We Could Be Heroes

by Mike Chen

  Jamie and Zoe locked eyes, both equally uncertain about what to say.

  “Um,” Zoe said through sniffles, “where’s that?”

  “Jail.” The detective reached behind him and pulled out two sets of handcuffs. “You, for armed robbery. And you, for vigilantism and public endangerment. You’re both under arrest.”

  29

  ZOE NEED TO GET a message to Jamie. A secret message.

  Sitting in the back of the detective’s car didn’t force them to stay silent, but what they said, how they said it...being in the back of a detective’s car did limit those possibilities. If they were being strategic about the whole thing. Though Chesterton hadn’t exactly told them to be quiet or anything like that. After his big proclamation, both she and Jamie stood there like idiots. Zoe couldn’t say for sure what Jamie was thinking, but she’d weighed the pros and cons of smacking the detective, picking up Jamie and getting the hell out of there.

  Did Jamie consider the same thing, only with his abilities? He hadn’t moved his hands into position, but maybe his arsenal contained more subtle tricks for mental thievery. She kept waiting for him to make his move, and when he put his hands out for handcuffs as commanded, she figured that was the setup, especially when Chesterton got in close to slap the handcuffs on. A simple flick of a finger and mental surgery, the whole thing would be done.

  Except he didn’t act. He stood there, his face unreadable, just staring forward. Zoe tried to break into his head to see what went on in there, if anything. But if some switch in her head turned on the ability to read thoughts, she hadn’t found it, and instead, his immediate memories didn’t exactly help. Worse, that little dive-in seemed to sap her own abilities, so even if she just wanted to explode out of there, that option vanished. Temporarily, but enough to back them into a corner for the moment.

  While she pondered what to do, the detective came around. A few clicks later and suddenly she was in handcuffs. Without her strength, all she could do was push her forearms against the cuffs, which merely cut off her circulation, and maybe frayed some of the stitching on her suit.

  Instead, she followed Jamie to the car, his only words being a simple “Just go with it.”

  Now they sat in close proximity, though they probably still had thirty minutes or so to wind through the mountain roads north of San Delgado and into the police station. Thirty minutes to come up with a plan, though really, probably more like twenty-two or twenty-three minutes, because once they crossed the Gateway Bridge, things would be fairly locked in.

  That meant that Zoe needed to have a real conversation with Jamie. Not frivolous discussions about how the view was nice—which it was, given that the clouds parted for a twinkling skyline and lit-up TransNational Building—and not any pleasantries about how the car was remarkably clean—which, again, it was, so kudos to Chesterton for that. But something along the lines of “How do we get out of here, head to Kaftan’s facility and somehow convince the police to come with us?”

  In other words, Serious Business, with capital letters.

  But Jamie continued to sit silently, like nothing mattered. He stared forward, and if he was panicking, he definitely failed to show it.

  “So,” Zoe finally said, “tonight really is not the best night to arrest us. Not with Kaftan out in full mad-scientist mode. If you just drive out to this place in the middle of nowhere, we can show you what we’re talking about. It’s like ten miles north of Terese.”

  “Think about it. Why would we lie about this?” Jamie asked, in his normal voice. The silence finally broken, Zoe shot a glare at him that should have hit harder than her full-speed punch. But he kept his track, his stare still forward. “A lot of people might get hurt tonight. We’re trying to help them. But to do that, we need your help. In fact, we need all of your help. Go there and bring backup with you.”

  Chesterton seemed focused on the road as the car took a curve. They made it to the base of the hill, the shift from downhill to flat surface testing the quality of the car’s shocks. Pretty good, in fact. He finally responded, “How do I know you’re telling the truth? Kind of hard to say for someone who has mental abilities.”

  “I’m asking you to trust me. Trust us.” Jamie imbued his plea with sincerity. Zoe didn’t need to be a mind reader or a Mind Robber to detect that. It was sincere sincerity, not just for leverage or justification, though maybe he’d lost that level of credibility simply being who he was. The Mind Robber didn’t exactly have the best public standing.

  “And your accent,” Chesterton said. “I always thought your voice sounded off. I thought you were Canadian.”

  “I know, right?” Zoe let out with a snort before she thought better of it. This time, Jamie finally broke his focus and shot her a glare. “Come on, Jamie. It’s not a good accent.”

  “What I still can’t figure out is why you two would work together. Weren’t you just chasing him a few weeks back?”

  “That probably tells you something about what we’re dealing with here,” she said. “It’s big and it’s shitty and we both care enough about people to drop the bullshit, call a truce and work together. See, that’s the thing I found out about Jamie. If you look at how he does his whole thing, it’s all set up to protect everyone involved. He’s using his abilities just to earn a living. His goal isn’t to hurt anyone. That’s just an act.”

  “What about the woman at the bank?”

  Jamie spoke up, his voice dry. “That was an accident. I couldn’t have known she had a health condition.”

  “So you can’t protect everyone in that line of work. Maybe you didn’t think it through. In addition to the whole ‘robbing people’ thing.”

  “Banks are insured,” Zoe interjected before Jamie could say anything.

  “Look. Point taken,” Jamie finally said after a minute of silence. “You told me weeks ago that you didn’t understand why the Mind Robber and Throwing Star didn’t just work with the police, play by the rules. But that’s very black-and-white, isn’t it? You have bureaucracy. You have departments and procedures. And let’s face it, some people are there just to do the job. And some aren’t exactly the best people.” Chesterton’s shoulders tensed, and even from Zoe’s angled view behind the passenger seat, she saw his jaw tighten. It came and went, and if she’d been a little better at the whole socializing thing, maybe she’d get a read on if he was offended, mad or just had bad leftovers for lunch. Jamie seemed to notice too, pausing for a moment before resuming his speech. “But here’s the bigger problem. Sasha Kaftan has not played by the rules. She has a remote facility. She’s doing secret experiments, she lures victims in a way that can be covered up, she’s thought this through. If we played by the rules, we wouldn’t have discovered all this. We would have never dug deep, and quickly. You have to know when to bend rules, as long as you’re making the right choice.”

  They continued rolling in silence, hitting the small downtown at the base of the hills. The car idled at a stoplight, waiting for a young, probably slightly drunk couple to cross at the crosswalk.

  “Nice speech,” Zoe said under her breath. She still hadn’t been able to figure out Jamie’s angle. Other than dropping the whole act and basically pleading in a really nice way. But now they had no leverage, no mystery. He’d basically given away everything to Chesterton. Which didn’t seem like the best way to recruit someone who’d just slapped on the handcuffs twenty minutes ago.

  The light changed and they continued, through the short pier area and up into another set of winding hills that led to the Gateway Bridge, its lit massive beams starting to creep into view beyond the hills. The car rumbled forward, the only noise coming from the occasional police band radio chatter. If the detective was considering Jamie’s speech, he certainly didn’t show much for it.

  Several minutes passed without a word, all leading to the bridge’s entry ramp. On the other side sat the dense population and consta
nt noise of San Delgado. If they were going to launch a getaway, now would be the time. Zoe closed her eyes and focused, and she could feel her strength restoring to peak performance. If she wanted to, she could snap the handcuffs, kick out the door and fly out, Jamie in tow. Though she sat, anxiety crept over her, causing her to fidget in her seat. Next to her, she saw Jamie mumbling to himself, but zeroing in with her extended hearing, it was nothing more than counting and breathing.

  He was freaking out. But trying to stay calm too.

  She really needed to talk with him.

  The car hit the bridge, dots of light from the tall beams and the tourist walkway flashing at them as they drove by. Zoe angled her neck to look at the cityscape. Parts of it looked as expected, the mix of twinkling and moving lights from buildings and cars. But other parts looked strangely black, entire square patches of dark, like someone cropped out pieces of San Delgado. Zoe was about to nudge Jamie about this when Chesterton said something.

  Except it wasn’t to them. “Dispatch, this is six-eight-six-nine. I’ve got a situation here.”

  Rather than listen in on the conversation, this provided the audio cover to finally get through to Jamie. She nudged him with her elbow, and when he finally turned, she whispered. “Why aren’t we breaking out of here? Now’s our chance. Look at the city. Blackouts.”

  “Because,” Jamie said, “one cop isn’t going to get Kaftan’s attention. She might just take him out on her own. We need as many there as possible. We need to expose this.”

  “Well, we’re not exposing anything sitting in the back of this car. And definitely not in jail.”

  “Just trust me. Okay? I have a plan.”

  Jamie had a plan? “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why didn’t you tell me your idea before? I thought we were partners.”

  “Hold on. I’m not going rogue on you.” He nodded to Chesterton, who seemed to be too involved in some sort of argument over the radio to notice their discussions via harsh whispering. His voice dropped even lower. “Because it just came to me. And I can’t really talk about it in present company.”

  As if on cue, Chesterton scoffed loudly, then replaced the handset, probably rougher than it needed to be. “You two suddenly got chatty.”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said. “We’re plotting our escape.”

  That was enough to get a laugh out of the car, first Chesterton and then Jamie caught on. Zoe laughed too, one of those uncomfortable chuckles caught on the momentum of others. But that didn’t really change anything, and a minute later, they passed the Gateway’s toll station and began the final descent into San Delgado.

  If Jamie really had a plan, the countdown to its effectiveness accelerated to the end. The car rolled off of the bridge and onto the adjoining road, a few winding streets that hugged the edge of the water before they splintered off into piers on the left and waterfront mansions on the right. They drove straight ahead, diving into the heart of San Delgado, leaving the sleepy hills behind them on the other side of the bridge.

  Zoe nudged Jamie again but remained silent. He looked at her, then raised his eyebrows and nodded, whatever that meant. She nodded in return, which offered more of an acknowledgment that they shared some exchange of gestures than actual plan.

  At this point, there was nowhere to go but down. They passed first into the small stretch of suburbia within San Delgado, where homes sat sandwiched side by side, the architectural equivalent of cans in a cabinet. Then it was through the heart of the city, tall angled hills lined with cafés and restaurants, to the huge structures with high-density housing where Zoe used to live. Sidewalks and streets came to life, filled with evening dog walkers, bad first dates, rowdy friends and impatient children tugging at sleeves—little details that always seemed to dissolve into the background until the moment Zoe got stuck in the back of a police car. Stretches passed in silence, until they hit the downtown area, storefronts and bright signs creating a perimeter to the large block that hosted both city hall and the main police station. The car rolled up to a barricade that needed a code and voice identification for entry, which then led down to a much sturdier iron gate. Chesterton repeated the same process, and the answer came in the form of a buzzing sound and the gradual movement of the gate.

  It finished sliding aside and Chesterton pulled the car forward, the bottom scraping as it hit the acute downward slope. Police cars lined the sides, along with the random passing officer, both uniformed and detectives. But as they turned the corner in the lot, Zoe picked up the audible chatter of people. Not just the usual random discussions people had in a public place, but words that stood out.

  The Throwing Star.

  The Mind Robber.

  Those people, police officers, were talking about them. But it wasn’t just police, spotlights and cameras gave away the fact that somehow the media had caught wind of this and forced their way into the underground garage. “Goddamn it,” Chesterton said as they rolled toward the front. “Sorry about the commotion. I asked for someone to meet us. I didn’t expect a parade.”

  “You’re the one who likes audiences,” Zoe said to Jamie.

  “Not really. It’s only an act. With a script.” Jamie tensed up so visibly that Zoe sensed it without even looking at him. “What are they here to do?”

  “A few officers are going to escort you in. The rest?” The car lurched to a halt as he let out a sigh. “It’s not easy being extraordinary, is it?”

  30

  EVERYTHING OUTISDE OF THE car windows was glowing, not because of anything from Kaftan and Project Electron, but about a dozen individual bright lights that blinded Jamie. Silhouettes broke in front of them, rushing back and forth, and suddenly the light split into individual pieces, the shapes cutting between them. Even with the car windows up, the yelling became audible and Jamie didn’t need Zoe’s extraordinary earing to decipher what was being shouted.

  “How did you catch the Mind Robber?”

  “Is the Throwing Star under arrest for the incident caught on video weeks back?”

  “Are they working together?”

  “Do tonight’s blackouts have anything to do with San Delgado’s extraordinaries?”

  Chesterton turned to the backseat. “So much for privacy.”

  “Alright, alright, everyone give space,” someone shouted from...somewhere. Several black uniforms got in front of the car windows, gradually pushing a path back.

  The driver’s door opened and Chesterton yelled back. “Who let them come in?”

  “That’s not good,” Zoe muttered. Which was kind of funny, considering she could probably flick her pinky finger at each of them and even the burliest, strongest police officer would fly across the parking lot.

  The driver’s side door swung open farther, complete with Chesterton cursing under his breath. “Looks like you caught the big fish,” a voice said as the awaiting officers broke formation and split into each side.

  “Fishes,” another voice said. “Who has the latest bets on how tough they are?”

  “Yeah, that’s not fair, Chesterton. You had all the fun yourself. Did you put them to the test?” the first voice said.

  The detective stepped out and voices immediately surrounded him. The door slammed shut behind him and Chesterton’s words immediately got muffled by the composite and metal and glass of the car body.

  Finally, a moment to show her he actually had a plan. “Okay, look. Here’s the deal,” Jamie said, turning to Zoe. “We get in, we tell everyone about Kaftan, we tell them this is related to the blackouts and we need them to go with us tonight. We make a scene, get the media’s attention and make so much of a stink that they have to check it out. And bring everyone to the facility.”

  Zoe’s mouth opened, but not in a jaw-dropping kind of way. Instead, she squinted at him, then fumbled for words. “That’s your plan?”

  “Well...yeah. I mean, we’re at the police station. We nee
d them to come with us. It’s not going to work if we just run out and go to the place on our own.”

  “Yeah, but...that whole time you were quiet. That’s what you were doing the whole time?”

  “No, I was trying to probe Chesterton. To see if we could trust him.” Jamie glanced out the window at the detective, who stood in a stern pose complete with arms crossed. “Problem is I couldn’t go too deep.”

  “Jamie, if there’s a time to go deep, it’s now.”

  “Not when he’s driving. One wrong move and he’d veer off the bridge. Safety first. Besides,” Jamie said, craning his neck to get a better look around them, “I think we can trust him.”

  “Well, he arrested us. So I’d say otherwise.”

  “No, look. It’s a good test. He could have been doing this because he wanted the attention or something like that. Or maybe he’s even working for Kaftan. But he’s not. He’s by the book. He’s boring. Almost like he’s trying to not get a promotion or be noticed. Those other cops talking about taking bets and stuff? That disgusts him. He’s not in this to be known in the history books as the person who caught the Mind Robber and the Throwing Star.” Jamie glanced up to find the police discussion still in full form, everyone nodding and talking over each other. “There’s something more, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. Something different about him.”

  “Okay. Fine. He’s not corrupt or looking for attention. I’m still not seeing the whole plan. What if they don’t listen to us? What if they lock us up?”

  “Then we break out,” Jamie said. “Cause a scene. And get the media to follow us. Two different paths. Same goal.”

  “Jamie,” Zoe said. Her head started to bob up and down, teeth biting down on her top lip. She looked at him, focused with what seemed like steely resolve. “This is a terrible plan.”

  The statement stung, not really with hurt, but more of the truth. She was right: the goal of getting everyone there was probably correct, but the method of “tell everyone and hope they listen” was, well...