M Is for Mama's Boy

That was until a young boy with the biggest set of buckteeth he had ever seen approached Duncan in the cafeteria.

“Are you the kid who eats the paste?”

Duncan nodded, his face bright red with embarrassment.

“My name is Heathcliff Hodges. I represent a group of people who would like to meet you. We believe you have the makings of a hero.”

Now, Heathcliff’s face haunted Duncan’s memory. The boy with the big teeth had recruited him onto the team and helped train him. Duncan had been more surprised and saddened than anyone when Heathcliff betrayed them. He didn’t like the idea of having to face his former friend again.

“How do we know Heathcliff is robbing this bank?” Jackson asked now.

“Police reports are claiming that dozens of squirrels are scampering around inside. There was also a trail of walnut shells on the sidewalk,” Agent Brand replied.

“BEAEEAGGGCH,” Flinch cried, then turned the knob on his harness. The caramels had sent him into an overexcited fit. “Sounds like our nutcase. Don’t worry, we’ll handle him. And this time we’ll make sure we catch him.”

“Ms. Holiday, a little information about our destination, please,” Brand said.

Ms. Holiday stood up, straightened her skirt, then waved her hand over a sensor. Behind her a map of Scotland appeared on a bank of monitors.

“Scotland is part of the United Kingdom. It consists of over 790 islands and has an ancient culture dating back to the Neolithic period.”

“Um, the what period?” Jackson asked.

“The stone ages,” Ruby snarled. “Don’t you ever do your homework?”

“My strategy is to coast on my looks,” Jackson said, then stuck his tongue out at her.

Ms. Holiday continued. “Much of the country’s history is that of internal wars and those with its southern neighbor, England. The population has strong nationalist pride, and it’s not uncommon to see men wearing the traditional Scottish garb known as the kilt.”

The computer screen showed a man carrying a briefcase and wearing a skirt.

“The modern Scot wears the kilt as a sign of national pride and as part of formal business attire. If you encounter someone wearing one, show them respect. It takes a tough man to wear a skirt in the frosty Scottish air.”

“That means no giggling,” Ruby said, eyeballing Jackson.

“Holiday is right, kids,” the lunch lady said from his cockpit. “My father was Scottish, and the last thing you wanted to do was make fun of his kilt.”

“You’re headed to the Bank of Scotland on Picardy Place, not far from Princes Street, in the capital of Edinburgh. The bank is one of Europe’s oldest, dating back to the seventeenth century,” the librarian added. “You can imagine that a company that’s been around since the seventeenth century has learned a thing or two about security. Their system is one of the most advanced in the world. Motion and heat sensors; twenty-four-hour surveillance; a vault that will drop into a thirty-story pit if it is accessed without permission.”

“It was featured in last month’s Security Systems Magazine. Everything is state-of-the-art,” Duncan said.

“Only you would read something called Security Systems Magazine,” Matilda said, gri

He shrugged. “What I’m saying is it would take a genius to rob it.”

“Unfortunately, Choppers is a genius,” Agent Brand said gruffly. “You’re going to have to be smarter than he is.”

“Does anyone else feel like all of this doesn’t add up?” Ruby said.

“Do you have concerns, Pufferfish?” Brand asked.

“As you know, I’m allergic to fish. I’m also allergic to things that feel fishy. My feet are swollen and my throat is scratchy, so I know something is not right. Why would Simon try to rob the world’s most robbery-proof bank, in the heart of an international city, on a busy street, when he knows we are watching him?”

Duncan said, “I have been wondering the same thing.”

Brand shook his head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. Simon. . . Heathcliff. . . Choppers—whatever his name is—he’s unpredictable and dangerous. If I could send some more seasoned agents—”

“More seasoned agents?” Ruby cried. The rest of the team grumbled their protest.

“Enough!” Brand shouted. “All I’m saying is this boy used to be your friend and he may try to use that to his advantage. But remember, he is not your friend anymore. I think last year’s events prove he shouldn’t be taken lightly. When you get inside the bank, keep your eyes open for a trap. Keep an eye on your partners, too. I can’t lose another one of you.”

“We’re over the drop,” the lunch lady shouted from the cockpit. “If you’re near a butcher, pick me up some haggis. I think the students will love it.”

Ms. Holiday opened a compartment and removed five different colored jackets. She gave one to each of them.

“What’s this?” Jackson asked.

“These are the LX-919 Wind Breakers. They’re the latest in parachute technology. Unlike a regular parachute, the Wind Breaker doesn’t require careful packing. Once you hit two thousand feet, the jacket expands to capture the air below you. You’ll float like a feather and there’s no tracking down the parachute and storing it once you’ve landed. It collapses back into a jacket on the ground.”

Duncan’s eyes grew big with wonder. “Wow!”

Flinch laughed. “Gluestick loves his gadgets.”

“The Wind Breaker will also keep you warm in high altitudes. The wind can be pretty brisk off those Highlands,” Ms. Holiday said to the children. “I don’t want my sweethearts to freeze.”

“Sweethearts?” Matilda muttered.

Ms. Holiday blushed. The librarian had a motherly quality with the children she could barely control. “I mean ‘agents.’”

Flinch gri

Jackson slid into his Wind Breaker. “Are you sure about this thing? I have a problem with falling to my death. It’s not in my job description.”

“These are better than any parachutes,” Ms. Holiday assured him. “Once you get to a thousand feet above the ground, just pull the strings at the bottom of the jacket and you will activate the air-to-ground tether.”

“‘Air-to-ground tether’ does not sound better to me than ‘nice, big parachute,’” Jackson argued.

“C’mon, Braceface, parachutes are so last week,” Duncan said as he clapped his hands. He couldn’t wait to give the new gadget a try.

While the children put on their gear, Agent Brand popped open the hatch and wind blasted into the ship.

“Pufferfish, as always, you lead this mission,” Brand shouted over the din. “Keep an eye on all movement from the roof of the bank and use the rest of the team’s abilities to find and arrest Heathcliff. Be careful! The rest of you, look out for one another!”

“As good as done, sir,” Ruby said.

“Any words of encouragement for our heroes, Mr. Brand?” Ms. Holiday asked.

Brand frowned. Duncan knew the man wasn’t the type to give pep talks or sappy speeches. He hardly talked at all, despite Ms. Holiday’s constant efforts to get him to warm to the children.

He grunted and scowled and finally said, “Don’t get killed.”

“Well, I’m inspired,” Matilda said. Then she leaped out of the door into the wide blue sky. Flinch was next, shouting, “Ca

“Gluestick, I know Heathcliff and you were close,” Brand said. “But use your head. He’s the enemy now.”

“Of course, sir,” Duncan replied, pushing any concern from his mind. “I know my job. We’ll stop him.”

He leaped out into the sky, feeling the wind swim around his body. Gravity pulled him downward, faster and faster. He could see his teammates far below—tiny black specks dropping like rain. Suddenly, he heard a ping inside his head, followed by Ruby’s voice. She had activated the communications system implanted in each of their noses, the one that made them sneeze when they were summoned to the Playground. “Here’s the plan, people—Wheezer and Braceface, you are on crowd control inside the bank. The police believe there may be anywhere from ninety to a hundred people inside. Please be careful. Try to use your abilities as little as possible in front of hostages. It’s hard to be a secret agent if the secret is out. Flinch, you’re going to get us inside.”