Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy)

by Stone, C. L.

  All of the guys gathered around the coffee table for pizza, while Marc went over the plan again. The only one missing was Kevin. Mostly it looked like Marc was informing me, because his eyes stayed on mine. Everyone else looked like they’d heard this before. I guessed for them it might be a review.

  I was only half listening. All I could think about, when food was in front of me, was eating. I inhaled three large pepperoni slices before I finally slowed enough that I could pay attention.

  “We should only be gone for thirty minutes,” Marc said. “We need to make sure he doesn’t notice his wallet’s missing during that time.”

  “I could plant a second wallet,” I said. “Like what Dr. Roberts did to me.”

  “Can you?” he asked. “Have you tried it?”

  “I never stuck around long enough,” I said. “But it’s a good idea. I wish I’d thought of it before.”

  Axel perked up, pointing a long finger at me. “No, miss sticky fingers. No more pickpocketing if you’re going to be connected at all with us.”

  “Don’t give me that high moral ground lecture,” I said. “You’re wanting to steal a peek at this guy’s office. You’re not telling me what you’re doing with what you find.”

  “We’re just looking at it,” Corey said.

  “Yeah, you’ve said that.” I took another bite and talked while I chewed. “You’re committing a felony breaking and entering just because you’re curious.”

  Marc’s differently colored eyes slid over to Axel. The guys stared quietly at each other, as if silently debating how much they were willing to tell me about what they were really up to. That was really all they needed to do to confirm my suspicions. This wasn’t simply someone’s curiosity.

  “Who do you work for?” I asked.

  Mouths stopped chewing and glances were exchanged across the pizza boxes. They only did it for a second before they resumed, but again, it confirmed my suspicions.

  I dropped my pizza on my plate and snapped my fingers at Marc. “If you aren’t doing it to steal drugs for yourself, or to make money in some way, you’re an investigation team. You said it could be drugs, but you don’t know. Corey can hack into a high school’s computer files. Dr. Roberts could switch his wallet from my hands for a newspaper. You planted people at the mall knowing I’d be there.”

  “I didn’t know it was you,” Marc said. “We didn’t know who it was. We were asked a favor to flush out a thief. It just happened to be you.”

  “That’s what’s confusing me,” I said. “That’s a mall security job. That’s maybe local police. Local police don’t need to swipe a security card to break into anywhere. They just grab a warrant and go. Neither does the FBI. Not on American soil. So you’re either Homeland Security that’s above all the need for a warrant... I’d say CIA perhaps, because you’re looking at drugs and that could be an international operation. I want to say either of those, but for some reason I don’t think that’s it.”

  Corey stared at me, open mouthed, pizza in his hand. Brandon had curious eyes. Marc was grinning, his arms folded at his chest and sitting back. Axel was smirking, his head in his palm, his elbow planted on his knee, simply watching.

  Raven pointed a finger at my face, looking back at the others. “Who wanted to hire the smart girl? I told you this was a bad idea.”

  Brandon kicked Raven under the coffee table. “Shut up.” Brandon waved a finger at me. “And you, just do your job. It doesn’t matter—”

  “No,” Axel said. He crumpled a napkin and tossed it at his plate. He sat back and lifted his foot, crossing it over his knee, rocking his ankle back and forth. “Let her keep going.”

  I flitted eyes between each of them, trying to pull pieces out of the air to fit together. “I want to say CIA or Homeland Security, but if that were the case, you wouldn’t be working security at a mall in the middle of South Carolina. You also wouldn’t need someone like me stealing a key card. You’d have some special hacking gadget for that sort of thing. So you’re either lying to me about this not being for profit, or there’s some private security informant division you’re working for. The Academy?” I sucked in a breath, snapping and pointing a finger at Axel. “You mentioned that. What’s this Academy?”

  Marc looked me in the eye. “It’s a school,” he said.

  I stared directly at him. His face was stern, but there was amusement in his eyes still. “That trains you to do this kind of thing? Where Raven is training people with guns? They pay you and let you do your own thing, but ask you to do these special investigation jobs?”

  “How do you figure they let us do our own thing?” Marc asked. “You don’t even know anything about us.”

  “It’s Axel’s glowing fish,” I said. “That requires a high-tech lab, and time to alter DNA on that level. Did you see his room? All those notebooks? Either he’s stealing them, or if they’re his alone, he’s been writing since the age of negative a hundred and four. And Corey’s computer science friends at the college even though you’re only... what? Nineteen?”

  Corey glanced at the others, as if unsure whether to confirm or deny this.

  “We turn nineteen next month,” Brandon said, and his mouth went slack again as he stared at me.

  “And he was talking about taking perhaps some classes or at least attending lectures later. So it can’t be a full time gig if he’s expected to get to class.” I planted my palms on the coffee table, drawing myself up on my knees and leaning forward. “You’re an investigation team of some kind, but not on an official level. I want to know what this is. So either you guys tell me what’s really going on, or I’m going to go find this supposed bad guy and tell him someone wants to sniff around his basement and steal his stuff. I’m not getting arrested for a felony when I stood a better chance getting a slap on the wrist for pickpocketing at the mall.”

  The silence after my rant lasted for a solid couple of minutes. Glances were exchanged. I glued my lips together, waiting it out. I knew I had them pegged, I just didn’t know which part was true. And I wanted to believe they weren’t in it to simply steal drugs, but that had been the easiest answer to believe. The other part was just the next answer based on what I’d been given, but it still seemed so far-fetched. This crew? A private espionage team of some sort?

  Raven leaned over, picking up the plate with my last piece of pizza on it and sniffed. “What the hell kind of pizza did you get?”

  Marc grinned, his blue and green eyes lighting up and growing wide. He looked over at Axel. “I think that’s a record.”

  “It’s your fault,” Axel said. “You brought her here. I told you not to bring her here.”

  “I’m sorry,” Marc said. “I didn’t realize we were bringing Sherlock Holmes. My background check told me she was in the lower half of her grade all through high school.”

  “You should know better than anyone that paperwork can be deceiving on intelligence.” Axel turned, directing his dark eyes at me. “We aren’t getting arrested for anything. And you aren’t going to tell anyone what you know about us. You’re bluffing.”

  I twisted my lips, meeting his stare. “Fine. Just tell me who you work for and why I shouldn’t worry about getting arrested.”

  Axel took a glance around at the other guys again and then sighed. “I can’t tell you all the details, but for a broad generalization, the Academy is a private group with their own interests. Part of our work, our team in particular, handles training, and sometimes we get called in to check out what’s going on in the neighborhood. That’s not everything, but as far as you’re concerned, that’s all you need to know about.”

  “Who hires you?” I asked.

  Axel sighed. “You ever hear on cop shows or movies where they say ‘an informant told us’? That’s part of what we do. Our team in particular deals in information.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “The cops let you do this? That’s who you’re keeping tabs on people for?”

  “It depends on what it is,” h
e said. “To keep it simple, let’s talk about this case. A rumor came to us that our target suddenly started going out late at night into sketchy parts of town and talking with particular drug dealers. He’s rich, and doesn’t need the money, and his money sources are clean, but we don’t know why he’s suddenly interested in talking with these people. While the police are curious, there’s no evidence he’s doing anything wrong. He’s just in a position that he could do a lot wrong if he’s up to something.”

  “How did you know he was going to those places?”

  “We tracked his location via his cell phone.”

  I glanced at Corey. “Was that you? Did you find that?”

  Corey’s cheeks tinted and he shrugged, wordlessly answering my question.

  Marc cut his hand through the air. “It doesn’t matter who did it. The point is, we keep our eyes and ears open for things like this. The guy we’re looking at happens to travel the globe. We’re wondering if he’s considering a drug import and lining up buyers.”

  “And you have no proof he’s doing anything wrong,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Marc picked up his plate, planting it on top of Brandon’s empty one. He started cleaning up the table. “But it would be wrong if people like us didn’t at least check it out. We’re not collecting pictures, or stealing his business, or trying to find evidence he’s doing anything wrong at all. We’re the opposite. We’ll clear his name and his reputation, if he’s a good guy, so someone like the CIA, or worse, doesn’t have to come in. We don’t care what he’s up to as long as it isn’t something that’s going to be illegal or kill a bunch of people. Either this guy is clean and we’ll clear his name off the list, or he’s a bad guy and we’ll start the ball rolling so someone with authority can take over. We don’t collect evidence. We just make sure there’s evidence enough to be collected if that needs to happen.”

  “If you work with groups like the police, can’t they give you special tools to work with? Why ask me?”

  “The police and the FBI don’t know, or care, about who we are. We’re informants. We leave anonymous notes and phone messages. We use our own talents, and tools we can get from any local hardware or electronics store, or anything we can make ourselves. Using anything too high tech draws attention. Using his own key card against him won’t leave much information about us. He won’t be able to track us.”

  “So how do you get paid?” I asked. “If they don’t know you, the CIA doesn’t pay you anything for ratting out bad guys?”

  “This isn’t everything we do,” he said.

  “But you’ll do a job like this just out of the kindness of your heart?” I asked.

  He huffed, glancing at Axel.

  Axel shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

  This whole thing felt crazy and I knew there was more to it. They couldn’t just follow everyone in town around. How did they pick up that this guy was acting odd? They were feeding me half-truths. “Un-complicate it,” I said.

  “We can’t,” Brandon said.

  “Why?”

  They glanced at each other again.

  Axel leaned forward, looking me dead in the eye. “I’ll answer that if you’ll tell us why there’s a scar on your ass.”

  I leaned back on my heels, crossing my arms over my chest. I tried staring him down, threatening without saying anything that I’d walk out the door if he didn’t give in.

  Axel’s brown eyes flashed with a power that had me trembling where I was sitting. He challenged me right back, and every inch of my skin felt what he was trying to relay to me in silence. He meant it. He was going to rip the past out of me if I wanted to get these details from him. He’d do it right in front of everyone.

  I sighed, bringing my hands up to cover my face. I couldn’t, so I had no choice but to give up my desire for answers, and settle for at least some confidence. “Just tell me who I can pin the blame to, for Wil’s sake, if something goes wrong. Tell me even if I get caught, he’ll never know I did something stupid, and he’ll be okay.”

  The silence now was heavier than before. I was a stranger amid a group of friends, people who worked together for some secret organization known as the Academy. I managed to unravel this much in a few hours. I wasn’t that smart, or at least I didn’t feel like it. I had basically dropped out of high school, even though I got my GED, it was just a cop out. Everyone knew it. It wasn’t enough to secure a job good so I could pay for a decent place to live. I couldn’t figure out how to survive. What was I doing with any type of informant division? Suddenly this whole plan felt so out of my league. I’d fail. What was I doing here?

  I sensed someone getting up. Arms threaded around my body, squeezing. “God damn,” Raven said. “Are you crying? Stop crying.”

  I ripped my palms from my face, finding Raven close. I punched at one of the tribal tattoos on his shoulder. “I’m not crying. I’m pissed off.”

  Raven released me to grab my wrist and held firmly. “Marc, get her to stop hitting me.”

  “And why is Axel the boss but Marc’s the one rattling off all the plans and telling everyone what to do?” I asked.

  Marc broke out into laughter. Corey joined in. Axel and Brandon merely smirked, shaking their heads.

  Raven grinned. He yanked me closer and held my wrists in one hand and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Will someone tell her so she’ll stop crying already?”

  “I’m not crying!”

  To my surprise, Brandon turned. His cerulean eyes took on a deeper shimmer, dulling a bit of the sadness that hovered in the back and focused on me. “Look at me, Kayli. You have no reason to believe me over anyone else in this room, but you’re sitting around in your underwear in an apartment with five guys with your rent paid for a month. You aren’t running out the door yet. I’m going to assume, despite what you’re saying, you feel at least somewhat comfortable with us.” He took one of my hands that Raven had trapped, drawing it toward him until his lips hovered over my knuckles. “Will you please just go on this one date with me and pull a wallet? You don’t even have to be successful. You just have to try.”

  I blinked at him. “What? You mean if I fail, you’ll still—”

  “Everything we’ve promised,” Brandon said. His jaw tightened in the corners, a determination washing over his features. “Just promise me you’ll do what you can to help. But if we don’t get this information we need, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll still help you get a job if you want.”

  “Yeah,” Corey said. “And I’ll help Wil get into that college program. I was going to do that anyway.”

  “And I promise,” Marc said, “you won’t go to jail. You won’t get into trouble. Wil will never know. We won’t tell him. And if you never want to see any of us again after this, we’ll just help you with your job hunt and get Wil into college and you can be on your own from there. If that’s what you want, we’ll leave you alone.”

  “She’s not going to do that,” Axel said. The smirk on his face broadening. “Look at that face. She likes us.”

  I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been able to meet new friends since high school, so I was a little out of touch, but they were starting to grow on me. “I hate you guys.”

  They all laughed.

  ♠♠♠♠♠

  Now that I was more than committed to this, Marc wanted to start getting ready.

  Brandon and Corey went to change clothes. Mine were finally dry and I slipped my shorts on but kept the button up shirt. With the shorts still being very short, the shirt hem brushed my thighs. I may as well have just worn the shirt by itself.

  When the twins returned, they were wearing identical outfits, both in dark slacks, white button up shirts and loafers. They were both cleanly shaven, too.

  “Well,” Brandon said, motioning to himself and then his brother but looking at me. “Here’s the test. Which one of us is which.”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Who is who?” he asked. “Here, let me make it harder.”
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  The twins switched places a few times and then stopped and didn't say anything.

  They were dressed identically, and at first glance it was kind of hard to tell. The only difference was the eyes. I pointed at Brandon. “That’s Brandon.”

  The twins’ jaws dropped in unison. “How’d you know?”

  I shrugged.

  “Wait, wait,” Raven said. “It’s got to be the hair or something. Like ruffle it up.”

  “Turn around, Bambi,” Marc said.

  “Stop calling me that,” I said, but turned around. I waited, hearing shuffling behind me.

  “Okay,” Marc said.

  I turned, and the twins had changed places. Their hair was combed back with fingers close to their heads. It didn’t matter. I could still tell.

  “Corey,” I said, pointing and then shifted to the other “Brandon.”

  There was a chorus of groans. “How the hell can you tell the difference?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah,” Raven said. “I’ve known these guys for years. How are you able to tell them apart when I can’t even do it?”

  “Their eyes are different.”

  Corey looked confused, but Brandon stared at me in a strange way that made my insides squirm.

  “Okay,” Marc said. “Turn back around. This time, guys, close your eyes.”

  I let them rearrange themselves and when Marc gave me the signal, I turned around. Brandon and Corey had their eyes closed and this time, I really couldn’t tell. “Identical,” I said.

  “Great,” Brandon said, opening his eyes. “We’ll just keep our eyes closed the whole time.”

  “Were you trying to fool me and switch places at the party?”

  “Corey’s going to slip in and out of the party to give back the key card,” Marc said. “I went over this during lunch. Weren’t you paying attention?”

  “Kind of. There was pizza in the way. But unless someone’s really looking at their eyes, no one’s going to be able to notice.”

  “What’s different about our eyes?” Corey asked. He glanced at his brother. “No one else told us that.”

  I couldn’t think of a way to tell them without embarrassing Brandon. I motioned to Corey. “Your eyes are prettier.”