Arcade Catastrophe
Page 25

“Did you want a picture?”
Nate froze. He hadn’t snapped a shot yet. “My friends and I are big on recon,” he explained sheepishly, holding up the camera.
“We have cameras too. We’ve noticed you taking photographs. Might as well get a good one.” She came around the side of her desk and smiled, one hand on her hip.
Nate aimed a shot and snapped it. “Thanks. Although the pose takes the mystery out of it.”
“Well, I doubt the low angle together with the poor aim would have been very flattering. I do have my pride.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Her smile changed. “I doubt you’ll see me, but I’ll be watching.”
Chapter Eight
Stamps
We believe her true name is Suyin Chen,” Victor said, staring at the image on the digital camera. “You were right to feel nervous. She’s a ComKin—a Combat Kinetic.”
Nate leaned against the inner wall of the van. Ziggy was currently driving away from Arcadeland along with Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon. When Nate first saw Victor, the man had looked terrible, but then he and Ziggy had evened things out, so now he was back to normal.
“A ComKin. Which means what?” Pigeon asked.
“You remember the dwarf?” Ziggy asked.
“The one working for Mrs. White,” Summer said. “He was a Kinetic. He could store up energy, then release it all at once.”
“A mighty throw,” Victor said. “A tremendous jump. A devastating punch. The dwarf was dangerous, but in bursts. His energy was volatile. ComKins have learned to harness a similar ability in a different way. They store up a larger reservoir of kinetic energy, and, instead of unleashing it in a single burst, they release it in a focused stream that can go on for minutes.”
“They’re usually trained in a variety of fighting techniques,” Ziggy said. “Martial arts, wrestling, boxing—you name it. They’re a pain in every sense of the word.”
“Do you know what magician Suyin works with?” Summer asked.
“Yusiv in Poland, right?” Victor checked.
Ziggy nodded. “And Kwan in Singapore. And Villaroel in Peru. Anyone else?”
“That nut on that island? The one who loves water?”
“Right. I forgot about him.”
“Don’t you guys have a computer to run her name through?” Trevor asked.
Victor tapped his temple. “We keep our data in here. We’re all frequently briefed. Pictures, bios, mission reports. Magicians mistrust technology.”
“Suyin Chen has gone by other names than Katie Sung,” Ziggy said. “She’s a mercenary, taking jobs contract by contract. She could be working for anyone.”
“Not anyone,” Victor corrected. “She’s expensive.”
“We already know her employer is well funded,” Ziggy reminded him.
“True,” Victor replied. “Did you kids learn anything else?”
“I’m concerned about their nachos,” Pigeon said.
Ziggy rubbed his belly sympathetically. “You need me to find a restroom?”
“Not because I ate them,” Pigeon explained. “I noticed lots of people buying them. Who stops by an arcade in the morning for nachos to go? I saw seven or eight people. And several more eating them there.”
“Could you get us a sample?” Victor asked.
“I meant to,” Pigeon said. “Then Nate returned, and it seemed more important to come talk to you guys right away.”
“Think they’ll be on sale in the morning?” Ziggy asked.
“When they open early for us?” Nate said doubtfully. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Victor said. “I’ll find somebody to buy us a sample.”
“We did background checks on those kids you met,” Ziggy mentioned. “Roman Cruz, Marisa Fuentes, and Chris Hughes. On paper they’re good kids from regular families. Excellent students. Some minor discipline issues with Chris, but no criminal history.”
“We’ll learn plenty more about them if we earn stamps together,” Nate said.
“How is the hunt progressing?” Victor asked.
“Together we’re almost to 45,000,” Pigeon said.
“By tomorrow we’ll easily have enough for a stamp if we combine our winnings,” Trevor noted.
“We should get somebody a stamp as soon as possible,” Summer asserted.
“Nate should get a jet stamp,” Pigeon said. “Those are the closest to running out, and he’s already getting to know those kids. They’re expecting him.”
“It would be good to have one of us on the inside,” Trevor agreed. “Who knows what might already be going on? The rest of us could keep earning tickets. Maybe one of us can join each club.”
“That’s ambitious,” Victor said dubiously. “Having all of you in clubs would increase the risk, and it might not yield more info than we’d get from a single insider.”
“It’ll let us watch out for each other,” Summer argued. “Besides, who knows what opportunities might be available to kids with different stamps?”
“Valid points,” Ziggy approved.
“Will you guys drive us?” Trevor asked.
“You need to be there by five in the morning?” Ziggy asked. “Absolutely. I love starting early. We’ll bring bagels.”
“We should meet around four-thirty,” Victor said. “I’m not as enthusiastic as Ziggy about early starts, but you ought to arrive on time. We’ll meet at the bottom of Monroe.”
“Early to bed, early to rise,” Ziggy said.
“Early or late, sleep is sleep,” Victor grunted.
*****
When Pigeon got home, he found an ice cream truck parked down the street from his house. The faded blue vehicle had the words Candy Wagon emblazoned on the side. He immediately recognized it as Mr. Stott’s.
Pigeon rushed over to the truck. Mr. Stott had never waited at his house before. Pigeon found the magician sitting behind the wheel.
“What’s wrong?” Pigeon asked.
“Come inside.”
Pigeon climbed into the passenger seat.
“Would you like a treat?” Mr. Stott asked.
“I’m all right.”
“Have you seen Lindy?”
Pigeon paused. Mr. Stott was her guardian. He deserved honest answers. “She came to my house last night.”