Dark Hunter (9 page)

“So you're not going to tell me what to do, or expect me to rob a bank for you or something?”

“My goals are completely selfish. They are to strike a balance between the Foundation and the Council. Both empires are too shortsighted to bother looking into the future. If they did take the time, they would see a potential threat is waiting, preparing to wipe us
all
out.”

Jake was expecting a lecture on the destruction of the environment, but when he caught Mr. Grimm's expression he realized that it was something worse, and much more imminent.

“What would they see?”

Grimm's face flickered for a moment, and Jake saw a glimmer of hopelessness before it was masked again.

“The end of the world.”

Jake's mouth opened but nothing came out. Could there be problems much bigger than the ones he was facing now? The end of the world did seem like a pretty severe outcome.

Grimm spun on his heels and entered the tower. “Come. I have instructions from Chromosome that you must see.”

Jake followed, casting one last glance at his new mountaintop home. With a bit of work he might actually get to like it here.

Chameleon was woken from sleep by the door buzzer. He looked around his cramped dormitory to get his
bearings. The Foundation provided accommodation in all its outposts, but the command center under the hospital was not built for comfort.

He climbed from bed and opened the door, which swung on creaky hinges. They were also not very generous with the technology used in the private quarters. Would it have killed them to install automatic sliding doors?

Chameleon stared at the command center supervisor in front of him.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you wanted to know if Mr. Grimm showed up?”

Before going to bed, Chameleon had spoken to the command center supervisor and asked him to monitor Grimm's movements. He had to keep it quiet as Grimm was a favorite of the boss, and it wasn't good business to spy on your colleagues. But since Grimm had apparently abandoned Toby, Pete, Lorna, and Emily—the only group of heroic Downloaders left—while on a mission to Diablo Island, Chameleon had grown suspicious. And the link between Lorna and Jake made his stomach churn. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about Grimm just didn't feel right. He hoped it was a case of unfounded paranoia.

“Well?”

“He spent some time waiting on top of a multilevel parking lot alone.”

“Who met him?”

“We don't know. We would not have known he was there if our spy satellites hadn't picked up on an energy signature specific to his portal generation skills. Then he vanished.”

“Do you know where to?”

The man shook his head. Chameleon was annoyed with the news.

“Don't tell anybody about this. Let me investigate. I'll be out of communication for a while.”

Chameleon shut the door and looked thoughtfully around. He only needed a few hours' sleep to feel in tip-top condition. It wasn't a superpower, it was just his natural rhythm. He quickly changed clothes as he thought about his strategy.

Though just schoolkids, Toby, Lorna, Emily, and Pete were important assets to the Foundation. Chameleon had become fond of them, although he always maintained a professional demeanor in his rare talks with Toby. He would much rather be out helping Toby's team, but instead he was tasked with finding Hunter, the thorn in his side. If Toby's team failed in their mission, then the Hero Foundation would fall.

He cursed himself for not fighting harder to ensure that Mr. Grimm didn't oversee Toby's team. He couldn't allow any harm to come to them—but he also couldn't allow Jake Hunter to walk free and risk capture
by the Council. By finding Hunter, Chameleon could stop Hunter's friendship with Lorna from developing any further and potentially getting out of hand. And hopefully he'd discover if his suspicions about Mr. Grimm had any grains of truth.

The last thing the Foundation needed was a spy in its ranks.

Mr. Grimm had disappeared on urgent business, leaving Jake several hours to explore his new home. It was bigger than he'd thought. Almost every room had a television and a computer. He discovered an enormous kitchen that was equipped to feed an army, and luckily had a microwave in the corner. He could use it to nuke one of the many meals stashed in the walk-in freezer.

Jake decided he needed a few diabolical plans of his own so that he could afford a catering staff and a butler. Already his mental tally of finances was adding up, and he understood why Basilisk was always complaining that he was broke. Evil lairs were expensive places to run. He wondered if he'd be expected to pay bills.

The castle extended down, via one long staircase, to an underground hangar. It was empty and Jake imagined filling it up with all kinds of expensive toys.

He felt a little lonely in the vast castle and, in an effort to keep his thoughts off his family, found that he
was thinking about Lorna. She was fun, and he enjoyed being with her even if their first date had turned into a wrestling match with a mutant.

He'd like to see her again. That was a strange enough thought. Snooping around earlier, he'd found an adapter that fitted his phone. When it was fully recharged, he tried calling Lorna, but the phone just rang until it went to voice mail. He hung up, suddenly feeling stupid for calling. Perhaps he should wait for
her
to call first? But if
he
waited then maybe
she
would think …

He shook his head. Bringing Lorna into the equation made things more complicated. Instead he tasked himself with finally getting the second enormous television working and channel-surfed through hours of reruns. He stopped at a news channel that was showing live reports from around the world. Everywhere there seemed to be fighting, looting, and explosions. It was utter chaos. The newscasters talked of trouble makers provoking crowds, organized criminals taking advantage of overstretched security, and terrorists coordinating attacks. But Jake knew it was the work of over zealous supervillains.

Mr. Grimm finally appeared through a portal, so silently that he startled Jake. Grimm did not waste any further time as he explained Chromosome's plan to kidnap the president.

It was ambitious. In many ways it was the biggest task Jake had ever faced. Literally.

Chromosome didn't just want the president; she wanted him
and
Air Force One—the president's private aircraft. Chromosome had designed the plan to cause maximum shock and awe to the population. Of course that made Jake's task all the more difficult.

“I still don't know
who
Chromosome is. Why should I trust a member of the Council?”

Grimm looked at his watch before deciding to speak. “You know what the Council is. Chromosome has one of the eight seats of power and has ambitions to run the Council herself. And she could. She is manipulative, ruthless, and has a skill to create life from inanimate objects. She calls them her Legion. You have seen them in the form of the metal spiders that follow her everywhere. Be careful of them; they are not what they seem. Chromosome does indeed have the power to help you. But she also has her own agenda.”

A snort of mirthless laughter escaped Jake. He wasn't surprised; everybody had their own agendas. It probably explained why
nobody
ever succeeded in ruling the world—too many conflicts of interest. “And what is her agenda exactly?”

“She has been sowing the seeds of uprising within the Council. The job of heading the Council is supposed to rotate among members. But for some time it has stayed with the one they call Necros. And he has built up supporters from within the Council's own
ranks. Chromosome sees the logical outcome being that eventually Necros will declare himself as supreme leader and will have no need for the other Council members.”

“So she'll bump him off and run the show?”

“Colorfully put. And if she has the president under her control, then she has the world's most powerful army at her disposal
and
the Council of Evil at her fingertips. It's not a difficult equation to work out.”

Mr. Grimm selected the powers that Jake was likely to need for his mission from Villain.net and stepped to the other side of the room as the snaking probe extended from the screen. For a moment it seemed as though the probe would seek out Grimm, but after wavering, it swung toward Jake.

Now Jake felt fully energized—better than ever, in fact. He suspected that Grimm had inserted a few extra powers to rev him up. Once Grimm was satisfied that Jake knew what he was doing, he excused himself and slipped through a portal without wishing Jake good luck.

Jake opened his eyes again as he flew through cotton-ball-like cumulonimbus clouds. His flying power was more potent than the first one he'd tried—Mr. Grimm had explained that there were several “strengths” of
powers available. Jake could now breathe easily at high altitudes, and he didn't feel the ice-cold winds as he had when he escaped the island prison.

He glanced at the GPS strapped to his wrist. It had been one of the gadgets in his tower. Grimm had explained how to set the global positioning satellite coordinates. It had also been programmed with his target's predicted destination, which was tricky because the target was moving.

At least it was daylight and the weather around him was good. He had relatively clear views across the North Atlantic Ocean, which was dotted with white chunks of ice. His GPS told him he was right on target, a couple of hundred miles off the Canadian coast. Now he would have to rely on observation to locate what he was seeking.

It took several minutes before he saw the glint of sunlight on the white paint of an aircraft. He estimated it was about two miles away. Jake kicked out, gaining a little extra height as he circled around the back of his target.

As he drew near, the writing along the fuselage became clearer. The words “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA” ran along the center of the aircraft in bold letters. Underneath the writing a sky-blue strip ran the length of the Boeing VC-25A, a military version of the 747, before it spread across the front cockpit. The Stars
and Stripes were painted on the tail, over the flight number “29000.”

This was the one Jake wanted, his target: Air Force One.

Two F-22 Raptor fighters escorted the aircraft. When the threat from the failure of Hero.com spread to major cities, the president had taken to the air to monitor the crisis from there. The vice president had been bundled aboard a similar aircraft, designated Air Force Two, which was circling the opposite ocean—the Pacific.

Jake flew closer and focused on the task at hand. This was a daring stunt. He reminded himself that he was doing this solely to get the information to win back his family, and surely that should override any doubts he had.

But it didn't. No matter how much Jake weighed it, what he was about to do was nothing short of an act of war. And once he handed the president over to Chromosome … he tried to ignore those thoughts. That wasn't his problem.
Shouldn't
be his problem …

“Get a grip,” he murmured to himself.

The fighter escort and crew of Air Force One would have no idea he was trailing them; he was too small to show up on radar. On board Air Force One there were fifty people. Aside from crew, there would be the president, secretary of defense, military aides, and five-star generals as well as Secret Service bodyguards who were
trained to jump in the path of bullets to protect the president.

Grimm had told him to kill any nonessential personnel if they got in his way, but Jake was going to do it
his
way—which consisted mostly of serious improvisation.

He edged closer, angling under the tail wings. From here he could hear the rumble of the four powerful engines pushing the aircraft along at six hundred and thirty miles per hour. His first problem was how to get into a pressurized aircraft without breaking the airtight seal. He had talked with Grimm about downloading teleportation, but teleportation was not accurate enough. Plus there were no photographs of the inside of the craft available, so Jake had no way of correctly visualizing his destination, which was crucial with teleportation.

He was mentally running through his options when he noticed that another aircraft had appeared ahead of them. He squinted, making out a long tube dangling from the back of the new arrival. His first instinct was that it was another plane trying to attack Air Force One, but this proved unfounded when neither F-22 tried to intercept it. As the aircraft grew larger, images from television flooded Jake's mind and he realized what was happening.

It was a huge slate-gray KC-10 refueling plane. It had a hose running out behind it that ended in a drogue, a
large shuttlecock-like attachment that slipped over the refueling probes on both fighters and Air Force One. Refueling was a delicate operation that took supreme skill from all pilots involved in the operation. Once connected, jet fuel would refill the aircrafts' tanks, allowing them to stay airborne longer.

Jake felt Air Force One slow down as it positioned itself behind and just under the KC-10. This was a situation Jake hadn't counted on. If he was going to get the president, then he didn't have time to dawdle.

Jake stuck to the fuselage, under the tail section. This allowed him to stop flying and to be carried along like an insect. The wind flow was a lot fiercer here as the air was forced along the fuselage at high speeds. He scuttled along the belly of the craft, so the ground was now above his head. The two escort fighters were positioned just above the Boeing so the pilots could not see him crawl the seventy-five yards toward the nose of the craft.

Where the body of the plane began to taper toward the nose, Jake stopped to get his bearings. He'd tried to memorize the plans Grimm had shown him, but he was still unsure of his exact position. He
should
be directly outside the forward cargo hold. He closed his eyes to make sure he summoned the correct downloaded power; a mistake now could be fatal for both him and for the occupants of the plane.