The Greatest Power (13 page)

When he switched eyes now, however, he saw Dave’s infrared form (which, for the record, looked white, not red) hurrying up the bank steps. “There he is!” Angelo cheered, and immediately started after him.

The instant Angelo made his move, Tito and Pablo sprang into action (as was the plan). But Damien’s voice (which was so angry it now crinkled
the paper sack) stopped them. “IT’S TOO LATE, YOU FOOLS! Back to your posts! We’ll get him on the way out!”

Damien was (as I’m sure is already obvious) furious. His deliciously diabolical (and double-crossing) plan was now partly foiled. He’d wanted to nab the boy, steal the stolen stolen cash, and get (at long last) the wristband back. Then he’d put the wristband on, disappear, and leave those Bandito bozos holding the boy (getting them arrested and de-ported and out of his life for good—bwaa-ha-ha).

But although, at first, the volatile villain was furious, he calmed down when he realized that the only thing he’d lost at this point was the cash.

There were, he told himself, plenty of banks.

What really mattered was the wristband.

If he had the wristband, he could walk into any bank (or jewelry store or 7-Eleven, for that matter) and take all the loot he needed.

Yes, he decided as he took a soothing sip of his
mocha latte supreme, getting his hands on this particular stash of cash was nothing compared to getting his hands on this particular wristband. He just had to wait and watch. And if worse came to worst and those bumbling Bandito bozos couldn’t handle it, he’d nab the boy himself.

So while Damien regrouped (barking new commands at the Brothers through the communicator), Sticky tried to warn Dave that some Damien-driven plot was under way. “I swear to you,
hombre
, that’s Angelo! That
loco
honcho is nearby, I guarantee!”

“Shh! We’re invisible, okay? Even if they are here, they can’t see us! We’re safe.”

Sticky, however, was sure they weren’t.
“Señor
, there is something going on. Did you see those funkydoodle shades?”

“Sticky, shhhh!”

“And Angelo got up. Did you see that? He started after us.”

“You’re being paranoid, you know that? It wasn’t Angelo. It was just some crazy hobo.”

“Ay-ay-ay, why don’t you listen?”

“Ay-ay-ay, why don’t you be quiet?” Dave whispered frantically. “You’re going to give us away!”

Dave whooshed into the bank behind the old lady and went directly to Ms. Kulee’s office.

And Sticky
was
quiet.

For all of three seconds.

“Is there a back door to this place,
señor
? Because I think we need to find it and use it.”

“No! There’s not! Now
shhhh!”

So Sticky shhhh!ed, but when he saw the note Dave left beside the sack of cash on Ms. Kulee’s desk, he could no longer stay silent. “‘Disappearing Dude at your service’?” he read aloud, his face scrunched completely around. “Are you
loco
berry burritos? You’d rather be Disappearing Dude than the Gecko? Being the Gecko is cool, man! Being Disappearing Dude is lame-o insane-o!”

“Shhh,” Dave said, zipping closed his backpack. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Disappearing Dude,” Sticky grumbled, shaking his little gecko head. And knowing that he’d be wasting his breath to argue with or cajole a thirteen-year-old boy, Sticky decided to take matters into his own hands. As Dave headed out Ms. Kulee’s office door, Sticky jumped off his shoulder and ran, lickety-split, back to Ms. Kulee’s desk, where he crumpled up the note and tossed it in the trash.

And this, really, was all he was planning to do, but at the last minute, he saw the large ink pad on Ms. Kulee’s desk, and this tickled his brilliant gecko brain into doing something more.

He opened the ink pad.

He did a quick flop-flop-flop across it.

Then he plopped the blackened bottom of his body smack-dab in the middle of Ms. Kulee’s large desk calendar, leaving a nice gecko inkblot (plus a few scurrying-away gecko footprints).

After a quick foot-and-belly wipe with a Kleenex, he zipped across the bank, scurried up Dave’s leg, and,
poof
, disappeared, catching a ride on Dave just before he reached the front door.

Dave was so intent on whooshing back out of the bank that he didn’t even notice that Sticky had been gone. And Sticky, being so intent on setting
the record straight, didn’t notice that there were now
three
very familiar men (all wearing funkydoodle glasses) waiting at the
top
of the bank steps.

“Holy tacarole!” he gasped as they whooshed out of the bank.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

The Bandito Brothers pounced.

Dave let out a surprised “Aaaaagh!” but Pablo immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

Sticky dived for cover inside Dave’s shirt, certain that Tito (who’d been particularly fond of Sticky) would snatch him if he could.

To the rest of the world, it appeared as if three obviously deranged blind men (wearing what could only be described as funkydoodle glasses) were struggling with thin air.

“They’re crazy,” people whispered as the Bandito Brothers dragged Dave down the steps. And not wanting to be insensitive to the struggles of deranged blind men in funkydoodle glasses,
people politely averted their eyes and simply went about their business.

“Excellent,” hissed the paper sack. “Keep coming. Just keep coming!”

“It’s that evil
hombre,”
Sticky cried. “I told you!”

Dave, of course, now knew that Sticky had been right but couldn’t exactly apologize with his mouth muzzled the way it was. (Besides, had he been able to speak, he would most certainly have shouted “HELP!” instead.)

“Sticky?” Tito whispered in glee. “Where are you, little buddy?”

“Forget that blasted backstabber!” Pablo commanded (sounding disturbingly like his demented idol). “Help us here! This kid is strong!”

Dave was, without a doubt, putting up quite a fight.

He kicked.

He elbowed.

He pulled and pushed and twisted.

But in the end, the Bandito Brothers overpowered him.

“You’re almost there,” hissed the paper sack as they approached the street. “Don’t worry about traffic—it’ll stop for you. You’re blind men, remember?”

Had all this occurred with a
visible
thirteen-year-old boy, someone somewhere would have stopped the men in funkydoodle glasses. And it became clear to Sticky that biting Angelo in the neck, or shoving his tail in Pablo’s ear, or tickling Tito into letting go would not save Dave.

But something else might.

Although it would, no doubt, make Dave mad.

But as the Brothers muscled Dave off the curb and into the street, Sticky realized he had no choice.

He scurried across Dave’s chest.

Down his arm!

To the wristband!

And, using the awesome grip of his gecko hands, did a quick click-twist and removed the Invisibility ingot.

POOF!
Dave appeared.

“HELP!” Sticky shouted at the top of his (surprisingly powerful) gecko lungs. And since he was still inside Dave’s sweatshirt, it sounded for all the world like the cry was coming from Dave.

Across the street, Damien jumped to his dastardly feet and moved toward Dave.

Traffic slowed, then stopped.

And Damien might simply have charged the boy, snatched the powerband, and escaped if two things had not occurred nearly simultaneously.

First, the first thing:

Pablo and Tito (having, presumably, switched eyes a few times) had released their hold on Dave, but Angelo was not about to let go until his boss ordered him to. So Sticky, realizing that Angelo
was all that was standing between Dave
and his escape, bit Angelo’s hand. Hard.

Unfortunately, the bite made Angelo’s hand jerk so hard that he knocked poor Sticky, not just off of Dave and onto the street, but
out
.

The poor little lizard never even saw stars. No twittering tweety birds.

He just blacked out.

As Sticky was being knocked out, his amazingly sticky fingers released the Invisibility ingot, which went flying in the opposite direction, then rolled in a
little circle before clinking to a very shiny stop on the ground.

Suddenly everything in the street went still as Damien faced off with Dave.

This was, without question, a showdown.

Three paces to the left was a talking (although presently unconscious) kleptomaniacal gecko lizard.

Three paces to the right was the magic ingot of any boy’s dreams.

The Bandito Brothers might have helped Damien, but Damien didn’t trust them not to bungle the whole situation. “Back off,” he growled at them. “Don’t move a muscle.”