Legacy (12 page)

The man nodded. “I can’t believe he didn’t mention me,” he muttered.

“Who?”

“Hartwell,” Putnam snarled. “The Raptor.”

Lucas decided to play dumb. “I don’t have any idea what—”

“Cut the crap. I know all about Clayton Hartwell and his other identity. I used to be his sidekick,” Putnam said with pride. “I used to be Talon.”

Lucas’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Talon?
You were actually Talon?”

Putnam nodded. “I certainly was.”

“But I thought you were dead.” Lucas vaguely remembered the stories about the Raptor and Talon and how something really bad had happened to the team, leaving only the Raptor alive.

Putnam snarled. “He probably wishes I was, but no such luck.”

“And I’m Katie,” the girl said with a quick wave.

“Hi,” Lucas said, returning the wave before turning back to Putnam. “I don’t get it. Why would he want you dead?”

The man’s eyes became very dark. “Isn’t that what a murderer does?” he asked. “Wish people dead?”

“What are you talking about?” Lucas asked, starting to feel uncomfortable. “Are you talking about my … about Hartwell?” He caught himself.

“Don’t worry, I know all about him being your father,” Putnam said. “And yeah, that’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

Lucas set the half-empty tray of sandwiches down on the cot beside him. “I don’t like where this is going. If I were you, I’d explain myself really quick.”

“He killed my father,” Katie blurted out.

Lucas felt as though he’d been doused with freezing water. He could see the emotion in her eyes, the hurt on her face, but before he had a chance to question her more, a series of alarms began to blare.

“It’s too late for this now,” Putnam said, glancing over at the computer.

Katie went to the screen, leaning in to the keyboard. “It’s him,” she said, looking back to them.

“I figured we’d have only so much time,” Putnam said. “The whole business with him sending you into the Science Club’s hideout provided us with the perfect opportunity to meet you. I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You knew I was going to be there?” Lucas asked. “What, did you follow me or something?”

“Or something,” Putnam said, straining to lift himself out of the chair. “We keep an eye on whatever Hartwell is doing.”

Katie was still at the computer, her fingers flying over the keys. “He’s homing in on a signal still coming from the costume,” she said. “I think we’ve got to drop our guest right here, now, before it’s too late.”

Putnam grabbed Lucas by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

“If you value your life, I don’t recommend you mention this little meeting,” he said.

“Are you threatening me?” Lucas asked, feeling a spark of anger.

Putnam shook his head. “Not at all,” he said, escorting Lucas down the cramped hall until they reached a door.

Up until this point, Lucas had believed he was inside a building of some kind, but he suddenly realized he was actually inside an RV.

“I just think you’d be smart to keep your mouth shut until you’ve heard all the facts,” the man said. He leaned over and pulled on the latch, and the door swung open.

“And what if I don’t?” Lucas asked, stepping outside.

The RV was parked on the side of a dirt road, not too far from the waterfront. Lucas could smell the ocean in the air.

“Then I can’t be held responsible for what he does,”

Putnam said, ready to slam the door on the buslike vehicle. “Just give me a little time, and I’ll find a chance for us to talk again.”

“And when will that be?” Lucas asked.

“I’ll be in touch,” the man said.

Katie suddenly appeared in the doorway, holding his damaged mask in her hands. She bounded down the steps to hand it to him.

“Don’t forget this. And don’t let him see this,” she added, handing him a folded piece of paper.

“I don’t—” Lucas began.

“We gotta go, girl,” Putnam said, and she turned away and jumped into the RV. Lucas could still hear the sound of the alarms blaring inside.

“All I’m asking is for you to trust us,” Putnam said before he closed the door.

A moment later, the tires spun out in the dirt as the RV drove quickly away, heading back toward the city.

Lucas watched the vehicle until it was out of sight; then he turned his attention to the folded piece of paper in his hand. He unfolded it, his curiosity getting the better of him.

On the paper were nine names.

He wasn’t familiar with any of them.

Lucas flinched, suddenly bathed in a blinding light from above. Shielding his eyes against the glare, he looked to the sky to see his father’s stealth copter silently hovering over his head.

Just like the whole conversation he’d just had with Nicolas Putnam and Katie, he hadn’t seen it coming.

The ride back to Hartwell Manor was filled with questions: the ones from his father and the ones bouncing around inside his own head.

Is it possible?
Lucas asked himself as the craft made its descent toward their sprawling home.
Is Clayton Hartwell a murderer?

He chanced a look at the man as Hartwell dropped the chopper to the landing square at the back of the manor. He had to admit, he’d been a little surprised to see his father in full costume.

“Something wrong?” Hartwell asked as they touched down with a gentle bump.

“No,” Lucas responded. “Just surprised to see you all dressed up is all.”

“Didn’t know what I might be up against,” the older man said, climbing from the craft. “Let’s get down to the nest and check you out.”

Lucas climbed stiffly from the passenger’s side. He was amazed at how much his body still ached, even after the sandwiches. The Science Club must’ve really done a job on him.

“I told you I was fine,” he said. “I just need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.”

“That will come later,” Hartwell said, stepping into the elevator. “I’m going to run a complete diagnostic on you, as well as on the costume, and then you’re going to tell me exactly what happened, beat by beat.”

Lucas leaned against the elevator wall with a sigh. “It wasn’t embarrassing enough, now you want me to relive it?”

“That’s how we learn,” Hartwell said, pulling his own mask off as the doors to the elevator opened onto his elaborate workstation.

Lucas followed. He was finding it difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

“Take the costume off and get up on the examination table,” Hartwell ordered. He went to one of the control panels and flicked a few switches, activating the tools he would use on Lucas.

Lucas did as he was told, but waited until his father wasn’t looking to remove the folded piece of paper Katie had given him from inside his boot. There was a bathrobe hanging from a hook nearby and he put it on, sliding the paper into the pocket.

Hartwell turned from the instrument panel. “So, shall we begin?”

The tests went on for hours. Lucas swore there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t get scanned or poked. He lay on the table, having great difficulty keeping his eyes open as his father went over screen after screen of data.

“From the looks of this,” Hartwell said, startling him awake, “you’re lucky to be alive right now.”

I don’t know if I’d call it lucky, the way I feel
, Lucas thought.

“Your nanites were seriously damaged in the attack. They actually had to repair themselves before they could repair you,” Hartwell explained gravely.

“That’s probably why I feel like I got hit by a bus,” Lucas said, remembering that, in fact, he had been hit by a van.

“I’m surprised you’re not feeling worse,” Hartwell said, wheeling his chair over from the computer screens to sit beside the examination table. “Where did you go after getting out of the Kessler Building?”

Lucas shrugged. “I just ran,” he lied. “I wasn’t sure I could survive another blast from one of their guns.”

“So you just ran until I found you?” Hartwell asked.

“I think I might’ve passed out for a few seconds here and there, but yeah.”

Hartwell nodded and stood, placing a strong hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “You did well tonight,” he said.

Lucas smiled. “How come I get the idea you’re lying through your teeth?”

His father laughed. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m just glad to see you in one piece. For a while there, I thought you were dead.”

He went back to the computer to check the diagnostics
on the costume, which had been hooked up to a series of sensors.

Lucas wanted to tell him who he had met, but Nicolas Putnam’s words echoed through his mind, rendering him mute.

All I’m asking is for you to trust us
.

“I’m probably going to be pulling an all-nighter down here,” Hartwell said, turning from his work. “Why don’t you go get something to eat and hit the sack? We’ll see how you’re doing in the morning.”

Much relieved, Lucas jumped down from the table and padded across the cold floor of the underground lab to the elevator. He pushed the button, and as the door slid open, he stuck his hands into the pocket of his robe. The folded paper from Katie was still there.

“Clayton,” he called out.

His father turned toward him. “Yes, Lucas?”

Lucas closed his hand around the mysterious list.

He killed my father
, he heard the cute girl say again, each word dipped in pain.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” Hartwell turned back to his work. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Lucas responded as the elevator door closed and the car began its ascent back up to the manor house.

Good night
, Lucas thought wryly. With all he had to think about, he wondered if he would ever have one of those again.

His sleep that night was marred by bizarre dreams. He was back on the streets of the War Zone, but all the buildings were burning, and his father—fully costumed—stood staring at the neighborhood engulfed in fire.

“It wasn’t always like this,”
Lucas heard his father say, before the Raptor leapt into the air.

A voice he could barely make out whispered in his ear, and he looked to see the girl—Katie—standing beside him.

Her eyes were fixed on the sight of his father—of the Raptor—circling the sky above the flames.

“What did you say?”
he asked.

“He killed my father,”
she said, her voice louder as she began to cry tears of blood.

The air was suddenly filled with the sounds of screaming,
and Lucas saw that his father had come down to the street, fighting a gang that attacked him.

There was something different about him now. He seemed larger, the black and red Raptor’s colors he wore looking less like a costume and more like his actual skin.

The gang had dropped to their knees, covering their heads in submission. But that didn’t stop the Raptor. He attacked with abandon, picking up the surrendering gang-bangers and tearing them limb from limb.

The victims screamed as the Raptor laughed, moving from one to the other without a sign of mercy.

“You don’t want to do this!”
Lucas found himself screaming, running toward the ominous figure.

The Raptor whirled on him with a snarl, eyes like two burning coals floating in the darkness. He was holding bloody, dripping pieces of one of the gang members in large, clawed hands.

“It’s time for you to wake up, Lucas,”
the monstrous version of the Raptor growled, its eyes burning brighter.

“Wake up.”

Lucas awoke bathed in warm sunlight. The sudden exposure made him squirm, sending him scrambling beneath the covers like a vampire.

“What’s going on?” he grumbled, his voice rough from sleep. His heart was still racing as he remembered his dream. His nightmare.

“I’m going to be gone for most of the day,” Hartwell said, pinning back the curtains, allowing the sun’s full effect to
flood the bedroom. “And I want to be sure you’re up and around.”

Lucas slowly emerged from beneath the sheet and blanket. His father was dressed in a tailored black suit and was normal size again, nothing like the monster in his dream.

“Where are you off to?” Lucas asked, pushing himself up in the bed.

“Every once in a while I have to go into the city and show my face to the board of directors,” Hartwell explained.

He didn’t look at all pleased, and Lucas was sure the man would have prefered to be back in the lower levels of the manor, in the nest, working on some new kind of gadget.

“I like to remind them I’m still alive,” the man added.

Hartwell leaned on his cherrywood cane, and Lucas noticed he looked a bit paler this morning.

“Are you feeling all right?” the boy asked, pictures of a brutish Hartwell flashing before his eyes.

“I’m good,” the older man said gruffly, turning on his heels and limping toward the door. “Our activity last night has taken a bit more from me than expected. I’ll be fine.”

Lucas threw back the covers and climbed from the bed.

“There’s plenty to keep you busy while I’m gone,” Hartwell said in the doorway. “I’ve set up a computer tutorial that will tell you about all the catalogued supervillains in the world. I’d like you to read up on them … get to know them … their strengths and weaknesses. You never know when you might run into one.”

Lucas shook his head. “You’ve catalogued all the known supervillains?”

“Do you find something strange about that?”

The boy walked stiffly to the chair in the corner and retrieved his robe. “No, it’s just that sometimes I wonder how you have time to fight crime with all your research and cataloguing.”

“It hasn’t been an easy life,” the older man said. “I made a lot of sacrifices. And I guess you could say I’m paying for them now.”

The room became deathly quiet, and Lucas felt awkward.

“I’ll see you sometime tonight,” Hartwell said, quickly turning to leave.

Lucas sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. The previous night’s activities and the memories of his nightmare flooded into his mind. What was he going to do?

Putnam had asked for time to prove he was telling the truth. Should Lucas give it to him? What should he do until then? The questions gave him a headache, but Lucas really didn’t see that there was much of a choice.