M Is for Mama's Boy

by Michael Buckley

  Ms. Holiday continued. “Much of the country’s history is that of internal wars and those with its southern neighbor, England. The population has strong nationalist pride, and it’s not uncommon to see men wearing the traditional Scottish garb known as the kilt.”

  The computer screen showed a man carrying a briefcase and wearing a skirt.

  “The modern Scot wears the kilt as a sign of national pride and as part of formal business attire. If you encounter someone wearing one, show them respect. It takes a tough man to wear a skirt in the frosty Scottish air.”

  “That means no giggling,” Ruby said, eyeballing Jackson.

  “Holiday is right, kids,” the lunch lady said from his cockpit. “My father was Scottish, and the last thing you wanted to do was make fun of his kilt.”

  “You’re headed to the Bank of Scotland on Picardy Place, not far from Princes Street, in the capital of Edinburgh. The bank is one of Europe’s oldest, dating back to the seventeenth century,” the librarian added. “You can imagine that a company that’s been around since the seventeenth century has learned a thing or two about security. Their system is one of the most advanced in the world. Motion and heat sensors; twenty-four-hour surveillance; a vault that will drop into a thirty-story pit if it is accessed without permission.”

  “It was featured in last month’s Security Systems Magazine. Everything is state-of-the-art,” Duncan said.

  “Only you would read something called Security Systems Magazine,” Matilda said, grinning at Duncan.

  He shrugged. “What I’m saying is it would take a genius to rob it.”

  “Unfortunately, Choppers is a genius,” Agent Brand said gruffly. “You’re going to have to be smarter than he is.”

  “Does anyone else feel like all of this doesn’t add up?” Ruby said.

  “Do you have concerns, Pufferfish?” Brand asked.

  “As you know, I’m allergic to fish. I’m also allergic to things that feel fishy. My feet are swollen and my throat is scratchy, so I know something is not right. Why would Simon try to rob the world’s most robbery-proof bank, in the heart of an international city, on a busy street, when he knows we are watching him?”

  Duncan said, “I have been wondering the same thing.”

  Brand shook his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. Simon. . . Heathcliff. . . Choppers—whatever his name is—he’s unpredictable and dangerous. If I could send some more seasoned agents—”

  “More seasoned agents?” Ruby cried. The rest of the team grumbled their protest.

  “Enough!” Brand shouted. “All I’m saying is this boy used to be your friend and he may try to use that to his advantage. But remember, he is not your friend anymore. I think last year’s events prove he shouldn’t be taken lightly. When you get inside the bank, keep your eyes open for a trap. Keep an eye on your partners, too. I can’t lose another one of you.”

  “We’re over the drop,” the lunch lady shouted from the cockpit. “If you’re near a butcher, pick me up some haggis. I think the students will love it.”

  Ms. Holiday opened a compartment and removed five different colored jackets. She gave one to each of them.

  “What’s this?” Jackson asked.

  “These are the LX-919 Wind Breakers. They’re the latest in parachute technology. Unlike a regular parachute, the Wind Breaker doesn’t require careful packing. Once you hit two thousand feet, the jacket expands to capture the air below you. You’ll float like a feather and there’s no tracking down the parachute and storing it once you’ve landed. It collapses back into a jacket on the ground.”

  Duncan’s eyes grew big with wonder. “Wow!”

  Flinch laughed. “Gluestick loves his gadgets.”

  “The Wind Breaker will also keep you warm in high altitudes. The wind can be pretty brisk off those Highlands,” Ms. Holiday said to the children. “I don’t want my sweethearts to freeze.”

  “Sweethearts?” Matilda muttered.

  Ms. Holiday blushed. The librarian had a motherly quality with the children she could barely control. “I mean ‘agents.’”

  Flinch grinned and winked at her. “I’ll be your sweetheart.”

  Jackson slid into his Wind Breaker. “Are you sure about this thing? I have a problem with falling to my death. It’s not in my job description.”

  “These are better than any parachutes,” Ms. Holiday assured him. “Once you get to a thousand feet above the ground, just pull the strings at the bottom of the jacket and you will activate the air-to-ground tether.”

  “‘Air-to-ground tether’ does not sound better to me than ‘nice, big parachute,’” Jackson argued.

  “C’mon, Braceface, parachutes are so last week,” Duncan said as he clapped his hands. He couldn’t wait to give the new gadget a try.

  While the children put on their gear, Agent Brand popped open the hatch and wind blasted into the ship.

  “Pufferfish, as always, you lead this mission,” Brand shouted over the din. “Keep an eye on all movement from the roof of the bank and use the rest of the team’s abilities to find and arrest Heathcliff. Be careful! The rest of you, look out for one another!”

  “As good as done, sir,” Ruby said.

  “Any words of encouragement for our heroes, Mr. Brand?” Ms. Holiday asked.

  Brand frowned. Duncan knew the man wasn’t the type to give pep talks or sappy speeches. He hardly talked at all, despite Ms. Holiday’s constant efforts to get him to warm to the children.

  He grunted and scowled and finally said, “Don’t get killed.”

  “Well, I’m inspired,” Matilda said. Then she leaped out of the door into the wide blue sky. Flinch was next, shouting, “Cannonball!” as he went. Ruby took her turn, followed by Jackson, who used his last moments on board to plead with Ms. Holiday for a real parachute. Duncan was last.

  “Gluestick, I know Heathcliff and you were close,” Brand said. “But use your head. He’s the enemy now.”

  “Of course, sir,” Duncan replied, pushing any concern from his mind. “I know my job. We’ll stop him.”

  He leaped out into the sky, feeling the wind swim around his body. Gravity pulled him downward, faster and faster. He could see his teammates far below—tiny black specks dropping like rain. Suddenly, he heard a ping inside his head, followed by Ruby’s voice. She had activated the communications system implanted in each of their noses, the one that made them sneeze when they were summoned to the Playground. “Here’s the plan, people—Wheezer and Braceface, you are on crowd control inside the bank. The police believe there may be anywhere from ninety to a hundred people inside. Please be careful. Try to use your abilities as little as possible in front of hostages. It’s hard to be a secret agent if the secret is out. Flinch, you’re going to get us inside.”

  “How?” Flinch’s voice said.

  “You are going to karate chop the building.”

  “Awesome sauce!” he cried. “I’ll start eating some candy now to power up.”

  “Gluestick, you’re our fly on the wall. I want you crawling on the ceiling, staying out of sight and looking for our target. You know standard protocol. If you spot Simon, don’t engage him until one of us can help. I’ll be on the roof, scanning the building and feeding all of you information. As always, stay in constant contact with one another.”

  “Um, I’m a little worried about my Wind Breaker,” Jackson said. “It looked like a jacket and so far it’s acting like one too.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, quarterback, or you’ll miss it,” Matilda replied.

  “Miss what?”

  “The moment we break the sound barrier.” Matilda giggled. There was a tremendous sonic boom in the sky and suddenly the ground was flying toward them at an amazing speed. Duncan’s Wind Breaker expanded, catching the air inside and slowing his descent as if he were a dandelion seed floating in the wind.

  “These things are pretty neat, huh?” Duncan said.

  “Yeah, real neat. I think I lost my lu
nch twenty thousand feet ago,” Jackson groaned.

  “I liked it better when we were going faster,” Flinch cheered. He reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of energy drink. He guzzled it, then looked at the can as if he might eat it.

  “We’re approaching a thousand feet,” Ruby chimed in. “Prepare to pull your tether chords.”

  “Nineteen hundred,” Matilda said.

  “Eighteen hundred,” Duncan replied. “It would be best if we linked arms.”

  The children had all had skydiving training and had performed hundreds of tandem and single jumps. They knew how to maneuver in the sky, so with a few simple body adjustments they formed a circle and linked arms.

  “Now try to point your feet toward the ground,” Duncan instructed.

  “Seventeen hundred feet,” Jackson said.

  Duncan looked below. He could see a busy commercial district and a series of intertwining roads weaving like worms in all directions.

  “Sixteen hundred feet,” said Matilda.

  “Get ready, people,” Ruby ordered.

  “Um, what if these don’t work?” Jackson said.

  “Then we go splat!” Flinch cried, breaking into a giggle.

  “Fifteen hundred feet. . . fourteen hundred feet. . . thirteen hundred feet. . . twelve hundred feet. . . eleven hundred feet. . . OK, folks, let’s activate the tethers,” cried Ruby.

  The children reached down and yanked on the cords around the bottoms of their jackets. Duncan immediately felt something rocket out of his jacket. When he looked down he saw it was a cable that spiraled to the top of a building directly beneath them. It slammed into the roof like an arrow and suddenly the cable stiffened into something as hard as a fireman’s pole. Duncan snatched the cable, sliding down it until his feet were on the top of the Royal Bank of Scotland. His Wind Breaker returned to its jacket form and the cable slackened back into a rope.

  Flinch was the second to land on the bank. Jackson was next. Then Ruby. Matilda took a bad landing and nearly skidded off the top of the roof, but Duncan snatched her by the arm and held her fast.

  “Thanks, I owe you,” Matilda said as her jacket retracted.

  “Not a problem,” Duncan said.

  Ruby set up her laptop. The screen came to life. “OK, I’m linked in and pulling up the schematics of the bank. Looks as if there are three levels. The second floor is mostly offices, the ground floor is where the tellers are, and the basement is a deep shaft going down thirty feet. Gluestick was right. If you mess with that vault, you better have a shovel. Satellite heat scans are showing that the customers are lying on the floor and there is a figure moving about the bank.”

  “How do we get in?” Jackson asked as he pulled off his Wind Breaker.

  “That’s the spaz’s job,” Ruby said, gesturing to Flinch.

  Flinch grinned and shoved three chocolate bars into his mouth at once. He chewed greedily and swallowed. Duncan watched as a blue light shone out of Flinch’s harness. His hyperactivity was fueling it—making him superstrong. “I am mighty!” the boy roared, beating on his chest.

  “He’s ready,” Jackson said.

  Flinch leaned down and karate chopped the rooftop with his bare hand. There was a crack and a giant chunk of the roof fell inward, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

  “Subtle,” Matilda said.

  Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “Get in there, Wheezer.”

  Matilda fired her inhalers and zipped straight up into the air. When she turned them off, she dropped like a rock into the hole. Duncan watched her fire them up at the last second so she hovered safely just above the floor. Flinch leaped in too, landing on his feet as nimbly as a cat.

  “Looks like I’m next,” Jackson said as his obnoxious braces swirled inside his mouth. Soon, a huge, spindly pair of legs made from his dental gear came out of his mouth and lowered him inside.

  “All right, Gluestick, you’re up. Search the rooms and report back what you see. Once you’ve found Heathcliff, I’ll send the others to find you. No heroics, OK? I want to take him as a team.”

  Duncan kicked off his shoes and got onto his hands and knees. He crawled into the hole. With his sticky toes and fingertips, he felt for the ceiling, then clung to it as he scuttled inside the bank. He raced across the ceiling, moving cautiously from doorway to doorway down the long corridor. After a few minutes of searching, he reported back to Ruby, “There’s no one on the second floor.”

  Ruby’s voice was in his ears. “Good. Move down to the first floor.”

  Duncan tiptoed down a flight of stairs, then ran up a wall until he was once again upside-down. He came to an open door that led to the bank lobby and crawled inside. He saw the customers Ruby had warned him about. A hundred or so people were lying facedown, their hands on their heads. Some were quietly crying and a few looked as if they might be sick. A beefy guard in a green kilt was handcuffed to a heavy desk and couldn’t move. But what was most troubling to Duncan wasn’t the hostages. It was the squirrels. A dozen or so stood over the cowering people like tiny rodent sentries. A few more were dragging bags of money toward the bank entrance and stacking them by the door. More were rifling through wallets and stealing jewelry right off the fingers of the terrified victims. Duncan had seen a lot of strange things in his life, especially since becoming a spy, but this was the strangest.

  “Gluestick, report please,” Ruby’s voice demanded.

  “I’ve got squirrels,” he whispered. “They’re all over the place.”

  “Yes, Brand mentioned them. How many of them are there?”

  “Maybe thirty. Maybe more.”

  “Any sign of Simon?” Ruby asked.

  Duncan glanced around the room. “No, he’s not in the main room. There are some small offices off to the—wait, I hear shouting. Hang on.”

  Duncan followed the noise and soon found the manager’s office. A plump woman in a smart suit was cowering on the floor. She had bright red hair and freckles.

  “Do what ye want but ye willnae get into the vault,” she cried in her thick Scottish accent. “Even if I gave ye the codes, ye need two other managers to open the door and they are currently on holiday. Just take what ye have and go.”

  Duncan could not see Simon, but he could see what looked like a ray gun from a science fiction movie pointed at the manager.

  “Simon’s got some kind of weapon aimed at the manager,” Duncan whispered. “I’m not close enough to guess what it does. Can you scan it?”

  “I can see it, but whatever it is, it seems to be jamming the satellites,” Ruby said. “Stay put. The bank manager is in danger. I’m sending for the team.”

  “I don’t need you to give me the codes,” a voice said from within the room. Duncan was startled. What he heard was not Simon’s voice. In fact, it sounded like the voice of a full-grown man. “The computer will give them to me.”

  The mysterious unseen man pointed his weapon at the manager’s computer and pulled the trigger. At once the screen went berserk. Numbers and letters did a nervous dance across the monitor. The machine chirped and beeped and then Duncan could see the door to the vault slowly open.

  “How did ye do that?” the manager cried.

  “That would be telling. Squirrels!” the man shouted, and before Duncan could react, a sea of furry criminals raced into the room. He watched as they zipped into the vault with their sacks, filling them to the brim with cash, bonds, and jewelry, and then dragged their loot back into the main room with the rest.

  “Pufferfish, whoever this is, it isn’t Heathcliff. It’s some old dude and he’s fired his weapon,” Duncan whispered. “It seems to be affecting the computer. He’s got the door of the vault open now.”

  He didn’t get a response. All he could hear was an odd static sound. “Please advise. Pufferfish, are you there? Pufferfish, come in.” Still there was no answer. Duncan decided to move closer. Suddenly, he felt very ill. His stomach churned and his face felt hot. His hands and feet were itchy, and before he knew
what had happened, his fingers and toes lost their grip on the ceiling. He fell to the floor, where he lay at the feet of a strange, overweight man in a black-and-green outfit.

  “The boss warned me about you,” the man said nervously. Duncan had never met a villain with such lack of confidence. “I guess if you’re here then the others are on their way. Squirrels, get what you can. We have to go!”

  “Who are you?” Duncan asked as he tried to stand. He could make out red eyebrows and a freckled face behind the mask, but not much else.

  “Captain Just—you know what, it doesn’t matter who I am,” the man said.

  He shooed his furry cohorts out the door and followed them, keeping his ray gun aimed at Duncan the whole time. Duncan wanted to glue the man to the wall behind him, but he couldn’t seem to activate the adhesives on his hands properly. The ability would work for a moment and then it would vanish just as quickly.

  “Step into the vault, kid,” the man said.

  Helpless, Duncan did as he was told. He had no idea what the weapon could do, but he was smart enough not to want to find out. Once Duncan was inside, the man leveled his weird ray gun at the boy’s chest. There was a flash of light and Gluestick felt as if he were no longer in control of his body. His feet and hands were producing the sticky film that allowed him to walk on walls at an alarming rate. It was literally pouring out of him like a garden hose, circling his feet and locking him to the floor. Within seconds he couldn’t move. He was like a mouse in a glue trap.

  “Sorry, kid,” the man said, then fired his weapon at the vault itself. Duncan watched helplessly as the door closed tight, and then, with a sudden jerk, the vault plunged downward. The villain had triggered the security system. Duncan was stuck tight inside a vault that had just plummeted thirty feet below the ground.

  “Do you like what you see, boss?” Albert’s voice said.

  Simon was watching the action on a laptop computer in a tiny Internet café on Princes Street. The place was filled with losers writing stage plays and epic novels. Worse, the customers kept staring at him in his cloak and mask. Hadn’t they ever seen an evil mastermind before? He shrugged them off. He wouldn’t let them ruin his good time. Albert’s invention worked! With one zap, computers, machines, anything with an electronic intelligence, had been bent to his will. Best of all, it hypnotized the nanobytes inside Simon’s former friend, Duncan, disabling him.