Tracy Tam: Santa Command Read Online Free

below tapped a couple of keys. All of the stats from Santa's current location appeared on the screen. “Well, she's not Bradley Adams, and he doesn't have a sister.” She tapped a few more keys. “Or a cousin. Or any girl neighbors.”
    “Hang on.” Phil scrolled through the archived footage of the night and came up with a still image of a child from a house Santa had visited earlier. He enlarged the image on the view screen and keyed in a command. The child's name appeared across the bottom in white block letters.
    Tracy Tam
    Walt burst in through the door. His beeper squealed like an Inkling caught in a rat trap. “You took care of this. You said you were positive.”
    “I...I was!” Phil ordered up the camera outside her bedroom window. It showed a curled up lump lying in her bed, and long black hair trailing out from under the comforter and across her pillow. “See?”
    Walt snatched the mouse out of Phil's hand and zoomed in on the picture. His eyes grew wider, accenting the purple vein that was throbbing on his right temple. “I see a bed stuffed with pillows and a wig. Come on, Phil. You were trained to know the difference!”
    That's when Phil saw the corner of a pillow sticking out from under the comforter and a kitten curled up where Tracy's head should have been. The wig was a nice touch, he thought. Better than most.
    Phil groaned as he dragged his hands down his cheeks. He had been trained in this. He'd been top of his class, spotting every trick his teachers had thrown at him. Pillows, dolls, and even one cleverly built life size mannequin. He'd identified them all when no one else could come close. That's why Phil had been given a command job after he'd proven himself in other areas. He was one of the best.
    “How much has she seen?” Walt asked.
    Phil pressed his hand against his forehead. His head throbbed. “Too much.”
    “We're gonna have to wipe her.” Walt said this matter of factly, as if the suggestion didn't have far-reaching consequences.
    “No. No, we can't.” The last time Phil had ordered a wipe on a child, the results had been devastating. He could still remember holding the child's unconscious body in his arms. Walt knew about it, but he kept it quiet. It was something Walt's boss could never know about. “A wipe is too unpredictable.”
    “Then give me another option.”
    Phil racked his brain, determined to think of something else. Anything else. Vision dust only lasted for a minute or two, and that didn't clear memories; it only obscured the now. Tracy had to forget. The Santa legend was sacred.
    Walt was right. Even though Tracy hadn't done anything wrong, a mind wipe was the only option. Phil cursed under his breath. Curiosity shouldn't have to be punished.
    “Phil, are you going to give the order or should I?”
    Tracy, unaware of the camera, was climbing up the tree on her way back to the roof.
    Giving Sasha the instructions would be simple. Phil wouldn't have to watch. He could close his eyes until it was done. The Inklings would transport Tracy back to her bedroom, and he could assume everything was fine.
    “Phil?”
    “I'll handle it,” Phil said wearily. This was his screw up. No one else should have this on his conscience. He spoke the order into his head set.
    Sasha communicated the instructions to the rest of her crew, and they made their way up the chimney.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Tracy
     
    Just as Tracy swung from the tree limb to the roof, a plume of yellow smoke puffed up the chimney. Knowing she only had a few seconds, she scrambled to reach the sleigh, paying no attention to the smoke slithering down to the roof and the eight tiny creatures materializing from it.
    She didn't see them grab hold of her shoelaces and yank, sending her sprawling onto her back. She looked up, and there, two inches from her nose, was one of Santa's elves with a sprout-like ponytail on the top of her head.
    “This isn't gonna hurt,” the elf said as she reached into one of