Calamity (Reckoners, #3)(65)

I nodded, leading the way back into the restaurant proper. “We’re out,” I said as the two of us stepped down onto the rotating floor. I couldn’t sense anything; it was moving too slowly to be noticeable. We took up position near a table, doing our best to look as innocuous as possible.

“In position,” Abraham said. “On your mark.”

“Cody?” I said.

“All looks good. Proceed.”

“Give us a count of three,” Abraham said.

I took a deep breath and pressed the mobile in my pocket, activating the device attached to the generator. Any of us could do it, as it was connected to all of our mobiles, but we’d decided that Megan and I should be in charge of it. It would be easier for Mizzy and Abraham to vocalize what they wanted than to get out their mobiles, risk the light involved, and activate the device on their own.

As soon as I pushed the button, the lights flickered off and the revolving restaurant ground to a stop. Voices murmured and dishes clattered as I counted to three, then removed my finger.

The lights came back on, and the machinery whirred to life. We started to move again. Nervous, I watched for a sign of alarm.

None came. Apparently one of the difficulties in working with machinery that had been hacked together a day ago was that breakages and brownouts were common. Tia’s plan made use of this.

“Perfect!” Abraham said. “We’re past the first bank of cameras.”

“No alarm on any radio frequency I can find,” Cody said. “Only some security guards grumbling and hoping Prof doesn’t blame them for the brownout. Tia, lass, you’re a genius.”

“Let’s hope you can give her the compliment in person soon,” I said to Cody. “Abraham, let us know when your team is at the next camera. We’re on a timer now. The chefs are going to start wondering where their pastry makers went, and people are eventually going to go inspect the generators.”

“Roger.”

Megan and I remained in position. From here on out, the plan was supposed to take under ten minutes. It was tough to wait. Mizzy and Abraham were crawling through guard-infested hallways, while the two of us were supposed to stand up here and look innocent. We’d tried—and failed—to work out a way to get down and meet them, so Megan could use her powers to help with the last portions of the infiltration.

Perhaps that was for the best. Megan was looking haggard, rubbing her forehead, growing testy. I fetched us some drinks from a servant standing near the bar, but then realized that they probably had alcohol in them, which was a very bad idea right now. We needed to be alert. Instead, I grabbed a cupcake off a passing tray. Might as well sample an alternate-dimension David’s handiwork.

I stopped halfway to our table. Had I heard…

I turned around, trying to pick the voice out of those chattering in the crowd. Yes. I did know that voice.

Prof was here.

I was mildly surprised; socializing wasn’t exactly a Prof thing. Yet that deep voice was unmistakable.

There was ample reason to stay far away from him, but at the same time I was wearing a new face—and our experiences on the first day showed that he was fooled by Megan’s illusions. Maybe it would be worth scouting to find out where exactly he was and what he was saying.

“Prof’s here,” I said over the line.

“Sparks,” Cody said. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I said, moving to where I could see him standing beside one of the windows. “I’m going to approach with care and watch him. If the guards spot Abraham and Mizzy, he’ll be alerted first. Thoughts?”

“I agree,” Megan said over the line. “The two of us aren’t doing anything else useful up here. This could give us important intel.”

“Yes,” Cody said. Then he paused. “But be careful, lad.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll be careful as a diabetic slug in a candy factory.”

“Or, you know,” Megan said, “a slug in Ildithia.”

“That too. You going to back me up?”

“On your tail now, Knees.”

I took a deep breath, then crossed the room toward Prof.





I slid up to a tall table near where Prof was speaking. A cluster of people surrounded him—lesser Epics, judging by the ones I recognized. Prof had a notepad out, and had settled down at a table.

Others gave the group a wide berth. I leaned on the tall table, trying to look nonchalant. I scratched at my ear, flipping on the directional audio amplification on my earpiece.

“Larcener must be found,” Prof said. I could barely pick him up. “Until we accomplish this, we can do nothing.”

The others in the group nodded.

“I want Fabergé and Dragdown to spread rumors,” Prof said, writing on his notepad. “Claim there is an underground resistance movement against me, and it’s looking for a leader. Surveillance is your duty, Inkwell. You’ll watch the various powerful family neighborhoods. One of them has to be sheltering him, like the Stingrays were doing for our captive below.

“We attack in two ways: the promise of a rebellion to draw him out, mixed with the threat of discovery. Fuego, I want you to keep working with your dowser, doing sweeps through the city. We’ll make a big show of where we’re looking and expect Larcener to move—we flush him out like dogs in a field scaring pheasants.”