Spell Robbers

by Matthew J. Kirby

  “Hold your fire!” one of the Dread Cloaks screamed. “Hold your fire!”

  “Hold!” Ronin shouted from behind the sculpture.

  “I don’t know who you are!” the Dread Cloak said, and Ben recognized him. Poole. “But if one more piece of art is damaged, your death will not be an easy one!”

  “Poole?” Ronin said. “Is that you?”

  “Who is speaking?” Poole asked.

  “Ronin! It’s Ronin.”

  Silence.

  “Is this all yours?” Ronin asked. “This your art?”

  “All of it,” Poole said.

  “Wow,” Ronin said. “I’m impressed. You’ve come a long way since our days on the True Coat crew.”

  “And you have fallen far to steal from me,” Poole said.

  “Steal from you?” Ronin said. “I’d never steal from you. I had no idea —”

  “Not even as you took out my guards?”

  Ronin laughed. “I didn’t even notice. You know me. Shoot first.”

  Silence.

  “So, uh, listen, Poole. What are we gonna to do here?”

  “I’m going to wait until you try to leave this building, and then I’m going to kill your entire crew.”

  Ronin looked at Ben, and Ben couldn’t tell from his expression if this was going well or not.

  “That’s one way of doing it,” Ronin said. “I suppose. But I was kind of hoping our time together might be worth something. I seem to remember pulling you out of a jam or two. Like that job in Cairo, remember?”

  No response.

  “Come on,” Ronin said. “This is just a simple misunderstanding.”

  Still no response.

  “Look, I don’t like doing this from behind this sculpture. I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.”

  Ronin waited a moment, and then slowly, one hesitant inch at a time, he stepped out from behind the copper flames with his hands in the air. Ben didn’t breathe. They could kill him instantly.

  Ronin nodded toward the sculpture. “You like this modern crap?”

  “Watch your words,” Poole said. “Men have died for their taste in art.”

  “What men?” Ronin asked.

  “Men from whom I stole it.”

  “Ah,” Ronin said. “Well, nothing’s been stolen here. No one else needs to die for art. I don’t see why we can’t come to an understanding.”

  “Can’t do that, Ronin,” Poole said. “Even for old times’ sake. You’ve crossed a line.”

  “Have I?” Ronin asked. “Ask yourself, have I? Have I killed a Dread Cloak?”

  “No.”

  “Have I stolen anything from you? Yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “All right, then, no foul. So what’s the problem?”

  Poole didn’t answer him. Ronin was threading that loophole in the gangster’s honor that might allow them to move on to the next step of the game.

  “Look,” Ronin said. “How about this. I’ll pay you for the art we destroyed. I’ll even throw in some for that painting over there, which I’m pretty sure was your guys. Will that settle us?”

  “I suppose we might reach a compromise. For the sake of our past association.”

  “Great,” Ronin said. “Let’s talk price —”

  “Three million,” Poole said. “One million, each.”

  Ronin guffawed. “Come on.”

  “One million each.”

  “Really? No discount for size?” Ronin pointed at the smallest of the broken statues.

  “They had … sentimental value,” Poole said. “Hard to put a price on that. Easier for you to put a price on the lives of your crew, I imagine. Three million to buy their way out of here.”

  Ronin scratched his head. He paced a step or two back and forth. “Three million. Three million? Three million.”

  “I grow impatient,” Poole said. “Do you have it?”

  “Of course I have it,” Ronin said. “But this is gonna break me.”

  “Not my problem,” Poole said. “And you’ve got five seconds more. Then I take back my offer.”

  “Okay, okay.” Ronin sighed. “Three million. But you know I don’t have it with me.”

  “And what?” Poole said. “You’ll just pop off and go get it? Promise to come back and all that?”

  “Something like that,” Ronin said.

  “Call out your crew,” Poole said.

  “What?”

  “Call out your crew!”

  Ronin hesitated. “Come on out, all of you. It’s okay. We’ve almost got a deal.”

  Polly, Meg, and Lykos all stepped out from behind their hiding places. Ben stayed where he was. Poole couldn’t see him yet. He couldn’t recognize him too early in the game.

  “Some familiar faces,” Poole said. “Listen up, all of you, ’cause here’s what I’m thinking, and I’m leaving the decision up to you. I let Ronin go to fetch my money. You all stay here. Ronin doesn’t come back, you all die. Understand?”

  The three looked at Ronin, then at one another.

  “So yea or nay?” Poole said. “That sound good to you? You trust Ronin here with your lives? Let’s have an election. Two out of three carries the day.”

  “I trust him,” Meg said.

  “No way,” Lykos said.

  Polly turned to Ronin. “You coming back, boss? You swear?”

  “I swear,” Ronin said.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Polly,” Lykos said.

  But Polly turned to Poole. “I say yes.”

  Poole raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed by the loyalty of your crew. All right, Ronin. You’re free to go. You have one hour.”

  Ben peeked around the sculpture as Poole’s men cleared a path.

  Ronin took a deep breath. “Right.” He walked to the elevator and pressed the button. He waited. And waited. At one point, he turned around, smiled. Then the doors opened and he got on. “Don’t worry,” he said to his crew. “I’ll be back.” The doors closed.

  “You three,” Poole said. “Stay right where you are. We’ll just sit tight as we are.”

  Lykos turned to Meg and Polly. “You’re both out of your minds. He isn’t coming back.”

  THIRTY minutes passed, during which no one talked. Lykos and Meg had sat down on the floor. Polly just stood there. At the end of the room by the elevator, Poole’s men whispered and joked among themselves, but Poole never said a word. Ben kept to his hiding place, safe behind the big sculpture, undiscovered.

  Forty-five minutes in, Lykos stood up. He fidgeted. He paced. “He’s not coming back. I told you.”

  “Sit down,” Meg said. “He’s coming.”

  Lykos checked his watch. “He should have been back by now.”

  That was Ben’s cue. He was supposed to make a noise. Something that drew attention, but not something obvious, like a sneeze. Poole’s museum had a cement floor, with a thick glossy seal over it. Ben dragged the toe of his shoe across it, and made a little squeak.

  “What was that?” Poole asked.

  Ben squeezed his eyes shut for a second, waiting. Then Poole came around the statue and looked down at him. His face, not hidden this time, was lean and sunken around his eyes and his cheeks.

  “Well, this is unexpected,” he said. “And just who are you?”

  “He’s no one,” Polly said.

  “No one?” Poole reached down, grabbed Ben’s arm, and yanked him to his feet hard enough that Ben felt a wrenching in his shoulder. He was stronger than Ben had expected, and Poole dragged him out into the open. “This looks like a very real someone to me.”

  “Leave him alone,” Meg said. “He’s just a kid.”

  “But a kid on your crew, apparently.” Poole still had Ben by the arm. “Which makes me doubt he’s just anything.” He looked at Ben, his eyes the same blue Ben had seen through the ski mask. “Wait. I know you.”

  Ben looked down at the ground. “I don’t think so.”

  “No, I definitely know you.” He released Ben’s arm. “D
evilish tricks. Devilish tricks in a child’s playpen.”

  Ben looked up. “Yeah, all right. That was me. So what?”

  Poole smiled. “Still defiant.”

  “Leave the kid alone,” Polly said.

  “Or what?” Poole asked.

  “Or I’ll kill you,” Polly said.

  The Dread Cloaks stirred. Poole’s smile fell. “You aren’t in a position to make threats.”

  “Not a threat,” Polly said.

  Even though Ben knew they were playing their roles, something in the way Polly said it felt genuine. Like the big guy really had his back. Poole took a step toward the giant, and Ben felt actuations stirring among his Dread Cloaks.

  “Wait.” Meg slid in front of Polly. “Just wait, Poole. He doesn’t mean that.” She put her hands on Polly’s arms and looked up into his face. “Just sit tight. Ronin will be back any minute.”

  “No, he won’t,” Lykos said. “Hour’s almost up.”

  “Then too bad for you.” Poole looked back at Ben. “All of you.”

  “Unless we can come to a deal of our own,” Lykos said.

  “You carry three million around on your person?” Poole asked.

  “No,” Lykos said. “But we have something a lot more valuable than that right here in this room. Ronin left it with you, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “And what might that be?” Poole asked.

  Lykos pointed at Ben. “The kid.”

  “The kid?” Poole cocked his head at Ben. “Yes, I think it’s time to find out just who you are. How is it I found you in that university laboratory weeks ago, and now find you here with the Paracelsus crew in my art collection?”

  Ben shrugged. “Coincidence.”

  “Don’t talk, Ben,” Meg said.

  “Ben?” Poole came closer. “All right, then. Ben. Don’t listen to her, Ben. Talk. Tell me. I want to know.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Lykos said. “Ben is Ronin’s inside man with the League. After your little raid on that laboratory, the League recruited him, and then Ronin got his hands on him.”

  “Is this true?” Poole asked Ben. “Are you in the League?”

  “Yes,” Ben said.

  “He’s a prodigy,” Lykos said. “The Old One said so himself.”

  “Are you a prodigy, Ben?” Poole asked.

  “Yes.”

  Poole nodded. “I like your confidence. And are you Ronin’s man on the inside?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Poole glanced at Lykos with a questioning look.

  “I’m nobody’s man,” Ben said. “I work for myself. Right now, it happens to suit my interests to feed intel to Ronin.”

  “Your —” Poole chuckled. “Pardon me, but your interests? And what might those be?”

  This was the moment for Ben to tell the truth. This was the moment to dig up his rage and let it show. He thought of Marshall, and he glowered. “I want to make the League pay for what they did to me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” Ben felt the anger, the real anger, the deep anger, bubbling up hot, threatening to geyser. “After you busted up the lab, they took me. They detached me. They ruined my life, and I’m going to do everything I can to ruin theirs. From the inside.”

  Poole didn’t say anything. He just looked at Ben another moment, and then turned to Lykos. “You’re right. This is more valuable.”

  “So how about we make a deal,” Lykos said. “You let us go and keep the kid. Consider our debt paid.”

  “Traitor!” Polly lunged at Lykos and decked him. Hard. Ben winced as Lykos sprawled on the ground. He’d insisted the hit had to be real, and Polly had reluctantly agreed.

  “Polly, stop!” Meg shouted, tugging on one of the giant’s arms.

  Polly looked down at her and grunted. Lykos slid away from him along the floor until he was a safe distance away, and then he staggered to his feet, rubbing his rapidly swelling jaw.

  “And what would I do with the kid?” Poole asked, as if the whole thing hadn’t happened.

  “Whatever you want,” Lykos said. “I really don’t care. I just want to get out of here and forget this whole thing happened.”

  Poole checked his watch. “Hour’s well up. Ronin is a marked man. We’ll run him down by morning. As for the rest of you, I will take your inside man and consider him payment in full. Now get out of here.”

  This was the part Ben had dreaded, the only part of the plan that had worried him. His breathing quickened as he watched the rest of the crew move to the elevator, and his stomach clenched up as they got inside it. The doors closed, and then he was alone with Poole. It wouldn’t be for long; he knew Ronin was coming. But he still felt alone and afraid.

  “What an unexpected night this has turned out to be.” Poole looked at the shattered statues and then at Ben. “What kind of intel do you feed to Ronin?”

  “Whatever I can get my hands on.”

  “How useful could that be, at your age?”

  “I’m not a full agent yet,” Ben said. “But my reputation as a prodigy means people tend to talk around me. I overhear things.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  Ben shrugged. He wasn’t supposed to give Poole anything. The plan was to get him curious, and then Ronin would close the deal. “Just things.”

  “Look around you, devilish boy.” Poole took Ben’s chin in his hand and lifted it. “Do you see a friendly face? Where is your crew? They abandoned you. So did Ronin. Just whose man do you think you are now?”

  “Same as when I walked in,” Ben said. “My own.”

  Poole punched him in the gut. Ben doubled over, gasping, clutching his stomach. He dropped to his knees. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That was not part of the plan, and Poole could hurt him a lot worse. Poole could kill him. Where was Ronin?

  “You see now, don’t you?” Poole said. “Whose man you are. So I’ll ask you again. What kinds of things do you overhear?”

  Ben rubbed his stomach. He had to answer him. He had to give him something. He feared what Poole would do if he didn’t. But what should he say?

  Improvise. He reached for the first thing that came to his mind.

  “I know —” He struggled to speak, his breath still coming back. “I know they’re planning a raid … to rescue that professor and steal the portable augmenter.”

  Poole jerked upright.

  Ben realized then what he’d just done. He’d blown it. The whole job. He’d tipped their hand and made Poole think about the very thing he wasn’t supposed to think about. Ben felt like throwing up.

  “When?” Poole asked.

  When? “A week from tomorrow.” Why had he said that? Still blowing it.

  “How many agents will there be?”

  “I …” Shut up, Ben. “I don’t know.”

  “Will it be a night raid?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about —?”

  “He’s back,” one of the Dread Cloaks said, holding a radio to his ear. “Ronin is back. He’s coming up.”

  Ben worked hard to keep the relief from showing on his face.

  Poole turned from him toward the elevators. “An unexpected night.”

  A few moments later, the elevator dinged, and Ronin walked off. He looked at Poole, then at Ben, then around the room. “Where’s my crew?”

  “You failed them,” Poole said. “So we came to terms.”

  “What terms?” Ronin asked.

  Poole said nothing. Then he nodded toward Ben. “Quite a prize, a League recruit in your pocket.”

  Ronin’s eyes narrowed. “Comes in handy. You all right, Ben?”

  Ben got to his feet. “Yes.”

  “What terms?” Ronin asked Poole.

  “Do you have my money?” Poole asked.

  “Here’s the thing,” Ronin said. “I’ve got some of it, but I can get you the rest.”

  “No, here’s the thing,” Poole said. “We made a deal. If you can’t pay, your life is for
feit.”

  “But I can pay, I just need —”

  “I know you can pay,” Poole said. “But not with money.”

  “Then how?”

  Poole put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and out of reflex, Ben threw it off. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Easy, now,” Poole said.

  “Come on, Poole.” Ronin took several steps toward them, farther into the museum. “He’s just a kid.”

  Poole said nothing.

  “So these were the terms?” Ronin asked. “My crew gave up Ben to save themselves?”

  “Honor among thieves, eh?” Poole stepped toward Ronin. His Dread Cloaks closed in behind, cutting off access to the elevator. “That’s all done with. Which means you and I still need to settle up.”

  “It doesn’t need to go down like this,” Ronin said.

  The moment had come. So far, Poole had played right into the fiddle game, but this was the final gamble. Ben felt actuations building, the Dread Cloaks heating up. If Poole gave the order, Ronin would be dead, instantly. He had to close the deal now.

  “Let’s just take it easy.” Ronin raised both his hands. “What if I come work for you? I’ll pay off my debt doing jobs for you. You’ve seen me in action. You know what I can do.”

  Poole seemed to be thinking that over.

  Ben wished he could do something to convince him. He thought back to Mr. Weathersky, the way he had influenced people, somehow nudging them toward loyalty or fear. Like a kind of actuation. How had he done that?

  Finally, Poole sighed. “Ronin, I respect your abilities, I do. But I can’t have you work for me. I’d never be able to turn my back. And if I cut you loose now, there’ll be blowback, I have no doubt.”

  That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to agree. Ronin had sworn he knew Poole, and Poole would agree.

  “Poole, you — you’re sounding paranoid.” Ronin’s voice cracked a little. “You’ve changed since our True Coat days. You know me. How many jobs did we do together?”

  “All in the past,” Poole said. “Good-bye, Ronin.”

  Ronin looked at Ben, his eyes wild, but not with fear. He seemed to be frantically searching for a way out, a solution, an angle.