“Wait, let me see the phone.” She flicked through to the settings and smiled. “It’s an international phone. It looks British. You need to dial internationally to call a US number.”
“Weird,” said Evel. “Wonder why he wouldn’t just give us a regular phone?”
“Jules, you’re a genius!” said M. “Evel, call Sercy. Tell her we need to get Keyshawn to a hospital first. Then we need to get to London. Fast.”
The London skyline spoke to M, but it didn’t have anything good to say. Standing on the Millennium Bridge, she felt the world moving all around her. The clouds in the sky, taxis, cars, pedestrians, bikes, dog walkers, even the muddy waters flowing underneath her — London was on the move, but she was stuck in a different time. This was the city where she’d become a true criminal. This was the city where she’d been deceived by her mother, by Cal, and by Cal’s mother, Ms. Watts. The city that looked exactly the same, like nothing had changed. But it had. Everything had changed. No thanks for the memories.
Evel and Jules leaned over the bridge’s wide-winged suspension wires that opened up like the palm of a giant’s hand.
“What now?” asked Evel. He looked cagey, as if London were a trap he’d walked right into.
“We wait,” said M. “According to Sercy and Merlyn, our contact will meet us here on the bridge. Better to connect in an open, public area than a dimly lit back alley. Whoever we’re meeting was smart to choose this location.”
“Smart, maybe, but I don’t like hanging out for too long in one place,” said Jules. “Maybe it’s my circus blood.”
“Or maybe it’s your spider sense,” said M. “I don’t think you’re wrong to worry, but Evel’s bringing too much attention our way. He looks like he suspects every person that walks by of being a secret agent.”
“And how do you know they’re not?” Evel stared down a tour group. Their guide held up a tall baton with a stuffed panda at the end. The stuffed animal had seen better days. Its eyes were gone and its fuzzy fur was matted into clumps from months of rain-soaked trips between St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Tate Modern Museum.
“Because they’re all staring back at you,” answered M. “And probably a little freaked out that some random kid on a bridge is trying to burn a hole through them with his eyes. You need to relax.”
“I knew I should have stayed back in the States with Sercy,” Evel said nervously. “I’m not built like you guys.”
“Sure you are,” said Jules. “Two arms, two legs, one brain that’s telling you to run as far away from this situation as possible.”
“You mean, you’re nervous, too?” Evel’s death grip on the railing loosened.
“Definitely,” said Jules. “M?”
“If you’re not scared, you’re not paying attention,” M said as she casually flipped her hair in the wind to study the crowd. “These people here aren’t scared. They’re just living their lives, seeing the sights. Honestly, I’d rather be them.”
Another tour group shuffled through. That made five. By her calculations, each group took about five minutes to cross the bridge. Which meant their contact was almost a half hour late. M knew they couldn’t afford to wait much longer. There were cameras everywhere in London. Cameras with facial recognition software and a million digital back doors that Lawless and Fulbright hackers could enter at will to conduct their own manhunt on the British government’s dime.
“Five more minutes and then we’re on our own,” said M.
As the crowd opened up, Jules spotted someone running from the other side of the bridge. The kid had a backpack and shaggy hair. He stumbled several times, almost tripping even though there was nothing in his way. “This guy’s in a hurry.”
“Jules, why does this kid look familiar?” M asked warily. He was awkward, he was struggling, and worst of all he was late. Not a great start to uncovering and stopping John Doe’s master plan.
“Because we know him!” said Jules. She ran over and gave Ben Downing a huge hug.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ben said. He looked exasperated, sucking in air and pulling at his sweat-soaked shirt. Gone was his trim haircut and soldier’s build. Civilian life had softened him up — it looked like he’d had one too many trips to the fish and chips shop.
“Someone’s chasing you, aren’t they?” Evel asked with distress. “You doubled back, took a different route, lost them for a while, but now they’ve found us.”
“No,” exhaled Ben. “No, I just got really, really lost. This city is massive.”
M put her arm on Ben’s shoulder. “I’d ask if this was your first time in the city, but I know it’s not. It’s good to see you again, direct.”
“It’s good to be seen,” he said. “But it’s not good to be seen too much. Follow me. I know a great place to eat around here.”
Ben started walking toward the Tate Modern, then stopped, circled around, and headed in the opposite direction. “Blast, it’s that way. I’m a right mess, all turned around like the A23.”
The others stared at him blankly.
“Oh, yes, you’re all Americans,” said Ben. “The A23 is a road that runs through … ah, never mind. This is the way. Let’s go.”
Evel looked at M. “This is our contact?”
“Yep,” she replied. “Don’t worry, he’s always been bad with directions. He was a Fulbright, after all.”
“What’s his story?” Evel asked.
“My story,” Ben said as he wheeled around, “is basically this: joined up with the Fulbrights, met M after two years of service, led her in a special task force made of Lawless students to uncover a missing book, and was promptly double-crossed by John Doe and the Fulbright Academy that I had sworn to serve. Dishonorable discharge. What’ve you done recently, pip-squeak?”
“Relax, Ben,” said Jules. “Evel’s cool.”
“I don’t do cool,” sniped Ben.
“Without Evel we wouldn’t have our link to the Ronin,” explained M.
“Is that who Merlyn is working with?” asked Ben. “I hate to say it, but it was good to see his face again. Thought Doe might have melted it off. When he told me what happened in those chambers …” Ben’s voice drifted off as he let out a shudder. “Sorry, Jules.”
“I’m getting used to it,” she said with a shrug.
On foot, the streets of London spun out in a million nooks and crannies. Turn after turn, M began to feel like she was back in the Fulbright Academy’s maze of hallways. But there was a sky above her, the air was crisp, and the stone buildings that had survived for centuries surrounded them like history they could touch. Gradually the streets became narrower and narrower until they could physically reach out and touch the walls on either side. M traced the smooth stones and felt the vibration of the city.
“It’s buzzing,” she said to Ben.
“Yeah, it’s the tube, beneath us.” He motioned to a sign that marked a London Underground station entrance. “It’s like a dragon under the city, isn’t it? The beast lumbers past and the day goes on like everything’s normal.”
“But what happens when the knight comes?” joked Evel.
“People go home,” answered Ben. “Most trains stop running at midnight.”
“No, it was a joke,” explained Evel. “What happens when the knight comes, like K-N-I-G-H-T.”
Jules snickered. “Don’t give up your day job, Evel.”
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” said M. “That joke slayed!”
The group erupted in a fit of giggles and M smiled brightly. The joke was dumb, but they needed to laugh. Evel already looked calmer, and just for a moment, Jules seemed like her old self again.
“This is the place.” Ben opened a plain red door and ushered the others inside. Most of the chairs were still upturned on the tables and a woman was mopping the floor. She was older and looked sloppy with the mop, like she was in a hurry to get the place opened.
“Any seat you want, loves,” she said and motioned to the room.
“A bit behind today, but the place is open. Looks like it’s all yours, too.”
“Cheers,” said Ben as he took a chair down from the table in the middle of the room.
It was a coffeehouse by day and a pub by night from the looks of the room. The furniture was made of heavy wood and the walls were covered in green wallpaper with a floral print that roped all the way up to the white ceiling. There was a bar with stools in front and mirrors on the wall behind it. A few cans of paint sat on top of the bar, their lids cracked open. M could smell the slight odor of paint fumes, but she couldn’t see what had been painted. In the mirror, she watched the waitress’s reflection pass through a swinging doorway into the kitchen carrying the bucket of dirty water.
“So, let’s get down to business,” said Ben. “Merlyn caught me up on your lives, but I don’t know what brings you to London.”
“Neither do we,” confessed Jules. “This is all based on a hunch M had when the cell phone that —”
M interrupted her before Jules could say Bandit’s name. “The cell phone that we stole off a Fulbright. It had a British number, and I thought it would be worth a visit. So how did Merlyn find you?”
“Me?” Ben pointed to himself. “He didn’t. Some girl named Sercy did. And when she rang the alarm, I came to help.”
Jules coughed and cleared her throat as Ben finished talking.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s just dusty in here. I’ll order a glass of water when the waitress comes back.” She grabbed a paper napkin from the bin on the table and blew her nose. At the same time, she looked off to her right, where the waitress had been cleaning up.
“How’d you find this place?” asked Evel. “It’s so … British.”
“Is it?” Ben’s eyes traced the space. “Looks normal to me.”
“Of course it does, you’re British,” said Evel.
“How’d you find this place today?” M repeated innocently. “There were a lot of turns we made getting here and you seemed to be tracking it like a hunter. We must have passed fifty other shops that we could have stopped in.”
“Can I take your order?” The waitress appeared at the table with a small notebook in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other. She placed the water on the table and pulled four cups out of her apron. “Today’s specials are pork pie, steak and kidney pie, and black pudding that’s to die for.”
“We’ll need a few to look at the menu, love,” chimed Ben before exchanging a smile with the waitress. Then he poured water for each of them. Evel took a deep gulp as soon as his cup was filled.
“Whoa, thirsty, huh?” Ben refilled Evel’s cup. “So seriously, what’s in London? You’re not the only ones in town, I hear.”
“Really?” asked M.
“Word is something’s going to go missing soon,” said Ben, and he tapped the table. “I may not be in the game anymore, but I keep my eyes and ears trained for oddities.”
Jules coughed again and grabbed a second napkin. This time M followed her eyes. The tile floor was a total mess of grungy footprints from the night before. All except for the one area where the waitress had been mopping something up. Small shards of glass lay underneath a nearby table, untouched, right next to the cleaned area. Either that waitress was really bad at her job or … “Ben, can you tell me what happened that night with John Doe?”
“I’d rather not,” said Ben. “It’s a lot to relive, you know.”
M let his answer hang in the room. She knew that sometimes the best way to get someone talking was simply to wait.
“I just, you know, saw an opening, had a chance to get out of there, and I didn’t even know what was going on because I think my mind had shimmied off. Next thing I know, I’m back in Brighton, Mum and Dad putting a washcloth to my forehead, telling me they’ll do their best to fix it.”
“Fix what?” asked Jules.
“Fix it with Doe and the Fulbrights.” He said it in a hushed whisper, crowding over the table as if there were microphones hidden everywhere.
“And how’s that going for you?” M baited him.
Ben glared at her, then smiled. It was a different smile than M remembered from when she first met Ben in the Glass House. But it was familiar in another way. “It’s not working at all. Can’t you tell? I’m here with you. So please, for the third time, what brings you to London?”
“Chaucer maybe?” The room fell silent around Evel’s two tiny words. “Yeah, the other night in the forest, I heard Keyshawn tell you something about Chaucer and the stars. Does that ring a bell, M?”
It did. It rang a bell that couldn’t be unrung. “He was out of it.” M tried to cover up the clue. “Keyshawn might’ve had a concussion that night, not an answer. I wouldn’t hang my hopes on anything he said.”
“Keyshawn’s alive?” asked Ben.
“Maybe, we’re not sure. We dropped him off at a hospital before we came here. He was in a — what do you call it — a coma,” said Evel. “Coe-maa,” he repeated, drawing out the word as if it fascinated him. Then Evel turned to M with a dazed look in his eyes. “And actually, he sounded pretty sure of himself. Like he was struggling to get everything out in the open before he slipped into that coma. And Jules, I don’t think you like me very much.”
“What?” blurted Jules.
“You look at me and I think you see my sister.” Evel was on a roll. “And I can understand that, but I also think you don’t like me because I was a failure and now I’m here and partially, a little, your life depends on me and you’re worried that I’m going to blow it somehow. But I’m not. I don’t think. Maybe I would, but at least I wouldn’t blow it on purpose.”
“Okay, Evel, it’s all good,” said M. “There’s no need to get so chatty. We’re your friends, not your therapist.”
“You, M. I think you keep me around because of my sister.” Evel’s speech was starting to slur and his arms went rubbery as he tried to point at M and then back to himself. “Like you think she won’t hurt you if I’m on your side. But she will. She’d shove me into a pit of angry snakes to get a crack at you.”
“No, Evel, I asked you to come because I trust you,” said M, trying to calm him down.
Then Evel knocked over his empty glass and it shattered on the ground. “Oh my gosh!” he gasped. “I am sho shorry. Lest me clean mit ups.”
Flump. Evel passed out.
M and Jules both glanced at their full glasses. Small flecks of white dust floated near the bottoms. They turned to focus on Ben, who didn’t seem at all surprised by what had just happened.
“Is your friend okay?” he asked with a bizarre note of sincerity.
“I think we’re ready to order now!” M hollered without looking away from Ben. “And could we get it to go?”
Simultaneously, M and Jules splashed Ben in the face with their water, then ducked under the table and flipped it over. A second later, a sonic boom erupted, pulverizing the table to smithereens.
The kitchen door swung open to reveal Cal in his Fulbright uniform, unmasked, clenched fist raised, standing beside the waitress. M and Jules were shaken, covered in wood slivers and dust, but they knew what was coming next. Wherever Cal was, his mother wouldn’t be far behind.
The waitress reached to the back of her neck as if she were going to undo a necklace, but instead she pulled off her face. The thin mask peeled away with a sickening sound, like the tearing of actual skin. With the mask gone, she shook her blond hair out, then flashed her green eyes. The same green eyes as Cal, her son. Ms. Watts was back.
“Hello, Ms. Freeman.” Ms. Watts glared at her, then motioned for Cal to lower his magblast. “May we sit and talk? There’s so much to catch up on.”
“Take a rain check, you old cuckoo bird. It’s time for my friends and me to leave.” M had nothing to say to this woman. She was the one who had admitted to killing her father, who’d manipulated her, and attempted to kill her. Talking was not an option.
“You can try to leave, but n
o one gets out alive until we have our one-on-one.” Ms. Watts shrugged.
“You dosed Ben, too, didn’t you?” accused Jules. “With that hypnotic Lawless junk.”
“Oh, and Calvin told me you were the average one,” said Ms. Watts. “Cal, were you pulling my leg?”
“No, Mother.” Cal’s voice sounded flatline. If it had been in the hospital, the doctors would have declared it DOA.
“Yes, dear Ms. Byrd, I gave Mr. Downing a taste of Lawlessness. The poor boy does have a soft spot for you and M, though. Calvin convinced Ben that you were in trouble and my, oh my, did he come running.”
“Right into your trap,” said M. “And Evel … I’m guessing truth serum in the water.”
“You never did disappoint, Ms. Freeman. Except for that one time when you let the Fulbrights destroy the Lawless School.” Ms. Watts made an ugly face, turning her lips into a sneer and wincing. “Though that was as much my mistake as it was yours. I never should have given that meteorite to —”
“Dr. Lawless, I know,” M interrupted. “He’s working for the Fulbrights. Bad move on your part, then. But thanks for telling me. I feel a little less guilty.”
Ms. Watts clapped her hands together slowly in approval. “Someone’s been learning on her adventures. So you know that we want the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” asked M.
“The same thing your father and I used to want: to destroy John Doe.” Ms. Watts’s green eyes widened with glee at the thought.
“My father didn’t want that,” countered M. “You said so yourself. He wanted to expose Doe. You were the one out for blood.”
“And what are you out to accomplish?” Cal spoke up. His mother held her smile, but the emotion in his voice seemed to surprise her.
“We’re going to stop him from hurting anyone else … maybe everyone else.” M’s heart beat harder seeing Cal. He’d grown taller and looked stronger than before. His shaggy hair was unkempt and fell almost below his chin. And M couldn’t wait to knock his block off. He’d found his mother, just like he planned. But here he was, standing by her side like a faithful son, threatening M’s mission for his own selfish revenge. “So are you two working together again? The last heist you pulled, your mom left you to drown in a frozen river. Is that all water under the bridge now?”
Mayhem Page 15