The Academy

by Ridley Pearson

  “I didn’t think we ever actually break the law, right? We just listen and stuff like that. So that doesn’t make sense. How do those two things fit together?”

  “Got me.” He wished he could see her face in the dark. “What about Penny?”

  “He knows something is up.”

  “You think?” he asked.

  “Yeah. He’s got to. We’ve barely talked to him since, you know, that night. And who knows what he sees on those cameras of his? He could know more than we do. I thought about telling Randolph about him.”

  “But you didn’t,” Steel said, seriously concerned.

  “I’m not busting Penny,” she said. “He helped us out a ton. And I like him, and they’d probably expel him for what he’s done. And besides, I think he’ll be recruited at some point. He must have been invited here because of how techie he is.”

  “I suppose,” Steel said.

  “You don’t think he’ll get us into trouble, do you?”

  “I think we should both agree on a story to tell him. Our being hazed by a secret society works the best. I think we just tell him that and apologize for the last couple of weeks.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Are you scared?” he asked.

  “About tonight? A little, I guess. Or worked up is maybe more like it. It just all seems so—”

  “Weird?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know,” he said. “But it’s gotta be important. Otherwise they wouldn’t have rushed us.”

  “He made it sound like they needed us. Like the older kids couldn’t do it.”

  “We’ll find out, I suppose.” Steel reached out and took her hand. She squeezed his strongly. “We’re cool, right?”

  “I’m glad that whatever it is, I’m doing it with you,” she said.

  “Yeah, me too,” he said.

  “A good team.”

  “Yeah.” He waited a second, his heart beating so strongly he wondered if she could hear it. “So here we go.”

  Randolph paced his study as if rehearsing what to say, Kaileigh and Steel facing him in uncomfortable chairs. He had a projector on the table and a screen set up in the corner. He stole a look at them several times, causing Steel to wonder if he’d reconsidered allowing them to participate.

  “How do you feel?” he finally asked, turning to face them.

  “Fine,” Kaileigh said.

  “Ready,” Steel answered.

  “That’s the spirit, Mr. Trapp,” Randolph said.

  He rattled off something in a foreign language at Kaileigh, and she answered in the same tongue, sounding far more foreign than Randolph.

  “Brilliant,” he said. “Excellent, Ms. Augustine.”

  “Whatever it is, you can tell us,” Steel said.

  Randolph found it in himself to smile openly. “You think?”

  Steel nodded.

  “I think so too,” Randolph said. “Very well. Mr. Trapp, I’m assuming you will remember everything I’m about to tell you. Ms. Augustine, you may not take notes. I’ll ask you to put the pen down. Thank you. Mr. Trapp can remind you if necessary. Do I have your attention?” This last bit was directed at Steel, who nodded.

  He faced Steel and spoke slowly.

  “The operation will be this weekend during our Halloween break, as I told you before. We…our government…is not the only one that understands the usefulness of younger partners—operatives such as yourself….”

  Steel loved being called that.

  “We have gained intel—intelligence—that there are secrets being passed between the Iranians and Russians. The nature of these secrets is unknown, but we never leave such things to chance. As it happens, the exchange is to be made between two minors such as yourselves—the daughter of the Iranian deputy ambassador, and the son of a Russian consulate general.” He tripped a remote control, and the photographs of a boy and a girl appeared on the screen. “Memorize these faces, Mr. Trapp.” A moment later he changed slides. “This is the Armstrad Hotel, downtown Boston, and the temporary residence of the Iranian ambassador. The embassy is currently undergoing renovations, thereby making the ambassador’s hotel suite foreign territory and therefore off-limits to our law enforcement or military. We believe the exchange will take place inside the hotel suite, out of reach of U.S. law. Are you with me, Mr. Trapp?”

  Steel nodded, saying, “It’s like the hotel suite is part of Iran, as long as they’re in there.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So we can’t do anything to stop what goes on.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Including them giving each other stuff.”

  “And by using minors,” Randolph continued, “they further tie our hands. The ambassador’s family members are, like the ambassador himself, immune from prosecution. Even if we caught them, we couldn’t do anything.”

  “That’s why you’ve had me learn some Farsi and Russian,” Kaileigh said. “But how does it work?”

  “Very good, Ms. Augustine! Yes, indeed. The children are being used as cutouts—that is, they very likely have no idea what it is they are exchanging. We assume they will meet at a Halloween party, a fund-raiser scheduled in the hotel on Friday night by a law firm. It offers them good cover. They will proceed to the suite and make the exchange. From there on the information is protected by immunity and they are untouchable.”

  “Then…what can you do?” Steel asked.

  “It’s what you can do,” Randolph answered. “The two of you.”

  “We’re going to take their places,” Kaileigh said. “The phrases I’ve been working on…I’m speaking to someone…who? A guard maybe. Someone who can let me in to—”

  “The suite!” Steel said. “I’ve memorized the hotel plans.”

  “You see?” Randolph said. “You two are the perfect choices.”

  “But if I’m to imitate the girl, I’ll need—”

  “To meet her,” Randolph said. “To hear her speak, to see her move. That’s correct. That will happen at the party. From there, the two of you will change costumes—we have reliable intel that the Russians have ordered an Aladdin costume for the boy, and the Iranians a Jasmine for the girl. All of that has been worked out. The complication comes from what we call a ‘wild card.’ That is, specifically, the possible involvement of a third party. There’s a group of delinquents working the Boston hotels—stealing from guests. We know that this group has targeted the fund-raiser I spoke of. They’ll be in attendance Friday night as well. If we’re to prevent them from interfering, which will be the responsibility of Mr. DesConte and Mr. Long, we need to identify them ahead of time. This is the first leg of your assignment. Early Friday evening you will attempt to identify the woman in charge and follow her to get a look, if possible, at her team. If that isn’t possible then you’ll follow her operatives to the Armstrad and identify them there. The point being, we must know who her operatives are if we’re to stop them. If they were to steal the information—which we believe will be contained on a thumb drive—we could have an international incident.”

  “You mean we are stealing some thumb drive?” Kaileigh said, objection in her voice. “I thought you said we didn’t do that kind of thing, that the older kids did that kind of thing, and only when necessary.”

  “It’s okay,” Steel said, eager for the assignment.

  “Once the party has begun, your assignment, Ms. Augustine, will be to assist Mr. Trapp in getting into the suite. Mr. Trapp’s assignment is to examine and memorize the contents of the thumb drive, identify the purpose of its contents, and to advise me of such. If there is to be any intervention, it will, indeed, be left to other operatives.”

  “Victor and Reddie,” Steel said under his breath.

  “You needn’t concern yourselves with anything beyond your immediate assignments. You are well aware of the rules. We’ve discussed them in detail.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said, nearly in unison.

  “If we had other operatives available, believe
me, they would—”

  “It’s because of our size, and her language, and my memory,” Steel said, interrupting. “These other kids…we can pass for them.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Randolph said, “or the operation is doomed before it begins.”

  As school let out on Friday at noon, the campus became frenzied with students heading in every direction. Four chartered buses were waiting in the semicircle out front, as were several dozen cars driven by parents, and more than one town car. The trees were, for the most part, barren of leaves, the lawn covered in golds and browns and the red of maples, the wind stirring as students hurried past, lugging bags and backpacks.

  Steel and Kaileigh boarded the bus marked for Boston along with thirty other students. As instructed, they did not sit together. Soon, Steel felt as if he were on the bus alone. He spent most of the ninety-minute ride staring out the window. He counted barns. He tried to see in the windows of people’s houses, and he looked down through car windshields, trying to imagine where each driver was going and what he or she was up to. But mostly he reviewed his instructions and the enormous volume of scientific data he had committed to memory. To him the evening assignment was simple enough, the burden of the job on Kaileigh. It was the job this afternoon that troubled him: finding, identifying, and following some woman. One thing was certain: nothing would be the same after this weekend.

  The city loomed big in his mind, perhaps because of his weeks on a windblown campus far from anywhere, perhaps because of the assignment that was etched into his formidable memory, and his sense of being so small in a place so vast. He took a moment to glance back at Kaileigh, who, like him, was staring out the window. He caught sight of Penny staring at him from three rows back. The sight of Penny surprised him, though he tried not to show it. Penny lived in Boston—he and Kaileigh should have thought of that, should have prepared to have to deal with him.

  The bus charged on, giving Steel views of outlying neighborhoods with their laundry lines, old cars, and muffler shops. Billboards streamed past, offering white-toothed smiles, sale items, and political candidates. With each mile, Steel felt his gut twist a little tighter, his skin prickle with perspiration.

  Finally they were in the city proper, driving the city streets, and the walls closed in around him, the buildings blocking sunlight, the sidewalks suddenly alive with people. At the stoplights he saw the poor and the rich, the old and the young, the healthy and the not-so healthy, the cops, the shoppers, the smokers, the joggers, the bike riders, the happy, the sad, and a street musician playing a harmonica with a scruffy dog on a leash tied to his ankle. He saw himself trying to fit into the mix, trying to blend in, trying to look right. He studied and memorized things of importance: the way a street bum hunched his back like he was carrying an enormous weight, the way the less fortunate seemed to walk slower, the way hunger could show in a person’s face, and how bitterness and despair could be worn like a coat, or disguise a face like a veil.

  He’d been warned by Randolph that taking on an alias was not simply a matter of “changing clothes.” He’d practiced things like speaking less properly—difficult at first but easier as he went along; eating without table manners—more fun than he could have imagined; frequently complaining and blaming others—something he found repugnant.

  Since a very early age, he’d learned to control his uncanny memory, to hold it back, to stop the flood of thought that often threatened him. He lived with a database of images in his head that would have crashed a supercomputer. “Steel?”

  He jumped.

  Kaileigh had sneaked into the seat next to him.

  “What do we do about you-know-who?” she said, screening her hand and pointing to the back, where Penny sat.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Steel said. “When in doubt, try the truth.”

  “What?!”

  “My mother says that all the time.”

  “But we’re sworn to—”

  “Our secret society,” Steel said, cutting her off, “is hazing us this weekend. We have to dress up and do weird things, and if we pass, then we’re in.”

  “Ah…” she said, nodding. “That works for me.”

  “And no one can know about it, or we’re out, so he’s got to promise to leave us alone. ’Cause you know, the way he spies on everyone, I don’t trust him.”

  “Who’s going to tell him?” she whispered.

  “Both of us. Right now.”

  “Okay. We’re almost there. I agree.”

  The explanation to Penny went smoothly enough. Kaileigh stepped on Steel’s attempt and took over and made Penny see how cool it was, and Penny nodded a lot and looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “Well, I brought all my stuff along,” Penny said, holding up a bulging backpack. “GPS. Radio-tracking. Listening devices. Video. I never go anywhere without this stuff, so if you need a hand…?”

  “Actually, I think that would disqualify us,” Steel said.

  “We shouldn’t even be talking to you,” Kaileigh said, glancing around. “We weren’t supposed to talk to anyone on the ride.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Penny pretended to zip his mouth shut.

  “See you Sunday night, back on the bus,” Steel said.

  “Roger, that,” Penny said. “I can’t wait to hear what’s up.”

  Steel and Kaileigh split up and returned to their seats. He thought that had gone quite well.

  The bus pulled into the terminal. Everyone stood at once, fighting to get off first. Steel hung back, knowing his and Kaileigh’s first stop was the public restrooms, where they would change their identities.

  They wouldn’t want any classmates hanging around when they came out looking like homeless kids. He was in no hurry.

  A few minutes later, Steel was in a stall of the men’s room, changing into the ratty clothes Randolph had provided for him. Kaileigh was doing the same thing on the other side of the cinder block wall. When he emerged from the washroom, his eyes drifted right past her on his first glance: she’d sprayed something into her red hair, making it look more brown and dirty; she wore a tight shirt—ripped at the shoulder—and another shirt beneath that, and still some other piece of clothing beneath the two. The shirts were soiled and torn, just like the tight blue jeans she wore with the knee torn out.

  “Jeez!” he said, approaching her.

  “You look like a cockroach,” she said.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He’d smeared black and brown creams onto his face, arms, and hands, had mussed up his hair and parted it in the opposite direction. He’d smeared his eyebrows as well so they matched the soiled clothes he wore. The pants smelled sour, and the shirt was so foul that he winced as he caught a sniff of himself.

  “I don’t know what roaches smell like, but I think I smell like one too,” he said.

  They both carried backpacks that Randolph had warned might be searched. For this reason they divided fifty dollars between them, keeping it on their persons. Steel slipped thirty between his ankle and sock, and Kaileigh tucked the remaining twenty into the waistband of her pants.

  “Your feet stink,” she said.

  “Yeah? Well you’re no prize either. Let’s go,” he said. “That is, if you’re ready, Your Highness?”

  “Loser,” she said.

  He walked quickly, making sure she would follow him, not the other way around. He turned left out the door, able to visualize the map in his head. Kaileigh was about to challenge his sense of direction when she reconsidered. She hurried to catch up to him.

  Some things were worth waiting for.

  Steel stopped beneath the small sign that read: THE PA_L REVERE SHE_TER—AL_ WELCO_E.

  He glanced over at Kaileigh. A light drizzle had been falling for the past ten minutes. She looked like a wet rat, her hair matted and tangled, her mouth turned down at the corners, her eyes sad. Her shirts were wet at the shoulders, and because of a misstep into a puddle, her sandals squeaked.

&n
bsp; “You okay?” he asked.

  “Hey, I’m terrific,” she said, laden with sarcasm. “Don’t I look it?”

  “Brother and sister,” he said.

  “Don’t remind me. I know this stuff so well I’m dreaming it.”

  “Okay, then.” He pulled open the door. The first thing that hit him was the smell of the place: a hint of lemon disinfectant mixed with the sweetness of cinnamon rolls and the animal-fat odor of gravy.

  “Lovely,” Kaileigh said. “Now I’m going to smell like you.”

  The room was big and noisy, with a wood floor and walls with old paint bearing poster art in wooden frames screwed into decaying plaster walls. A stack of folded cots crowded along the left wall while a dozen recycled-plastic picnic tables currently occupied the center of the room. A cafeteria counter had been erected against the far wall. A sad excuse for a television hung high in the corner and was tuned to a soap opera, the sound off.

  A few dozen men and women of all ages occupied fiberglass chairs at the picnic tables. Some were reading. Others played cards or board games, or dozed and snored. Not one of them looked up as Steel and Kaileigh entered. A handful of very young kids played with plastic toys under a sign that read, KIDDIE CORNER. The floor tiles in front of the men’s and women’s rooms showed signs of wear. It looked as if there was a second room filled with more cots.

  “May I help you?” a tall thin man asked. He wore a ratty sweater and his face held kindness and concern, though it struck Steel as a practiced expression.

  “Steven,” Steel said.

  “Kaileigh.”

  The man shook hands with them. “Welcome,” he said. “I’m Gary. Are you hungry?”

  “Always,” Steven said.

  “Not really,” Kaileigh answered.

  Gary motioned Steel toward the counter. “We serve snacks until seven. Dinner’s at seven. We ask that all of our guests wash up before meals. There’s no smoking, no gum chewing, no spitting or swearing or lewd behavior.”