by Lucas Flint
“If you thought that this thief was the Robber, then why didn’t you tell me that earlier when we were still at the Cave?” I said. “It would have been nice to know that.”
“I didn’t want to possibly mislead you,” said Rubberman. “The Robber isn’t behind every theft in the city, after all, though based on your description of the thief, it sounds like it was him. It could have been someone else this time, but I should have warned you ahead of time. I apologize.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “But what about payment? Are we still going to get paid, even though the thief got away with the watch?”
“Yes. Jed already paid half upfront and promised to pay the other half when the job was over, regardless of what happened. But he’s not going to be happy once he finds out about this, let me tell you. Understandably so, given how that was both a valuable historical artifact to Golden City and a prized family heirloom.”
I rubbed my hands together anxiously. “So my failure didn’t mess up our cash flow or anything?”
“No, nothing like that,” said Rubberman, shaking his head again. “I don’t even really blame you. From what you told me it, it sounds like you did a good job at capturing the Robber. You were taken down by something that you couldn’t have seen coming. Hell, even I didn’t see it coming. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
I nodded, but deep down, I still felt like a huge failure for allowing this to happen. “What do you mean, you didn’t this coming?”
“I mean the security guard,” said Rubberman. “The Golden City Robber has always worked alone until now. That he now apparently has a partner in crime took me totally by surprise. That means that the Robber must have somehow known ahead of time that we were going to be protecting the exhibit, because I can’t see him doing something like that if he only expected to face the usual guards and security systems.”
“Do you mean that someone told the Robber we were going to be there tonight?” I said. “Who?”
“I have no idea,” said Rubberman. “It might have been his security guard friend. Perhaps he overheard Jed talking to me on the phone and let the Robber know. It’s the best theory I’ve got, anyway.”
“Well, this should work out for us, shouldn’t it?” I said. “If that security guard was working for the Museum, then he should have an employee form that should list his name and address, right? The Museum could hand that information over to the police, who might be able to track him down and arrest him, which might help us find the Robber, too.”
“I hope so, Alex, but for some reason I doubt it will be that simple,” said Rubberman. “The Robber is smart. It would not surprise me in the least if it turned out that he had faked an identity for the guard to cover their tracks, which would make any papers or identification cards the Museum has useless for actually identifying the guard in general. We’ll find out tomorrow or sometime this week, no doubt.”
I sighed. “I didn’t know there were such competent criminals in this city. I thought that most of them were just petty crooks.”
“Most criminals are,” said Rubberman in agreement. “But there are always a few who stand above the others, such as the Robber, and that isn’t even counting supervillains like Fro-Zen or Lord Mechanika. They’re the main reason superheroes exist. If such villains didn’t exist, the police would be able to handle most of the crime in a given city with little problem.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Still, that watch wasn’t just a Museum piece. It was also an important historical artifact to Golden City. I think a lot of people are going to be upset when they hear that we lost such an important object to the City’s culture and history.”
“Quite true,” said Rubberman. “But we cannot control how other people react. Once we retrieve the watch, they should be happy.”
“You make it sound like you know where the Robber is.”
“I don’t, but I’ve learned in my years in this business that maintaining a positive mindset is necessary, especially when you run into this kind of complication.”
I nodded again, though I didn’t really understand what he meant. I figured that Rubberman was able to maintain a positive mindset due to his years of experience as a superhero, years of experience I lacked. I sometimes wondered if my older brother, James, also had this kind of mindset, though he hadn’t been a sidekick very long before quitting the job. I hoped I would develop this mindset, though if I kept failing like this, I doubted I ever would.
“Anyway, what matters is that we’re both still alive,” said Rubberman. “These night missions can get even more dangerous than day missions, so the fact that you survived is good enough, in my opinion. Still, we’re going to have to train you to fight in the dark better. I failed to realize that the Robber would attempt to cut the power from the exhibit to make it harder for you to fight him.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I said. I yawned. “I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight. I’m so tired that I feel like I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”
“No doubt,” Rubberman agreed. “You’ll feel the injuries in the morning, though, I can guarantee you that.”
I didn’t need Rubberman to tell me that, because I’d already experienced that kind of pain the morning after from past fights with criminals. But now that he mentioned it, I felt a lot worse than I usually did after a fight, because I didn’t want to think about how much my stomach was going to ache when I woke up the next morning (or perhaps I should say later this morning, since it was now after midnight, which meant it was technically the next day).
But a thought occurred to me when Rubberman said that. I looked at Rubberman and asked, “Rubberman, if ZZZ is after you, why did he attack me at my home like that?”
Rubberman frowned. “I don’t know, Alex. I suspect it’s because you’re my sidekick. He was most likely trying to draw me out into the open so I could be easier to kill, though now that I think about it, that doesn’t really fit his modus operandi very much.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “But who could have hired him? I can’t think of anyone in Golden City who would want you dead.”
“I’ve made a number of enemies over the years, Alex, including more than a few who would like to see me gone for good,” said Rubberman as the Rubbermobile turned down a street. “But I’ve had a hard time narrowing it down, because we have so little evidence to help us figure out who hired ZZZ. Myster doesn’t know, either, even though he’s done his best to track down ZZZ.”
“It must be someone with a lot of money,” I said. “I mean, it isn’t like you can go on Amazon and order an assassin to kill your enemies, right?”
“ZZZ is known to charge a lot of money for his services, more than your average middle class person could hope to afford,” said Rubberman. “Surprisingly enough, that doesn’t actually help, because I’ve made more than a few enemies who are rich enough to afford ZZZ.”
“Really?” I said. “Like who?”
“You don’t need to know that right now,” said Rubberman. “Suffice to say, Alex, that when you work in this business and truly fight crime, you may find yourself on the wrong end of the favors of certain rich individuals. I’ve handed the task of identifying ZZZ’s employer to Adams, who from his years in the military has a lot of experience in solving these kinds of puzzles.”
“Adams was in the military? Seriously?”
“Seriously. He worked mostly in intelligence, but don’t let that fool you. He’s as good a fighter as any soldier I’ve ever known, maybe even better. But don’t mention it to him. He doesn’t like to talk about his time in the military.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure why. I suspect it’s partially because he’s still under oath not to discuss the details of his missions with anyone outside of the military, in addition to whatever traumatic events he may have experienced. Don’t tell him I told you this. If he found out I told you I was in the military, I’d never hear the end of it.”
Once more, I nodd
ed, but I couldn’t deny how surprised I was. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been. Adams was a strong man, after all, and it explained where his fighting skills had come from, the fighting skills he displayed whenever he sparred with me in the Rubber Room. Even so, I wondered why he didn’t want to talk about it and if he would ever feel comfortable enough to tell me about it.
Regardless, I closed my eyes, intending to catch a quick nap before we got back to the Cave, because it had been a long night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day, I sat in my science class in my seat on the left side of the classroom, my textbook open to Chapter 3, but even though I was looking at the text and pictures, I didn’t really understand any of it. I was half-asleep. Even the cup of coffee I’d had for breakfast this morning did very little to help me wake up. It had given me enough energy to get to school on time, but I had gotten to bed so late last night that I hadn’t gotten as much sleep as I needed. It didn’t help that, as per Rubberman’s prediction, my stomach still hurt from where the Robber had kicked me the night before, making me feel like crap.
Mr. Peters, our science teacher, was lecturing us on today’s lesson. It had something to do with biology, I think, but I was so tired that I barely paid any attention. I just noticed that he had drawn a large centipede on the chalkboard, and it was surprisingly detailed, which made me wonder if Mr. Peters had some hidden artistic talent that he didn’t talk much about. But even the well-drawn centipede didn’t hold my attention for long, because all I wanted to do was rest my head on the desk and go to sleep.
But knowing that Mr. Peters would probably give me instant detention if I did that, I glanced around the classroom instead. Frank sat behind me, looking more alert than me, but he didn’t seem to be paying much more attention than I was, perhaps because Mr. Peters was a boring teacher. Charlotte sat on the second row to my right, doodling something, seemingly paying no attention to Mr. Peters at all. A glance over at her desk showed me that she was doodling pictures of me. Well, pictures of my sidekick identity, anyway, which made me feel weird, because Charlotte had completely ignored me since she started coming to school and yet was clearly obsessed with my sidekick identity. That made me wonder how she’d react if she found out who I really was.
I turned my attention to the only empty desk in class: Greta’s desk. Even though every other student was here, Greta had not come in, not even late. I didn’t even remember seeing her back in the halls when school started. I glanced at my phone under my desk, but I had not received any texts or phone calls from Greta. I wondered where she could be. Perhaps she got sick and had to stay home for the day?
All of a sudden, Mr. Peters shouted, “Alex!”
Starting in my seat, I grabbed onto my desk before I fell off and looked up at Mr. Peters in surprise. “Uh, yes, sir?”
“I was asking you a question, but you did not answer it,” said Mr. Peters impatiently.
“Sorry,” I said, readjusting my glasses, which had become skewed when I jumped. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
Mr. Peters rolled his eyes, like I’d just given him the lamest excuse ever, while my classmates all snickered at my explanation, including Charlotte, who was now looking at me like I was an idiot. That normally would have made me feel angry or awkward, but I was too tired to care about the opinions of my classmates at the moment.
“Well, I hope you’re listening now, because I am not going to ask this question again,” said Mr. Peters. “What is the name of the scientific name of the centipede?”
Uh oh. I didn’t know the answer to that question. It was probably in the textbook, but I didn’t think Mr. Peters would let me look through the relevant chapter for the answer or maybe he would take that as a ‘no’ and fail me right away or make some derogatory joke about my intelligence or whatever. I would have glanced around for help, but I knew that that would just make Mr. Peters even angrier.
“Well, Alex?” said Mr. Peters, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his desk. “I’m waiting.”
“Uh—”
Thankfully, I didn’t get a chance to embarrass myself, because at that moment, Greta burst through the classroom door, staggering so much that she nearly fell flat on her face. Her sudden appearance even made Mr. Peters jump, while my classmates all looked at her with alarm, as if they expected to see a crazy ax murderer coming after her.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw Greta, though that didn’t stop me from noticing how much of a mess she appeared. She wore a pink t-shirt and a white coat that looked older than what she usually wore. Her hair was done in a simple, if plain, ponytail, and she had visible bags under her eyes as if she had gotten even less sleep than me. She put her hands on her knees, panting like she had just run a mile, sweat running down her forehead.
“Miss Hammond?” said Mr. Peters, looking at Greta with a mixture of alarm and annoyance. “You seem to be in a hurry.”
“Sorry, Mr. Peters,” said Greta in an out of breath voice. “I slept in this morning, but ran all the way here from my home when I woke up. I’m not late, am I?”
“Actually, you are,” said Mr. Peters. He gestured toward her empty desk. “Go sit down. I’m still in the middle of a lecture and I don’t care why you were late.”
Greta nodded and walked over to her desk. I tried to catch her eye, but for some reason she didn’t even look at me. She just plopped down in her desk, her arms hanging loosely by her side, while Mr. Peters went back to lecturing us about centipedes, having apparently forgotten all about the question he’d asked me. Not that I was complaining about that, of course.
While Mr. Peters lectured us, I paid close attention to Greta. She really did look tired, which made me wonder if she had not gotten a lot of sleep last night. She hadn’t taken off her coat, either, which was not that unusual, given how cold it was today, but at the same time, the other students had removed their coats due to the school’s interior heating making the school warm enough that you didn’t need to wear a coat. I guess she was just too tired or in too much of a hurry to take it off; she hadn’t even pulled out her textbook. And when she did pull it out, she opened it to the wrong chapter, although Mr. Peters didn’t ask her any questions; if anything, he seemed to pointedly ignore her, perhaps because he was still annoyed that she was late.
When the bell rang and Mr. Peters dismissed the class, I hefted my backpack over my shoulder and made my way across the classroom to Greta’s desk. Greta was packing her backpack, her back to me, apparently not even aware that I was approaching her.
“Hey, Greta,” I said. “What’s—”
Greta jumped like I’d just electrocuted her. She whirled around, a look of panic on her face, but when she saw me, her expression immediately relaxed, although I noticed she shifted her right arm behind herself.
“Hi, Alex,” said Greta. She sounded as tired as before, though she was clearly trying to hide it with her overly casual attitude. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me like that. Kind of spooked me.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I just wanted to say hello and see how you’re doing. You look really tired.”
“I do?” said Greta. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Ah, it’s nothing. I just got to bed a little later than usual last night, that’s all. I had a bad, uh, cough that made it hard for me to sleep until I took some medicine that knocked me out like a lamp.” She glanced around the classroom and sighed. “Maybe a little too well, given how I was late.”
Greta’s story seemed legit, but at the same time, I could tell that she was not telling me all of the facts. There was another reason she had stayed up late last night, a reason she wasn’t telling me, but what it was, I didn’t know. I wish she would tell me, but I didn’t think I would be able to convince her to do so right now.
So I said, “Well, I’m glad you showed up anyway. I was really worried about you, but now that I think about it, your dad told me that you got a cold yesterday.”
&n
bsp; Greta froze. It was like I’d blasted her with Fro-Zen’s ice beams or something. “My dad told you what?”
“That you had a cold,” I said, though somewhat more hesitantly than before, because I was now wondering if I had accidentally said something wrong.
“You mean you met my dad?” Greta said. “When?”
“Yesterday,” I said. “I, uh, went to your house to see you, because I didn’t see you at school yesterday and I wanted to make sure you were okay. He answered the door and we talked for a few minutes.”
Greta leaned closer toward me. “What did he tell you exactly?”
I leaned back awkwardly. “Not much, except that you had a cold. Your dad is a really big guy, by the way, and I mean that in a good way, of course.”
Greta pulled back. She looked more relaxed than before, but she still seemed to be on edge a little. “Okay. I was just surprised that you got to see my dad. He’s usually not in town long enough to see anyone other than me and my mom.”
“Is he still in town now or what?”
“No, he left on business,” Greta replied. “But anyway, I’m surprised he didn’t interrogate you. My dad is pretty protective of me and I was worried that he might not treat you very nicely if he ever met you.”
I remembered how big and threatening Mr. Hammond acted and shuddered. “Yeah, I can see that. But I’m sure he’s a good dad who is just concerned about your safety, like any good dad would be.”
I said that because I thought it might make Greta like me more, but a small frown appeared on her mouth for a moment before she turned around and resumed putting her stuff back into her backpack. “Yeah, he’s great and I love him with all my heart, but at the same time, he can be a little too protective, if you ask me. He can be pretty tense sometimes, which makes it hard to be around him when he’s home from work.”
I thought about my earlier speculation that her dad might be the supervillain Domino Bones, but decided not to bring it up just yet, if only because I figured it would be kind of awkward to ask my girlfriend if her dad was an infamous supervillain.