LATER THAT night, Alice picked us up. I had wondered whether things would still feel tense when I saw her, but it was obvious that all was forgiven. Time in hell really puts things in perspective. She took us to Hamilton’s, which had been converted from an art studio into a makeshift operations center for the Free Johnny and Sarah project.

They were all eager to talk to us but I couldn’t hold back any longer.“Johnny, we need to tell them that awful thing we saw,” I said.

He nodded.

“They have Butters,” I said.

Betty let out a gasp.

“Where?” asked Alice.

“At the Luther. He’s in the Mental Health unit. All doped up.”

Betty was about to faint. “What are they doing to him? What are they doing to my Butters?”

“I don’t know,” said Johnny. “It’s not that bad in there.”

“Well, it’s not great, but it’s nothing like the prison floors,” I added.

“We need to get him out,” Betty said to the room and me. “Now.” How? Everyone asked, with their mouths or their eyes or both.“I don’t know,” Betty said. But we need too.”

“I think they showed us him as a warning,” I said.

“Of what?” Betty said. “We all deal with stuff.”

“I don’t know. What they can do. That they still have people we love.”

“Well I’m getting him out. Now.” She was ready to write letters, to storm the barricades. I shuddered to think of Betty meeting the Luther, a land without any rules“Betty don’t,” I said, trying to grab her wrist as she stormed off. Johnny held me back. They were still messing with us, even outside their awful prison.

“So,” I said, “what have you guys been up to?”

At one table, Tape Deck was dissecting the bracelets Rosa wore. One of them was half disassembled, its smooth plastic surface opened to reveal a patchwork of tiny metal pieces and circuits. The other no longer resembled a bracelet at all, it was spread out across the table, each piece with a pencil scrawling next to it. “What’s going on here?” I asked her, surveying the transistors and boards. She picked up a piece with his tweezers, a small black box with tiny red wires leading out of it, and held it up.

“This,” she said, dramatically, “is a satellite controlled transmitter. It is wired to turn the device on and off, so someone can remotely control it from anywhere in the world.” Johnny came over, his arm laced around Alice’s hip like he would never let go.“Wait,” I said, “that means… shoot, Rosa, come here!” This was big news if it was true.

Tape Deck validated my thinking. “Yup. The device worked fine. Someone just turned it off during the show. It wasn’t an accident that happened. It was planned.”“But who, why?” Alice asked.

“I don’t know, but from the look of it, someone who worked at or for PeriGenomics. This has their tech written all over it.”

“Sam?” I muttered to myself.

“This whole thing was a set up. They wanted that earthquake so they had an excuse to get us,” Johnny said.

“But why would they want to arrest some kids?” I asked.

“You saw last night, for Mom. We were bait for the big fish. They wanted to use us a bargaining chip.”

“I have something else to show you,” said Alice. She took us over to a table that had photographs spread all over it and a computer in the center with tiny cameras attached to rubber bands.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Operation Alvin,” Alice said. She smiled to herself. “I’ve been fitting these little cameras on squirrels and chipmunks and having them spy on PeriGenomics for me. I figured after what Tape Deck found they might see something damning.”

I picked one up and turned it in my hand. “Wow, these are pretty cool.”

“So what you got?” Johnny asked.

She pulled up a few files and opened them up. They were grainy pictures, some in color, some in black and white, of the PeriGenomics buildings. People walking in and out, trucks dropping off supplies, picking up things. Nothing special.

“That,” she said, and pointed to a small figure. She pushed a few buttons and the figure got larger. He was wearing an elaborate costume, like a Hero, and walking past PeriGenomics employees like some regular shlub. It took me a moment to figure out who it was.

“Holy what,” I blurted. “I know that face. I fought that face!”

“Admiral Doom in the flesh,” Alice said. She pulled up picture after picture of the Admiral walking into and out of PeriGenomics. It was clear that he was not attacking the place or putting some crazy hex so they couldn’t see him. It was mundane and banal. Pictures of the Admiral parking his car (a Honda Civic), the Admiral walking in with coffee, the Admiral sitting with coworkers at a picnic table eating a sandwich, the Admiral talking to the top brass at PeriGenomics. It was obvious. He wasn’t a supervillain at all. He wasn’t out to steal whatever he stole at MIT, he wasn’t out to take down PeriGenomics and wreak havoc throughout Doolittle Falls. At the end of the day, Admiral Doom was a regular guy. He was a PeriGenomics employee.