our guns drawn and turn this thing into an international incident, or . . . well . . . a media circus."
Groaning, Amanda pulled herself to her feet and reached out to Emily, who was patting a sandbag with one hand and fingering her plastic bat. "The ringmaster liked our routine, so we'll be in the center ring tonight. I guess we just keep our eyes open. Where will you be?" She dragged Emily to her feet and brushed the sawdust from her costume.
"Don't worry, I'll be watching over you."
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Dressed in black, Lee lay on his stomach on the thin catwalk above the aerial rigging, as the circus unfolded beneath him. The reek of wet elephant, burnt popcorn, and cigarette smoke created a miasma that drifted up from the tarmac and permeated his clothes. Squinting through the smoke and hot lights, he winced as a headache crawled behind his eyes.
Acrobats, aerialists, contortionists, and clowns performed in the three rings, each act more outrageous that the last.
Directly below the catwalk, Emily, Amanda, and the clown brigade began their routines in the center ring. In a confusing jumble of top hats, fluffy collars, and baggy pants, the Russians jumped the ringcurb and trotted down the hippodrome track to the first row of box seats. In a flurry of streamers and confetti, they worked their magic, allowing spectator after spectator to trigger the canon.
He almost missed it.
A flash of greasepaint, an explosion of confetti, and the transfer was complete. The three hopped back into the center ring and tried to blend in.
Clown camouflage.
Looking for a fast way down, Lee spotted a long strand of web--the cotton-filled fire hose used by the aerialists during the previous act. Attached to the top of the tent, it dropped through the guy lines and dangled enticingly, just a few feet from the end of the catwalk.
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Stupid circus. Stupid clowns.
The whole thing was stupid . . . killer boring.
Aaron slumped on the worn wooden bleachers, with his arms folded, and glared at his Aunt. At least she was having fun. Why did she have to drag him along? He was too old for this baby stuff . . . could've been playing Donkey Kong, or even watching TV.
Anything but this stupid circus.
The skinny lady next to him gasped and pointed to the top of the tent. A guy in black was running along some boards. When he hit the end, he just kept going--right off into the air. It looked like he was falling, until he grabbed on to something hanging from the ceiling and sailed overhead.
As the guy swung back and forth, he also slid down, just like those pirates in the old movies.
Okay, so this was getting better.
The pirate guy hit the ground and rolled across the ring, knocking clowns around like a bunch of bowling pins. When he jumped up and grabbed a big one by his ruffled collar, the clown tried to bash him over the head with a long tube thing. Pirate Guy punched Collar Clown and sent him flying headfirst into the side of a tiny clown car.
A bunch of clowns piled out of the other side of the car, screaming and running off in every direction.
Cool. How'd they all fit in there? Leaning forward, Aaron strained to see.
The Tube Thing rolled across the ring and bumped up against a lady clown in a huge flowery dress. She musta had something under there, because, when she bent to pick up the tube, her front and back bounced up and down.
Gross. Grody to the Max.
Another clown in a black top hat closed in on Bouncy Lady. She put the Tube Thing between her legs and held her yellow bat in both hands--like she was waiting for a pitch.
Okay, that was stupid. Those things didn't hurt--you could whack someone all day and not hurt 'em with a whiffle bat.
She looked pretty serious, though.
Top Hat didn't seem afraid. He spread his arms and closed in.
Pirate Guy musta seen what was happening and ran for Top Hat. Guess Collar Clown saw it, too. He pulled himself out of the clown car and ran after him.
Before Pirate Guy could grab Top Hat, Bouncy Lady swung the bat, clocking him on the side of the head. It looked pretty real, the way Top Hat flew backwards and flopped to the ground.
He wasn't moving much.
Collar Clown closed in on Pirate Guy before he got to Bouncy Lady, and they started to punch each other out. Another clown in baggy pants jumped into the ring and headed for Bouncy Lady, too. She tossed the Tube Thing to another lady clown dressed in weird rags and huge black shoes. Rags caught the Tube Thing in one hand, grabbed a bucket off the ground with the other, and ran, with Baggy Butt right behind her.
Pirate Guy and Collar Clown were still fighting, when Bouncy Lady smacked Collar Clown over the head with the bat, flattening him like a bug.
Aaron jumped up and down in his seat, until his Aunt gave him "The Eye." It was getting wilder all the time. Who knew clowns could be this much fun? He tried to sit still so she wouldn't bug him, but he had to lean around a tall guy to see.
Rags was running with the Tube Thing tucked under her arm like a Nerf Ball, and the bucket was swinging from the other. Those big floppy shoes were sure slowing her down, though, and Baggy Butt was closing in fast. Rags tripped on the edge of the ring and fell, rolling all the way over and popping back up like a Jack-in-the-Box, still holding the Thing and the bucket.
Baggy Butt almost grabbed her. But she spun around, bashing Baggy Butt with the bucket. He fell over and rolled away, and she threw the bucket at him. Aaron could hear the "clang" as it bounced off his head, and he was buried in a puff of funny little flowers.
That musta hurt!
When Baggy Butt shook off the flowers and crawled after her, Rags hopped forward, banging the end of the Tube Thing on the ground. Something fell out of the bottom and Rags stuffed whatever-it-was down her shirt. The Tube Thing followed the bucket, but missed Baggy Butt's head and bounced off his shoulder instead.
Oh, wow! He looked pretty pissed!
Rags spun around and dived for the rope ladder on the tent pole next to her, and tried to climb the ladder. But it looked like the clown shoes were too big for the rungs, and she was getting nowhere, fast. She was yanking on a shoe when Baggy Butt grabbed her from behind. The shoe came loose, and Rags slapped him in the face with it. He fell back, and she climbed, pulling herself up with her arms and hopping up with one foot.
This was the kinda weird part--Rags looked almost scared. Maybe she was afraid of heights.
In the other ring, Pirate Guy and Bouncy Lady had Top Hat and Collar Clown flat on their stomachs. Pirate Guy looked up at Rags and Baggy Butt climbing the ladder and took off after 'em.
Aaron didn't think he'd get there in time.
As they got to the top of the ladder, Baggy Butt was closing in on Rags. She yanked off her other shoe and threw it at him. When it bounced off his head, he slipped down three rungs.
He didn't fall, though--too bad.
Rags made it to the little platform at the top of the pole. She was stuck, for sure. Baggy Butt had to know it, too.
Rags whirled and grabbed for the bike.
Bike? Why was there a bike?
The bike was balanced on the tightrope that stretched across the ring to another pole on the other side. There was a long, skinny stick thing across the bike's handlebars, and it all swayed.
Maybe there was trick to it, but you couldn't get him on a thing like that.
Rags looked like she felt the same way, but Baggy Butt was getting closer. As he got to the platform, Rags stepped over the railing and settled down onto the bike. He grabbed for her, and she pedaled furiously. Maybe she'd get away.
Aaron felt like cheering.
Halfway across the wire, the bike started to sway, and Rags pedaled faster. Now, Pirate Guy was climbing the ladder. Baggy Butt reached for another stick thing that rested on the platform railing. As Pirate Guy made it to the top and reached for Baggy Butt, Baggy Butt stepped off onto the wire, holding the stick in both hands.
Rags was pretty close to the other side, but the bike was wobbling. Just before she was pitched off, she grabbed the railing and hauled herself onto the tiny platform. She turned to face Baggy Butt and backed against the pole, but there was nowhere else to go.
Aaron didn't see a ladder on that side.
Rags was trapped, Baggy Butt was almost halfway across, and Pirate Guy couldn't stop him.
Narly! This was better than a movie.
Rags was watching Baggy Butt cross the halfway point and just standing there--doing nothin. All of a sudden, she stepped out onto the wire, holding the platform railing in both hands. She jumped a little, and then did it again. Her feet slipped, and she almost fell.
Aaron held his breath.
Rags pulled herself back up and jumped up and down on the wire. The wire didn't look like it was moving, but Baggy Butt sure felt something. He started to wobble, like the bike, just a little, at first. His stick thing leaned to one side, then to the other side. Aaron could've sworn that he looked worried.
Rags kept bouncing and Baggy Butt kept wobbling--until one last big bounce sent him over the edge, stick and all.
The roar of the audience drowned out Aaron's cheers as the clown hit the corner of the safety net, flipped over once, and flopped face down onto the tarmac with a thud and a puff of dust.
Oh, Man! This circus was bodacious!
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Lee stood on the small platform and gripped the railing with sweaty palms. As the roar of the crowd began to die down, he gestured to get Amanda's attention. She released her grip to wave back, but broke off the gesture abruptly. Lee felt his pole sway as the elephants thundered past, signaling the start of the final act. From her death-grip, her pole must be moving, too.
"HOLD ON! We'll get a cherry picker in here to get you down." Could she hear him over the raucous music that poured from the calliope? He couldn't tell. "Just hold on!"
Below, Agency personnel were loading Stroyev onto a stretcher. Amazingly, the audience seemed to think the whole thing was part of the show. Billy would be pleased--mop up operations would be that much easier.
Amanda crouched in the small space, with her back to the pole and her arms wrapped around the railing. A hundred feet away, Lee sat cross-legged on his own platform and watched her, as the elephants finished the final act. Keeping eye contact made him feel closer, and he knew she craved that connection, too.
Not breaking her gaze, she rested her head against the railing and reached into her shirt. She fished out a small cylinder and held it up.
They'd done it.
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Lee slid down the last few rungs of the ladder and jogged to the cherry picker. The long arm swung around and down and gradually lowered the bucket to the floor of the tent. Not caring who watched, he pulled Amanda into his arms before her feet touched the ground.
"You were amazing. When did you learn that high-wire bike trick?
She tucked the top of her head under his chin, and he felt her shiver into his embrace. "Learn?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.
"Well, that was exciting. I almost regret the performance is over." Emily patted Amanda's arm. "Oh, that was well done, both of you. Do you have it, Amanda?"
Amanda pushed away from the shelter of his arms and handed the small cylinder to Emily, who nodded toward Billy. "Your boss told me that this little gem is a guidance computer for a new breed of missile. It's a good thing we ran off and joined the circus. Here, take this." Emily tossed her yellow bat to Lee.
"What the . . . what have you done to this thing? It weighs a ton." The bat slid through his fingers.
"Take a good look." Emily walked over to Billy, who stood in the entrance.
Lee shook the bat and smiled as Amanda stooped to look.
"She filled it with sand."
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"It was wonderful to see Emily again. I hope we can visit before she goes back home." The sound of the bathroom fan muffled Amanda's voice. "It's a good thing Mother and the boys are out of town. If they knew I went to the circus without them, I never would've heard the end of it. 'Course, my costume would've been hard to explain . . ."
"Are you about finished in there?" Lee called, into the bathroom. He flopped down on the bed and sprawled, with his arms flung wide. It felt so good to relax. The fan stopped, and he waited for his wife to join him. Quality time alone was rare and precious, and he didn't want to waste a second.
Silence.
"Amanda?"
Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . .
The lights flickered off. He waited--nerves on edge and heart pounding--as the ominous sound grew louder. What was she up to?
SLAP . . . SLAP . . .
"Um . . . Amanda?"
The corner of the mattress dipped, and a shadow prowled across the bed.
"What . . . ah . . . are you doing? Amanda?" He shifted against the headboard and reached for the lamp on the nightstand, as his stalker slid over his knees and straddled his legs.
"Mmmm . . . just trying to help." Her husky voice radiated humor--and something more.
"Ah, help with what?" He lunged for the lamp, but she beat him to it, sliding up along his chest and slapping his hand away. The light flicked on.
"Boo!"
"Aaaaaaieeee . . . WHAT the . . ." Torn between horror and laughter, Lee fell back against the pillows, as his wife pinned him to the bed.
She wore a green, curly wig and floppy black clown shoes--and her face was drawn into a ghoulish clown grin.
"We can't have a grown man afraid of clowns, now can we? It would be ridiculous." She trailed her fingers along his chest and leaned forward. "We'll just work through it together."
He switched off the light.
She switched it on.
Lee felt her warm breath on his lips. "Lights on, and eyes forward, Scarecrow."
The End
Author's note. Yes, I left one, burning question unanswered. It was intentional.