Dark Hunter (14 page)

CHROMOSOME WILL TRY TO DOUBLE-CROSS
YOU. IF SHE DOES NOT GIVE YOU PSYCH'S LOCATION, THEN DO NOT GIVE HER THE PRESIDENT. IT IS OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU

Jake sighed, that's all there was. Grimm obviously was not a fan of sending abbreviated text messages, otherwise he could have got the whole thing in one text. A third message arrived moments later.

FLEE IF YOU MUST. DO NOT LET HER FOLLOW YOU BACK. DO NOT LET HER HAVE THE PRESIDENT FOR NOTHING. WATCH YOUR BACK!

Jake Googled his destination and made sure he had enough photographic references so that he could teleport there with the president and his entourage. Then he headed down to the hangar to prepare them.

The image of the president's family hung in his head, and Jake felt doubt gnaw at him. If Chromosome was planning to double-cross him, then he was going to get
very
angry.

In the stillness of the Romanian night there appeared to be no activity in the single-spire castle. Chameleon watched from a mountain peak opposite; in his lizard form he was as still as a gargoyle. When he did move, it was like a whisper through the dark. He flew across the
valley and latched on to the sheer cliff walls. He could still see the solitary light burning in the tower. There was no sign of movement.

Chameleon had hacked into Mr. Grimm's files at the Foundation. Grimm was a contractor hired to fix problems that the Hero Foundation couldn't or wouldn't, so there was very little in his records other than the meticulously documented reports on the various operations he had performed for the Foundation. This was classified material, and something that Chameleon should not have been privy to. It felt like reading the files from a corrupt government rather than the squeaky-clean Hero Foundation. But he supposed that was what Mr. Grimm was usually hired for—dirty work.

He was annoyed not to find anything incriminating, so he forced himself to read through the files again. This time he noticed a reference to seizing a castle lair from a notorious supervillain Baron Von Gloom, and a photo of the castle itself. Usually a defeated villain's assets would be utilized by the Foundation or sold for a profit.

Chameleon sighed. He remembered reading about the old days when the Foundation would donate such buildings to orphanages and hospitals. How times change, even for the good guys.

Chameleon cross-referenced Von Gloom's castle with the Foundation's main database but drew a blank.
It appeared to be missing. It was such a large oversight for Grimm to make … unless it was deliberate. Could Grimm have kept the asset for himself? It was a thin lead, but enough to raise Chameleon's suspicions. He left the Foundation HQ in secrecy and teleported to Romania.

Now that he was here, Chameleon knew he had little choice but to infiltrate the castle and poke around. He glanced down at the flat valley below, and hesitated. It was
unusually
flat. He recalled reading that Baron Von Gloom had a penchant for aircraft—so he guessed that the valley must be an old landing strip.

Chameleon flew headfirst down the cliff and landed gently. The ground was firm beneath his clawed feet, and covered in dirt and brambles. He had guessed right; it was obviously once a landing strip but with nowhere to shelter aircraft. Curious, he turned to examine the sheer wall and began probing around. Villains were a predictable lot, and there was no doubt a—CLICK! A section of the wall pushed inward under his clawed hand and the cliff rolled apart; the seams between the two doors had been artfully blended together.

Now Chameleon could see straight into an aircraft hangar and he braced himself to unleash a fireball. But instead he was greeted by stillness. The hangar was brightly lit, and he was shocked to see the battered carcass of Air Force One. Before Chameleon had left there
had been no reports that the president was missing, but he had now been gone for many hours. He resisted the temptation to run in and shout for his old friend.

He quickly searched the hangar and confirmed he was alone, before he turned his attention to the aircraft. His first thoughts that it was a fake were dashed when he explored inside. He'd been invited aboard Air Force One when he had saved the president's daughter. But since governments had strict guidelines that prevented any Super from entering seats of power, he hadn't been invited into the White House. Just in case.

Chameleon's heart sank. The president had been in trouble while he had been poking his nose in restricted Foundation archives instead of doing his job. The next question on his mind was, how did this all link with Grimm? At least it confirmed his suspicions that Grimm was up to no good.

Chameleon sneaked out of the only door, which was partially open, and up a broad, spiral staircase. After several minutes, and with throbbing thigh muscles, he calculated that he must now be in the castle basement. He passed several dark prison cells and looked inside. Empty.

Further investigation took him up another level to the kitchen area, where he could hear a radio playing Romanian songs that reminded him painfully of the European version of
American Idol.

He poked his head around the kitchen door. It was decked out with modern stainless steel and all the implements needed for a gourmet chef. It had a huge refrigerator, and a massive fire burned in front of an oak table. The aroma of cooked food on the table caught his nostrils and made his stomach rumble.

That noise was the only cue Igor needed. He had been hiding under the table with a meat cleaver in his hands. His instructions had been simple. Defend the castle from any intruders. He leaped out without a whisper.

Chameleon barely managed to duck as the cleaver swished over his head. He retaliated with a punch—which fell wide. Igor was nimble, and tossed the blade into his other hand as he circled the hero.

Chameleon quickly assessed the situation. If the man had any superpowers he would have used them instead of the cleaver, which meant he was just the cook. Chameleon almost laughed. He had dealt with vile supervillains who could tear the flesh off a person with a sonic scream; he had stopped nuclear attacks, earthquakes, and robberies. An ordinary guy posed no problems.

His tail whipped out, aiming straight for the man's face. But Igor easily dodged the overconfident blow and struck out with the cleaver. Chameleon felt a stab of pain as the blade sliced his tail in two. Blood splattered the stainless-steel refrigerator door.

Chameleon dropped to his knees in agony, and Igor seized his moment of weakness to pounce. This time Chameleon acted in time and unleashed a fireball that plucked the man from the air, mid-leap, and hurled him against a wall rack of utensils. He fell to the floor with a loud clatter, his shirt smoldering. He didn't move.

Right now Chameleon didn't care if he had killed the man or not. He grabbed the end of his tail and squeezed tightly to stem the blood flow. He closed his eyes and willed the pain away. It wasn't easy. But after what seemed like an eternity the pain faded and a new section of his tail started to grow a few inches at a time. It wasn't a superpowered healing factor. Like most common lizards, Chameleon had the ability to regenerate his tail if it was severed, though of course his regenerated much quicker, and it was still a painful process.

Only after he was whole again did he check on the cook. He felt a weak pulse. Satisfied the man was alive, he prowled around the rest of the castle.

It didn't take him long to discover that, aside from the cook, the place was empty. In a bathroom, he found a stack of old smelly clothes that he recognized as belonging to Jake Hunter, and a television playing the news. In a couple of minutes Chameleon was fully briefed on the rapidly changing world situation, and the fact that the president was missing. That confirmed his suspicions: Grimm was working for the enemy—at
the very least he was colluding with Hunter. Chameleon decided not to report his discovery to the Foundation just yet. He would need hard evidence to convince the Foundation's leader. He had to catch Grimm red-handed.

He finally climbed the castle's tower and found himself in what passed for a command center. His eyes were immediately drawn to a computer screen showing pictures of Liberty Island. Chameleon scoured the Internet history and found that was all Hunter had been searching for. He decided that must be where he was taking the president.

He glanced at the computer's clock and prayed that he could make it there in time to save him.

Jake stared up at the floodlit back of the Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, more commonly known as the Statue of Liberty. He stood in the circular walkway surrounding it, and even from more than three hundred feet away he had to crane his neck to take in the full statue.

Liberty Island was empty. Nobody patrolled it at this time of night except a few coast guard vessels. The president stood with him, gazing up. His Secret Service crew were still encased, and Jake had had enough of the secretary of defense's complaining and had zapped him into a crystalline statue too.

“It was a gift from the French, you know,” said the president when he regained his balance after the sudden teleportation. “A symbol of liberty and freedom.”

Jake didn't respond. He nervously glanced northeast to the battery of lights that formed the Manhattan skyline, and behind him, at the shores of New Jersey. He felt like an open target here on a small island in Hudson Bay.

The president pointed to the irregular eleven-star foundation and narrow granite plinth the statue stood on. Jake felt as if he was with a tour guide. “The height's all an illusion though. That base is higher than the statue itself. Still … she's a wondrous sight to behold.”

Jake looked sidelong at him. He'd been mulling over Mr. Grimm's message—Chromosome was not to be trusted and would certainly betray him.

“You should go.”

The president stared at him incredulously. “What? Are you kidding?”

“No, seriously. Get out of here. This is all wrong. Chromosome has no intention of helping me track down Psych. She just wanted me to do her dirty work.”

The president still made no move. “You'll forgive me if I don't believe you.”

Jake turned to him. “Go back to your family.” He nodded his head toward the frozen entourage. “Them too. This is not your fight.”

The president looked at him long and hard. “We're on my country's soil. That makes it my fight.”

Jake's response never made it to his lips. The water in front of the statue erupted as a circular Council of Evil craft rose from the bay and silently drifted across the island, dripping water like rain as it landed next to the statue. The ramp unfolded from the belly and Jake tensed, hissing at the president.

“Run! Get out of here!”

This time the president heeded his words and darted for cover in the trees. Jake suddenly remembered everybody else was still frozen.

Too late to deal with that now.

Chromosome walked down the concourse toward him, a sea of metal spiders glinting around her feet.

“That's far enough, Chromosome!”

She stopped and folded her arms, looking relaxed and amiable. She studied the president's frozen entourage lining the circular plaza.

“Where is the president, Hunter? I saw him on my monitors when we landed. Is he hiding? Afraid of me?”

“If you know he's here, then tell me where Psych is.”

Her hesitation was enough for Jake to know he had been duped. “What you achieved, Hunter, was nothing short of a miracle. Some of your powers have evolved beyond what anybody has ever seen before. You are truly a force to be reckoned with. Why not join me? With our combined strength we could get rid of the Council, the Foundation, and all these warring nations. We could eradicate all life on this planet and start the world again. A new Garden of Eden, just you and me creating life that only
we
think is worthy.”

This level of madness surprised Jake. He'd heard about overthrowing the Council from Basilisk, and he
didn't care about that—although the Council was becoming a thorn in his side, and he would have to deal with it sooner or later. But restarting the world … Though the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Just him and Chromosome, a perfect partnership. They would be …

Jake shook his head, clearing away the rose-tinted image conjured by Chromosome's beguiling voice. “You want to play God!”

Chromosome smiled. “And why not? Think about it, Hunter. We'll do a better job. You and I. A fresh new world.”

Jake had a warm feeling when she spoke, and he could clearly see a utopia crafted by them both. But he closed his eyes, suspecting that Chromosome had some kind of charm power, something that made men susceptible to her demands. He wasn't going to fall for that.

Eradication of
all life
was what she was suggesting. That was
pure
evil.

This is where years of never listening to his sister would finally come in handy. He could just tune Chromosome out.

“I'm only interested in finding Psych. We had a deal. Where is he?”

“Japan … or was it France? Ah, I remember now, he was last seen in the Big Apple, just over there. Or was
that Egypt? You know … I just can't remember such trivia. If you don't have the decency to listen to my offers of power, then,” her honey tones returned, “just give me the president. Where is he?”

Jake saw her head snap toward the trees lining the concourse, and realized that
he
was pointing in the direction the president had run. The subtle tones in her voice must have unconsciously persuaded him to raise his arm. The Legion skittered in that direction.

“No!” Jake launched a fireball at the carpet of bugs. The blast was so severe it gouged a crater into the redbrick concourse and sent the arachnids flipping through the air.

“My Legion!” screamed Chromosome.

Jake turned on her. He didn't know the full extent of her powers, but he wasn't willing to give her the opportunity to use them. He threw another fireball that blasted the ground—but she nimbly cartwheeled aside. When the smoke had cleared, Jake could see that her Legion had reformed and were charging toward him.