The Academy (20 page)

Dinner was ham, peas, and bread, as good or better than a Saturday night mystery meal at Wynncliff. Steel and Kaileigh ate by themselves at a small table in the corner.

“Don’t look now,” Kaileigh said, her attention fixed on her plate, “but everyone’s staring at us.”

“I noticed,” Steel said.

“What’s with that?”

Steel stole a few glances around the room, and finally overhead.

“Duh! We’re sitting directly under the TV.”

“Jeez. Talk about stupid. We’re asking for it,” she said.

“Just look natural.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. She slid the ham around the plate.

“You aren’t going to eat that?”

“How can you eat? I am
way
too nervous,” she said.

“Because?”

“The thirty creeps staring at us wouldn’t have anything to do with it,” she snapped. “Neither would the fact that we’re on a mission we don’t even understand, but if we don’t succeed we’re no longer in the Program. Maybe no longer at Wynncliff.”

“Yeah, but being nervous about it isn’t going to help.”

“You sound like Mrs. Kay.”

He noticed that Kaileigh never spoke about her parents the way other kids did. She always referred to her governess, her nanny. He felt sorry for her. Even though his father traveled a lot of the time, Steel treasured his family and his dog, Cairo, and wondered what it must be like for the men and women in this room, and even Kaileigh, to live without that. The worst part of being homeless, he decided, was not being poor, but being separated from your family.

“We ought to do something to cheer them up,” Steel said.

“Yeah, right.” She laid on the sarcasm.

“You think I’m kidding?”

“Note to Steel: you’d better be kidding. We’re supposed to keep a low profile, remember?”

“And where’s the best place to hide?”

She shook her head. “Please…”

“In plain sight,” he said rhetorically.

“Please, do not do this.” She leveled a look meant to stop him cold, but it only encouraged him further.

Steel set down his plastic fork.

“I’m begging you,” she whispered.

Feeling himself the focus of attention, given his position immediately beneath the TV, and finding it impossible to determine if those in the room were staring at him or the TV, Steel stood.

“I have a proposal!” he said loudly into the room.

“Oh, gosh, no!” Kaileigh gasped under her breath.

If the group’s attention had been on the TV, it was now squarely fixed on Steel.

“Would anyone here like to play a game of charades after dinner?”

The people, mostly old—at least over forty—looking tired and unkempt, with varying shades of bloodshot eyes and sallow skin, looked up at once. Steel had won their attention, though he was met with dumbstruck, confused expressions that seemed to say: Did he actually just suggest charades?

“Charades,” he said, just in case anyone had missed his proposal. “We’ll divide into teams.”

One by one a few cautious hands went up. First, only a couple, and of those, none higher than shoulder height. But then, more and more, to where a full half of the group were willing.

“See?” Steel said under his breath to Kaileigh. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up. You’re a team captain.”

“Am not!”

“Are too. There are four women in here. I’ve got a hunch I know which team they’ll be on.”

“This is a big mistake.”

“Because.”

“This is not lying low.”

“Trust me,” he said. He stepped behind her chair. Raising his voice, he said, “This is Kaileigh. I’m Steven. We’re team captains. I’m choosing first.”

And so, over the next few minutes, those in the room wanting to play were divided into two teams. They moved to opposite corners and, writing on napkins, noted the titles of books, movies, and songs intended to stump the other team from being able to act out the title.

This was where it got tricky: despite their dogged, end-of-the-rope appearances, many in the group were obviously smart; several were well-read; more than a few knew each and every film title mentioned. And as the game began, the competition among them was unleashed. To Steel’s surprise, the players rallied, jeering at the opposition when an impressive time was delivered, cheering in self-congratulations when a title was guessed correctly. Kaileigh’s team, consisting of three women and five men, took the early lead and never relinquished it, but that did nothing to deter the effort of each member of Steel’s team.

Somewhere in the middle of the twenty-minute competition, Steel caught a glimpse of Gary. Arms folded, he was leaning against the far wall of the room, a mixture of astonishment and appreciation on his face. He seemed to be directing this all onto Steel, silently congratulating him. Or maybe it was more a look of curiosity, or even warning. The more often Steel glanced over at the man, the more confused he felt. Gary seemed to be
studying
him,
examining
him,
evaluating
him, which only led Steel to further suspect that the shelter’s director was somehow tied to Randolph. But if so, then why had he and Kaileigh lied to get inside?

With the first round going to Kaileigh’s team, a second round was proposed. Not only did all those involved elect to play again, but several of the shelter guests sitting on the sidelines joined in, bringing the teams to ten people on a side, a nearly unmanageable size. Another hour passed, as lively as the first.

It was near the end—with just two players to go, one on each team, and the scores incredibly close—that Steel caught Kaileigh making hand signals from her chair. He nearly called foul, believing she was coaching the current player, only to realize she was signaling him. She motioned to her eyes and then, screening her hand, indicated the area of the room behind her and to her left—the same place where Gary had been watching. He was about to nod, to tell her he was way ahead of her, when he bothered to actually look where she was pointing.

Gary was there, leaning against the wall, as casual as before. But there was now
a woman
there as well. Nicely dressed, with neat dark hair and a pretty face—
the exact description Randolph had provided
. She and Gary were engrossed in conversation, the way teachers sometimes talked between themselves.

Steel caught a slight shake of the head from Kaileigh, and he looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. He returned his attention back to the game, though he locked eyes briefly with Kaileigh. Their training in “urban surveillance” was about to be tested.

The game of charades came to a close. Steel had lost track and wasn’t even sure who’d won. A few of the homeless guys patted him on the back. A couple others suggested they play again the following night, an idea that was roundly supported. Steel and Kaileigh had made friends of themselves. Even those who hadn’t actually played the game had most definitely taken notice of its two organizers. Sentiment seemed generally supportive, but there were also evil-eye looks of disapproval and outright suspicion and contempt. “How dare you challenge the routine of this place,” several seemed to be saying.

“Okay,” said Gary, moving into the center of the room. “We’re going to put a movie on for anyone who wants it.”

The sound of a single person clapping came from the dark corner over by the entrance to the men’s room. It was slow, heavy-handed clapping, sarcastic and attention-getting.

The person responsible was a man roughly the size of a refrigerator. He wore a shirt with no sleeves, his arms covered in tattoos, a soiled bandana around his head, and a peevish look of disgust on his face.

He was looking at Steel—maybe had been for some time.

“On with the flick,” he said. “Enough with the babysitters’ club.”

“Lyle!” Gary said, admonishing him. “Cool it.”

Lyle and Steel shared a silent moment. It was clear he’d made himself an enemy—a big enemy, at that. Randolph had warned him to lie low, and now he thought he knew why.

Shelter curfew was 12:00 a.m. Past midnight, you were refused admission and on the streets for the night, this to discourage drunks and druggies from overrunning the place. A new world for Steel.

His chest tightened as he considered all that had to be done over the next several hours: follow the woman, identify any kids associated with her, attend the Halloween party, steal their way into the hotel suite. Did Randolph really expect them to pull this off? Maybe it was all a lie: some kind of test. Could they make it back to the shelter by midnight, or did that no longer matter? Steel was supposed to call Randolph once safely inside the suite. No plans had been made for what he and Kaileigh were supposed to do after the phone call.

Steel suddenly wondered:
Why not?

Steel and Kaileigh took advantage of a particularly compelling scene in the movie to sign out, grab their backpacks, and leave the shelter. They’d been taught to get ahead of their surveillance subject so it didn’t seem as if they were following the person. With two of them, they could split up into two different taxis, playing lead-and-chase the way they’d been instructed.

Steel was to commit the license plate of the woman’s car to memory. If they lost the car—a Volvo, they were told—they were to phone or text Randolph the plate number and await instructions.

At the moment, the plan didn’t matter: the traffic outside the shelter was bumper to bumper, and there wasn’t a taxi in sight. They moved away from the shelter’s entrance, stopping at a storefront long since boarded shut.

“Never seen so many cars,” Steel said.

“We could walk faster than they’re moving.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Steel said, agreeing. “And if you see a cab, take it. We’ll split up at the next intersection.”

“GPS tracking would be easier.” The boy’s voice came from behind them.

They spun around on the balls of their feet.

“Penny?” they both exclaimed nearly simultaneously.

Pennington Cardwell III bowed from the waist. “At your service.”

“But we said—”

“Not to bother you,” Penny finished for Steel. “You know how tempting it is when someone says something like that? You think I could possibly
help myself
?”

The two kids were speechless.

“Now, I’m assuming from what I just overheard that following some car is part of your hazing,” Penny said. “Correct?”

“I…ah…we…the thing is…” Kaileigh stammered, trying to think of what to say.

“Yeah. A woman,” Steel explained. “Probably some upperclassman’s mother…but that’s the drill.”

“It’s kind of…well…it’s like a treasure hunt or scavenger hunt,” Kaileigh added clumsily. “She works with these kids, and we have to take pictures of the kids. Depending how soon we do it, we get more—”

“Points,” Steel said.

“Points,” she echoed.

“It’s a bunch of places and people and stuff,” Steel said, continuing the lie.

“And if we get it right,” Kaileigh continued, “then we have a chance to join the group we told you about.”

“And you can recommend your friends,” Penny said, for this had been a major part of their story.

“Absolutely!”

“How did you find us, anyway?” Steel asked, though his accusing tone bordered on rudeness.

Penny pointed to his head, suggesting his smarts. He then pointed over his shoulder, indicating his backpack. “Listen, dude, I’ve got enough gear in here to…well, like I said…to do
anything
. How ’bout I slip a little GPS transmitter on your friend’s car, and you can follow it all night long?”

Steel and Kaileigh conferred with a glance. Kaileigh shrugged.

“Rules are we have to do this by ourselves,” Steel said. “Maybe another time, man.”

“Rules are made to be broken, dude. I can make this like, way easier on you.”

“Sorry,” Steel said. “Can’t do it.”

“How does it work?” Kaileigh asked Penny, winning an angry look from Steel.

“It’s a Web-based GPS tracking system,” Penny said. “What kind of cell phone do you have?”

“An iPhone,” she said.

Steel nodded. “Me too,” he said.

“So I put this box on the lady’s car and give you the URL—the Web link—and she’ll show up on a moving map.”

“No way!” Kaileigh said.

“Way. Simple as that,” Penny said. “I don’t have to be part of the picture.”

“And you would do this because…?” Steel said.

“Because I want you to recommend me to this secret society. I help you, you help me.”

Kaileigh looked seriously tempted.

“We’re supposed to do it a different way,” Steel said.

“But we could use Penny’s thing as backup, couldn’t we? No one said anything about backup.” Kaileigh arched her eyebrows.

“It’s yours if you want it,” Penny said. He slipped the backpack off his shoulders and rummaged inside, past a laptop and a dozen other devices all tangled in a million wires.

“It’s not like there are a lot of empty taxis around,” she said, accepting a small gray box from Penny. She turned it over, examining it.

“It’s magnetic. It’ll stick most anyplace on a car.” He scribbled out a Web address, tore off a piece of notebook paper, and handed it to Kaileigh.

“I have the bus routes memorized,” Steel said. “Maybe we can follow her using the buses.”

“Dude,” Penny said, trying to sound cool, which wasn’t an option. “That is so random. Use the GPS, I’m telling you.”

The shelter’s front door swung open, a half block away.

The three kids immediately jumped into shadow. Steel peered around the edge of a shop window and then felt Penny coming up over his back, also trying to get a look. Steel elbowed Penny in the gut, trying to let him know whose assignment this was.

The woman walked briskly away from them, down the sidewalk. She stopped alongside a car.

A Volvo, four-door sedan, silver.
The model number was on the trunk:
S40
. The car’s taillights blinked twice as she unlocked the car with a remote. Steel memorized the plate number.

There was no time for discussion. The Volvo poked its front wheels out into traffic, but the other cars remained tightly grouped, not allowing it in. Vehicles jockeyed for position amid the swirling sour exhaust and a cacophony of car horns.

“Okay,” Steel said, grabbing the gray box from Kaileigh, “I’m going to get this onto the car somehow while you switch to the other side of the road and get as far out in front of the Volvo as possible. There’s a bus stop”—he paused, squinting—“two blocks up.”

They all tracked the Volvo as it finally found its way into the clog of traffic.

“There’s no way she’s going straight at the next light,” Penny said. “She’s going to turn right. Kaileigh will need a different bus line.” Steel was about to challenge him, but Penny said, “This is my town.”

Steel squinted. “Okay. Go right. The bus stop is three blocks ahead.”

“Key in the URL,” Penny instructed. “Call Steel when you see it’s working.” He reached across and into Steel’s hands, and he pushed a button on the box.

“Go!” Steel said.

Kaileigh took off across the street.

Steel hurried up the street, keeping to the shadows, and got five stopped cars ahead of the Volvo. He ducked down and waited and, as the Volvo pulled past and stopped again, scooted behind it, ducking to avoid the car’s mirrors. The driver behind the Volvo honked loudly at Steel, but Steel dropped out of sight, reaching under the car and feeling the box take hold. He stole through the opposite row of cars and stayed down until the Volvo was well past.

When he stood, he looked across for Penny.

The boy was gone.

His phone rang, and he swung his backpack off and answered his cell.

“It’s working!” Kaileigh said excitedly. “There’s this dot moving on the map.”

“Penny vanished,” Steel said.

“You may not see him, but he’s probably there somewhere,” she said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Kaileigh passed the URL on to Steel, and the two of them followed the car for the next twelve minutes, with Steel using the city bus map in his head, to keep them both within distance of the Volvo.

Steel ran two full city blocks at an all-out sprint and boarded his third bus, eastbound on Commonwealth Avenue, a large street that paralleled the Charles River. He looked to the back of the bus, and there, as expected, was Kaileigh smiling back at him. Reuniting with her felt particularly satisfying, and confirmed the importance of everything Randolph had made him memorize.

A quarter mile later, out ahead, the Volvo turned into a driveway and disappeared behind an old building. Kaileigh and Steel disembarked from the bus two long blocks later and returned on foot.

Steel’s phone rang, and he answered, half expecting it to be Randolph congratulating them. He half expected that this was some sort of test, not an operation at all.

“Steel!” Penny’s voice. “A big guy? Tattoos? Scarf on his head?”

Steel cupped the phone. “It’s Penny. He’s asking about that guy Lyle.”

Kaileigh clearly couldn’t place the name.

“Lyle!” said Mr. Memory. “The big guy at the shelter?”

Kaileigh looked panic-struck.

“What about him?” Steel asked into the phone.

“He came out of that place like his pants were on fire. He got on a motorcycle and took off.”

“Penny, exactly how would you know this?”

“I said I wouldn’t bother you two, not that I wouldn’t check stuff out.”

“Penny…if we get caught, none of us will get into this secret society.”

“Understood,” he said. “Which is why I thought you might want to know about the dude on the motorcycle.”

“Yeah…okay…” Steel didn’t have a smart retort for him. “Listen, we appreciate the GPS thing, but—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Penny said. “I get it.” He hung up.

“Lyle may be following us. Or trying to,” Steel told Kaileigh, correcting himself.

“What do we do?”

“Stay ahead,” Steel said. “How else do you win?”

A dead and unkempt lawn spread out in front of the rundown building, offering few places for them to hide.

“We need to get a closer look,” he said.

“Let’s not do anything stupid,” Kaileigh said.

“It’s a little late for that.”