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

Well, he often looked like that.

I grabbed Dan’s arm. “Just follow my lead. Try to get into the stewardesses head when I ask about sky marshals.”

“What?”

I dragged him with me. We pushed past a man and his son returning from the toilet and cornered a pretty air stewardess in one of the galley alcoves. She wore a name tag. Her name was Kelly.

“Excuse me, Miss,” I said.

“Yes?”

She looked at us curiously.

“I’m just trying to settle an argument with my friend,” I said hurriedly. “We were having a conversation about sky marshals.”

I glanced at Dan. He was staring intently at the girl. Slowly, he turned around and looked back towards the rear of the aircraft.

“Yes?” the stewardess asked curiously.

I made up a story about how I thought women weren’t allowed to be sky marshals. The girl assured me the role was not gender specific. I barely heard what she was saying. I was hoping she was doing exactly what I intended; plane crews were always cognizant as to the identities of any passengers carrying guns. In this case it would be the sky marshal.

After a few seconds I nodded, gripped Dan’s arm and dragged us away.

“Speak to me,” I said.

“It’s him,” Dan said.

A man in a grey business suit had just left his seat and was slowly making his way to the back. I had not noticed him at all when I scanned the passengers. He was simply another ordinary looking individual on the flight. He reached the back toilets adjacent to the rear door. His eyes settled on my face.

He knew.

It had to be something in my face. Possibly a look of pure, naked fear. Whatever it was, he immediately looked alarmed and reached into his pocket.

Brodie was in the same aisle heading towards him.

“Brodie!” I yelled. “It’s him!”

She spun around at the sound of my voice, followed my outstretched arm with her eyes and started towards the man. He dragged out a gun and pointed it wildly.

He fired.

I saw Brodie’s hand move faster than the eye can see. She reached to her right and was spun around one hundred and eighty degrees. She looked like some sort of drunk ballet dancer. Grabbing an armrest for support, I saw her open her clenched fist.

She had caught the bullet.

People started to scream as the man reached into his pocket. I shoved a man out of the way. I needed to create a wall of air as a weapon, but everything was happening so fast. A woman leapt up in front of me. Someone else fell into the aisle as they tried to escape from the chaos.

The man took a step back. The look on his face was one of amazing calm. He actually looked kind of relieved.

That’s when he detonated the bomb.

Chapter Two

General Solomon Wolff shaded his eyes as he stepped from the plane onto the boarding ramp and peered across the tarmac. It was a hot day in Dubai, but then this country was known for its heat. Rain at any time was unusual in Dubai and it was common for the average temperature to reach boiling point in August.

As luck would have it, this was August.

Wolff did not let small things like the heat concern him. He was a mercenary and men like him often enjoyed difficulty as much as they did ease. Sometimes he thought he preferred it more. Heat and discomfort kept him on his toes. He had seen too many of his comrades become sedate or relaxed and that was when they made mistakes.

Mistakes in his line of work usually led to death.

He walked down the passenger stairs and spotted a limousine on the tarmac. A man in a headscarf was waiting for him with a sign. Printed across it in white letters was a single word:

Phillips

This was his agreed upon name for this flight, the latest of many names he had used over the years. He nodded to the driver. The man opened the back door and he climbed in. The back of the vehicle was edged in leather and a gold colored metal which he believed probably actually was gold.

The vehicle started and he sat back and relaxed.

They headed towards the middle of the main shopping district in Dubai. This country was a place of extremes. People still rode camels in this country although others just as happily drove vehicles. The predominant religion was the Moslem faith and here women were required to wear the traditional clothing; the abaya, a black ankle length gown that covered the head. At the same time this was a place of immense wealth and money created freedom. The freedom to build, the freedom to control.

One sign of that freedom dominated the landscape directly in front of Wolff. The world’s tallest building – the Burj Khalifa – rose directly from the city before him.

Wolff – or Phillips as he was temporarily known – felt a tiny sense of pride that he was about to attend a meeting in this structure. He stifled the emotion. Pride was a weakness and a weakness that could kill. He forced himself to look out impassively at the passing streets.

Soon the vehicle began to draw close to the undercover parking area.

“Excuse me,” Wolff said.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ll walk the last few feet. Thank you.”

The car drew to a halt. The driver opened his door and Wolff stepped out into the terrible heat once more. He looked up at the Burj Khalifa. Truly this was an amazing structure. Not only was it the world’s tallest skyscraper, but it also held records for highest restaurant, highest mosque and highest nightclub.

It held the record for the world’s
second
highest swimming pool, but Wolff doubted the building’s owners lost little sleep over not securing that particular record.

A man walked from the main reception of the building to meet him. He wore a suit and unlike many of the other people Wolff had seen here, he did not appear to be an Arab. Wolff suspected he was European.

“Mr. Phillips?” the man said.

“Yes?”

“I am Jean-Pierre Bertrand,” he said, shaking hands with Wolff. “I notice you decided to examine the structure from the outside.”

“It’s most impressive,” Wolff replied.

“It is indeed,” Bertrand said. “Our meeting will take place on the one hundred and thirtieth floor. I think you will find it a most impressive view.”

Wolff nodded. Bertrand led him through the main foyer to one of the elevators. The attendant pushed a button and they ascended the structure at great speed.

That’s right
, Wolff thought.
This structure also holds the record for the world’s fastest elevators.

Another record broken.

The elevator came to a precise halt. Bertrand led him out into a foyer and they passed two businessmen leaving a meeting. No doubt they were quite reputable. Most of the dealings that took place in this structure were reputable.

Most meetings.

Some like the one he was about to attend could not be termed reputable by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, disreputable would probably be putting it kindly. Wolff was ready to meet with an individual that would make any Interpol or FBI agent’s mouth water with anticipation.

Bertrand arrived at a door and knocked on it three times. After a moment, it opened and a servant showed them into the room. It had a spectacular view of the entire Gulf of Oman.

This is where my life has brought me
, Wolff thought.
To the top of the world.

He was aware of the sense of pride he felt, but he allowed himself to revel in it for a few seconds.

“Impressive, is it not?” a voice said from behind.

Wolff turned slowly. The man who had stepped from the room behind him was of average build. He had brown hair and eyes. Possibly about forty years of age. Clean shaven. No distinguishing marks of any noticeable kind.

“I’m sure you know who I am,” the man said.

“I do,” Wolff replied. “You are Mercer Todd. I believe you currently hold the number three position on the FBI’s most wanted list.”

Todd inclined his head. “A dubious honor. There are sadists and serial killers on that list. I am not that kind of man.” He smiled. “However, I sometimes make use of the services of men who are.”

Wolff nodded and said nothing.

“Please take a seat,” Todd said. “Would you like a drink?”

“Just water would be fine.”

The men sat opposite each other. The chairs were positioned in such a way that they still enjoyed a view of the gulf. A glass arrived for Wolff, but he noticed Todd did not partake.

“I understand you are a man who can get things,” Todd said.

“I have been known to be able to acquire things under the right circumstances,” Wolff confirmed. “And for the right price.”

Todd named a price. It was a lot of money. It occurred to Wolff that he never would have thought his services could be considered so valuable; one hundred million dollars was a lot of money in anyone’s terms. For such a sum this would not be an easy task, but then he was never contacted to carry out easy assignments.

“You’ve named your price,” Wolff said. “Perhaps you should name the thing you require and then I can determine if the two are of a commensurate value.”

Todd nodded. “I need you to kidnap someone for me. A child. A very important child.”

Wolff said nothing. For one hundred million dollars he imagined it must be the child of a president – possibly the American President – or a prime minister. He asked if this was the case.

The man who rated the number three position on the FBI’s most wanted list smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

“Oh, no,” he said. “The child is not famous. Not yet. But he will be.”

Todd named the child.

It was not often that Wolff doubted if he could achieve his task, but this was one of those rare times. He sat for a long moment considering the offer. One hundred million dollars was a lot of money, but he knew he would be earning every cent of it. He had not personally met this child, but he had dealt with his friends. It was fair to say they were possibly the most difficult adversaries he had ever faced.

He would need assistance if he was going to make this mission work.

“They are currently living in a group household,” Todd continued. “They are using the name of Smith.”

Wolff nodded. “Where?”

“A house outside of Las Vegas.”

Of course
, Wolff thought.
More desert.

Chapter Three

The blast took out the passenger door to the bomber’s left as well as the infrastructure to his right; the toilet disintegrated into debris as did three seats. A roaring sound filled the entire compartment as the air was sucked out of the aircraft; a fine mist filled the air. People screamed as oxygen masks fell from the ceiling.

It was mayhem. Absolute mayhem.

The plane lurched to one side. I saw the vacuum of air dragging a man helplessly along the aisle towards the breach in the cabin. Another passenger grabbed hold of him. At the same time I realized the front of the aircraft seemed to drop; the plane was going into a dive. I had to seal the breach in the hull with a shield. Unfortunately the plane pitched to the right as I tried to focus on the breach. I was thrown sideways.

Both Dan and I landed in the laps of a married couple who were desperately scrambling to work out how to position the oxygen masks. One of them was trying to place it on their young daughter; the girl’s face was filled with absolute terror.

The instructions always tell you to put the mask on yourself first
, I thought.
Then help younger children. Don’t people read the instruction cards?

People didn’t always think well in a panic. Fortunately I had my ability to manipulate air, so I created an air bubble around myself and Dan. We could breathe. For now. I grabbed one of the masks and positioned it over the man’s face while Dan helped him to aid the girl.

He gave us a grateful look as the air began to flow. Regaining my feet, I realized the plane was now rising again. For a few seconds it seemed level. Then the nose continued to rise.

“The pilots must be trying to get control of the plane,” I said to Dan.

“You’ve got to seal the hole,” Dan yelled.

I tried to focus on creating a shield in the hull. Usually when I created shields I could see them as a faint out of focus bubble. I held out my hand and focused hard on knitting the air molecules together that would create the barrier. Nothing was happening.

“Come on,” I groaned in desperation. “Work!”

Still, the shield would not form.

What was wrong with my powers?

Before I could dwell on the issue further, I saw a crack appearing in the hull next to the breach. It looked like the whole plane was starting to tear apart.

I had to seal that hole in the hull, but
nothing was happening.

“Take a breath!” I told Dan.

He looked at me in confusion, but followed my command. I dropped the air bubbles around us and put all my focus into creating the shield. The hull continued to tear, ripping into a window next to an elderly woman.

The shield would not form.

I cast a despairing look across the rows of seats. I could see Chad staring at me in confusion. The preferred option was for me to create one of my shields. It was invisible and while people might wonder later how the plane held together it would forever remain a mystery.

The second option was Chad.

With my powers out of commission, it was time for option two.

I nodded to Chad and he immediately pointed at the break in the hull. Ice started to form at its edges. Within seconds it had crept across the gap and covered the hull. The terrible screaming wind that had filled the cabin dropped away to silence. Even the terrible cold subsided. The temperature outside the hull had probably been below zero. Now it was slowly starting to rise.

A groan sounded throughout the entire plane. Chad had sealed the breach, but it sounded like irreversible damage had been done to the fuselage of the aircraft. The whole plane would rip apart in seconds.

I caught the eye of the stewardess we had just spoken to – Kelly – and she opened her eyes in horror. Someone came racing down the aisle, pushing Kelly out of the way and almost knocking me over.