Spell Robbers (10 page)

Scale
. The tickling in Ben’s mind returned.

“If Ronin is involved,” she said, “it’s a nonstarter. Zero.”

Scale
.
Earthquake
.

Mr. Weathersky turned to Agent Spear. “Same question.”

“Realistically,” he said, “four or five, sir. But it’s still the only option available.”

The name was right there. Ben could almost grab it. It was …

“I agree. Until we come up with another solution, we’ll move forward with —”

“Richter!” Ben said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Sorry.” Ben bowed his head. “I’ve been trying to remember that name.”

The two agents looked at each other. They looked at Mr. Weathersky. Mr. Weathersky looked right into Ben’s eyes.

“And why would you be trying to remember
that
name?”

Ben felt the director’s gaze like a hot wind in his face. “I, uh — I mean, that was the guy. The guy who was going to help Dr. Hughes with portable augmentation.”

He looked to Peter for agreement, but Peter just looked confused.

Agent Spear chewed on a corner of his lip. “You don’t suppose …”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agent Taggart said. “Poole probably used the name to cover his tracks. Richter doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Richter,” Mr. Weathersky said, “is supposedly a powerful criminal overlord. A mastermind. When we first heard of him, we tried to find out who he was. We dedicated an entire unit of agents to that purpose, and after years of work, they had nothing to show for it. We concluded that Richter is a kind of gangster tall tale, a bogeyman, and we closed the case.”

“And yet,” Agent Spear said, “the finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.”

“Baudelaire?” Mr. Weathersky said. “I’m impressed, Agent Spear. Nevertheless, let us concentrate on the devil we do know.”

Agent Spear nodded. “Poole.”

“Ronin,” Agent Taggart said.

Mr. Weathersky frowned. “Make that two devils.”

“YOU
really don’t remember?” Ben and Peter stood outside their smaller training room, waiting for Sasha. “Richter?”

“The name doesn’t sound familiar at all,” Peter said. “I wasn’t going to contradict you in there, but I didn’t know what you were talking about.”

“But you were there.”

Peter’s smile was crooked and apologetic. “Sorry.”

Ben gave up, frustrated. He was certain the name was important, somehow. He couldn’t say how, he just felt it. He didn’t want to forget it again, so every few minutes, he repeated it a few times in his head.

Richter
.

Richter
.

Richter
.

After a few times of this, the name stopped feeling so slippery. Like a noodle drying, it stuck to the wall of his brain.

“Change of plans, boys.” Sasha marched toward them down the hallway. “No history lesson today. You’re to be field-ready ASAP. Mr. Weathersky’s orders.”

“Why?” Ben asked.

“Weren’t you in that meeting? They just briefed me, and the three of us will be part of the operation to take down the Paracelsus crew.”

Ben had said it before, but he guessed he needed to say it again. “Sasha, I’m twelve.”

Peter opened his mouth, probably to say he would be thirteen next month, but Sasha cut him off.

“You won’t be engaging directly. The director just wants you present, and I’m supposed to babysit you.”

Ben hadn’t had a babysitter in years. He certainly didn’t need one now. But his resentment wasn’t as strong as his curiosity. “If we’re not engaging, then why are we going?”

Sasha opened the training room door. “Mr. Weathersky thinks you’re important to this operation.”

“How?” Peter asked as the three of them entered.

“It all comes down to entanglement,” she said. “You and Dr. Hughes. You and Poole. You and the portable augmenter. You’re involved. And you can’t play the game if you don’t have all the pieces on the board.”

So they were all just pieces to Mr. Weathersky? Ben fought the urge to walk out of there, right then. But thoughts of his mom kept him in that room. He would do whatever it took for the League to give him back his life. He also thought of Dr. Hughes. If he could do something to help her, he would do it.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Over the next several days, when they weren’t in their beds or the dining room, Ben and Peter were with Sasha in their training room. With his Locus in his hand, Ben continued to refine his actuations. The more he practiced, the more automatic they became, and the faster he got.

He learned to not only form a fireball, but to shoot it forward at a target. He learned to actuate rain to extinguish the fireballs Sasha shot at him. He learned how to fight using actuations, the way the agents fought with the Dread Cloaks and the heist crews.

Peter had a harder time of it. He continued to refuse a Locus, but was eventually able to actuate some Class Twos without one. Nothing nearly as big and powerful as Ben’s, and he was really slow at it, but it was something.

“You’re getting it,” Ben said at the end of a grueling day. They were on the stairs heading down to the barracks, and all he could think about was his bed.

“Thanks,” Peter said. But his voice was edged with something. Anger? Sarcasm?

Ben stopped on the stairwell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Peter didn’t look at him. “I’ve just never been the slow one, all right?”

“I knew it was bothering you.”

“Of course it’s bothering me.”

“Well, don’t let it. It doesn’t matter how fast or how slow you are. All that matters is —”

Peter held up a hand like a crossing guard. “Deep down, everybody wants to be the hare. Who
wants
to be the tortoise? I don’t care what the fable says.” He moved on down the stairs.

Ben sighed and followed after him. They didn’t talk for the rest of the night, but Ben was kept awake, trying to figure out how he could help Peter feel better. His dad had really messed with his head. He believed he wasn’t worth anything if he wasn’t the smartest, the fastest, the best.

Thinking about it made Ben sad, and he fell asleep worrying about his friend.

It seemed Ben had barely closed his eyes when someone was shaking him awake, shining a flashlight in his face. He blinked and shielded his eyes with his hands. What were the other guys doing?

“Get that out of my face,” he said.

“Up and at ’em, son.” Agent Spear’s voice.

Ben sat up. The man stood over him dressed in the same military gear Ben had seen the League wearing in Dr. Hughes’s lab.

“That’s right,” Agent Spear said. “Tonight’s the night.”

Ben threw off his covers and jumped out of bed. In the slanted light from the flashlight, shadows deepened Peter’s grin into something a little wild. They both hustled into their clothes; Ben made sure he had his Locus, and they followed Agent Spear upstairs. He took them to a part of the building they’d never been to before.

“Time to get you boys suited up.”

He unlocked a door and let them into a room filled with the kind of gear the agent was wearing. There was a long bench in the middle of the room, with two suits laid out.

“These are the smallest size we have,” he said. “Hopefully, they won’t be too big on you.”

Ben and Peter examined the uniforms. They were made of a thick black canvas, with plates and pads of armor sewn in. They were heavy, and took some getting used to once Agent Spear had helped Ben and Peter get dressed. Ben looked down at himself, and bent his arms and his legs to test his range of motion. The suit actually fit him pretty well.

“They’re insulated against electricity and cold,” the agent said. “And they’re fire resistant. The armor will stop most projectiles.”

Projectiles?

Ben tried not to show the fear that began seeping in through the pads and protection of the suit.

“Uh-oh,” Peter said. “I should have peed before I put this on, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s a good habit to get into.” Agent Spear grinned. “Now, take these.”

He handed them each a helmet like the ones policemen used during riots, the kind with a clear plastic shield in front. They tried them on. Ben’s was a bit big, but if he cinched up the strap it stayed in place.

“Ready?” Agent Spear asked.

“I was serious.” Peter took off his helmet. “I have to go.”

“Do you need help with the suit?” Ben could hear the smirk in the agent’s voice.

“I think I can manage,” Peter said.

“Go. Meet us in the main training room.”

Peter left, and Ben went with Agent Spear. When they entered the Big Top, they found several others already there, all dressed for combat. Ben saw Agent Taggart, and half a dozen other agents, most of whom he didn’t recognize.

Sasha came up beside him. “Where’s Class One?”

“Don’t call him that,” Ben said. It came out sharper than he meant it to.

“Sorry. I didn’t think he’d mind, now that he’s moved on to Class Two. Sometimes a little teasing gets you fired up. Works for me.”

“Yeah, well. Not for him. Just leave it alone, okay?”

“Fine. Okay.”

A charged silence followed.

“You ready for this?” Sasha asked.

“You’re my trainer. You tell me.”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” She stood back and looked at him with her head cocked at an exaggerated angle, her hand on her chin. “Is that a woman’s uniform?”

“WHAT?”

“Kidding. Relax, Locus Boy. You’re more than ready for what we’re going to be doing.”

Ben took a deep breath. “How many of these have you been on?”

“Me? This is my first.”

“Really?”

Sasha’s nod was a bit more tense than usual. “I’ve gone on lots of patrols. But this is my first full operation.”

Ben realized that maybe Sasha’s teasing was actually to relieve her own stress. He could tell she was trying to look confident, but maybe she didn’t feel that way on the inside.

She shifted on her feet. “But I was up for my Trials in a couple of months, anyway.”

“Trials?”

“Before they promote you from junior agent to full agent, you have to go on three operations. They have to see how you perform in the field. Agent Taggart said this will count as my first.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Ben said.

“You better hope so.” She winked at him. “My job is to protect you two.”

Ben saw Peter come into the room and waved him over.

“Don’t tell Agent Spear,” he said as he approached them, “but I did need help with the suit.”

Sasha made a show of looking him over. “Aside from having it on backward, you look great.”

Peter looked at her, and then at Ben. “She’s kidding, right?”

“Get used to it,” Ben said.

“Listen up, people!” Agent Spear stood with his arms folded across his chest. Everyone in the room turned to face him. “You’ve all been briefed, but remember: Ronin is the target, and the mission is acquisition. The other members of the crew are secondary. The jewels are secondary. If it means catching Ronin, you let the jewels and the other members of his crew go free.”

Agent Taggart stepped up beside him. “Ronin is a former agent. Consider him extremely dangerous. He knows our tactics, and he’ll use that against you. Use extreme caution, keep radio contact, and
don’t
try to take him on your own. Understood?”

The agents nodded around the room.

Ben felt a quivering in his chest. He reached into his pocket and rolled the Locus stone into his fist.

“The vans are waiting,” Agent Spear said. “Let’s move out.”

The agents formed into a loose column and headed out the door. Sasha turned to Ben and Peter. “Ready, boys?”

“Ready,” Peter said.

“Ready,” Ben said.

She led them after the agents to the rear of the building, where three black vans idled in the night. Agents piled into them.

“Agent Lambert.” Agent Spear waved them over to his vehicle. “You guys are with me.”

They climbed into the van, and Sasha, Ben, and Peter took up one of the benches. It was tight. Sasha sat between them, staring straight ahead, and Ben could feel her knee bouncing against his. From the first time he’d seen her practicing in the Big Top, she’d seemed much older than him. As their trainer, she seemed so much more experienced. But right now, she didn’t seem very different.

“How old are you?” Ben asked her.

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” She frowned. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Look, I’ve been in the League since I was your age. I can handle this.”

Ben shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I —”

“That’s everyone.” Agent Spear climbed into the front passenger seat. He turned to the driver. “Let’s go.”