Disruption (27 page)

“Who else?” My stomach sank as he said the three letters I hoped he wouldn’t say.

“The CIA, Matt. The freaking FBI and the CIA both came here and accused me of lying.”

“They’ll figure it out soon,” I said. “It’s only a matter of time. I bet they already have it narrowed down. I’ll be kicked out just for violating the rule against cell phones.”

“I haven’t given them your name yet, man. I just told them a friend of mine is at a CIA camp.”

“What did they say?”

“They said I was lying since there’s no such thing. They said if I have a friend mixed up with some of the people in the pictures, then that friend—you—is in real danger.”

A sigh escaped me. “Interrogation 101, Jason. The only danger I’m in is getting kicked out of the program. Just hang in there a couple more hours and it’ll all be over anyway. There’s still time.” It might have been wishful thinking, or maybe I was just trying to convince myself, but saying it out loud did just that. I believed it. “I can do this,” I said again. “I’m in the middle of the final competition right now. I just have to win. They’ll see that I belong here.”

Jason cursed under his breath. “I don’t know. They made it sound like you were in a lot of trouble, man. Like, a lot! Like your life was in danger type of trouble.”

“Jason, listen. I’m fine. I need your help, though. I’m going to pull that prank we talked about. The one at the station.”

“You’re
what
?”

“Shhh,” I said. “Look, that’s the challenge. I need to pull a prank. I need to cause a disruption. It’s the biggest one I could think of.”

“
We
thought of that one,” Jason said. “Dude, that was supposed to be one we pulled together when we were old and didn’t care about going to prison.”

“This is a CIA camp, Jay. I’m not going to go to jail even if I get caught. But I need your contact.”

A pause several beats long carried through the phone before Jason said, “Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent sure that you’re in a CIA camp?”

I considered that for a second because there was a part of me that hadn’t been sure a few hours ago. “They have ‘Property of the CIA’ etched into almost everything around the camp, Jason. One of the head instructors is a CIA interrogator. If you knew where to look, it would be obvious. Trust me. It’s CIA. One hundred percent.”

Jason paused for a moment. “Well, those suits that keep coming over here are excellent actors, man. You should see them. They had my mom crying, and the only reason they went away was because my dad called his lawyer.”

“I just need them to not find out until three o’clock,” I said.

“What happens at three?”

“The competition is over. If they come to question you again, don’t tell them anything until three. After that, it’s not going to matter. They’ll either be impressed with me, or not. They’ll either let me stay in the competition, or they’ll cut me from the program.”

I could literally feel Jason’s frustration coming over the phone. “Okay, man. I’ll call my contact. Do you have a pen?” I pulled a pen out of my pocket. “He’s at a place called Rick’s Waffle House.”

“You get your fireworks from a kid at a waffle house?”

“Kind of.” When he was done giving me directions, he added, “The guy’s name is Kalvin, with a
K
, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Though I had no idea why it mattered how it was spelled.

“I’ll let him know you’re coming,” Jason said. “He’ll put whatever you need on my tab.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Just remember,” Jason said, “the train station prank was
our
idea. Do it justice.”

I laughed. “Watch the news, buddy. I’ll wave to the cameras.”

I hung up and jogged back outside. Amara was where I’d left him, but he looked at me quizzically.

“What?” I asked.

“Cell phones are easy to listen in on, Matt.” His voice was smooth and unemotional.

“You . . . heard my call?”

“Not me,” he said. He glanced up at the sky. “But you can be sure we are being watched. Graded. Scored. Maybe they can’t hear us now, but snatching transmissions through airwaves,” he shrugged, “even I could rig something to do that.”

“How’d you know?” I asked.

“A guess,” he said. “That, or I went through your things back at camp and found the phone in your jeans.”

“Can no one be trusted at that place?” I glanced at my watch. “C’mon. If they heard me, then we don’t have a lot of time.”

Chapter 41

Rick’s Waffle House was four stops away on the subway and had a tacky plastic waffle sculpture beside the entrance. A girl in her late teens greeted us as Amara and I pushed through the main doors. She had blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and she wore black pants that matched her short-sleeved shirt.

“Table for two?” she asked, brandishing a pair of laminated menus.

“We’re here to see Kalvin,” I said.

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “Kalvin?”

“Uh-huh.” I leaned toward her. “Kalvin with a
K
.”

The girl shook her head. “Are you kidding?”

I glanced at Amara. He looked like he was trying not to smile. I turned back to the girl. “No, I’m not kidding.”

“Kalvin with a
K
?” She looked up at the ceiling and muttered something that sounded like a curse and then turned around and marched to a door a dozen feet away from us. She shoved it open and yelled, “Kalvin!” When there was no answer, she hollered again, “Kalvin with a
K
!”

There was a rush of footsteps, and a boy about a foot shorter than me with scraggly red hair and bony arms rushed out of the door. He glared at the girl. “How many times do I have to tell you not to say that name so loud?”

“You are such a dork,” the girl said. “I can’t even believe we’re related.”

The boy pointed a finger in the girl’s face. “I know that you close the restaurant early on days Mom and Dad aren’t here. I’ll tell them.”

The girl laughed. “And I’ll tell them what you’re really doing in the basement when your “friends”
stop by. I’m sure Dad would be really interested.”

They locked stares for a minute. I was pretty sure they’d had that exact dialogue a dozen times.

There was a ding
from somewhere in the dining area, and the girl jerked her gaze away. Then she turned to us. “This is Kalvin,” she said, gesturing to the boy, “with a
K
.” She rolled her eyes again and strolled back into the dining room.

Kalvin stared at us carefully.

“I, er . . .” I glanced at Amara, then back at the kid. “You’re Kalvin?”

“I am,” the boy said. “Why? Not what you were expecting?”

I shook my head. “No, you’re just—”

“Short?” the boy snapped. “Is that what you’re about to say? That I’m too short to sell fireworks?”

“Younger than I expected,” I said quickly.

“And short,” Amara added.

I shot Amara a look, and he shrugged.

The boy’s hands became tiny fists at his side. “I am not short. I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet.”

Amara laughed. “That’s like saying, ‘I’m not stupid. I just haven’t learned anything yet.’”

“Oh, yeah?” the boy said. “Well, you two can find a different place to buy what you want.”

He turned to leave, and I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.” He spun around and punched me in the stomach. I pulled away from him, holding the spot where his tiny fist had jabbed me.

“You’re not getting anything from me.” He turned to leave and then stopped and jerked around. “And you can tell Jason that he can go somewhere else too.”

He pulled open the door he’d come out of a moment before, and I coughed. “I don’t think so, Kalvin.”

He hesitated and then turned around.

I cleared my throat and pointed in the direction of his sister. “She’s not the only one who could tell your parents what’s in the basement.”

Kalvin pointed a warning finger at me, opened his mouth to speak, and then snapped it closed. He pointed at Amara and looked about to speak again but instead just sighed. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister, who was carrying a tray of drinks across the dining room. “I hate sisters.”

He led us back onto the street, around the side of the restaurant, and down an alley to a small staircase that led us into the basement. Fluorescent lights kicked on when the door opened, and a row of storage lockers lined the back wall. Kalvin marched to the one on the far left, unlocked the padlock, and lifted the door.

The walls of the locker were lined with enough fireworks to burn the entire building down. I recognized several pieces. There were M80s, flying spinners, ground spinners, snakes and strobes, rockets, ladyfingers, bottle rockets. But there were dozens of other pieces that I’d never seen, some so large they looked like the Air Force could drop them from planes. In the center of the room was a bare wooden table, and below it were boxes. A couple of them had no lids and were filled with neatly organized tools.

Amara whistled. “Not bad, Kalvin with a
K
. Not bad at all.”

“Where do you get all this from?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m just surprised you still have all your fingers.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I know what I’m doing, and safety is my top priority.” He waved his hand around the shed with the flourish of a magician. “Well? What’ll it be?”

“Roman candles,” I said. He reached under one of the shelves and pulled out a box of Roman candles and put them on the table. “More than that,” I said. “A lot more.”

“That’s all I have,” he said.

“Jason said you had crates of them,” I said. I sounded whiny and instantly regretted it.

“Well, Jason exaggerates,” he said. He pointed around the room. “I have other stuff.”

I had no idea what other stuff might be as good as a Roman candle. I turned to Amara. “What do you think? Can you modify some of this stuff to make more Roman candles?”

He looked at me as if I’d just asked him if he knew how to tie his own shoes. I felt my face flush again.

Kalvin’s face lit up. “A fellow pyrotechnician?”

“Hardly,” Amara said.

“Just grab what you need,” I said. “I want to get back.”

Amara was as methodical as a world-class chef gathering ingredients for his next meal. He even smelled a few of the items the way you might test the freshness of an herb before deciding to make a purchase. A couple times he returned the items he’d inspected to a different spot from where he’d found them, and Kalvin, who obviously prided himself on the organization of his work area, would huff and move them back. I got the impression that Amara was doing it as a distraction, but even though I was watching him carefully, I didn’t see why. By the end I decided he just wanted to mess with the little twerp. That made me smile.

“That’s it then?” Kalvin asked when Amara had finished stacking items on the table. Amara nodded, and Kalvin made note of everything in a small binder and then pulled two black duffel bags from a box under the table and stuffed the items carefully inside.

“Jason said he’d pay for all this,” I said.

Kalvin nodded. “I know. Must be nice to have rich friends.”

I doubted this kid had any friends at all.

He nudged the bags toward us. “If you get caught with any of this stuff—” Kalvin shot us an icy stare, “you don’t mention my name.”

“Sure,” I said. “Not a word.”

As we made our way back to the station, I thought again about how Amara had purposefully messed with Kalvin by putting things back in places they didn’t belong. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if he hadn’t stolen a few things while Kalvin had been distracted. I don’t know why he would, since he could have put anything he wanted on the table. Still, it was the only thing that made sense. It didn’t matter to me that he’d done that, but I wanted Amara to know that he hadn’t fooled me.

“I saw what you did in there,” I said.

Amara raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“When you distracted him by putting stuff back in the wrong place,” I added.

Amara smiled slyly. “I thought you might.”

Aha, I knew it. I kept a straight face. “Not that I mind,” I said, “but it wasn’t really necessary, you know.”

“No?” Amara asked.

I shrugged the duffel bag onto my other shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. He was a little punk. He deserved it.”

Amara nodded. “That’s what I thought too.”

Something in Amara’s tone gave me a chill, but I decided to let it go. He was an intense guy and no doubt disappointed I’d seen him steal or, at least, that he thought I’d seen him steal. I wondered if theft was another skill the camp would teach. I smiled at the prospect. I’d already learned so much. I couldn’t wait to put the stuff I’d learned to use. I imagined using some of the skills to torment my teachers or to get even with some of the school bullies. Before I realized it, I was smiling so big I almost laughed.

Amara was looking at me with a slightly scrunched face. “You’re happier than I thought you’d be about that,” he said.

I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m indifferent.”

“You and Angie will get along well then,” he said. “I still feel kind of bad when I have to do stuff like that.”

I almost laughed but decided Amara wasn’t someone I wanted to offend. Amara was more complicated than I’d thought. He’d deal with explosives and work to disrupt an entire transportation hub in the downtown core. But he’d have remorse for stealing from a little punk like Kalvin with a
K
? I wondered if all this spy stuff messed with where you drew the line between right and wrong. I shook my head.

The CIA was a good thing. Part of our government. They protected people. They protected the entire country. At least, I thought they did. I would have to do a bit more research on them when I got home.

Chapter 42

I was relieved to see that the bakery lights were out and the windows were covered with blinds when we got back. A striped black-and-yellow CLOSED sign was on the front door, and it seemed genuinely closed. We went to the side entrance, in an alley that it shared with a small three-story office building. Amara reached for the door without hesitation and pulled it open.