New Yorkers were magicians with space. Everyinch everywhere was used to maximum capacity. The block surroundingthe school was full of residential brownstones and smallbusinesses. There was no football field, no soccer field, andcertainly no baseball field. These private schools didn’t offerextracurricular sports, so none was needed. Of course, Central Parkwas only a block away, so no one could complain about greenspace.
If you wanted your kids to become something,it was pretty much a necessity to send them to a private school ofsome sort. Parents actually put their kids on waiting lists fromthe time they were born to get into the school they thought best.A.G. Bell Academy prepared kids with either the aptitude or thefortitude to become some type of engineer.
I tugged at the uncomfortable uniform I hadto wear: a starched white button-up shirt, tucked crisply into ared and blue plaid wool skirt. Knee-high socks and ridiculouslyshiny Mary Janes polished off the ensemble. My long, straight hairhad been dyed red, and I wore it up in a high ponytail.
I’d gone to the school early, my go bagdisguised as a high schooler’s backpack, hoping to get a chance tosnoop around in Mr. Shareweather’s office, adjacent to the autoengineering outbuilding. However, as I approached the squatbuilding, I realized my hope for some alone time was in vain. Icould hear muffled voices coming from the building as I walked pastsome windows. I groaned inwardly. Was detention or an early studyhall held in the building each morning? At least I could listen inand maybe learn a little more about Shareweather. Ace’s algorithmhadn’t tagged him, so there wasn’t any surveillance data on him.All I’d been able to learn about him was what was in his officialschool file, and that hadn’t been too helpful.
I stepped lightly toward the outside door ofhis office. A careful tug on the door handle proved it was locked.I tried the back door. Locked. I searched for an open window. Ididn’t find one, but I could see into the shop area because someblinds had been damaged, the thin metal slats sticking out in anodd way.
I put my nose up to the closed window,careful not to let my uniform brush up against the dirty outerwall, and watched as Mr. Shareweather spoke to a small class ofstudents. His thick, bushy, salt-and-pepper hair clashed slightlywith his more youthful brownish-red mustache and beard, althoughhis well-trimmed beard did fade to gray and white near the ends. Heseemed to have a permanent worried look on his face, making hiseyes seem smaller than they already were. The creases in his deeplytanned forehead seemed more like the mountains one might find on aneighty-year-old man and not one who was fifty, tops.
I watched as he stepped toward a nearby cardoor and demonstrated what no ethical teacher should: how to breakinto a car that didn’t have a smart key. I smiled inwardly: I’dfound S-Dub. I didn’t even need to hear what he was saying, I knewthe movements. It hadn’t been that long ago that I had learned todo that very thing as part of my training for this mission.
I wished desperately I was still connectedto the team over com. I would have loved in that moment to gloat toHalluis over this little triumph. Score another one for Christy. Ofcourse, it was completely impractical to have a com device in myear at school—even a subtle one could be spotted and cause me noend of trouble. I wore a wire, though, so the team was listening inback at headquarters. I resisted the urge to whisper “Ha!”—it wouldhave been unprofessional. I didn’t want to undermine my team’sconfidence in me.
I turned my focus back to the classroom.There was a small group of kids gathered around S-Dub’s hulkingmass—seven in all. After his demonstration, five students practicedon several different cars while two other students seemed to behelping them, mentoring them. One of them had this strut. He wasone confident guy.
It wasn’t like the building could house abunch of cars, but it had sections of cars throughout the room.Five students were male and two female. I scanned five facesquickly, committing them to memory. The two student mentors neverturned toward me, so I wasn’t able to memorize their faces. I hadto memorize their clothing and build instead. Neither Jericho norMikado was present. Maybe they were in the advanced class, Ithought ruefully.
They all shouted out once they figured itout and were successful. I watched, wondering if S-Dub would teachthem something I didn’t know. As S-Dub’s formidable shape movedtoward one student, a waif-like girl, she visibly trembled.Apparently, she’d been unable to start even one of the simplest ofcars. I’d be a bit scared if he were stomping toward me, too.
A light went on in the building behind theschool. As it did, Mr. Shareweather walked in front of the sectionof windows I was looking through, and though he was a good twentyfeet from me, my shadow fell across his face. I took a sharpbreath. He paused, turning his head in my direction.
Crap! I ducked and then cruised out of therewithout a sound. For about half a second, I thought I should stickaround and pretend I had only been curious about what was going on,but I was sure S-Dub wouldn’t stand for that. If he was the cargang’s leader, he’d be too smart to believe that. Instead I ran,heading for the corner of the building.
My heart thundered as I ran, adrenaline andtraining making me fast. Once I’d made it into the narrow alleywaynext to the outbuilding, I heard the back door to the shop clickopen and the pounding of feet headed my way. My whole body was onalert, all muscles tight and ready to fight. I sprinted along theside of the building and ran without a sound around the othercorner to get to the front of the building and get the heck out ofthere. Had others
