Martin glared at me. I grinned back at him and tried to act innocent, then turned toward Livy to say something clever. There had to be a great line that involved math or falling food. While I was trying to think of something, Livy laughed and said, “Oops, they are pretty slippery.” She reached down with her chopsticks, plucked the piece of chicken from Martin’s lap, and held it up to his mouth. “Here you go.”
Martin took a bite, then flashed a smirk at me.
Dropsticks! Shoot. I thought of it way too late. I gave up and went back to eating.
As we finished the meal, Torchie looked around the table and asked, “Do you have any fortune cookies?”
“Those are for tourists,” Cheater said. “This food’s authentic.”
“Well, I’m a tourist,” Torchie said. “Besides, I like the way they taste.”
“Then you should have a fortune cookie,” Livy said. She got up and brought back cookies for all of us.
Torchie broke open his cookie, stared at the fortune for a moment, then said, “I don’t get it. NEVER FEEL TROUBLE OR IT WILL FOLLOW YOU. What’s that mean? Is it like, don’t worry?”
“Let me see.” Cheater snatched the fortune from Torchie’s hand. “It doesn’t say ‘feel.’ It says, ‘flee.’ ”
“Never flee trouble.” Torchie nodded. “Yeah. That makes more sense.”
The rest of us checked our fortunes. As Martin tried to snap his cookie open, it shattered into a dozen pieces. He shot me another glare, but Livy just laughed again and helped him brush the crumbs off his shirt.
“You’re gonna die,” he muttered when we headed back up the stairs.
“Get in line,” I said.
while the guys are
catching their breath,
bowdler gets to know
his new friend
MAJOR BOWDLER UNSHEATHED the sword and placed the flat side of the blade against the boy’s cheek. “This weapon was carried by General Sumner on San Juan Hill. Do you have any idea how special that makes it?”
The boy wasn’t listening. He was still under the influence of whatever drugs he had been given at the hospital. That didn’t matter. Bowdler was willing to wait. The drugs would wear off by morning. He sheathed the sword and picked up a flight jacket. “This was worn during the Battle of Midway.”
He went over to his hand grenade collection, and fondled one of his favorites. “Carried onto the beach at Normandy. Not that you have any clue where Normandy is or why it’s important.” He sighed and replaced the grenade.
“So, Thurston is dead.” Too bad Thurston had killed Granger. He was just about the best freelance operative available, even if his taste in neckties left something to be desired. He knew the meaning of discipline. There were only a couple men who were as efficient, and as cold-blooded. Fortunately, their services were for hire.
Bowdler prodded Lucky with his toe. “I hope you’re worth it. If nothing else, I’m sure you have a lot to tell me about your friends.”
Eddie was out there somewhere. But not for long. Bowdler uploaded images of the other four boys to his contact at the counter-intelligence facility. Then he placed a call to a number very few people had.
“Santee?”
“Yes.”
“Are you available?”
“For the usual fee.”
“Fine. Assemble a team that can neutralize five untrained individuals.”
“Terminate?”
“Negative. The goal is abduction. Terminate only as a last resort to prevent contact with the press or any authorities.”
“Understood.”
Bowdler told the man the remaining details and gave him direct access to his counter-intelligence contact. Santee would be expensive, but it would be money well spent. With him on the job, Bowdler could turn his attention to issues closer at hand. After a good night’s rest, and a terrible morning, the boy would be ready to answer some questions.
BOWDLER WOKE, AS always, at 5:00 AM. For the rest of the morning, he shook the boy awake every ten or fifteen minutes, but let him go back to sleep each time. Finally, at noon, he said, “Rise and shine, Dominic. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Let me sleep,” the groggy boy mumbled.
“You’ve slept enough.”
“When do I get my medicine?”
“Soon. I just want to talk, first.”
“I need my medicine.”
“You’re special, aren’t you.”
“No.”
“All your life. You’re not like other people. You’re so much better.”
“I’m normal.”
“You can do things. Tell me when you first knew you were special?”
Patiently, Bowdler began to dig.