Free Michael Vey 3 ~ Battle of the Ampere by Richard Paul Evans

removed their hoods, handcuffs, and foot shackles but had left the RESATs connected.
    “Idiots,” Ostin said, looking at the box fastened to his chest. “They don’t even know what the thing does. It doesn’t work on normal people. It’s not a Taser—it’s the opposite of a Taser.” He examined the box. “Wait a minute. . . . Does this thing work like a Taser?” He reached around and unfastened the box from his chest, which was no more difficult than removing a backpack. Red and green diodes began flashing wildly on the plastic-coated box, followed by a soft, high-pitched squeal. The RESAT was designed to activate if it was tampered with, but for a normal human, it was as pointless as trying to drown a fish. He used the metal clip of the RESAT’s buckle to pry off its back, then set the plate aside and examined the circuitry.
    “Yep, there’s the capacitor. It’s huge. I bet it holds a million volts. What’s this . . . oh right, of course. Hmm, I bet if I . . .”
    It took him less than half an hour to figure out how to rewire the machine. When he was done he held the wires two inches apart and electricity sparked between them.
    “Mega-epic voltage,” he said. “This will blow them out of their boots.” He thought for a moment, then said, “No, it needs to do more than shock them.” He carefully reexamined the circuitry. After another five minutes he smiled. “So that’s how it does that. Clever. If I divert this right here . . . Now we’re talking.” He grinned. “Now I just need someone to test it on.”

A s soon as all the teens were secured, the army began interrogations. Taylor, who they guessed to be the leader of the group, was the first to be taken from her cell. As she walked, handcuffed, out of the room she wished Michael was with her, then felt bad for thinking such a thing. No. Anyplace but here.
    She was escorted down the hallway by two Peruvian military police who she tried to reboot but was unable to with the RESAT sucking out most of her power—though she did get one of them to trip. At least she thought she did. He might have just been clumsy.
    She was brought to the interrogation room—a small, rectangular cell with a two-way mirror on one wall. In the center of the room was a square, wooden table with two chairs facing each other. The chair closest to the door was already occupied, and as she entered she could see the back of a man’s head, or at least the Elgen helmet he was wearing, the ones the Elgens always wore around her.
    The soldiers walked Taylor to the empty chair, which faced the mirror. One of the soldiers pulled out the chair while the other unlocked Taylor’s cuffs.
    “Thank you,” she said. She rubbed her wrists, which were already sore from the cuffs.
    The seated man looked at her for a moment, then said softly, “Please have a seat.”
    Taylor glanced at the two soldiers flanking her, then slowly sat down. The two soldiers left the room. The man seated in front of her looked Peruvian, though he was taller than most of the soldiers she’d seen. He was young and, under different circumstances, she might have thought he was kind of hot. There was a pad of lined paper in front of him with a pen. The last time she’d sat down with an adult like this was during her faculty interview for varsity cheerleader.
    For a moment the man just stared at her, as if sizing her up. Then, to her surprise, he smiled at her. “Welcome,” he said. He put out his hand, but Taylor didn’t take it. He held it out for a few seconds, then cocked his head and put his hand back in his lap.
    “My name is Cesar,” he said. “What is your name?”
    He spoke almost without an accent, and Taylor thought he sounded too pleasant for what he was doing. Taylor just pursed her lips and stared at him. After a full minute of silence he said, “Your name?”
    “You already know who I am,” Taylor said. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be wearing that helmet.”
    “That is true,” the