Nate was sighting through the window at the star when a hand came down on the back of his neck. He accidentally pulled the trigger and missed the shot. Disgruntled, he looked up to find Roman standing over him.

“You’re swimming in tickets,” Roman said.

Nate had won the shooting game nine times in a row, which meant 2250 tickets were currently snarled around him on the ground. “I got a hot tip about the gallery.”

“You have a weird way of thanking me,” Roman said. “It’s barely ten and the records are all worse than yesterday. Didn’t you hear what I told you?”

“We upped them little by little,” Nate assured him. “We started right when they opened. We never beat the basketball records by more than three points. We usually only won by one or two.”

“They’re already so high!” Roman complained. “You would have had to raise them every try.”

“It happened pretty quickly,” Nate admitted. “A few of us were working at it.”

Roman shook his head, clearly frustrated. “My day is shot. Without records to beat, earning tickets will be a pain. How many have you won this morning?”

Nate hesitated to answer. “Lots. Over 8,000.”

“In an hour?”

“I had a hot streak.”

Roman shook his head, trying not to let his irritation show. “You’ve obviously got the shooting gallery figured out. Did you snag the jackpot?”

“Yesterday.”

“Unbelievable.”

“They reset the prize. It pays 250 now if you hit all the far targets on one turn.”

“What was the prize yesterday?”

“Twenty-five hundred.”

Roman made a low whistle. “You’re raking them in faster than anyone I’ve seen.”

“It’s going all right,” Nate said.

Roman sighed. “Congrats. I better go start playing. Tomorrow I’ll make sure to come when the doors open.” He walked off.

Nate could tell Roman wasn’t happy, and he felt a little bad about it. He knew Roman was excited to earn a stamp, and the process would be slower while the records stayed high. But in a way they were doing him a favor. Roman didn’t know what he was getting himself into. The perks that came with the stamp would be cool, but there would be strings attached. Bad people were running this arcade. People who had taken down John Dart. The deeper Roman got involved, the greater the danger he would face.

Nate settled back in and started shooting targets again. He hit all of the far targets three times in succession before somebody cleared their throat behind him. Nate looked up, recognizing Cleon.

“You couldn’t resist?”

“We’re not cheating,” Nate replied. “We have the same right to play as anyone else. You guys set the rules. It’s not our fault if we’re good.”

“Gather your tickets,” Cleon said. “The director wants to have a chat.”

“Are we in a movie?”

“The director of the arcade, smart guy.”

“Why does the director get to chat with me?” Nate resisted. “Is he a police officer? Are you? Am I under arrest for winning tickets?”

Cleon leaned closer. “You’re in her arcade. You’re on her property. If you wish to continue playing here, you’ll have a talk with her.”

Cleon awaited a response. If this would provide a chance to meet the person running the arcade, Nate supposed he should play along. It might give him the knowledge the Battiatos needed. Then again, he might end up disappearing just like John and Mozag.

Nate noticed Pigeon watching him from not too far off. Trevor was observing from across the room. His friends could call in the Battiatos if he disappeared. Besides, who knew what Cleon might do if Nate tried to run? The man currently had the air of a disgruntled bouncer.

“I’ll come,” Nate said, collecting his tickets.

“Good choice,” Cleon replied, kneeling to help.

*****

Trevor watched Cleon lead Nate away from the shooting gallery. He kept one hand in his pocket, fingering the Shock Bits hidden inside. At the first sign of any struggle, he was ready to spit out his gum and replace it with the electrifying candy.

Summer walked up to Nate and Cleon with a camera and blatantly snapped a picture of them together. Shaking his head slightly, Cleon gave her an amused smirk as he walked past her. She returned his attention with an innocent grin. Trevor thought it was a smart move. With Cleon knowing she had photographic evidence, he would think twice before letting Nate come to harm.

Nate seemed to go along willingly. Trevor followed until they passed through a nondescript door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.

Pigeon came up beside him. “What should we do?”

“I want the Battiatos ready to move,” Trevor said. “You have the other walkie-talkie?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on that door. Call if anything happens. And watch my tickets.”

“Got it.”

Trevor handed over his tickets to Pigeon. Summer approached as Trevor headed to the door.

“You’re telling them?” she asked.

Trevor nodded. “Help Pidge keep watch.”

On his way out, Trevor noticed a girl staring at him. She looked to be in her older teens or early twenties. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. She wore a blue Arcadeland work apron and was sweeping debris into a dustpan attached to a pole. Her glance moved past him as Trevor returned the eye contact. She had a slight build—fairly short and quite slender.

Trevor ignored her until he reached the doors to the outside. As he pushed through, he glanced over and saw her watching him again.

Only after reaching the Arcadeland parking lot did Trevor realize that he wasn’t sure where the Battiatos could be found. He scanned the lot for a white van, then tried the street, but saw neither a van nor any sign of the husky twins.

Trevor crossed the mostly vacant parking lot to the street. Gazing up and down the sidewalk, Trevor saw plenty of vehicles, but no van and no twins. He started paying more attention to the surrounding rooftops and businesses. Where were they? Could they see him?

A plain white van pulled around a corner a couple of blocks down the street. Trevor watched as it pulled over to the side of the road. It was still well over a block away. They were probably worried about being spotted by Arcadeland employees.

Trevor walked briskly to the van. When he arrived, the side door opened and he climbed inside.

Ziggy sat at the wheel. Victor had opened the door.