Legacy (16 page)

“Dammit,” Hartwell cursed, reaching out to press one of the buttons on the phone. “Override phone. Patch me to PA home system.”

He waited a moment, saying a silent prayer that the boy had been in the bathroom, or napping, and hadn’t heard the phone.

“Lucas,” he called out, imagining his voice being broadcast into every room of the manor. “Lucas, it’s me. Are you there? I believe we need to discuss something. Please pick up the closest phone.”

He waited, a ball of dread hardening in his stomach.

“Lucas?” he tried again. “Please, I know you’re probably confused by what you’ve found, but I can explain.”

Hartwell’s thoughts had already begun to dissect the situation.
Where did the boy get the idea to search for those specific names?

Either Lucas had chosen not to communicate with him, or worse, he was gone.

Hartwell came to a screeching halt in front of the main entrance to his home and barreled through the front doors. “Lucas?” he called out, walking through the empty corridors, sticking his head into the equally empty rooms. The boy was nowhere to be found. Hartwell bounded up the stairs. He practically ran down the corridor and flung open the door to his son’s room.

“Lucas,” he said, bursting in and looking around. He went to the closet to find that the boy’s clothes were still there.

There was only one other place he could imagine the boy might be.

He descended the stairs two at a time and headed to the elevator that would take him down into the nest.

But if he is in the nest, wouldn’t he have heard my call?
he wondered as the elevator began its descent.

Maybe Lucas was choosing not to respond, wanting to figure out answers on his own before confronting Hartwell with what he had found. That was a possibility.

Hartwell left the elevator as soon as the doors began to open.

“Lucas!” he called out, but no one answered. He was alone.

Hartwell stood in the center of his lab, looking for any sign indicating where the boy might have gone. His eyes touched upon an area in the ceiling where a camera was hidden.

“Computer active,” he said aloud, and all the systems in the lab immediately activated at the sound of his voice. “Security systems review,” he ordered as he turned toward one of the monitors.

The image of Lucas sitting before the computer screen appeared.

“Advance recording,” Hartwell instructed the voice-sensitive system.

The digital recording moved ahead, until he saw the boy
complete his search, shut down the computer, and then stand still in the middle of the lab.

Hartwell’s curiosity was piqued. It appeared the boy was listening to something.

“Volume up,” he instructed the system.

Vertical bars appeared at the bottom of the monitor, showing the volume rising.

And then Hartwell heard what Lucas had been hearing. A tiny voice calling out his name.

Lucas left the vantage point of that particular camera, but another hidden in the ceiling of the lab switched on to continue the surveillance. This one showed the boy near the worktable where Hartwell had been repairing his costume.

“Lucas, it’s me … Putnam,” said the tiny voice.

The cold hand of dread that had been gripping Hartwell’s heart slowly began to squeeze.

Putnam
.

Nicolas Putnam
.

Talon
.

“No,” Hartwell snarled at the screen, feeling his resolve beginning to disintegrate. “Don’t do this.”

Lucas had put on the cowl, making it difficult for Hartwell to hear what Putnam was telling him.

“Does this have anything to do with the list?” he heard Lucas ask the voice.

“Damn you!” Hartwell raged. “You’re going to ruin everything.”

“Each of the names,” Lucas said to Hartwell’s former partner. “They all died in accidents.”

Hartwell experienced a sudden wave of calm.

The Raptor had fully emerged. Cold, hard, calculating; it was he who would handle this delicate situation. The bird of prey watched the boy on the screen as he listened to the voice inside his helmet.

“How do I find you?” Lucas asked, and the Raptor knew what had to be done.

In the digital video, the boy removed his mask and left the lab.

The Raptor stared at the screen for quite some time, formulating his plan. There was a part of him that looked at this situation as dire, that knew nothing good could possibly come from it, yet there was still a spark of damnable humanity that didn’t want to believe it.

This one had shown such promise. He hated to think of Lucas having to go the way of all the others.

The failures
.

Disturbing images flashed before his mind’s eye, images of those that had failed the tests sprung on them. He hated to think of them as anything more than test subjects. It made things much, much easier to handle.

Hartwell stalked across the lab toward the special cabinet where he stored his weapons systems and armor. He decided to give the boy a chance as he punched in the code that would open the cabinet’s wonders to him. The doors slid apart with a welcoming hiss, and he strode inside.

He’d always known that Putnam could be a problem, that he could come so close to perfection and have it all come crashing down around him.

It was enough to make anyone a little crazy.

Now Putnam was attempting to turn the boy against him.

The Raptor knew that the former Talon would not give up without a fight, so he would have to wear his most powerful costume. At the far back of the cabinet, the Raptor stealth armor hung by thick chains, like some sort of mechanical shell waiting to be infused with life. Hartwell removed his clothes and stood before the fearsome visage of the shiny black and scarlet armor. Slowly and purposefully, he began to clothe himself in the new skin that would define his true self.

A fearsome bird of prey on the hunt.

A raptor.

He hoped it wasn’t too late for the boy, that he hadn’t somehow been corrupted by his former partner’s poisonous words.

But if that were the case, he would do what was necessary.

He would put the boy down, as he had the others.

And start the process all over again.

Putnam leaned against the counter. He raised a trembling hand, passing it over the smooth side, then the scarred side of his face.

“I was afraid it might come to this,” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“How did he find us?” Lucas asked, panic growing in his voice.

Putnam shrugged. “He might have stuck some kind of a bug under your skin while you were sleeping, or it could be
something as simple as a tracking signal coming from the car you used to get here.”

“Under my skin?” Lucas asked, rubbing his hands over his arms. “Would he do that?”

Putnam laughed. “This is the guy who’s been killing his own children. To him, sticking some kind of tracking device under your skin is like giving you a piece of candy.”

Katie had moved to her workstation, and her fingers were clicking across the keyboard. “I’m activating all the security systems.”

“Good,” Putnam acknowledged, although he didn’t sound convinced it would be much help.

“You don’t seem all that concerned,” Lucas said. “If he’s as … as crazy as you’re saying …”

Putnam nodded. “I think he is,” he said. “And if I’m right, there isn’t anything that’s going to keep him from getting to us.”

“GPS says that he’s less than five miles away,” Katie announced.

“Maybe we can talk to him,” Lucas suggested. “Maybe there’s a reason for all this that you … we don’t even realize. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Putnam looked as if he felt sorry for the boy. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I did the same thing not all that long ago. No matter what I discovered—no matter what he had done to me—I still wanted to believe in him.”

“Less than two miles out,” Katie said.

Putnam grabbed his crutches and hobbled from the work area, the boy at his heels.

“But you still haven’t answered the major question. Why
would he do this?” Lucas asked. “There has to be something. …”

Putnam led the boy to a darkened area of the work space.

“You want to know what I think it’s about?” Putnam asked, flicking a wall switch.

A single bulb illuminated a glass display case.

“It’s about that.” He pointed to the costume behind the glass. Over the years he had worked on it, trying to improve it so that if the time ever came, he could wear it again. …

Lucas stood before the case, staring.

“It’s about never being able to live up to the expectations of what he believed being a hero was all about.”

The boy said nothing.

“Those he killed … his children … maybe they didn’t live up to his expectations either.”

Lucas turned his head slowly to look at Putnam.
Could it be true?
he wondered.
Could the others have disappointed the Raptor somehow and paid the price with their lives?
With a chilling realization, Lucas wondered how close he might’ve come to letting the old superhero down.

How close he might’ve come to really dying this time.

“I survived,” he said.

And Putnam nodded ever so slowly. “You did,” he agreed.

“He’s here!” Katie announced, her voice cracking.

“Let’s see how you do now.”

The sirens were deafening.

Lucas stood with Putnam and Katie, their eyes glued to the flat-screen monitor on her desk.

“Here’s hoping our security systems hold him back,” Putnam said, watching the screen intently.

“And then what?” Lucas asked.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” Putnam said.

“That certainly inspires confidence.” Katie’s voice was no louder than a whisper.

The Raptor had touched down in front of the facility, the microjets built into his flight boots slowing his descent with powerful bursts of air that kicked up roiling clouds of dust, hiding him from their cameras.

Video cameras were everywhere, and Putnam reached
out to activate them all, individual screens breaking down the single image on the monitor into multiples.

Still, all they could see was dust.

And then the armored figure emerged.

“Holy crap,” Putnam said. “He’s wearing the battle suit.”

“I’ve never seen that one before,” Lucas said, his stomach growing increasingly uneasy. It was as if Hartwell was wearing the superhero-costume equivalent of a tank—dark, sleek, and deadly.

“It’s not something he uses all that often,” Putnam explained. “He must be figuring he’s going to be up against some heavy artillery.”

Putnam moved them aside so he could sit down in the chair. He punched some sort of code into the keyboard, overriding the automated security defense systems.

He was in the driver’s seat now.

“Let’s not disappoint him.”

The dust was settling, and the Raptor scanned the grounds, using the vision-enhancing lenses in his mask, looking for signs of life.

The first thing he noticed was the Mustang.

All the cars in his vast collection were equipped with an antitheft device that emitted a signal that could be traced by most police forces. It hadn’t been any trouble at all to follow the signal using the combat suit’s advanced tracking systems.

No sign of Lucas, though. He turned his attention back to the abandoned medical facility.

He remembered this place as he started toward the stairs,
a place for the wealthy to recover from the stresses of the world. He didn’t remember hearing that it had been closed, but then again, would he have even cared? This had been a place for the weak-minded, for those broken by the ferocity of a changing world.

The Raptor had his own way of dealing with such things.

A tripod-mounted machine gun rose up from a section of lawn to the right of him.

The Raptor spun toward the movement, ready to react as the high-powered weapon opened fire.

The gun roared, a seemingly endless supply of 50-caliber shells striking his armored body and driving him back.

The weapon paused momentarily as its systems reloaded. That was all the Raptor needed.

He sprang at the machine gun, grabbing hold of the firing mechanism before it could begin to spray its deadly projectiles again. The exoskeleton within the costume whined with exertion as it enhanced his strength. He ripped the heavy gun away from the tripod in a flurry of sparks and hissing electrical cables.

“You’re going to need to do better than that, old friend,” the Raptor snarled, throwing the machine gun through the front entrance.

“He’s in!” Katie announced.

“No kidding,” Putnam grumbled, working furiously on the keyboard while staring at the multiple screens.

Lucas gazed in fascination at the armored figure now standing in the entryway.

“Maybe we should leave?” he suggested, considering
what his father might do to them. He was less concerned for his own safety than he was for that of Katie and Putnam.

“A little too late for that,” the former Talon said. “If we were going to abandon ship, we should have done it right after we got the call that he was on the way.”

He punched some more keys. “Don’t worry, we still have a few tricks up our sleeves.”

Lucas didn’t respond, but he was certain it was going to take a lot more than tricks to get them out of this one.

It was going to take a miracle.

More guns waited for the Raptor inside.

From trapdoors hidden in the once-beautiful hardwood floors, new weapons emerged.

The diagnostic system built into his cowl’s eyepieces attempted to determine what type of weaponry it was but could find no match in its extensive library.

It appeared that his former partner had been busy, designing something that hadn’t been seen or catalogued by anyone.

Interesting
.

The guns began to spray him with a thick white liquid, and he immediately knew what he was in for.

Activating his boot jets, he tried to get above the four nozzles, which continued to spray him, but it wasn’t long before the vents in his boots became clogged with the quick-drying material and he dropped heavily to the floor.