8
Andrus and the Guild of Thieves
Bronson gets a job. Cindy wakes up below City Hall. Andrus makes a speech to the guild. Cindy talks to her mom. Uncle Randolph does a mean thing.
Bronson was surprised Mr. Horum had let him behind the counter. He always thought there would be some sort of special pass or something you’d need to get behind the counter at a store. But when you were the personal guest of the owner he supposed that was the only pass you needed. Mr. Horum placed a deck of cards on the counter in front of Bronson.
“This expert deck. It called Svengali deck. Well, not a deck for experts. It make anybody look like expert though. Does many tricks. You pick up, Bronson.”
Bronson picked up the deck.
“Now, you see any funny business there?” Mr. Horum asked.
Bronson flipped through the deck a couple of times. It seemed pretty normal. He tapped it on the counter and noticed something. “Some of the cards are shorter than the others,” he told Mr. Horum.
“Aha! You see the trick. Pretty simple, hmmb? This is why you can never let them hold the deck. Too easy to spot. But easy to do tricks with too. See, short cards are all same card. Watch. I flip through cards and you tell me stop.”
Mr. Horum held the deck with the cards facing toward Bronson and began to flip through them.
“Stop,” Bronson said.
Mr. Horum stopped. The card left standing was the queen of clubs.
“You take,” Mr. Horum said.
Bronson took the card. Mr. Horum held the deck face down out to Bronson.
“You put card anywhere you want. Sky the limit,” Mr. Horum said. Bronson chose a spot about three-fourths of the way through the deck. Mr. Horum picked the deck back up and shuffled it.
“Nice thing about Svengali deck is deck does trick for you.” He dropped the deck on the table. “Now, you see what top card is.”
Bronson picked up the top card and sure enough it was the queen of clubs. “Wow, that’s a pretty good trick,” he said.
“You take deck and practice. Show friends at school. And tell them where you get it.”
“Aw, thanks, Mr. Horum,” Bronson said.
“Anything for magician’s son,” Mr. Horum said as he tussled Bronson’s hair. “You get to school now, yes?”
“Say,” Bronson said, “you wouldn’t be hiring, would’ya? My uncle wants me to find a job.”
Mr. Horum took off his glasses. He gave Bronson a stern look. “Ah. Now I see, hmmb? Cards not good enough. Lessons not good enough. You want Horum’s money.” Bronson was concerned he’d offended his new friend, but then Mr. Horum shot him a wink and he knew he was just messing with him.
“Kinda, yeah,” Bronson said.
“This I can do. Come tomorrow. Three o’clock. I fix you up.”
“AM or PM?” Bronson asked. It didn’t matter to him, he was usually up at either time. The AM shift might cut into his crime fighting though.
Mr. Horum put his glasses back on and started stocking a display. “No boy up and out at three AM. Of course PM. And dress nice.”
Bronson looked down at his smudged shorts and realized how scrubby he was starting to look. He had a couple nice outfits left he hadn’t worn yet, but maybe once he started making some money he could at least afford a trip to the laundromat. “You got it,” he said as he ran out the door.
Mr. Horum chuckled to himself. “Oh, I pay for this, you betcha,” he said.
“Hey, girl, you okay?”
The voice woke Cindy up. The room she was in was windowless. There were a few plants that gave off a soft green light. A boy sat in the corner across from her. He was around her age and wore pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt.
“Girl, you gonna make it?” he asked.
Cindy sat up. “Where am I? How long was I out?”
“They brought you in a few hours ago. No idea how long you’ve been here. They like to ship us around a lot.”
“Us?” Cindy asked. “Are there other kids here?”
“Yeah. A lot actually.”
“Last thing I remember I was talking to the mayor,” she said.
“Shadow program?” the boy asked.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Shadow program means you don’t never see your shadow again. That’s how we all ended up here.”
“Where is here?” Cindy asked.
“Secret base? Prison? I don’t know. They don’t let us see out. For all I know we got abducted by aliens or something.”
“How long have you been here?” Cindy asked.
“A week or something. Kinda hard to tell without knowing when it’s daylight out. Only light we get are the plants and the little red eye over there.” The boy pointed to a gray plate near the door.
Cindy reached into her pocket and pulled out the ID badge she’d lifted from Chester’s desk.
“Hey, I think I can get us out of here,” she said.
“Tried that my first day. Trust me, you don’t want them catching you.”
“You don’t want to come?”
“Oh, I’ll get out of here when I’m sure I can stay out of here. It’ll make the news when I get out of here. I’m taking these suckers out. Truth.”
Cindy scanned the ID card. The light flashed, the beep beeped, and the door clicked open.
“Well, good luck with that and everything. I’m Cindy by the way.”
“Axle,” the boy said.
“Good luck, Axle.” Cindy walked through the door and closed it shut behind her.
The hallway outside the room was as dark as the room itself. Cindy felt along the wall for a light switch. She felt two small round buttons stacked vertically. The bottom one was pushed in. Cindy pushed the top button. The wall shook then opened. An open service elevator descended and stopped in front of her. A small light turned on inside it.
Cindy opened the accordion gate and stepped onto the elevator. There were three buttons: ML, TL, and LL. Cindy pressed ML and the walls fell away. The elevator shook as it went up. It stopped in front of a large wooden door. There was an ID scanner. Cindy scanned the stolen ID and the door clicked opened. She rolled a fist with one hand and put the other on the door. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She froze as the man in the room turned toward the open door.
ML didn’t stand for “main level” like she’d assumed. It stood for Mayor Lane and went directly to his study by way of the bookcase.
“Miss McNeil, how did you get in there? Well, Chester will just have to take you back down.”
“I’m not going back down there, you creep.” Cindy grabbed a thick book off one of the shelves and threw it at the Mayor. Mayor Lane ducked. The book flew past him and crashed into the rare orchid placed near the window. It fell to the ground. The book landed on top of the flower and crushed it flat.
Mayor Lane grabbed Cindy and pushed her back to the elevator.
“You will regret that, Cindy,” Mayor Lane said, “and you are going back down there. Right now. And you’ll never get out again.”
Cindy grabbed the mayor’s hands and tried to loosen his grip.
“Let me go. Please, Mayor, I just want to go home. I won’t tell anybody anything I swear. Just forget I was ever here. Let me go home.”
Mayor Lane let go of Cindy and held up his hands.
“Young lady,” he said, “why would I stop you from going home? How did you get in here anyway? Wander off from a tour group?”
“I… yes, that’s exactly what I did.” Cindy walked toward the office door. “I’d better go find them. Nice meeting you, Mayor.”
“You too, young lady. Do you want a picture before you go?”
Cindy smiled as she backed up toward the door.
“Aw, thanks. I don’t have a camera though.” Cindy waved at the mayor and walked out the door. She took a few quick steps down the hall. There was an exit sign over a door at the end of the hallway. She ran to it and pushed it open. A shrieking alarm sounded. Cindy ignored it and ran down the alley as police sirens approached from the station a few blocks away.
The cavern was dark and dank, save for a few work lights that reflected off the ceiling. The walls were concrete but they met loose earth about halfway down. In front stood a bare stage put together with scrap pieces of plywood and random discolored boards. It was large enough to hold a dozen men, but it looked strong enough to hold three or four at the most. Discarded train seats were lined up in rows like pews in a church. They were filled with men who looked and smelled like they’d seen better days. A woman in a junky coat took a swig of a brown liquid from an unmarked bottle. She burped without apology and stared at the man sitting next to her.
“I’ll tell you something, buddy,” she said, “I think—” And then she fell over and began to snore. The man she’d been talking to jumped up and started going through her pockets. Some people across the room noticed and came over to grab her shoes. One snapped up the bottle. As he took a drink he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Gentlemen,” said Andrus, “how are we to accomplish anything if we betray each other? Help Sister Francine into her seat. And you, go take care of her son while she sleeps it off.”
“Sorry, boss,” the man said. He and the other people who’d been picking Sister Francine clean lifted her up and tossed her onto an empty train bench.
The room went dark and the gathered thieves made their way to their seats. Andrus stepped on the stage. The room remained quiet as he looked out over his brothers. They dare not make a sound until he was ready for them to. They had seen on many occasions what would happen if they did that. It wasn’t a violent punishment, but it was cruel. Speak before Andrus was ready for you to speak and you were escorted out of the underworld and never allowed to return.
“The people above us do not care if we survive,” Andrus said. “They sit in their new houses with their old money and ask that we, the hopeless, be thrown in cages when we dare ask for a loaf of bread. Yet, they live in cages. They spend thousands of dollars on devices meant to protect them from men like us who didn’t have the luck to be born into wealth. The men they spit upon when they walk into the bank.”
“God didn’t give us what they have. But fear not. Now we stand together and take what they have because after years of being trampled and put upon and kicked around we are the ones who deserve it.” Andrus raised his hands and the room erupted in applause and cheers.
“We are the Guild of Thieves, and we exist to take back this world from the rich and the powerful. In ancient times kingdoms were run by kings and fought for by people like us. And what has changed? The kings are now called hedge fund managers and the battlefields are the unemployment lines. The rich are richer, the poor are poorer, and evil men live above while good men live below. No more. Soon we arrest this regression and push humanity toward a brighter path. That is our destiny.”
“But,” Andrus continued, “some men would like to take our destiny away from us. A boy dressed as a dog hurt one of us, and by hurting one of us he has hurt all of us.”
Sister Francine, awakened from her sleep by the cheers, stood up and held her bottle over her head. “Where is ‘ee? I’ll take his eyes out and we can play some marbles.” The crowd roared in approval.
“Do not harm him,” Andrus screamed over the din of the crowd. “If you encounter him, watch him. Play with him. Find out what he can do and what he knows. Do not fear him. Who has protected you?”
“Andrus!” screamed the thieves.
“Who has fed you and clothed you?”
“Andrus!” the thieves said again.
The lights shut off as the crowd continued to chant Andrus’s name, and when the lights came back on, their leader was gone.
“ANDRUS! ANDRUS! ANDRUS!” they continued well into the night.
Tess huffed as she pulled the kitchen stove out from the wall. She beat at the thick layer of dust on the floor with her broom until the air was soupy. Her cell phone speakers blasted out the sound of a laughing chipmunk. She squeezed past the stove and grabbed the phone off the counter.
“Miss McNeil?” the operator said.
“This is Tess McNeil.”
“Miss McNeil, this is Sergeant Martin with the Colta City Police Department. Are you decent? Officer Link should be there in just a moment.”
“You found her?” Tess asked.
“The officer should be there, ma’am. Go to the door.”
Tess wobbled across the fresh-swept kitchen floor toward the front door. The room got longer with every step she took. A dull thump came from the front door. And another. Every step took fifteen years and every breath took a century. She grabbed the doorknob and turned it.
The door flew open. A cyclone flew past her and plopped down on the couch.
“Hey, Mom,” Cindy said, “what’s shaking?”
Tess ran over and grabbed Cindy by the shoulders.
“Where have you been? Do you have any? I was. I was just. Cindy. I– Why? Are you ok? Where did you go?”
The officer outside the door coughed. “Ma’am, I take it this is the right house. Her picture came over the computer a few hours back. Saw her strolling around at the corner of Fox Trot and Fincastle. Almost made it back herself.”
Tess hugged Cindy tight. “Where were you?” she asked.
Cindy hugged her mom back and looked at Office Link in the doorway.
“Can we talk about it after we lose the narc, Mom?” Cindy asked.
Tess rushed over to the door. “I’m sorry, officer. She didn’t mean any offense by it. Is it possible that we could have some time to talk as a family?”
“I get it, ma’am,” Officer Link said as she took a step back. “It isn’t exactly by-the-book, but I’m willing to leave you two to talk. I spoke with your daughter in the car. Smart girl. Said nobody hurt her. You can call the station if she tells you anything else. Have a good night, ma’am.”
“Thank you for making an exception, officer,” Tess said. “Tell you what… stop on down at Erin’s Pub some night after your shift and your drink’s on me.” Officer Link tipped her hat and turned to walk to her car. Tess closed the front door.
Cindy’s kicked her shoes off on the floor. She lay across the couch hugging a pillow with her eyes closed.
“Nice try, kiddo,” Tess said. “Up. Now.”
“Ah, Mom. I’m exhausted,” Cindy said. Tess patted her legs. She sat up.
“You’ve been gone a full day. Do you know how worried I’ve been? I had to call off too. Can’t wait to deal with that tonight, by the way. Your butt isn’t leaving this couch until I get some answers. Now where were you?”
“I don’t want to say.” Cindy hugged her pillow tighter.
“Now, Cindy… or you don’t get to intern at the TV station like you wanted.”
Cindy jumped up. “You can’t do that. WRDB isn’t just a TV station. They’re the biggest station in the state. You wouldn’t.”
“I’m serious, young lady. If you care about it that much you’d better start spilling.”
Cindy looked up at her mom. She grabbed her and gave her a hug. “Mom, it was awful. They put me in this basement with a bunch of other kids and I didn’t know what to do.”
Tess pulled Cindy back and looked at her face. “Who? Who took you? Did they hurt you?”
Cindy grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew her nose. “You’d never believe me.”
“Try me,” Tess said.
“The mayor. Mayor Lane. I went to interview him and I don’t think he liked my questions.”
“The mayor? What were you doing interviewing the mayor?”
“Mom, I—” Cindy took her mother’s hand, “I don’t want you to worry about this, ok? I made it out. Nobody hurt me. They gave me some drugs or something but I feel fine. Don’t worry about it. Forget about it. It’s not important.”
Tess stared at her daughter for a little longer than was comfortable then smiled and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m just glad you’re home, dear. I’ll grab you a little snack and then you can take a nap. I have work in a couple hours, ok? Anything special you want for dinner?”
“Pizza?” Cindy asked.
“Pizza,” Tess replied. “And next time call if you’re planning on pulling an all-nighter for school.”
“No prob, Mom,” Cindy said.
Tess went into the kitchen. Cindy lay down and closed her eyes. She felt guilty but figured it was for the best. If she hadn’t done it her mom would worry, and Cindy figured she’s probably be doing enough worrying for the both of them.
Bronson slept on the floor in the blue glow of the small television set. An action sting rang from the TV. An announcer said, “Police remain helpless as muggings, carjackings, and assaults continue to rise in Colta City. Is crime on the rise, or is there something more sinister going on? Tune in to News Channel 67 at 11 and find out.”
Bronson heard the sound of keys in the door. He hadn’t expected his uncle to come back this early, if at all. He’d learned over the course of the past couple of weeks it was usually safe to hang out in the middle room past ten o’clock. The door opened. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
“Welcome to the old homestead, m’love,” Randolph said to the less-than-honorable girl he escorted inside the apartment. He saw Bronson curled up on the floor.
“Who’s the kid?” she asked.
“Oh, him? An intruder I’d assume. Why don’t you be a good girl and wait in the hall a moment and I’ll dispose of him. Won’t be a second, love.”
“Okie-dokie, Randy,” she said, “but don’t leave me waiting too long.” She stepped out and Randolph closed the door behind her.
He walked over to where Bronson was sleeping and pulled him up on his feet by the scruff of his shirt. The collar tightened around his neck and he gagged. He decided playing dead was probably his best option. He rolled his eyes back in his head and pretended he weighed a thousand pounds.
“I thought I tol’ you to stay in your room, boy,” Randolph said.
“I was just watching TV,” Bronson said.
“Don’t play dumb,” Randolph said as he dropped Bronson. “You know that room over there is yours. The rest of the apartment is mine. Speaking of… you got my money?”
Mr. Horum had just paid Bronson his fifty-five dollars for the week that afternoon. He’d bought some food that he’d hidden in his room and done a load of laundry down at the corner laundromat. That left him with about $35 for the next week. He pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and held it out to his uncle.
Randolph snatched it out of his hand and inspected it. “I thought you were making good money at that magic shop. Where’s the rest?”
“Well I picked up some food and stuff,” Bronson said. “You said I should do that, right?”
“We had a simple arrangement. You give me money and stay out of my way and you have a place to sleep.” Randolph put his hand on Bronson’s shoulder. “You have no respect for our arrangement, kid.” He yanked Bronson by the hair and dragged him over to his door. He opened the door and threw Bronson in. “I’ll be back in the morning. If you’re still here I’ll be happy to reunite you with your parents. You’re a freeloader, kid. Let’s see how you like it when you don’t have anybody to mooch off anymore.”
“But… but I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Bronson said.
“And for good reason I say,” Randolph said. “Who would want you?”
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