Текст книги "M Is for Mama's Boy"

Автор книги: Michael Buckley

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Mama was very surprised to get visitors so late at night, but when you open the door and find the most handsome man you’ve ever seen standing there, it’s OK to let him in and answer his questions. Of course, she could have done without the blonde who came with him.

“Is Albert in some kind of trouble, Agent.. . ?”

“Brand. Alexander Brand, Mrs. Nesbitt,” the agent said.

“Oh, it’s Ms. Nesbitt, Alexander. I’m not married,” she said as an excited giggle escaped her mouth.

“We’re just curious about where he might have been yesterday, say, around two o’clock in the afternoon?” the blonde woman said.

Mama frowned at the woman’s question and kept her focus on Brand’s rugged face as she answered. “If I had to lay money on it, I’d say he was locked up in his room with his funny books. Such a shame, really. I had hopes he’d be a great scientist. He had such a way with computers and machines when he was young. But what’s a mother to do? The poor boy needs a father figure, you know.” She smiled at Brand.

Brand cocked an eyebrow. “I have a couple of questions I’d like to ask him.”

Mama thought. “On second thought, he’s probably at the comic book shop. He spends all his money on those silly things. Can you imagine? A grown man reading such drivel.”

“Is there any chance we might take a look at his room?” the blonde asked.

Mama frowned. Why couldn’t this woman leave them be? She and the handsome agent were really hitting it off. “I don’t think I should without him here. I tossed out some of his things once when he was a kid and he’s been locked down there in the basement for twenty-two years. Maybe when he gets back. He’s usually home around ten o’clock.”

Brand stood up and his companion followed. “We’ll come back then, Ms. Nesbitt.”

“Please, call me Gertrude,” Mama said.

Brand nodded and then he and his partner left. Mama watched them get into a black sedan and drive away. Once they were gone, Mama rushed to the basement door and pressed her ear against it. Albert was down there. She could hear the annoying beeps and buzzes of his silly movies about wars in space.

She knocked but there was no answer.

“Albert, this is your Mama. I want to see you right now.”

“I’m sleeping,” his lazy voice complained.

“Albert Nesbitt! You better march your behind up those steps and open this door on the double!”

There was no sound and, after a few moments, Mama knew more drastic measures were needed. She rushed to retrieve her toolbox, hefted it onto the table, and opened the lid. She took a hammer and returned to the door. With all her strength, she smacked the doorknob as hard as she could. Again and again she swung until eventually the knob broke off, taking the lock with it. The door opened. A wave of body odor and stale pizza rushed up the stairs to meet her. Mama hesitated, then ran back to the sink cabinet, found a can of disinfectant spray, and blasted a cloud down the stairs. She hurried down the steps and found her son hunched over a desk, working on an odd device that looked like something out of a science fiction film.

“Albert!” she shouted.

Her son started and spun around.

“Mama! This is my room!”

“Someone from the FBI or the CIA was here asking about you, Albert,” Mama said.

“Which one? The FBI or the CIA?”

“Does it matter?” Mama cried. “They told me they think you’re in trouble. They want to know what you’ve been doing with yourself.”

“It’s no one’s business but my own.”

Mama scanned the room. There were computer parts scattered everywhere and the walls were lined with schematics for a strange machine. There was a bizarre black-and-green suit lying on Albert’s bed and comic books were thrown about willy-nilly.

“Tell me,” she said. “Are you in trouble?”

Albert tilted his head back as if pondering her question. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Albert took a deep breath. “I’m working for an evil genius who is bent on destroying his former friends and then taking over the world using a machine that can hypnotize other machines.”

Mama blanched and started to cry. “You’ve finally gone crazy.”

Albert rose from his chair. He snatched his ray gun off the desk and gave it to her. “No, Mama. I’m fine. This is what I’m building. It’s a computer disrupter. It can literally control anything. Televisions, computers, cell phones—anything with a processor. If you aim it at an ATM, it will happily cough up all its money. Even the price scanner at the grocery store can be forced to obey you.”

“And what does this evil genius of yours intend to do with it?” Mama demanded.

“He wants to control the world’s computer technology,” Albert said. “But he’s after some old teammates first. He’s kind of obsessed with destroying them.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

Albert stammered.

Mama could see the answer bouncing around his brain. She knew she would not like what finally escaped.

“Superpowers.”

Mama screamed. “Albert, for the love of Pete! Superpowers? How are superpowers going to pay your bills?”

“Well, I’m sure—”

Mama would not hear another word. “No, it’s time to be practical. For a device that can take over the world, you should be getting a lot more than eye lasers. What else has your boss offered you?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s some great negotiation, Albert. Way to make sure you don’t get taken advantage of by the boss! Well, lucky for you your mama is here to help. Pack your things, Albert. Pack everything you’re going to need to build this machine and every penny you have lying around. We can’t stay here anymore. Those agents know you’re up to something and they will be back.”

“Where are we going?” Albert said as he scooped up a laundry basket of semiclean clothes.

“To talk to your boss about the terms of your partnership,” Mama said.

The goon did not intimidate Mama. She had faced down Jennifer DiDomizio at the neighborhood bake sale last summer. Jennifer had the audacity to bake lemon squares when she knew full well they were Mama’s signature dessert. The two women had screamed at each other so loudly that Bonnie Fuller’s chocolate bundt cake collapsed in on itself. If Mama could handle Mrs. DiDomizio’s dry and tasteless lemon bars, a guy with a hook for a hand wasn’t going to intimidate her.

She climbed right up the rope ladder with her son following sheepishly behind and found Simon sitting in his chair surrounded by squirrels.

“Are you the one taking advantage of my son?”

Simon set down his bag of nuts and sat up in his chair. He eyed her closely. It was clear to Mama the boy was not used to being confronted.

“Excuse me?”

“My son, Albert, says you hired him to build a doomsday device and all you’re offering him are some silly superpowers,” Mama said.

“I’d hardly call superpowers silly,” Simon replied. “When all is said and done, your son might be able to fly or lift a car over his head. He might have heat vision.”

“Albert does not need heat vision. What he needs is a future.”

“Mom, you’re embarrassing me,” Albert whined.

“Hush, honey. The grown-ups are talking,” Mama snapped, then turned her attention back to Simon. “My son has squandered the last twenty years of his life on comic books, and now he is finally doing something that could turn it all around.”

Simon frowned.

Mama reached over and snatched Albert’s machine from his hands. “Let’s be honest. You can’t take over the world with that little pop gun he built.”

“That’s the prototype, Mama,” Albert cried.

“Albert, it’s clear that your mother understands exactly what is going on. So, yes, Ms. Nesbitt, now that we know it works, I intend to have Albert build one a thousand times bigger that we can aim at the planet from space. One little zap and every machine from here to Australia will be under my control.”

“That should be worth more than being able to leap tall buildings.”

“What are you proposing, Ms. Nesbitt?” Simon asked. One of the squirrels climbed up in his lap and then onto his shoulder. It hunched forward as if it too wanted to hear what the strange woman wanted.

“Call me Mama,” she said.

“OK, Mama,” Simon replied.

“Let’s just say that Albert builds you something that lets you take over the entire world.”

“Let’s say that.”

“The world is a big place. It would be hard to manage it all by yourself. You might want to give some of it away just to avoid the headaches. Who better to take that problem off your hands than my son?”

Simon frowned. “When you say ‘some of it,’ I assume you have specific places in mind.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of making a list,” Mama said, handing Simon a slip of paper.

He scanned it. “You want your son to control half the United States, including Arlington, Virginia?”

Mama nodded. “Yes.”

“Why Arlington?”

“What’s the point of having a son who helped take over the world if you can’t brag to the neighbors?”

Duncan’s fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Pfeiffer, was not good at his job. He spent too little time teaching and too much time talking about his personal life. He rambled on and on about lifting weights, his steady stream of girlfriends and how he had been in a commercial for toilet paper when he was a baby. He knew nearly nothing about anything. He once told his class Abraham Lincoln had died when he slipped in the shower. Most of his students and, if he was honest, he himself, wondered how he had gotten a job as a teacher. After all, he didn’t even have a teaching certificate. But Duncan and his teammates knew that it was Pfeiffer’s lack of focus that made him the perfect man to teach a group of secret agents who were frequently absent from his class.

“The key to looking strong is not about lifting heavy weights, kids,” Pfeiffer said as he rolled up his sleeve to show his biceps. “It’s lifting light weights and doing lots of repetitions. Also, you can’t forget the three magic words—protein, protein, and protein.”

As Duncan struggled to stay awake, he heard a familiar voice in his head. Mr. Brand was calling. “Team, we need you in the Playground on the double.”

Duncan looked over at Matilda. Now that Heathcliff and his mind-bending incisors were gone, it was up to her to come up with a way to distract the class.

“Hey, everybody!” Matilda cried. “There’s a pony outside!”

The entire class, with Mr. Pfeiffer in tow, raced to the windows to see. Matilda always found a clever way to get them out of their seats. Duncan marveled at her imagination as he raced with the others to the lockers.

In no time, the team was plopping into their leather chairs, present and accounted for in the Playground.

“We’re sending you out,” Agent Brand said.

Duncan could feel panic rising in his belly. “Out?”

“Yes, nothing too dangerous. Just a little evidence collecting,” Brand said. “Your and Flinch’s tip about our mystery villain appears to be correct. After Ms. Holiday and I spoke to his mother, our suspect flew the coop. We need you to go and search his place for anything that will lead us to Simon.”

“But—”

“Yes, Gluestick?”

“Our upgrades are down,” Duncan cried.

Agent Brand looked as angry as Duncan had ever seen him. “You’ve been trained as secret agents, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been on evidence-collecting missions before, correct?”

“Yes.”

“This will be easy, D,” Flinch said.

“It’s just, our upgrades make us—”

Brand leaned in closely. “If you need some fancy gadgets to make you feel better, we have a whole room full of them. Otherwise, take your team to Albert Nesbitt’s house and collect some evidence.”

“Albert and his mother must have disappeared in the night,” Ruby said as she and the rest of the team walked down into Albert Nesbitt’s basement lair. “Ugh, this is where he slept. My whole body is itchy. I’m allergic to sweat and desperation.”

“Well, I’m humiliated,” Matilda said as she used a broom handle to move a pair of dirty socks. “Now that we’re off-line, Brand’s giving us jobs for babies. How many times do we have to save the world before we get a little respect?”

Duncan was too busy navigating the stairs to speak. He was loaded down with gizmos. He had taken Agent Brand’s advice seriously and packed his pockets with all manner of electronic tools. He needed Flinch’s help down the stairs, but he was ready for whatever might occur.

“Gluestick, can I have a chat with you?” Braceface said as he pulled the boy aside.

“Sure, what is it?”

“That little speech Brand was giving in the Playground before we left. You know he was trying to teach you something, right?”

Duncan blinked. He had no idea what his teammate was telling him.

Jackson smiled sympathetically. “Pal, that speech was what we used to call the ‘man-up’ speech when I played peewee football.

“Man up?”

“Yeah, it’s a speech coaches give players who are crying and whining.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” Jackson interrupted him. “He wasn’t telling you that you should carry off every device they have in the HQ. He was telling you that you didn’t need them to do your job. In fact, he was telling you that you are perfectly fine to do this mission and that you should stop blubbering about your upgrades.”

“Oh.”

“It’s OK,” Jackson said. “Everyone gets the man-up speech once or twice in their lives. I’ve just never met anyone who didn’t understand it was a man-up speech.”

Duncan looked at his teammates. They were all nodding in agreement.

“I’ve disappointed him, then,” Duncan said as he looked down at all his gadgets.

“A little,” Matilda said.

“And I’m going to give you my own man-up speech, right now,” Ruby said. “Brand is nervous about sending us to do anything. Heathcliff’s betrayal hit him like a ton of bricks. He’s questioning his decisions and his leadership now. On top of that, the big mistake at the Bank of Scotland has him wondering if we can get the job done. He has the power to dismantle this team, Gluestick. He could refuse to replace our upgrades and send us back to class to be normal. If we want to continue to be the coolest geeks in the world, we all need to show him that we can get the job done, powers or no powers.”

Duncan frowned. “But technology is part of what we do. Without it, we wouldn’t be able to do half of the cool stuff we’ve done. Without technology we wouldn’t have the Schnoz Projector.”

Duncan took out what looked like a pair of novelty glasses complete with a big, goofy nose and bushy mustache. He slipped them onto his face.

“Gluestick, sometimes I worry about you,” Matilda said.

“This is no joke,” Duncan said. “This is the latest in sensory data collection.”

“Sensory what?” Jackson asked.

“It’s a new science in which you can collect one sense and transform it into another. The Schnoz Projector collects smells and transmits them into images.”

“So if I farted, you would be able to see it?” Flinch cried.

“Um, sadly, yes,” Duncan said. “It detects things like perspiration, perfumes, deodorants—any kind of body smell either natural or manmade—and it can show us a crude representation of who it belonged to. It can track the trail of scent around this room, and maybe show us what Albert was doing down here. I’ve seen the prototype in the Playground and it’s amazing. Watch!”

Duncan flipped a button on the side of his glasses and the lenses glowed. A moment later the group heard loud sniffing and then a bright beam of light appeared, revealing a shaky image of Albert.

“Awesome!” Flinch said.

Another wavy figure appeared in the room. She was short with a bun of hair. “Albert’s mom wears a lot of perfume and her clothes are dried with fabric softener sheets. She produces a smell that we can trace and, now, even see,” Duncan said.

The team watched the two holograms moving about the room. Though it wasn’t a perfect image, you could see they were arguing. Then something unusual happened. Albert rushed to an empty desk and lifted something metallic. Duncan knew it at once. It was the weapon Albert had used on him.

“That’s the ray gun! Albert must have built it down here,” Matilda said as she watched the images flicker around the room. “His mother doesn’t look too happy about it. Look! She’s pulling suitcases out of the closet. She’s forcing him to pack.”

Ruby shook her head in disgust. “She should have turned him in—he’s dangerous.”

“What’s he doing?” Jackson said. The holographic Albert had rushed to a table and appeared to be snatching something from it, but his mother stomped over to him and ripped it from his hands.

Flinch crossed the room to where the two figures had once stood and picked up a stack of comics. “Looks like mommy wasn’t happy about what her son wanted to pack.”

“Too bad the Schnoz Projector doesn’t let us hear what they were saying,” Matilda replied. “Is there any chance it will show us where they went?”

“Sorry, the Schnoz Projector works best in enclosed spaces. The wind outside has probably blown away their scents.”

“Well, we know for sure that his mother helped him escape,” Jackson said as he looked under the bed. “And we know that they packed, so they aren’t coming back. Looks like we can turn off the fancy gadget. This is going to require some old-fashioned detective work. Nothing under here but cupcake wrappers and empty juice boxes.”

“Any unopened?” Flinch said. “I’m starving!"

Duncan shook his head. “Remember what Benjamin told you: Cut down on the sweets until your upgrades are working again.”

Flinch frowned.

Matilda looked through Albert’s closet. “I have never met anyone who had so many T-shirts with superhero logos on them.”

Ruby searched the dresser drawers. “He’s not the cleanest guy. I think he wears his clothes and shoves them back into his drawers.”

“Wait, what’s this?” Jackson said. He stood up holding a tube of paper in his hands. He took it over to a small table and unrolled it. There was a drawing of Albert in his black-and-green Captain Justice outfit. Unlike the real Albert, this one was muscle-bound and handsome. In his hand was the weapon he had turned on the children.

“This guy has a huge imagination,” Matilda said.

“Or there isn’t a single mirror in this house,” Ruby said.

“He’s not a bad artist,” Jackson said. “That ray gun looks just like the real thing.”

Duncan sighed. “There’s so much stuff back at the Playground that could help us. I know one of the scientists was building a device that detects footprints. Benjamin could also track the last days’ worth of phone calls.”

Ruby frowned. “Come on, Duncan, use your eyeballs for once!” she snapped.

Duncan was stunned. It was clear she was fed up with him. Ruby was often annoyed with Flinch and couldn’t stand Jackson, but she’d always treated Duncan with respect. It felt like the whole world had suddenly turned on him.

As the other children searched every nook and cranny of Albert’s room for a clue to where the man went, Duncan hesitated, unsure of where to start. He was about to give up when he glanced down at the stack of comics that had meant so much to Albert. His gaze caught on the cover of the comic on top. He snatched it off the pile and stared at it, hardly believing his eyes.

“Look!”

When his teammates turned, he flashed the comic’s cover at them.

“Ultraforce 119. I haven’t read that one,” Flinch said.

“No! Look at the guy on the cover. Look at what he’s holding in his hand.”

Ruby peered at the cover and her eyes got big. “It’s Albert’s ray gun. He got his idea out of a comic book!”

SO FAR, YOU’VE LEARNED

TO CREATE AND DECIPHER

YOUR OWN CODES, AND IN

THE PROCESS YOU’VE LEARNED

SOME VALUABLE LESSONS

ABOUT PERSONAL HYGIENE.

BUT THERE’S MORE TO CODES

THAN LETTER WHEELS. IN FACT,

THERE ARE LOTS OF WAYS TO

SEND A SECRET MESSAGE. SOME

SPIES USE INVISIBLE INK, AND

I’M GOING TO SHOW YOU HOW

TO MAKE IT. ISN’T THAT COOL?

WHY, YOU PROBABLY THOUGHT

THE PRICE OF THIS BOOK WAS

OUTRAGEOUS, BUT LOOK AT

ALL THE PRACTICAL STUFF

I’M TEACHING YOU!

HMM, MAYBE WE SHOULD CHARGE

MORE . . .

OK, TO MAKE INVISIBLE INK

YOU’RE GOING TO NEED SOME

INGREDIENTS. UNFORTUNATELY,

THE INGREDIENTS ARE ALSO

INVISIBLE.

WOW, YOU ARE GULLIBLE.

HERE’S WHAT YOU’RE GOING

TO NEED:

• A PAN AND A STOVE

• CORNSTARCH

• WATER

• COTTON SWABS

• PAPER

• IODINE

• A SMALL SPONGE

NOW, BEFORE WE MAKE

THE INVISIBLE INK, I NEED TO

TEST YOU TO MAKE SURE YOU

HAVE THE BRAINPOWER

TO ACTUALLY DO THIS.

QUESTION 1:

IF I USE THE STOVE WITHOUT

MY PARENTS’ SUPERVISION,

I COULD:

• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

• BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

• ALL OF THE ABOVE

IF YOU GUESSED ANY OF THE

ANSWERS ABOVE, YOU ARE NOT A

MORON AND THUS WILL KNOW TO

MAKE SURE YOUR PARENTS ARE

WATCHING YOU WHILE YOU COOK

ON THE STOVE. IF YOU GOT THIS

QUESTION WRONG, YOU ARE A

MORON. YOUR PARENTS PROBABLY

ALREADY KNOW THIS. YOU SHOULD

STEER CLEAR OF THE STOVE, AND

FIRE IN GENERAL.

ALL RIGHT, BRAINIAC, LET’S

MAKE US SOME INVISIBLE INK.

MIX 3 TABLESPOONS OF

CORNSTARCH AND 1/4 CUP OF

WATER IN A PAN AND STIR UNTIL

THE CORNSTARCH IS DISSOLVED.

COOK ON LOW HEAT UNDER

A PARENT’S CAREFUL EYE.

ARE YOUR PARENTS AROUND? GOOD.

LET IT COOL FOR A FEW MINUTES,

THEN DIP A COTTON SWAB OR Q-TIP

INTO THE SOLUTION AND WRITE A

SECRET MESSAGE ON A PIECE OF

PAPER. NOW, IN A BOWL, MIX 3

TEASPOONS OF IODINE WITH 2/3 CUP

OF WATER. DIP YOUR SPONGE INTO

IT, MAKING SURE TO SQUEEZE OUT

EXCESS WATER. NOW WIPE THE

SPONGE ON YOUR MESSAGE.

IF YOU FOLLOWED THE

DIRECTIONS EXACTLY,

THEN YOU SHOULD SEE

YOUR MESSAGE IN

PURPLE. IF NOT, WELL,

I DON’T KNOW. I MEAN,

I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH.