Duncan reached his hand into the open window, hoping to snatch the ray gun, but Ms. Nesbitt pulled it away.
“You know, you can forget having me mow your lawn anymore, lady!” Duncan shouted.
Frustrated, he pulled the wiper blade off and used it to swat at the woman as she drove. All it did was further aggravate her, and she turned the car into oncoming traffic, all the while firing the ray gun so that cars weaved out of her way.
“You’re not going to stop my Albert!” she cried as she gunned her engine once more. The sudden burst of speed was shocking, but Duncan was smart enough to know it meant something much worse. He turned and saw an auto carrier right in front of him. Ms. Nesbitt intended to ram it, which would certainly mean the end of Duncan Dewey. He braced himself, knowing it was all over, when, suddenly, there was a honk. He looked over and spotted his father’s car matching the woman’s, speed for speed. Avery edged the car as close as he could and Duncan leaped onto his hood just as the nasty neighbor rammed the truck. An SUV sitting on the upper tier of the auto carrier came loose and rolled back onto Ms. Nesbitt’s car, crushing her hood and bringing her car to a halt. She looked stunned but uninjured.
When his father pulled over, Duncan hopped off of the car. “Stay here,” he told his family.
Mama had climbed out and was still shaken, but Duncan could see that she was quickly recovering. She leveled the ray gun at a sports car nearby, but before she could send her computer virus, Duncan snatched the weapon from her hand. He eyed it with a grudging admiration. He could see it was a simple design, but the circuitry inside was the true genius. He could have studied it all day, but the woman was already grabbing for it. He knew what he had to do. He tossed it to the ground and stomped on it hard. The ray gun was destroyed.
“This isn’t over,” she said, shaking a finger at him. Then she ran over to a nearby pickup truck, yanked the driver out of his seat, hopped in, and drove away.
Duncan’s family caught up to him as he watched her go.
“Is there anything you want to tell us about the rest of our neighbors?” Avery said.
Albert put on his new work uniform and studied himself in the mirror. The furry costume with its big fluffy tail was humiliating and made it impossible to sit down. But it was nothing compared to the giant buckteeth, attached by a string that wrapped around his mouth. Mama had simply refused and the goon wasn’t even asked. How did he wind up being the only one following the new dress code?
He shrugged and studied the new designs for the giant ray gun. With just enough diamonds in their possession, the next step was finding the microchips. To process the information needed for the ray, he would need millions of them. Where was he going to get them?
He had telephoned every microchip manufacturer in the world and no one could sell him nearly enough. Even when you added together the three largest manufacturers—the United States, China, and India—he still could not get a tenth of what he needed. It wasn’t a matter of cost. Simon had unlimited resources from all the banks he had robbed, not to mention the countless identities he had swiped using the ray gun on the Internet. There simply weren’t enough chips in the world.
The boss would not be happy. His little face would turn bright red and his teeth—oh, those horrible teeth—would glow. Then some horrible cage full of dangerous animals would be rolled out and he would be tossed inside to his doom. Simon had shoved the pizza delivery guy into the komodo dragon tank when he was five minutes late delivering the Crazy Bread.
Still, Albert couldn’t help but think his untimely death might be a blessing. He had more than his fair share of doubts about a world controlled by Simon. Mama had negotiated the partnership so that Albert would rule a little less than half of the planet, but most of it was ocean. He had never wanted to rule the world, not even half. All he wanted to do was be a hero. Dying might be a merciful substitute to living in a world he helped destroy.
“What’cha working on, honey?” Mama asked as she climbed up the rope ladder. The goon was behind her carrying a sack of groceries.
Albert shook his head. He didn’t trust his mother any more than he trusted the devil. “I was on a Captain America message board arguing about the Super-Soldier serum.”
Mama scowled. “Son, when you rule the world you can read all the funny books—”
“Graphic novels!”
“Whatever you call them. You’ll have all the time in the world once you’re in charge. Until then, you really should be working on our doomsday device.”
Albert could see the hope in his mother’s eyes and it made him angry. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Mama, but there isn’t going to be a doomsday device.”
“Oh!” Simon said as he fell out of a branch above and landed on his feet. A half dozen of his furry friends followed. “And why is that?”
Albert gulped but stood his ground. “To operate the machine the way you’re hoping, we need processors and microchips.”
“They shouldn’t be difficult to acquire,” Simon said.
“We need millions of microchips,” he said.
Simon frowned. He seemed to understand that there would be no way to buy that many.
“We could make more of the smaller models,” Albert said, gesturing to a new one he had recently constructed.
“So I can rob banks?” Simon roared. “I am not a bank robber. I’m an evil genius. Evil geniuses take over the world. That’s what we do!”
Mama glared at Albert. “Young man, I’m disappointed.”
“Listen, maybe we can reconfigure something so it takes over the entire Internet,” Albert stammered.
“The Internet? Do you think I can bring the world to its knees by seizing control over a bunch of blogs about Twilight and cats playing the piano?” Simon sighed. “Friend, would you show Mr. Nesbitt the extent of my disappointment?”
The goon stepped forward, his hook gleaming in the sun.
“Wait!” Mama cried. “Why can’t we just make our own microchips? It might be a pain, but it could be done.”
“She’s right! Most computer chips are made from silicon,” Albert stammered. “But if we made the chips from gallium arsenide and arsenic we would need only a thousand or so. They could conduct the information the ray gun needs.”
“I’m aware of arsenic chips,” Simon said. “My former teammates have a supercomputer that uses them. They have a staff of scientists who make them.”
“So we’ll just get some of this gallium stuff and make our own too!” Mama declared.
Simon smiled. “Clever woman, your mother. Albert, where would we get those ingredients?”
Albert looked up at the goon’s hook. “I have no idea,” he said. “They’re both minerals. You’d need to find a huge deposit of them.”
“I know where you can get this arsenic stuff,” Mama said.
“Albert’s father, bless his soul, took me on a vacation to Hawaii. While we were there we went on a tour of the volcano they have on the Big Island. The tour guide said it was a natural arsenic source.”
Simon looked skeptical. “And where would we manufacture the chips?”
“That will be easy. I know of several shady factories in New Jersey that can process them with . . . enough pressure exerted in the right place,” the goon said.
“See what a great team we are?” Mama said. “Problem solved.”
“Should I pack your grass skirt, boss?” the goon asked.