Spell Robbers by Matthew J. Kirby Page B

with —”
    “Richter!” Ben said.
    Everyone turned to look at him.
    “Sorry.” Ben bowed his head. “I’ve been trying to remember that name.”
    The two agents looked at each other. They looked at Mr. Weathersky. Mr. Weathersky looked right into Ben’s eyes.
    “And why would you be trying to remember that name?”
    Ben felt the director’s gaze like a hot wind in his face. “I, uh — I mean, that was the guy. The guy who was going to help Dr. Hughes with portable augmentation.”
    He looked to Peter for agreement, but Peter just looked confused.
    Agent Spear chewed on a corner of his lip. “You don’t suppose …”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Agent Taggart said. “Poole probably used the name to cover his tracks. Richter doesn’t exist.”
    “What do you mean?” Ben asked.
    “Richter,” Mr. Weathersky said, “is supposedly a powerful criminal overlord. A mastermind. When we first heard of him, we tried to find out who he was. We dedicated an entire unit of agents to that purpose, and after years of work, they had nothing to show for it. We concluded that Richter is a kind of gangster tall tale, a bogeyman, and we closed the case.”
    “And yet,” Agent Spear said, “the finest trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.”
    “Baudelaire?” Mr. Weathersky said. “I’m impressed, Agent Spear. Nevertheless, let us concentrate on the devil we do know.”
    Agent Spear nodded. “Poole.”
    “Ronin,” Agent Taggart said.
    Mr. Weathersky frowned. “Make that two devils.”

“YOU really don’t remember?” Ben and Peter stood outside their smaller training room, waiting for Sasha. “Richter?”
    “The name doesn’t sound familiar at all,” Peter said. “I wasn’t going to contradict you in there, but I didn’t know what you were talking about.”
    “But you were there.”
    Peter’s smile was crooked and apologetic. “Sorry.”
    Ben gave up, frustrated. He was certain the name was important, somehow. He couldn’t say how, he just felt it. He didn’t want to forget it again, so every few minutes, he repeated it a few times in his head.
    Richter .
    Richter .
    Richter .
    After a few times of this, the name stopped feeling so slippery. Like a noodle drying, it stuck to the wall of his brain.
    “Change of plans, boys.” Sasha marched toward them down the hallway. “No history lesson today. You’re to be field-ready ASAP. Mr. Weathersky’s orders.”
    “Why?” Ben asked.
    “Weren’t you in that meeting? They just briefed me, and the three of us will be part of the operation to take down the Paracelsus crew.”
    Ben had said it before, but he guessed he needed to say it again. “Sasha, I’m twelve.”
    Peter opened his mouth, probably to say he would be thirteen next month, but Sasha cut him off.
    “You won’t be engaging directly. The director just wants you present, and I’m supposed to babysit you.”
    Ben hadn’t had a babysitter in years. He certainly didn’t need one now. But his resentment wasn’t as strong as his curiosity. “If we’re not engaging, then why are we going?”
    Sasha opened the training room door. “Mr. Weathersky thinks you’re important to this operation.”
    “How?” Peter asked as the three of them entered.
    “It all comes down to entanglement,” she said. “You and Dr. Hughes. You and Poole. You and the portable augmenter. You’re involved. And you can’t play the game if you don’t have all the pieces on the board.”
    So they were all just pieces to Mr. Weathersky? Ben fought the urge to walk out of there, right then. But thoughts of his mom kept him in that room. He would do whatever it took for the League to give him back his life. He also thought of Dr. Hughes. If he could do something to help her, he would do it.
    “Let’s get started,” he said.

    Over the next several days, when they weren’t in their beds or the dining room, Ben and Peter were with Sasha in their training room. With his Locus in his hand,