Agent Angus Read Online Free PDF Page A

The one with the creepy watchman.
    Shahid murmurs, “Maybe we should forget this. We can just order online.”
    There is no way I’m going to be scared off so easily. I shake my head and hiss, “We already decided that would take too long.” I straighten my shoulders and motion for Shahid to follow me. I start walking toward the back, doing my best to appear confident.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Shahid asks.
    I answer him from the side of my mouth. “Walking. What does it look like?”
    â€œIt looks like…I dunno. Like you’ve got the runs and you’re afraid you won’t make it to the can.”
    The Watchman emits a sound. It’s very close to a burp and yet, not a burp. I risk glancing at him directly, but as far as I can tell, nothing has changed. He’s still doing his stare.
    I turn to Shahid and mouth the words, “Shut up.”
    Shahid lowers his brows, and mouths, “What?”
    I roll my eyes, and mouth, “Forget it.”
    And the Watchman almost-burps again. Loudly. It’s so bizarre that Shahid and I freeze in place. I even freeze my eyeballs. What is with this guy? He reminds me of one of those bullfrogs that make huge sounds without changing their faces. But then more sounds emerge from the Watchman, and it takes a moment for me to realize he’s laughing. Laughing! At what? Icy fear grips me as I realize he may be insane. I unlock my eyeballs and slide them toward Shahid. His eyes are goggle-wide. The part of my brain that is still operating realizes that Shahid’s face displays terror.
    We should run.
    â€œMwaahaahaa,” goes the Watchman. And then he forms words. “You guys. Please tell me you’re here for someone else.”
    â€œWha…?” My voice fails. I take a breath and try again. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean,” he says, “ you’re not planning to spy on anyone, are you?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact…” A movement from Shahid makes me pause. Down low at his side, he’s waving a hand. Why? Then I understand. He’s saying we shouldn’t tell the Watchman anything. “As a matter of fact,” I repeat, “that’s right. We came to pick up some sunglasses for…a friend.”
    â€œIs that so?” he asks. “Then step this way. The sunglasses are right here.” He raps a knuckle on the case in front of him.
    â€œOh. Good.” I square my shoulders and approach the case. There they are, three whole pairs of them.
    â€œDo you want to try them on?” the Watchman asks. He’s still smirking.
    â€œNo. No, that’s fine.” I unzip the pocket on my cargo shorts and pull out my wallet.
    â€œI only have size large in stock,” he says.
    â€œThat’s okay. My, uh, friend has a big head.”
    â€œUh-huh.” He shrugs and removes a pair from the case. He rolls them into a sheet of tissue, places them in a bag and says, “That’ll be thirty-three dollars and sixty cents.”
    â€œThirty-three sixty? Oh. Right. I guess there’s tax.” I forgot about tax. I won’t have enough money left to take the bus home. I look at Shahid and remember he too had just enough for the bus. Past shakedowns for lunch money have trained us to carry the bare minimum. I peer hopefully into my wallet, but nothing extra has appeared.
    â€œTell you what,” says the Watchman. “Seeing as you’re short of cash, if you’ll give me your story, I’ll forget the tax.”
    I flinch, then look at him narrowly. “How do you know I’m short of cash? And our story ? What story?”
    â€œKid, I couldn’t be in this business without knowing a thing or two about reading people. You guys are so obvious.” He sighs. “Let’s just say I like a good…story. If you want to save yourself the tax, tell me why you want the glasses. What are you planning to do?”
    I look at