Impossible Things (Subparheroes), page 7
“I suppose so,” I murmured as I put my glasses back on. “Here’s my question—how did the alleged Men in Black even know we had the journal?”
“Silverton may have sent in that requisition form, and maybe SPAM has a system in place to flag Mercanti’s name,” Sam said, “something to alert them if anyone ever mentioned the scientist or his research.”
“If SPAM did have that kind of screening set up, they also could have pulled his name from the email I sent the science division this morning, when they weren’t answering their phones.”
“That’s true.”
After a moment, I said, “Here’s what I don’t get. If the journal is so valuable, why did it get sent here in the first place? And why did no one come looking for it before now?”
Sam shrugged. “That’s easy. We work for a huge, convoluted bureaucracy, where one department has no idea what another is doing. After Mercanti’s lab was destroyed, SPAM would have sent in a clean-up crew. Site remediation is a fancy way of saying that, right? When someone on the crew busted open the safe and found the journal, they didn’t know what to do with it, so they sent it here. Maybe that person was new to the job. Who knows? Even though it was locked in a safe, it obviously didn’t look like much. Fast forward three years. Today, someone high up at SPAM learned some of Mercanti’s work had survived the fire—thanks to us, because we accidentally brought it to their attention. So, they sent people with gold-level clearance to get it.”
“But why would anyone assume the journal contained valuable information?”
“Maybe at some point over the last three years, someone figured out Mercanti was close to a breakthrough. He must have had contacts in the agency, after all. Then they set up a way to be notified, just in case any of Mercanti’s work ever surfaced.”
“And as soon as it did, cue the Men in Black—or whatever they were.” I chewed my lip for a few moments before asking, “You don’t think they were working for Rosselin, do you? I mean, I know they were with SPAM, but maybe he bribed them or something.”
“I doubt it. When the big guy asked who Mercanti’s son was, that seemed genuine. He’d have no reason to say that if Rosselin was pulling his strings.”
“That’s true.”
A grin spread across Sam’s face. “You know what was totally badass? The way you stood up to that huge, steroid-guzzling meathead when he tried to grab the journal.”
“This stuff is my responsibility, and he hadn’t shown me any ID.”
“I know. I’m just saying, I liked seeing that side of you.” He was still grinning as he headed for the door. “My lunch hour’s ticking away, so I’m going to grab a burrito. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
I’d lost my appetite, so I packed up my lunch and reached for the next report in the bin beside my desk. This one was standard issue, with a regulation blue cover and a tidy synopsis on the first page. As I logged on to my computer and started entering the report into the system, I thought that was probably the last I’d ever hear about Mercanti and his journal.
I’d soon find out I was very wrong about that.
CHAPTER 9
ANDY
At eight the next morning, Sam and I ran into each other at the employee entrance. “This is late for you,” he said.
“I told you yesterday that I wouldn’t be coming in at seven.”
“I know, but you’re usually a few minutes early.”
“You’re right. It was tough to get going this morning. I guess all the long hours I’ve been working finally caught up to me.”
Something felt off when we got inside. Several serious-looking men and women in suits were hurrying around the main floor, and there was tension in the air. “Something’s up,” Sam said, and I nodded in agreement.
When we stepped out of the elevator in the basement, a big guard with an earpiece stopped us. “This is my department,” I told him, as he scrutinized my ID. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been a break-in,” the man said flatly. “You need to go back upstairs and wait until our team finishes processing the scene.”
“Someone broke into the archives?”
“I need you to go back upstairs, sir.”
My voice rose. “Those archives are my responsibility. I need to know what happened.”
He tried to grab me when I stepped around him, but Sam hip-checked the guard and snarled, “Don’t you fucking dare lay a hand on him.”
I sprinted down the hall, and then I stopped short and murmured, “Oh, no.” The double doors were broken and mangled, as if they’d been hit by a truck. Inside the archives, several people were picking through the rubble. All the shelves were toppled and covered in shredded reports. It looked like a bomb had gone off, though nothing was burned or scorched.
Sam ran up to me with the guard in hot pursuit. When he looked through the broken doors, he yelled what I’d been thinking. “What the fuck happened here?”
That caught the attention of a man and woman with clipboards, who were in the lobby. They turned to us with matching frowns as the man snapped, “You can’t be here. This is a crime scene.”
Sam put his hands on his hips. “Who the hell broke in, the Tasmanian Devil?”
The woman answered, in all seriousness, “That’s what we’re trying to determine. Do you work in this department?” When I nodded, she came over to us and waved away the guard. Then she asked, “Are any of the materials in the archives rare or valuable?”
I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could get the word out. “No.”
“The journal might have been,” Sam said.
That got her attention. “What journal?”
“It belonged to Dr. Frank Mercanti, and it was sent here by mistake,” Sam explained. “It was picked up before lunch yesterday by the Men in Black.”
Her frown deepened. “By who?”
“You know,” he said, “a bunch of dudes with dark suits and sunglasses, SPAM IDs, and gold-level clearance.”
She made a note on her clipboard and asked, “Who knew about the journal?”
I answered that one. “Dr. Silverton, several of his colleagues in SPAM’s science division, and Edward Rosselin.”
She raised a brow. “The CEO of Synergenics Technologies?”
I nodded. “He’s Dr. Mercanti’s son. We went to him yesterday to try to authenticate the journal.”
“Before the Men in Black swooped in and snatched it,” Sam added.
“I see.” She made another note.
I asked, “What time was the break-in?”
“Our security system went down around midnight, so sometime after that.”
“Wasn’t there a guard on duty on the main floor?”
She looked annoyed. “He was found asleep on the job and couldn’t recall anything after about eleven p.m. What time did you leave for the day?”
“We both left around eight,” Sam said. “Was the guard asleep, or knocked out?”
“That has yet to be determined.” She made another note on the clipboard before telling us, “You should go home. You won’t be able to enter the archives for at least a day or two, while we process the scene. But give me your number, in case we have any questions.” I recited my phone number and took one last look at my destroyed department before Sam and I trudged back to the elevator.
Neither of us said anything until we were outside. Then Sam turned to me and asked, “Are you okay? You look dazed.”
“It was so bad. Did you see how bad it was?”
“I’m just glad we weren’t there. Whoever broke in must have been seething with anger to trash the place like that.”
“It had to be someone with superpowers, don’t you think?”
“Oh, for sure.”
“Do you think Rosselin sent someone to break in and get the journal?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. He definitely seems like someone who takes what he wants. Plus, you’d need a lot of resources to break into a secure building like that, which he obviously has.” Sam put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Come on, Andy, let’s get you home.”
I started walking and muttered, “We’ll never be able to clean up that mess and put it all back together.”
Sam gently adjusted my course, so I was headed in the right direction. “That’s a concern for another day.”
After a while, he asked, “Where do you think the Men in Black took the journal?”
“Someplace a lot more secure than the archives. Good thing too, or it probably would’ve been stolen last night, and…”
My voice trailed off when a black panel van screeched to a halt in the street. As the side door slid open, we both stopped walking and looked around. Most of the people on the sidewalk were dressed like they were on their way to work—except for a pair of big dudes in black leather, who were hurrying this way.
I didn’t think that had anything to do with us—not until another guy climbed out of the van, and we locked eyes. His attention was so focused that it left no doubt he was here for me, or for us. I grabbed Sam’s arm and blurted, “What’s happening?”
“Nothing good.”
“So, what do we do?”
Sam was watching the two men, who were also totally focused on us and closing in fast. He pushed me behind him as he said, “I need you to run like hell while I fight them off.”
“I’m not leaving you behind!”
My heart was pounding, and fear and adrenaline surged through me as all three thugs closed in. One of them ran at us, and Sam punched him in the jaw, hard enough to send him reeling.
In the next instant, someone grabbed me from behind and started carrying me into the street. He was twice my size, so even though I was struggling wildly, it made no difference.
When I spotted rope and duct tape in the back of the van, I struggled even harder. Oh hell no. It was all over if he got me in there. I swung my feet up and managed to make contact with the van’s doorframe, so I pushed off as hard as I could. While my assailant was temporarily thrown off balance, I whipped my head back. He yelled and dropped me as my skull broke his nose.
I ran over to Sam just as he took out the third one with a swift kick to the balls. A crowd had gathered, but all they’d bothered to do was film the attempted abduction with their phones. So helpful. We dodged around the onlookers and started sprinting down the sidewalk as he yelled, “I told you to run!”
“I am running!”
“Earlier, I mean! Before those fuckers closed in.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”
“But I’m a bodyguard, and a trained field agent!”
“And I took self-defense classes with my best friend Moira, because she didn’t want to take them by herself.”
“Next time, do as I say!” Was there going to be a next time?
We skidded around a corner and dodged a lady with a poodle before ducking into an alley. When we were halfway down it, I grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him into an alcove.
After a few moments, I peeked out, and he whispered, “Do you see anyone?”
“No.” I slumped against the wall and asked, “What the hell was that about?”
Sam bent in half and managed, between gasps of air, “Yesterday, we were asked twice if we’d read Mercanti’s journal. My money’s on that. If whoever wants it can’t get the thing itself, apparently plan B is making us tell them what it said.”
“You’re probably right.”
He glanced at me from his folded-over position. “Why aren’t you winded?”
“I am, a little.” He looked skeptical, so I added, “I’m a runner. I usually do four to eight miles every morning.”
“Depending on how much you hate yourself?”
“Depending on how early I want to get to work.” I brushed my hand over my damp forehead and asked, “You don’t think they know where we live, do you?”
“No idea. But if they did, wouldn’t they have tried to catch us there, instead of snatching us off the city streets? That was bold as hell in broad daylight, by the way.”
“Yeah, it was.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent my mom a text before saying, “I need to get home. If those men do know where I live, my family might be in danger.”
We were on the edge of Chinatown, so I led us down back alleys and took shortcuts no one but a lifelong resident would know. Along the way, Sam said, “You know, for someone who was almost abducted a few minutes ago, you’re coping remarkably well.”
“I’m going to fall apart later. Right now, I’m running on pure adrenaline, and I’m focused on my family. I told my mom to be on the lookout, because someone might be coming after me. She’s probably freaking out.”
We cut through a passageway between buildings and made our way through Mrs. Diaz’s vegetable garden before hopping the fence into my backyard. One of our residents had hung up some laundry, and we ducked behind it and took a minute to regroup. Then we rushed to the back of the building, and I unlocked the door.
When we stepped inside, Mom and Julie appeared out of nowhere, which made Sam shriek. They were brandishing cookware and dressed in pajamas, and my mother crushed me in a hug as she asked, “Are you okay, sweetie?”
“I’m fine, Mom. What are you doing?”
“You said some men might be coming for you, and then I caught a glimpse of someone hopping the back fence. We ran downstairs and used my power to hide, so we could fight anyone who tried to break in.”
I shot her a look. “So, you were going to brain them with Great Aunt Sue-Sue’s favorite cast iron skillet?” Julie was holding a dainty omelet pan, which seemed a lot less effective.
Sam nodded his approval. “That would stop anyone in their tracks, no question.”
When Julie asked what was going on, I explained, “Someone broke into the archives and trashed them last night, and we were on our way back home when some men tried to drag us into a van. Those two things are probably related.”
Both women seemed stunned, and my mom turned to Sam and started to make a fuss over him. “I’m so glad you two were together,” she said as she patted his cheek. “Thank you for keeping my baby boy safe.”
He blushed shyly and mumbled, “You’re welcome, ma’am. I tried my best.”
I was glad he was getting the praise he deserved, because he’d been awesome. At the same time though, I didn’t love the implication that I’d been nothing but a helpless damsel in distress. “I fought off the attackers, too,” I pointed out. “There were three of them, and I broke one guy’s nose.”
My mom looked surprised. “With your fist?”
“No. With my head.” Before she could ask another question, I said, “Come on, let’s go upstairs. If any of our tenants see you two looking like that, they’re going to think you’ve lost it.”
Once we were in our apartment, I said, “Why don’t you take Sam to the kitchen and make some tea? I need to call April.”
Julie asked, “Do you think you can trust her?”
“I do. I’ve always felt that way, right from the start. I also think she’s the only person at SPAM who’ll actually listen to me, and who’ll know what to do.”
I went into my bedroom, took a seat on my bed, and let out a long, shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, my nerves were kicking in. I had to hold it together, though. If my mom saw I was scared, then she would be, too.
April answered my call on the first ring. When I finished getting her up to speed, she said, “I’m sorry this is happening, Andy. I’m sending someone to keep an eye on your family as we speak.” I could hear fingernails clicking on a keyboard in the background. “I’ll try to figure out what’s happening and why, and in the meantime, I want you and Sam to get out of town. It’ll be a lot easier for you two to stay safe if you’re hard to find.”
“Where are we supposed to go?”
“Anywhere but here. Just lay low and give me a few days to get to the bottom of all of this. The agent I’m sending to watch your family will bring you a go-bag with some cash, burner phones, and a few other essentials. Don’t use your credit cards or cellphones. That goes for Sam, too. You don’t want to leave a trail.”
“Okay. So, who’s this person you’re sending to watch my family?”
“Her name is Marigold Gonzales, code name AW. She’s extremely skilled and powerful.”
“Should I call the police and report the attempted abduction?”
“You can if you want. But if it was me, I’d much rather let the superheroes on SPAM’s payroll handle it.” She was probably right. SPAM was superhero central, and they were able to do things the civilian police force couldn’t.
When we ended the call, I slid off the bed, hugged my knees to my chest, and tucked my head in like a turtle. How could this be happening? I was a librarian, not an action hero. I didn’t fight off attackers or go on the run.
I quickly sat up when Sam came into the room and asked, “What did April say?” After I summed up our conversation, he nodded. “Good. I like the idea of making ourselves hard to find while SPAM sorts this out.”
“I’m nervous about leaving Mom and Julie, though.”
“They’ll be fine. Between your mom’s superpower and the fact that they’re both badasses, they can take care of themselves. Plus, they’ll have a SPAM agent watching their backs.”
“Have you ever heard of an agent with the code name AW?”
A smile spread across his face. “That’s who they’re sending?” I nodded, and he told me, “She’s awesome. Her superpowers are speed and strength, and her signature move is both effective and hilarious.”
“What’s her signature move?”
“It’s called the Atomic Wedgie, and it’s where—”
I raised a hand. “No need to explain. I get it.” I got up and looked around. “I guess I should pack.”
“Yeah, you should. I’ll need to swing by my place too, and I don’t know if you have a car, but I’d like to take mine. It’s an old beater, but it’s reliable and totally analog.”
“Why’s that last part relevant?”
