B003J5UJ4U EBOK (25 page)

As we studied the ship, Martin laughed.

“What?”

“We’re about to attack something designed to detect attacks. Don’t you just love that?”

“Almost as much as pancakes.”

I spotted a metal box about the size of a small car at the front of the ship. The side of the box had Bowdler’s Psibertronix logo painted on it. There were a couple different types of antennas sticking out of the top.

“We have to damage the ship,” I told Martin, “and make it look like that instrument did it. Any ideas?”

“Fire would be good,” he said.

“It would. Too bad Torchie isn’t here.”

“You could rub two sticks together really fast.”

“I knew I could count on you for great suggestions.” I studied the box. Even without using the binoculars, I could see a couple thick power cables running to it. Reaching across the pier with my mind, I pulled one of the cables from the box. I jumped as sparks danced in the air.

“You okay?” Martin asked.

“Yeah. I just sort of expected a shock. Like when I grab something hot with my mind, I always expect to get burned.”

Another arc of sparks shot from the cable. I turned my attention back to the ship.

“Awesome,” Martin said. “This could work out.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I was concentrating on pulling out the other cable. When I had them both under control, I touched one to the deck and the other to the railing. I could sense the power pulsing through them, like they were giant tentacles. Lights inside the ship dimmed, then flickered.

Pop-pop-pop!

I ducked in panic when I heard gunfire. “Someone’s shooting at us!” I lost control of the cables and they both fell to the deck.

Behind me, Martin laughed. “Light bulbs,” he said.

I realized he was right. It was just bulbs bursting. That was a good sign that I was on the right track. I thrust the ends of the cables back to the railing and deck. There were more pops, and then one huge WHUMPF! The cables went dead.

“Generator, I’ll bet,” Martin said. “Remind me never to play Battleship with you.”

Smoke drifted from beneath the deck. Even back where we were, thirty or forty yards away, it burned my nose. I could hear people farther down the pier running toward the ship.

“Well, that’s not going to look too good for Bowdler,” Martin said.

“Nope. And we’re just getting warmed up.” I headed back to the street.

night missions

“NEXT?” MARTIN ASKED
.

“Office building,” I told him. “Bowdler has a system set up in an employee interview room at Tichborne and Fawkes. It records Kirlian images of people who apply for jobs. They’re going to take people who get caught stealing from the company or cheating or anything, and compare their scans to everyone else’s, so they can figure out ahead of time who might be dishonest.”

Martin shrugged. “I could tell them that. So could Cheater. Your average five-year-old can spot a crook, for that matter. But this scanning stuff is just nonsense.”

“Yeah. And the scanner is about to malfunction big time.”

We managed to get a cab and took it over to the building, which wasn’t near any of the bus routes. It was a little after ten when we got there. The place was closed. I looked through the front doors and spotted a numeric keypad mounted on the wall. A tiny red light flashed on its upper right corner. For once, I was happy to see an alarm.

“Let’s go over here.” I headed across the street and moved behind a parked van.

“What’s the plan?” Martin asked.

“I saw this in a movie,” I told him. As we hunched behind the van, I unlocked the door to the building and pulled it open. Then I pulled it closed and locked it. I didn’t hear anything, but I figured an alarm was going off somewhere.

Two minutes later, a car from a private security force came screeching up to the curb. The guard checked the door. Then he unlocked it and walked inside. After he fiddled with the alarm, he walked down the hallway. About ten minutes later, he came back out, shaking his head. He locked the door and left.

I waited a couple minutes and set off the alarm again. It took three more tries before the guard didn’t bother going down the hall. Five minutes after he left, I did it again. But this time, we went inside before I re-locked the door. We waited in a corridor until we heard the guard come in and turn off the alarm.

We searched for half an hour before we found the scanning gear. It was set up in a room with a two-way mirror—the kind they used for police line-ups—and looked like a large, modified movie camera. There was a Psibertronix logo on the side. According to the documents I’d read, Bowdler had charged Tichborne and Fawkes $340,000 for the equipment alone, along with all sorts of charges for analyzing the data. The company had probably billed the government at least twice that much.

“Fire?” Martin asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. We need variety. Maybe if it exploded.”

“Got bombs?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Then how are you going to do that?”

Good question. Like most guys, I wasn’t unfamiliar with things that went boom. I’d played around with firecrackers, and tried a couple experiments that I was lucky to have survived. But I didn’t think I could whip up a batch of gunpowder right now.

“It doesn’t actually have to explode,” I said. “It just has to look like it. Stand back.” I pushed Martin into the hallway. Then I turned toward the scanner and started pulling small pieces off it and flinging them into the walls, ceiling, and floor. By the time I was done with the scanner, it looked like a bomb had gone off inside of it.

I stood there, panting. I could feel my pulse thudding in my veins.

“Man, remind me never to get on your bad side,” Martin said. “And I thought I had anger issues.”

“I guess I was a bit angry,” I said. “But that sure felt good.”

“What if nobody comes in here for a while?” Martin asked. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. We can’t wait until Monday to get Lucky back.”

“Some people never take a day off.” I could remember lots of times when my dad worked all weekend.

“But what if nobody goes into this room? They just use it when there are interviews. Right?”

“Good point. So let’s leave a couple small hints that something is wrong.” I lifted one of the larger pieces from the floor and hurled it through the two-way mirror. I shot another
piece through the window between the room and the hallway.

“That should do the trick,” Martin said. “As long as you don’t mind seven years bad luck.”

“I think I’ve already had twice that much.”

We left the building, setting off the alarm one last time, and walked around to the side so the guard wouldn’t see us. While we waited for him to leave, I checked the street. It didn’t look like a great spot to get a cab. We’d probably have to hike five or six blocks before we could flag one down. It was after eleven, and I was getting tired of walking. I glanced over at the parking lot behind the building. It was empty except for a car and two vans, each with
TICHBORNE AND FAWKES
painted on the driver’s door.

“You know how to drive?” I asked Martin.

“Sure. Sort of… My sister took me out a couple times. Why?”

“Let’s get some wheels.” I unlocked the car, opened the doors, and switched on the ignition.

“Cool.” Martin slipped behind the wheel. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah. I never took a car, but I figured out how to start them. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely. I was born to drive.” After almost backing into a wall, Martin got us out of the lot and onto the street. “I like this,” he said. “It’s almost as good as a video game.” He turned the wheel left, then right, weaving in his lane. He started swaying from side to side, moving his body in synch with the car. Two blocks later, he said, “Oh boy. We’ve got trouble.”

I glanced over my shoulder. A cop car had slipped behind us. I couldn’t tell if they were checking us out or just cruising.

“You think they know I don’t have a license?” Martin asked.

“I think they know you can’t drive straight. But I wouldn’t worry about it.” I reached under their hood with my mind, pressed down on their radiator cap, and gave it a twist. Steam shot out as the cap came loose. They pulled over to the curb and we drove on.

“I could get used to this,” Martin said.

“Me, too.” I glanced ahead. “Stop sign!”

Martin stomped on the brakes and skidded to a stop, throwing me forward against the shoulder belt.

“Chill out. I saw it.” He looked both ways, twice, then drove on. “We really could have anything we want, couldn’t we?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess the problem is I really don’t know what I want. I mean, in the future. Right now, I want Livy to like me. And I want to rescue your sorry, trouble-seeking butt. But all of that rest-of-my-life stuff, I don’t know.”

“Me, either.” I knew I wanted my life back. I wanted to
save
Lucky and destroy Bowdler. But beyond that, I didn’t have any quick answers.

“Wait,” Martin said, “that’s not true. I know what I want. I want to drive. I want to drive everywhere. All the time. This is way too much fun to stop.” He turned the corner smoothly enough that I barely had to hold on.

I knew what he meant. Driving was power. You could go
where you wanted, when you wanted. No schedules. No routes. No waiting for a bus or a parent.

“I got it! Let’s go to Las Vegas,” Martin said. “Imagine you at a dice table.” He shook one fist like he was shaking a pair of dice, then tossed the imaginary dice toward the windshield. “Winner!”

“Imagine me with a bullet in my brain. I’m not messing with those casino guys.”

“Okay, so it’s not a perfect idea. But you have to admit, it’s fun to imagine.” He took one hand off the wheel and tapped the sheet on my lap. “What’s next?”

I checked the list. “There’s an experiment on the Petain International corporate jet.”

“Where’s the jet?”

“Philly airport.”

Martin stomped on the brakes again. Behind us, someone hit the horn, then screeched around our car, the horn still blaring. “Are you crazy?” Martin shouted. “An airport? You know what kind of security they have there?”

“That’s why we have to do it. There’s no way anyone could get near the jet, so they’ll know it had to be one of the experiments messing up. They’ll blame Bowdler.”

“Forget it,” Martin said. “We’ll end up in some tiny room, getting searched in places I’d never dream of hiding anything. I don’t know about you, but I have absolutely no desire to have my body cavities explored by some guy with a bad attitude and hairy arms.”

“Pull over. I’ll drive.”

Martin stepped on the gas. “Nope. I might be crazy, but I’m not suicidal. I’ll drive. You tell me how to get there.”

We managed to find route 95 and get to the airport. After Martin parked, we went into the international terminal and took the elevator up to the arrival area. I figured there’d be lots of people waiting to meet flights, so we wouldn’t look out of place. There was a hallway with windows right by the elevators. I moved from window to window, trying to spot any place where there were private jets. It felt weird using the binoculars. I was afraid someone would see me and think I was a terrorist.

Martin finally spotted the jet. “Petain International, right?”

“Yeah. You see it?”

“Yup.”

“Where?”

“Heading for the runway.”

“Shoot.” I looked where he was pointing. There was a jet taxiing toward one of the runways. That was a problem. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But I hated to waste an opportunity. Besides, I wasn’t planning anything huge. No fires or explosions. Not here, around all this jet fuel and all these people.

I focused the binoculars so I could see into the cockpit. There was a small box mounted in front of the copilot. It had the Psibertronix logo. I yanked it free and bounced it off the instrument panel.

An instant later, the plane stopped moving. I could see the pilot talking on the radio. Then the plane turned down a side path and taxied back toward the hangars.

“Someone’s not going to be happy,” Martin said.

“Yeah. This will get their attention. If you own your own jet, you expect to go wherever you want, whenever you want. These guys don’t like to wait for anything.”

“Like if you can drive, you lose the ability to wait for a bus.”

“Exactly.” I glanced out at the runway. “That felt kind of wimpy, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. Not much of a bang.”

I thought about what we’d done so far. There were probably already ripples spreading toward the people in charge. But I wanted to make sure I sent at least one unmistakable message. “I’d love to end the night with something more impressive.” I looked at the list again, then showed it to Martin. “What do you think?”