How to Lead a Life of Crime (9 page)

“Before it heals,” she whispers without realizing that the teacher has come up behind her.

Act fast, my brain urges. Make a scene! “Goddamn it!” I bellow, directing my rage at the catwalk. “Why am I teaching some stupid hillbilly how to talk? What’s next? Teaching goats how to slow dance? Pigs how to play the piano? This is not why I’m here, Mandel! When are you going to teach me something useful?”

It’s worked. If Ms. White heard Aubrey’s warning, she’s already forgotten it. She is captivated by my performance now, and I’m doing everything I can to make it truly spectacular.

I’m hurling insults at everyone in the room when the door opens and Mandel appears. He doesn’t need to say a word. I follow him outside. He waits until we’re in the hallway to crack a smile.

“I’m terribly sorry, Flick,” he says. “I should have realized that these courses would be far too remedial for you. Most of our students tend to be rough around the edges when they arrive. They wouldn’t fit in without a few weeks of training.”

“So can I go upstairs now?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not. We follow a strict schedule here. But starting tomorrow, you may have breakfast in your room and then report to the gym. We won’t waste your time with classes you don’t need.”

“Thank you.”

He’s about to open the door and send me back inside. Then he pauses. “Do you know what the alumni are saying about you?”

“Am I supposed to guess?” I ask.

“They’re already calling you the prodigy,” he tells me. Then his lips stretch into another friendly grin. “Let‘s see how long the label sticks.”

CHAPTER TEN

ANGELS AND DEMONS

I
’ve learned only one thing since I got here. I’m not quite as smart as I thought. It took a couple of days before I realized that being excused from all classes wasn’t a reward. It was a punishment—for losing sight of my goal. For getting off course. I’m not here to make friends or rescue damsels in distress. I’m here to win the prize I’ve been promised.

I forgot my mission. And I’ve been sentenced to solitary confinement for my crime.

The gym has every type of exercise machine ever built. I spent the first two days torturing muscles I’d never used before. Running marathons on the treadmills. Shadow-boxing on the enormous red exercise mat. When the other students showed up in the gym at 5:00 p.m. for their self-defense class, I was annoyed that they’d invaded my private space. But soon I began looking forward to their arrival each day. I even asked the instructor for permission to take part in the lessons. By the end of the first week, five o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

You’d think that watching someone work out for ten hours a day wouldn’t be terribly entertaining. But I seem to be the most popular show in town. The catwalk glass is always transparent first thing in the morning. It fogs and clears at least a dozen times throughout the day. If I’m completely still, I can hear the sound of footsteps. I resist the urge to shout curses at the ceiling or fling weights at the walls. I’m not sure I’d survive if Mandel took my single hour of human contact away. And I doubt that’s the worst that could happen. He can do whatever he wants to me down here. There’s nothing I could do to stop him. And that must be the lesson he’s trying to teach me.

After the solitude had turned into torture, I tried holding imaginary conversations inside my head. Sometimes with Jude. Sometimes with Joi. Then one afternoon I heard the sound of my own voice. I’d been speaking out loud. The catwalk glass was clear. No one was watching, but I had no idea how long my lips had been broadcasting my thoughts. The watchers couldn’t know about Joi, and I didn’t want them eavesdropping when I spoke to Jude. So I tried to fill my brain with nothing but static. The effort made me angry. That rage became my constant companion.

Every night, I pace my cage. Anything, anything, I tell myself. You have to do anything. I no longer care if anyone’s watching behind the mirror. I have to keep Jude and Joi from visiting me in the darkness, so I stage executions inside my head. I murder my father the way he murdered his. Or I beat him until his face is as broken as Jude’s. Every morning, I emerge from a dream in which I’m drenched in his blood. Mandel must have known this would happen.

• • •

If my calculations are correct, when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll have two days left in the Incubation Suites. Forty-eight hours that might as well be forever. At least today appears to be drawing to a close. It’s already five o’clock, and my fellow newbies have filed into the gym for self-defense training. I have no idea what’s happened to them over the past weeks, but the difference is startling. Their accents are gone, and their posture is perfect. Even Ivan speaks in clear, well-formed sentences that make me wonder if he might actually be sentient. They removed the bandages from his nose yesterday, and I can see they made a few improvements. It’s straighter. More refined. Ivan the Terrible has the schnoz of a Roman emperor. I guess it helps to be handsome if you’re completely insane. Ella is poised and deadly—like a princess with a pistol and a PhD. I haven’t heard Aubrey talk in days, but for a while she spoke like a television news anchor. Felix doesn’t smile as much anymore.

Our self-defense instructor, Mr. Green, knows there’s nothing he can teach me. And it’s pretty obvious that thugs like Ivan are the reason these classes exist. But the three other newbies had so much to learn that Mr. Green couldn’t teach them alone. I’ve been paired with Ella from the very beginning. Ivan has Felix. The instructor works with Aubrey, who needs the most guidance. She didn’t pay much attention during the first two weeks of class. When she should have been watching the instructor, her eyes were always pleading with me. She gave up the day they removed the stitches in my forearm. The next time I saw her, she’d slipped back into her trance.

Aubrey probably thought I’d never figured it out, but I always understood what she was trying to say. That the chip can be removed before the incision has healed. The information never made much difference to me. I just wish I’d been able to ask how she knew. But there was never a chance to speak privately, and I couldn’t risk more punishment. Aubrey must have seen something in rehab—something that scared her. After I rescued her from Ivan, she tried to warn me. But I’m already long past saving. Aubrey shouldn’t have wasted her time.

• • •

Today I’m supposed to be attacking Ella, but she’s decided to turn the tables. She’s on the offensive now, and I’m the one deflecting blows. The girl holds a grudge. She really wants to hurt me. I suspect she’s been practicing at night in her cell. Ella must know she has no chance of winning. Nature made me bigger and stronger. But I have to admire her persistence. I even consider letting her land a punch. But she suddenly stops throwing them. The catwalk has fogged over. At this point, we all know what that means.

Mr. Green looks up and nods. He’s been expecting our visitors.

“Ella, Felix, and Aubrey—clear the mat!” he calls out. “Ivan and Flick, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The people up on the catwalk want to be entertained. I imagine Mandel and my father standing side by side, and the rage returns in a rush. A demon of unimaginable power overtakes me. I now know exactly how it feels to be possessed. If you don’t try to fight it, it feels f—ing fantastic.

I can tell from Ivan’s grin that he’s been waiting for this opportunity. He’s probably been strategizing for weeks. I doubt he’ll let me get close enough to drag him down to the floor. He’s taller than I am, and his reach is much longer. Anyone watching would assume he had the edge. But when his fist comes flying through the air, I dodge it with ease. I’ll draw the first blood this time.

I hit with far less force than I’m able to muster. Just a quick jab to the jawline. He responds with a blow that might have knocked out most of my teeth if it hadn’t missed my face by an inch. This time I target his pretty new nose. He forgets his plan and rushes straight for me. A quick kick to the knee sends him down to the mat. There’s more than enough time for me to go in for the kill, but I let him jump back to his feet. I don’t want the fight to end. It’s not about winning. I want Ivan to suffer.

I stalk him around the gym, throwing punch after punch—but always giving him just enough time to recover. He’s battered and bloody, barely able to stand. But he won’t admit defeat, and that’s exactly what I’ve been counting on.

Suddenly Ivan’s arms drop, and he’s no longer looking at me. He’s staring up at the catwalk instead. I assume it’s a trick. He’ll clock me as soon as I turn around. But then I notice that everyone else in the gym sees the same thing he does.

The glass has cleared. A message has been sent. Our visitor is calling an end to the fight. It’s a blond girl, and she’s up there all alone. It’s hard to be certain from this distance, but she doesn’t seem old enough to be an employee or alumnus. She looks like an angel. The kind you put on top of a Christmas tree. I expect her to flutter down from the heavens, but she just smiles and walks away.

“Rusalka,” Ivan mutters under his breath.

“Who?” I ask. “Do you know that girl?”

Ivan grins. A thin stream of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth; then he spits two teeth on the floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE BEAUTY PAGEANT

H
ow do you feel?” Lucian Mandel asks me. He’s perched on the edge of my bed. I haven’t even had a chance to rinse Ivan’s blood off my hands.

I glare at Mandel. I want to kill him. But he can give me something else I want more. So I won’t. I’ll let him live. Because I’ll do anything, anything. But nobody said I have to pretend to enjoy it. “Like you’ve wasted three f—ing weeks of my life,” I respond.

“Is that what you think?” When he smirks, I could rip his whole head off. “Did you imagine that life at the academy was going to be easy? I assure you, it was just as arduous back in your father’s day. But I thought you might be pleased by the results we’ve produced in the past few weeks. Don’t you see how you’ve changed?”

He points to my reflection in the mirror. The plentiful food and nonstop exercise have made an undeniable impact. The gym clothes I was given when I first arrived are at least a size too small. My T-shirt and sweatpants are speckled with blood. But it’s my face that’s truly transformed. There’s nothing pretty about it anymore. I finally look like the person I’ve been trying to be. Still, I don’t need to hear about the merits of suffering from some pampered little ass- hole who wouldn’t survive a deep-tissue massage.

“The first time you fought Ivan, I didn’t feel the need to intervene,” he confides. “I knew you weren’t capable of inflicting real damage. It wasn’t in your nature. But today, you weren’t just planning to kill him—you wanted to torture him first.”

It’s true.

“How would you know?” I snarl. “You weren’t even there.”

“Gwendolyn told me she had to stop the fight. You must have seen her.”

“You mean the blonde on the catwalk?”

“Yes. Pretty, don’t you think?”

His knowing look makes me sick. “I think you’re way too old to be drooling over girls her age. Who is she, anyway?”

“A very talented young lady. You see, the best and the brightest are granted special privileges here at the Mandel Academy. Gwendolyn is our Dux, the school’s top student. It’s an important position, and one that comes with quite a few perks—before and after graduation. Gwendolyn acts as my ambassador to the student body, and I respect her opinion. So I always allow her a first peek at our newcomers. She was very impressed by what she saw today. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Is that why you’re here? To play matchmaker?”

Mandel rises. “Your hostility is misplaced, Flick. Try to remember—you aren’t angry at me. I’m just here to help. I have only your best interests in mind.”

I couldn’t count how many times I heard my dad say the same thing. Whatever he did to me, it was always for my own good. “Really? I seem to recall a little wager you made with my father.”

“Yes, but I can’t win the wager without you. One might say we’re teammates. No matter what happens going forward, please try to remember that. And don’t forget the reward that will be waiting for you at the end of this ordeal. In nine months, you could have all the proof you need to send your father to prison. But you won’t earn the right to graduate in September unless you set everything else aside and fight for it. That’s the best advice I can give you. I recommend that you take it to heart.”

“So you’re telling me I should do whatever it takes to help you win your bet. Is that your idea of a pep talk?”

Mandel hears the question and ignores the insult. “I suppose it is. But it will need to be the last for a while. Once you’re upstairs, I can’t show you too many favors, Flick. I do hope you understand.”

“I think I’ll live.” And Mandel will stand a better chance of surviving if the little runt stays out of my sight.

“I’m very happy to hear that. Now that we’ve had this chat, you’re free to dine with the rest of your class tonight.”

“My punishment is over?”

Mandel sighs wearily. “You weren’t being punished, Flick. You may have tremendous potential, but we’ll need to work hard to tap it. You came here a weak-willed little boy. My methods may seem harsh, but this school will transform you into the man you yearn to be.”

“And what if I’ve decided I don’t want to change?” I ask just to screw with him. “What if I decide to flunk out?”

“That’s not an option you should attempt to pursue,” he advises me. “Stay and learn what I can teach you. In time, you may even come to see me as your mentor. Perhaps we’ll be as close as my mother always was with your father.”

I can’t help but snort at the thought.

“I know it must seem unlikely now. But this is only the beginning of our relationship. I have much to teach you in the months to come. You’ve made great strides during your stay in the Incubation Suites. But your real education begins in twenty-four hours.”

My calculations were off. I must have lost track of time. “Tomorrow is my last day in this hell hole?”

“This isn’t hell, Flick,” Mandel says with a laugh. “I think you’ll find it’s much closer to limbo.”

• • •

My sweats are in the trash. I’m dressed in proper attire for a change. The door of my cell should open any moment now. This morning will be devoted to orientation. Mandel gave us the news last night before dinner, then left the five of us alone to celebrate. A lavish feast had been prepared for the occasion. There was even wine, which none of us bothered to open. When we weren’t chewing or swallowing, we all held our tongues. No one was watching from the catwalk, and there were countless questions I wanted to ask. I’d like to know what the other students have seen since they’ve been here, and I still have no idea how much they’ve been told. But I couldn’t bring myself to break the silence. It doesn’t matter anyway. I have a hunch I’ll be finding out soon.

The door slides open, and I make my way to the media room. This time, the academy’s mysterious set designers have furnished it to resemble a corporate boardroom. Five Herman Miller chairs are lined up on one side of a sleek glass table. They’re all facing the movie screen. Behind the table is a wall of windows. I know it’s just a mural painted on a canvas backdrop, but I keep expecting to see birds fly past through the clear, blue sky.

I’m the last to arrive. When I settle into my seat, a video begins to play on the screen. It’s a walk-through of the nine aboveground floors of the Mandel Academy. I wonder why the other students seem so captivated until I remember that none of them were ever granted a tour.

The video ends, and an academy employee circles the table, handing out room assignments and card keys to all five students. Then he steps up to the podium at the front of the room. He’s clearing his throat when Lucian Mandel arrives. The employee blinks like the sight confuses him. Mandel must not make many appearances at orientation sessions. He’s here for me.

Mandel sidles up to the podium. He’s all smiles, like a game show host greeting a new panel of contestants.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Hello.” Felix is the only one who responds.

“As you all know, you’ll be moving upstairs this evening. It will be an experience you’ll remember for the rest of your lives. Have a look at your new schoolmates and then settle into your rooms. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning a new semester begins for all students. In a little while, you’ll be given your class schedules. The books and supplies you need are already waiting for you in your dorm rooms. Your clothing is being transferred as we speak.”

Mandel’s tone shifts, and the smile fades. I lean forward. I can tell his speech is about to get interesting. “By now, you’ve gotten a sense of what the Mandel Academy can offer you. Life is a battle, and this school will teach you to win. We chose you because you possess one key advantage over other people your age. Most teenagers in this country are pampered and spoiled. They’re kept sheltered from reality and protected from unpleasant truths. But all five of you have already discovered exactly how brutal the world really is. You wouldn’t be alive if you didn’t know how to fight.

“Each of you has what it takes to win. But in order to do so, you must dismiss everything you learned outside of these walls. And you must accept no restraints. Laws and commandments are for sheep. Racist and sexist stereotypes are for fools. Before you arrived here, you may have been judged by your gender or the color of your skin. Your clothing, accent, or manners may have served to keep you in your ‘place.’ Your families’ religious beliefs may have been forced upon you.

“Here, our students begin their new lives with none of these limitations. You’ll find you’ve been given the same advantages as the rest of your classmates. Your social skills are equally polished. And prejudice simply doesn’t exist at the Mandel Academy. Everyone at this school has the same chance to succeed. Starting tomorrow you will be judged solely on your talents, intelligence, and inner strength.”

He steps away from the podium and approaches our table. He’s so cool, so confident. His words flow so freely that they sound like the truth.

“To keep things fair, we must limit your access to the outside world. Everyone you’ll meet inside this building is a product of our program. The academy’s instructors and employees were once students just like you. We don’t allow guests or observers. During your stay, you will be completely immersed in the Mandel philosophy. There’s only one rule that we insist you follow: Always strive to be the best.

“Here at the Mandel Academy, the strongest and brightest students will rise to the top. The lazy or weak will quickly fall to the bottom. You’ll soon discover that the competition is fierce. Every four months, we admit six new students. Some are ready to leave after a few semesters. Others require years of instruction. Only the nine best students over the age of eighteen are allowed to graduate each September. If you’re among the select few who succeed, your hard work will be rewarded with power, wealth, and prestige.

“First, the academy pays for all graduates to attend an Ivy League university. In return, we expect you to earn reasonable grades—as long as they don’t come at the expense of your social life. The connections you’ll make at Harvard or Yale will be far more valuable than the education you’ll receive. Then, once you receive your diplomas, your careers will begin. No matter what line of work you pursue, we guarantee a starting salary in the mid–six figures.”

I hear someone gasp. Mandel beams.

“Our alumni dominate the worlds of business and politics—and life is good at the top of the food chain. But the journey to the top starts here. If you intend to graduate from the Mandel Academy, you will have to fight for the privilege.

“We don’t expect you to leap into battle immediately, of course. We want you to have ample time to study the lay of the land. This is why all students are granted immunity for the first month of each semester. No one is expelled during the Immunity Phase. But don’t rest on your laurels. Your instructors will be watching you, and unless you prove that you’re worthy of this school, you may soon find yourself right back where you started. On the streets or in jail, with no hope for the future.

“This might sound hard-hearted, but we refuse to coddle our students. The Mandel Academy believes in the survival of the fittest. You each possess remarkable strength. Now it’s time to see what you’re willing to do with it. I wish you all the best of luck. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room stays silent. What is there to say? That it sounds too good to be true? That I know there’s a catch?

“Wonderful. Then I will see you all upstairs!”

As soon as Mandel is out the door, the media room lights dim and the academy’s headmaster reappears on the video screen. The camera is tight on his face, making every freckle appear enormous.

Welcome to the Mandel family! Over the next few minutes, I’m going to take you on a trip to the future. The major you’ll be assigned at the end of this video will set you on the path that you’ll follow for the rest of your life. Some paths lead to fame. Some lead to social prominence. But every path that begins at the Mandel Academy will lead you directly to fortune.

The camera zooms out. Mandel is on Wall Street, with the famous bronze bull right by his side.

If you’re good with numbers, you may have been chosen to be a finance major. After graduation, you’ll be working with money, and Wall Street will be your stomping ground. Everyone in America sends their savings here, hoping the dollars will multiply. But few people understand what really happens to the funds they invest—which means no one knows who to blame if it all disappears.

Suddenly Mandel is strolling down the corridor of a sleek, ultra-modern office building.

If you’re a business major, you’re destined for the corporate world. As the future CEO of a successful company, you’ll need to learn all the tricks to turning a profit. We’ll teach you how to gather intelligence on your competition, keep whistle-blowers in line, break whatever rules may stand in your way, and bend any laws that aren’t good for business.

He opens a door and enters a conference room. Two teams of stony-faced, suit-clad warriors face each other across a table. None of them appear to notice Mandel’s arrival.

Which is one reason why law majors will always be in great demand. You’re the ones who can argue either side of an issue—and twist any facts to serve your client’s needs. You can make the guilty look innocent. The greedy appear bighearted. The unethical seem honorable. You have the temerity to inform a judge that the sky is green—and the sheer brilliance to make him believe it.

The camera cuts to the floor of the US Senate, where Mandel is sitting with his feet propped up on some senator’s desk.

If you happen to be both persuasive and telegenic, it’s likely you have been chosen to be a politics major. Fame and power are both perks of the job. But your primary role will be to make life a bit easier for your fellow alumni. You will craft laws that favor their businesses—and vote down any legislation that’s designed to restrict them. You will also be called upon to provide well-timed distractions. Get the whole country arguing about sex education or gays in the military, and Americans will stop paying attention to all the things they should fear.