As they headed out through the rows of cars, a black van sped up and crossed their path. A side door opened and two men in suits got out. Agent Walters stepped out of the passenger door.
“Boys, I’d like you to come with me,” he said.
15. Garaged
They were helped up into the van. The two agents got in after them, one sitting behind them and the other squeezing in next to them on the bench seat. The van door closed and the locks clicked shut. Agent Walters got back into the front and nodded to the driver. The vehicle accelerated, tires squealing, and turned out of the parking lot.
“Where are you taking us?” Brendan asked.
“I thought it was time we had a follow-up discussion,” Agent Walters said.
Their packs were taken from them, and the agent next to them had them hand over their phones. Brendan still had two of the tiny drones in his pocket. He hung on to the seat ahead of him as they made a turn.
Brendan leaned forward to speak. “Brian doesn’t have anything to do with me or my dad.”
Agent Walters didn’t comment.
The driver appeared to know where he was going. They got onto the freeway. Brendan wished he knew the area and doubted Poser did. A few exits later they took an off-ramp and sped through a commercial district with very little activity. Soon the van slowed and they pulled into a garage. The door rolled closed once the van was inside. The place was an old gas station that had been stripped of everything but the walls and doors.
“Watch your step,” one of the agents said as he opened the van’s side door. They all climbed out. Broken glass crunched underfoot. Fast-food wrappers littered the floor. The walls were tagged with hundreds of sloppy spray-paint signatures. The inside of the rolling garage door was the exception, painted only with a single large-eyed lizard or salamander of black, gold, and orange. It stared back at Brendan with a smug smile as if to say look what you got yourself into.
An agent took their packs into a side room. He then emptied the packs on a counter and began taking pictures of everything with his phone.
Brendan and Poser were escorted into what had once been the front office of the service station. The air smelled moldy, and the lights incessantly flickered. Several defaced product posters featuring cartoon mascots or women holding tools adorned the walls.
“Why’d you bring us to this dump?” Poser asked.
An agent unfolded two metal chairs.
“Sit,” Agent Walters said. Brendan and Poser sat. Two of the other agents stood to either side of them. Agent Walters leaned back on a chocolate-colored laminate desk.
“Uh, boss?” one of the agents said, pointing to the desk. Agent Walters looked at his hands and the back of his suit coat. They now had grease or oil stains on them. Agent Walters took a moment to unsuccessfully wipe his hands and coat with a white handkerchief. He let out a long sigh.
“There are a few things I need to ask you about,” he said, dropping the soiled handkerchief on the floor. “And observing your rather interesting activities the past two weekends helps me believe I’m not barking up the wrong tree. In fact, you’ve had an eventful first semester of school since coming to California.”
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Brendan asked.
“I’m afraid not. It seems you were putting yourself in harm’s way, and I’d hate for anything to happen to you, at least before you could tell me about the things I need to know.”
Poser leaned back on the chair. “Tell your guy messing with my stuff if he breaks it, he bought it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Agent Walters said, looking amused. “In fact, some of what you know might eventually make some kind of financial arrangement possible. But time for that later. Our investigation has been centered on your father, but we’ve uncovered so many interesting things about you. Perhaps we can finally have the honest heart-to-heart not afforded us in our last meetings. I’m hoping that now we’re in a more private setting, you might expand on any number of things.”
“Like what?” Brendan asked.
“Mysterious twins besides your father’s.” He nodded towards Poser. “People vanishing and reappearing as if from thin air. The headmaster’s new ward, for whom he created an entire fictitious birth record. This glove technology and some of the other things you boys work on in your lab. Individuals with extraordinary strength. We have some of this caught on video. Most interesting. I believe we’re past the point of deniability, as your backpacks full of goodies and this night’s activities have revealed.”
Brendan was speechless.
“Take your time,” Agent Walters said. “We have all night. But perhaps here’s a place you could start.” He motioned for an agent, who brought over a red lunch cooler. Agent Walters opened it. From inside he brought out a small, black, disc-shaped drone. It was one of the drones Charlotte had obtained from downstream. She’d had a dozen of them at one time, and Brendan had been their victim before eventually using them in their fight with the warlords. But hadn’t they all been lost?
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
“It’s not important right now. I see in your face you know exactly what it is. I’d like you to tell me everything you know about it, no matter how strange you might think the story would sound to anyone unfamiliar with your situation.”
Brendan looked at Poser, but even he looked like he didn’t know what to do. The agent now seemed to believe there was a twin Myron Reece, but he also knew so much more.
“It’s not from this world,” Brendan said, his mouth dry. “That drone comes from an alternate Earth.”
“Go on. Please, Mr. Garza. This is exactly as interesting as I dared hope.”
“Sperry Appleton had a twin from one of these alternate Earths. That twin built a machine which connected them. When he opened the door to our world, it may have been the cause of the Los Angeles earthquake.”
Agent Walters’s face was unreadable. Did he already know? Brendan continued. “Between him and his daughter, they brought over a few of those drones, twelve, I think. I thought they were all lost. But we closed the gate to the other world. I did. I had to. The machine was on the other side and it too was destroyed. Otherwise we would be facing an invasion from a gang of superpowered murderers who would have killed you and anyone else who stood in their way. There would have been more earthquakes. It would have been bad. It was a nightmare on Not-Earth—the other Earth, I mean—and worse for the worlds they had gone to first.”
“Sounds frightening,” Agent Walters said. Brendan couldn’t tell if he was being sincere. “So tell me what role your father plays in these alternate Earths.”
“None. The other headmaster faked his involvement to get me to help bring his daughter back to him. My dad was never involved.”
“But his twin was.”
Brendan sighed. “All I know is that his twin from Not-Earth murdered a scientist there and used the gate to come here. When I met him, he was wearing my dad’s clothes and driving his car. He might have kidnapped him. He might have killed him. You’re supposed to be helping me.” He felt the runaway tide of emotions building.
“My hand has not rested.” Agent Walters held up the drone. He pulled its housing off and showed Brendan the inside. Brendan had seen the drones up close, had been in the process of taking one apart himself when Vlad, under Lucille’s influence, had stolen it. Was this that drone? Brendan leaned forward to take a look. Poser craned his neck to see.
“Remarkable workmanship,” Agent Walters said. “Imagine what we discovered on some of the micro-components. Your father’s name, one of three, presumably part of whatever manufacturing that made this wonderful machine.”
“It’s all from downstream,” Brendan said. “I mean, the next Earth down the line from ours. It’s not my dad’s. Not the twin who’s here, either.”
“I understand. But if your…downstream father could make this, it stands to reason that so could his twin from…what did you call it? Not-Earth? Or your fath
er. Either man will do. What do you think? Could your father unlock this drone’s secrets?”
“Find him and you can ask him.”
“I intend to. But you, as his son, might have some insight.”
“Like I said, we lost the drones. I’m surprised you have one. I never got the chance to figure them out. They’re too complicated. What else do you want from me?”
“The program that operates the drone.” He produced a flash drive.
Brendan was stunned. It was the one Charlotte had given him with the final glove design. All the gloves had been left on Not-Earth except for the last one Brendan had finished making. It had been used to close the final gate in the nurse’s swimming pool. Brendan had dismantled it immediately after. But he had kept the flash drive safe. Usually in his backpack. Or closet. Or desk drawer.
“Where did you get that?”
“My investigation has been thorough. Unfortunately, this is encrypted. I want you to unlock it for me.”
“Go to hell,” Poser said.
“There’s nothing on there,” Brendan said. “I deleted it all. I have no more use for it, and it’s all too dangerous for anyone to use.”
“I’d like to believe you, Mr. Garza,” Agent Walters said. “I truly would. But there’s a similar file on your tablet with an even more complex encryption. All you have to do is unlock both devices for me, and we can see you boys back to your football game after-party.”
“How did you get on my tablet?”
“We have ways,” Agent Walters said.
Brendan’s mind raced. He knew he hadn’t wiped the flash drive. He had gone back and forth as to whether he might ever need to build another gate-closing glove. Now that it had fallen into the agent’s hands, he wished he had destroyed it. The drone software Vlad had written was the only thing of any interest on his tablet, and it had nothing to do with the downstream drone. But it was password locked, and Vlad had never shared the password.
“None of this will do you any good with the drone,” Brendan said.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Brendan didn’t want to even mention Vlad, although if the agent knew so much, he would get to Vlad eventually. He couldn’t help but stare at the flash drive in the agent’s hand. There was a toilet at the back of the office. The exposed fixture was an appropriate feature in the run-down setting. If there was water in the bowl, maybe he could grab the flash drive and drop it in before anyone could stop him.
It was as if Agent Walters read his mind. He put the flash drive in his coat pocket. The agent going through their possessions came back into the garage.
“Lots of parts,” the agent reported. “Junk mostly, nothing we haven’t seen before.”
Another of the agents was busy texting. He whispered into Agent Walters’s ear.
“Boys, if you’d excuse me?” Agent Walters said. He nodded to the other agents, and they all left the office and closed the door. A bolt was thrown, locking the door. Brendan and Poser both sprang up out of their chairs. Brendan tried the door but it wouldn’t budge.
“Do we at least get a phone call?” Poser called. “Guess not.”
Brendan walked the length of the room. The windows were boarded up solid. He pounded a few spots with his fist but it was no use. They were stuck in the room.
The walls vibrated as the door to the garage rattled open. They could hear the whine of the van as it backed out. When the door closed, the garage was silent except for the sputtering fluorescent bulbs in the light fixtures above.
Brendan felt like punching a wall, but he thought better of it and plopped down on one of the chairs to wait.
16. Ticket to Ride
Time was hard to measure, but it felt like hours. Poser busied himself on a blank spot of the wall with a black marker he found, drawing a fanged rabbit with a halo of flames around its head. Brendan was also up out of his chair and pacing. Finally he began pounding on the door until someone on the other side said, “Knock it off.”
Brendan was surprised. He had thought they were alone. “You can’t keep us in here!” he shouted.
There was no answer, so he pounded again. He heard some sounds but didn’t get another response. There were no neighbors. There was no one who would hear them if they called for help. All the agent outside the door had to do was ignore them.
“This isn’t right,” Brendan said to Poser.
“You think?” Poser’s marker was running out of ink. He shook it vigorously. “You know, if they take us to prison, you’ll have to show me the ropes, since you have so much experience on this side of the legal system.”
“You’ll be fine. You haven’t done anything.”
Brendan once again inspected the corners of the office and the boarded-up windows. Nothing had changed from the last twelve times he had gone over everything. The desk was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the chairs, and it was greasy. The floor was filthy too, and there were water stains on the wall to the garage. He checked the inside of the desk. Its drawers had been removed long ago. At the windows, he worked his fingers around the edges of the plywood sheets. They had been screwed in tight and had no budge to them.
Brendan sank to the floor next to Poser. “How long before someone calls the cops?”
“They might be looking for us because we messed with the game,” Poser said. “But our chaperone will know by now we’re gone for sure. I wonder where the feds were going.”
Brendan took his tiny drones out of his pocket. Without his tablet, they weren’t much use and would only hover. “I guess I should have listened to Tina. I could be in Arizona right now.”
“Arizona sucks.”
“It’d be better than this.”
“Not by much.”
They heard a car pull up outside. “Doesn’t sound like the van,” Brendan said.
The door to the office opened. Lucille stood there. When both boys hesitated, she waved them on.
“Where did you…what about the—” Brendan started to ask, but she put a finger to her lips and pointed into the garage. An agent was sitting on a chair and sleeping. Poser slipped past them and examined the man. He waved a hand by his face.
“He’s asleep,” Poser mouthed.
Lucille whispered, “Duh.” She beckoned them towards a door. Brendan saw their backpacks in the other room and grabbed both. The agent looked as if he would wake up at any moment, but he didn’t stir as they exited through the front door. Once outside, they followed Lucille to a small electric car that waited for them. An older woman sat in the driver’s seat. The car’s gull-wing doors opened on either side and the driver’s seat shifted forward.
“Good evening, kids,” the driver said. She tapped a phone mounted to the dash. “Cathedral Valley High still your destination?”
“Yes,” Lucille said. She piled in and Poser followed.
“Wait,” Brendan said. “What about him?” He pointed back at the garage. “We can’t just leave. Isn’t that resisting arrest or something? And you want to take us back to the school? Lucille, how are you even here?”
Lucille scowled. “Cesar, honey, will you just get in so we can get going?”
“And who’s she?” Brendan asked, gesturing at the driver.
Lucille sighed. “It’s my ride service. Now come on.” She shook her head at Brendan in exasperation as he climbed into the crowded back seat, then took her phone out and started texting.
“Probably not the best area for you kids to be in this time of night,” the driver said as the doors closed. They backed out onto the street.
“A miscommunication about a party,” Poser said.
The driver nodded as if she understood. “There’s water bottles and a bag of popcorn there if you want.”
The interior of the car lit up with peach-and-orange fiber optics. A tiny disco ball dangled from the ceiling. The center console had four water bottles, a cup with wrapped pieces of assorted candy, and a few tied-off bags of popcorn. Poser laughed and grabb
ed a bottle and took a swig.
“Awesome car,” Poser said. The driver just smiled and nodded.
“Will you please tell me how you’re here?” Brendan asked Lucille.
“Those guys picked me up before the game. They’re your FBI guys, I take it? It sucked. What happened? Did we win?”
“It was a close thing,” Poser said. “Both Tyler and Bull were out of it by the time we left.”
“What happened to Tyler?”
“Took a big hit by Bull,” Brendan said. “Then whatever stinging bugs the Cathedral Valley girl has under her control got to him. He was sidelined by the coach.”
“That’s too bad. His dad was at the game.”
“Tyler’s dad?” Brendan asked, surprised. “Silver Eagle? Here?” Silver Eagle was the last person Brendan’s dad had fought before being shot by a police sniper. Brendan’s dad had won.
“Yeah, him. How could you have missed him? He had a small entourage with him.”
“We were busy.”
“You actually care about Tyler,” Poser said with a grin. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“What do you care?” Lucille asked.
“I don’t. It’s just you have this whole ice-queen persona. Weird to think there’s a beating heart under all that.”
Brendan felt his frustration rising. The lights in the car started running, blinking, and changing color. Techno music began to play, with a heavy bass line. All this was doing nothing for his mood.
“Lucille, I’m trying really hard not to freak out,” Brendan said. “But please tell me how you got out and what happened to that agent.”
Lucille sighed. “Fine.”
Poser tilted his head towards the driver and made a face.
“I hear nothing,” the driver said in an exaggerated German accent.
“They brought me here,” Lucille said. “Then left me with the one agent. They thought I was with you and had something to do with your little inventions.”
“Shocking,” Poser said. Brendan nudged him to be quiet.
“They asked me a few questions about you, your dad, his twin, the drone Vlad stole from you, and I was honestly able to tell them I didn’t know anything. They left Agent Simon to watch me in one of the back rooms. I eventually got him to get me water and give me my phone back. He really isn’t bad for an FBI guy.”
The Dark Academy (Supervillain High Book 4) Page 10