The Doomsday Device (Teen Superheroes Book 2) (3 page)

Ebony.

I instantly realized what she intended to do. I chased her down the aisle. She positioned herself next to the icy barrier that her brother had created.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“Titanium.”

She placed her hand against the ice and the barrier immediately began to change color. It was changing to a shade of dull silver. Within moments Ebony had used her transmutation ability to strengthen the plug.

“It’s one of the strongest and lightest metals known to man,” Ebony said. “I’m changing most of the hull as well.”

The terrible groaning that had affected the hull subsided. I was just about ready to relax slightly when I realized the plane was veering wildly to one side again.

Chad and Brodie joined us.

“What’s going on with the plane?” Chad asked. “Why can’t the pilots get it under control?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.

Kelly, the stewardess, joined our group. Her eyes opened as wide as plates.

“What’s going on back here?” Her mouth fell open. “How did you fix the hull?”

“We didn’t do anything,” I said. “It just fixed itself.”

Okay, it was the worst explanation in history, but I didn’t have another option at the time.

The plane veered back level again, but began to go back into a dive.

“Why isn’t the plane leveling out?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe some other damage occurred when the explosion happened.”

“It’s the tail,” a voice came from down the aisle.

We grouped around a couple of seats where a man was peering out the window towards the rear of the plane.

“I think debris hit the tail,” he said. “It looks like part of it is missing.”

Brodie pushed past him and looked out the window.

“We need -.” She began.

Before she could say anything more, the plane’s nose abruptly began to rise again. Someone nearby dragged off their air mask and vomited.

“I know,” Chad said. “We need a new tail.”

He looked through the window and focused. A few seconds later he moved out of the way and Ebony took his place at the window.

She smiled. “One new tail. Not as good as the first, but good enough so we can land.”

Kelly looked at us in amazement. “Who are you kids? How did you do that?”

Some of the other passengers were looking at us in amazement. I looked to Dan. He nodded to me without speaking.

“I’ll explain,” he said. “Just as soon as we land.”

The major airport servicing Las Vegas is McCarran International Airport. Half an hour after the plane had landed, Dan positioned himself at the front door as people exited the plane. Upon landing, Ebony had already turned the appropriate parts of the 747 back to their original substances. She evaporated the tail and the hole in the side of the plane.

“You will forget any of us were ever on board this plane,” Dan told the departing passengers.

People smiled and nodded in return.

“You were never here,” an elderly man told him.

“We’ve never seen you before in our lives,” an entire family chimed in unison as they marched past us.

“The force will be with you,” Dan said cheekily. “Always.”

As the last of the passengers disembarked, Kelly and a few of the other stewardesses grouped around us.

“The pilots have to be congratulated for landing the plane under such terrible conditions,” Dan said.

“We will congratulate them,” they said in unison.

“You will forget us completely and emphasize the bravery and ability of the pilots,” he said.

The crew agreed.

“You might remember one very handsome young man who showed exceptional bravery under -.”

That’s when we grabbed Dan and disembarked. He’s a talented kid, but sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop.

Chapter Four

Home sweet home.

It was late in the afternoon. The drive back across the desert in the campervan was mostly in silence. Brodie drove. No-one even bothered to turn on the radio. Facing death has that sort of effect on you.

My eyes were firmly on the changing landscape. Las Vegas sits in the Mojave Desert. It’s a barren place. Hot and dry. But it has its own beauty. When we first came here there was an almost unanimous vote to live in a hotel in the middle of town. It was only through my constant arguing and stubbornness that we ended up living to the west on Highway One Sixty.

As we turned off the highway onto a side road, my mind returned to the events on the plane.

What had happened to my powers? I had never had problems with them before. While at The Agency I had been able to form shields and weapons with ease. Was it something on the plane? Was it the stress of the situation?

Our campervan crested a rise and we saw our little home in the valley. It wasn’t much, but it suited us.

Or maybe I should rephrase that. It wasn’t much, but it suited me. We pulled up outside the house. It was a single story bungalow with views over the long, rolling hills. Low lying scrub surrounded the place on all sides. It had a number of water tanks as well as an outdoor spa and solar power.

Brodie brought the campervan to a halt. The others piled out through the side doors. Brodie and I sat silently in the front. We watched Chad leading the others inside. A minute later music erupted from the interior.

Nice to see someone was having a good time.

“What happened back on the plane?” Brodie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

So she had noticed. “I don’t know. I tried focusing on forming a shield in the door, but I couldn’t make it happen.”

“Don’t give yourself a hard time,” she said gently. “It was hard for everyone to focus.”

“Everyone still did their job,” I replied. “Everyone except me.”

She reached over and touched my hand with the tips of her fingers. It was like a spark of electricity. Brodie and I were not officially an item, but she still had the power to make me turn to jelly. I turned my hand over so her fingers lay in my palm. Taking her hand in mine, I leaned across the seat and gently kissed her lips.

Pushing her lips against mine, I felt dizzy as I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the moment.

I wish it could have lasted forever, but at that moment I heard a distant sound. Brodie drew away from me. We climbed from the vehicle and rounded the campervan. Walking up the road to the crest of the hill, we saw a car making its way towards us. A black four wheel drive.

We stood at the top of the hill, watching it as it grew nearer. Visitors out here were unknown. It was possible someone had taken the wrong turn off the highway.

Possible, but unlikely.

By now I could see the windows of the vehicle were made of darkened glass. It was impossible to see the occupants.

The vehicle drew to a halt.

Footsteps in the dirt sounded from behind me. Chad, Ebony, Dan and Ferdy had come out to see who had taken the long drive from Vegas just to see us.

Both the front doors of the vehicle opened. For a moment nothing happened. Then two men stepped out.

I recognized both of them immediately.

Mr. Jones and Mr. Brown.

From The Agency.

Chapter Five

These Americans love their flashing lights
, General Wolff thought as he stepped from the interior of the Cadillac.

He was standing at the corner of Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard in the heart of Las Vegas. Night had fallen. He cast a critical eye around him. Some of the most famous hotels in the city lay around him; the Luxor, the MGM Grand, the Excalibur, the Monte Carlo. Symbols of opulence and wealth.

And flashing lights.

Lots of flashing lights.

For Wolff who had grown up in poverty and had once killed another child for half a loaf of moldy bread, the sight was yet another reminder of how far he had come. He allowed himself a few seconds to take in the sights. Then he reminded himself that possessions were nothing unless they could be defended and he shut the images from his mind.

He had a man to meet.

His personal finances had taken a blow since The Agency had attacked his operation on Cayo Placetas. The organization that he had once commanded – Typhoid – had fallen apart at the seams. One of his former commanders had taken charge of it. Wolff doubted Typhoid would ever reach its former glory.

For Wolff, his concerns were of a far more financial nature. His payment for the project on Cayo Placetas had never eventuated and now he was operating from long held savings in a bank account on the Cayman Islands.

He was far from poor, but neither was he as wealthy as he would have liked.

Mercer Todd’s one hundred million dollars would help to put him back on top, but he could not do it alone. To even start recruiting the team required for the operation, Wolff would need a man with special abilities.

So many times in life, Wolff had found, success depended on knowing just the right people.

If you didn’t know the right people, you had to find those who did.

He chose to walk the short distance to his hotel. He was staying at The Luxor, the second largest hotel in Las Vegas. Shaped like a pyramid, it was named after the ancient city of Luxor in Egypt. Within, the structure was hollow, lined with hundreds of apartments. He ignored the doorman, walking through the main entrance and walked straight to the reception desk.

Many men would be impressed by this
, he thought.
But I am not like many men.

He booked in and stashed his single bag into his room before going to the Liquidity Bar located at the centre of the Casino floor. The man he was looking for was sitting alone nursing a drink and eyeing a group of laughing women at the bar. He noticed Wolff from across the room.

“General Wolff,” he said as the general drew near. “It’s been too long.”

“Mr. Tate.” He shook the man’s hand. “And my name is Rudolf Wills.”

“Rudolf Wills,” Tate mused. “It has a ring to it. Certainly better than that name you were using in Afghanistan that time. What was it..?”

“Hyde.” Even Wolff had to laugh at the thought. “It seemed a good idea at the time.”

Both men sipped at their drinks in silence for a moment. There was something that Wolff had forgotten about Tate. He was cold. Not his personality. His skin. Unnaturally cold. His skin had a healthy enough pallor. His eyes were the picture of good health. Yet he always felt clammy to the touch. Like stroking the interior of a refrigerator.

Tate sat his drink down. “So you have an operation in the works.”

Wolff nodded.

“And you need some personnel?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Five or six,” Wolff said. “I’m going up against some modified humans. Six teenagers. But powerful.”

Tate lapsed into thought for a moment. “Five or six should be enough.”

“Are we talking the same kind of associates?” Wolff asked.

Tate said a particular word that would have made most people react in horror or burst into disbelieving laughter.

Wolff did neither. “Yes,” he said. “We’re talking about the same people.”

Tate glanced at his watch. “We need to meet a man at a bar across town. He will arrange the personnel, but we must take along an offer of good faith.”

Wolff nodded. “An offer?”

“A gift,” Tate confirmed. “I’ll arrange it.”

The two men left the bar. Tate requested his vehicle through valet parking and a few minutes later an enclosed van was delivered to the front entrance. Tate drove them through the city to one of the more squalid parts of Las Vegas. This part of the city was rarely seen by the tourists. Wolff noted it had none of the flashing lights of the main strip. In fact, lights were rather a rarity in this area.

Tate stopped the van at the side of a road. It was a quiet back street. He produced a tranquilizer gun from the glove compartment. Wolff had never seen one so small; mostly they were rifles. Then the two men waited. After a few minutes Wolff noticed a girl walking quickly through the area. Tate waited till she almost drew level with the van. Then he opened his window and fired once at the back of the girl.

She gave a small cry, staggered a couple of feet and collapsed.

Tate climbed from his seat, went over to her, threw her over his shoulder and tossed her in the back of the van. He gagged her then padlocked her hands and feet. Climbing back behind the wheel of the van, he restarted the engine and continued down the quiet street.

The whole abduction had taken less than sixty seconds.

Wolff turned around and looked through a small window showing the back. He could not see the girl. He peered from side to side.

“Where -.” He started.

“There is a false floor in the back,” Tate said. “Even if we are stopped by the police they will discover nothing.”

The man thinks of everything
, Wolff thought.
Good.

They drove another ten minutes until they reached a bar in another darkened street. Out of half a dozen street lights, only two were left working and even these seemed almost dulled by the constant pressure of the darkness. At first Wolff could not see any life at all on the street. It looked like every single business had permanently closed its doors. Then he realized a faint illuminated sign hung over a door.

Joe’s Bar

A man stood in front of the building. It was impossible to determine if he was a customer or a bouncer. Tate stopped the vehicle outside the bar. He and Wolff climbed out. Tate went to the rear of the van and a moment later emerged with the unconscious girl over his shoulder. The man outside the bar opened the door and allowed them inside.

Much to Wolff’s surprise, the interior was the image of opulence. The bar itself appeared to be made from mahogany. The chairs were black leather. Floating candles in clear glass bowls sat in the centre of the tables. Pictures of many of the early movers and shakers of Las Vegas – Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin among them – adorned the walls of the establishment. Music played gently in the background.

Wolff recognized it as Sammy Davis Jnr.