Amped: A Kid Sensation Companion Novel (11 page)

I stared at Stan in surprise. He had spoken to me in a very familiar tone (and even called me by name), but I had no idea who he was. I knew a couple of shapeshifters – including my boyfriend Jim – but I can typically recognize them by their bioelectric signatures, which rarely change and are as distinctive as photographs to me. Again, he wasn’t anyone that I recognized.

However, before I could ask the obvious question, he said, “Check your text messages.”

Completely confused, I pulled out my phone and saw that I had one text message that had just been received. The phone indicated that the sender was “BT” and the message was three simple words: This is me.

I looked at “Stan” (who smiled at me, this time in a way I interpreted as friendly).

“BT?” I asked quizzically.

“In the flesh,” Stan said with a smile.

All of a sudden, I felt a tenseness leave my body that I hadn’t even realized was present. I lowered my head, suddenly feeling relieved of a burden I hadn’t known I was carrying.

BT (better known as Braintrust) was a large cluster of clones sharing a single hive mind. Although the BT “unit” I was familiar with (and presumably the one that had sent me the text message) was female, I knew that Braintrust’s clones actually consisted of both genders. BT had been a friend of my boyfriend’s family for a long time, and – thanks to Jim – had recently developed a close working relationship with the Alpha League.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I can’t hear you,” BT said. “Why don’t you come a little closer?”

He slid farther into his side of the booth, patted the seat next to him, and then gave me a wink.

Of course – I was purportedly a groupie, so I needed to play the role. I let out an exasperated breath and then switched seats, sliding into the booth next to him like we were a couple. Playing up his role, BT placed an arm around my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

“I’m here because of you, of course.”

That caught me by surprise. “Me? How’d you even know I’d be…”

I trailed off as the answer came to me out of the blue.

“Smokey,” I said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. I didn’t even bother asking how BT knew I’d show up
here
; he’d probably had a clone sitting in every dive bar in town, waiting on me.

“Yeah, Smokey ratted you out,” BT confirmed, twirling my hair around the index finger of his free hand. “He was worried you’d do something stupid – like show up in a supervillain bar and start asking questions.”

“Well, I need answers, and the only way to get them is by asking questions.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me?”

It was a valid question. Information was BT’s stock in trade. It was all he truly cared about. More to the point, there was little he didn’t know or couldn’t find out.

BT traced the outline of my jaw with his finger, bringing me back to myself.

“Stop it,” I said, laughing as I pushed his hand away. I didn’t consider his little caresses inappropriate (he was playing a role, after all), just over-familiar, in a humorous way. “As to why I didn’t ask you, I was worried you’d tell someone – namely Esper. I didn’t want her, or anyone else, trying to shut me down this time.”

BT simply nodded. “Alright, I get that. Now, show me what you’ve got.”

I brought up the picture of the tattoo on my phone and showed it to him.

“Do you recognize it?” I asked.

He nodded. “Of course. It’s an emblem – the insignia of a secret society known as Novercalis.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“That’s the point. They’re incredibly furtive, and they’ve become adept at keeping even their existence a secret.”

“So what’s their goal?”

“It’s not explicitly clear, but we do have at least two hints. First of all, there’s the name of their organization: Novercalis. It means ‘malevolent’ in Latin.”

“That doesn’t bode well. What’s the second hint?”

He tapped the image on my phone. “Their emblem.”

“What, the little squid thing?”

“First of all, it’s a kraken, which is a legendary sea monster. Secondly, the image shows the creature’s tentacles wrapping around the entire planet, which can be loosely interpreted as world control or world domination.”

“Well, with a name that means ‘malevolent,’ what did you expect – flowers and bunnies?”

“You wish. This is a group that lives up to its name, as evidenced by the way it treats its own members.”

“What do you mean?”

“Over the years, Novercalis members have been arrested a number of times. A couple were broken out of jail – and evidence seems to indicate that those who escaped were high-ranking members of the organization – but all of the others died.”

“Yeah, I know – a bunch of freak accidents that are statistically improbable.”

BT nodded. “Exactly. They were killed to make sure none of the organization’s secrets got out.”

My brow crinkled in thought. “My mother had that tattoo. Maybe she was compromised in some way and Novercalis had her killed. That would certainly explain a lot – such as the circumstances under which I was found.”

“Well, have you talked to the people who might know more? Those who were there when you were found? They might have some information you could use.”

“I’ve tried, lots of times, but no one will tell me anything. They all seem to think they’re protecting me from something.”

“Well, who have you talked to?”

“Everyone that I know who was there! Alpha Prime, Esper…”

I quickly ticked off the list of Alpha League members who had been present when I was found. When I finished, BT scratched his chin for a second.

“You forgot Vir,” he said. “He was there.”

“I know,” I said. “But you can’t get info from a dead man – unless you know how to conduct a séance.”

BT looked at me in surprise. “Vir’s not dead.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, taken completely by surprise.

“I said Vir’s not dead,” BT repeated. “He’s in prison.”

My conversation with BT ended shortly after his revelation about Vir. However, as I was preparing to leave, BT had told me that I needed to stay in keeping with my role.

“Most groupies don’t simply walk out alone,” he said. “Either they leave with someone or they exit in dramatic fashion.”

Long story short, he’d had me throw my drink in his face and then slap him – hard – before storming out of the place amid throngs of laughter. (On my part, I had to admit that it felt good to take my frustration out on somebody.)

On the drive back home, I thought about what I’d learned over the past few days. I knew a lot more than I did just a week ago, but for every step forward I always seemed to be taking two steps back. (That wasn’t really true; it just felt like that’s what was happening.) As I contemplated what my next move should be, a plan of action started forming in my mind.

By the time I got home, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Esper wasn’t there when I arrived (presumably she was still on assignment), which made my decision all the easier. That said, I still needed an assist or two if I was going to pull this off. I pulled out my cell phone and made two calls.

*****

Bright and early the next morning – well before dawn – I left home and headed to a private airfield, where a jet was waiting for me. I gave the flight crew our destination, and we were wheels up less than fifteen minutes after I boarded.

Arranging a private jet had been the first of the phone calls I had made the night before. During my last adventure with my boyfriend, Alpha Prime (who was filthy rich) had given us the use of a private aircraft. As part of his largesse, we had received a phone number we could dial whenever we needed the plane. It was a stretch to think that AP’s generosity was meant to extend into perpetuity. (In fact, we had been specifically told that plane would only be at our disposal for a few days.) However, I still had the phone number, and when I’d dialed it the night before I discovered that the permissions had never been revoked. So, have plane, will travel.

My other call had been to Braintrust. After explaining what I wanted, BT had assured me it could be arranged. I hadn’t gotten any kind of confirmation of that, but I would find out soon enough.

After about two hours, we touched down at a private airstrip just outside of a small city in the southwest part of the country. As I exited the plane, I saw a clean-shaven young man dressed as a chauffeur standing next to a black SUV. Apparently this was my ride.

The driver opened the rear door as I approached, and then closed it firmly but gently once I was inside. A moment later, he got in the driver’s seat and we were off.

There was no partition separating the front and back seat, as there often is in chauffeur-driven vehicles. That being the case, the driver glanced over his shoulder and asked, “How was the flight?”

“Great,” I said, speaking candidly. Traveling on a private jet was like being spoiled rotten, and made it extremely difficult to go back to flying commercial. “By the way, thanks for arranging the car, BT.”

“Not a problem.” The driver, of course, was a BT clone.

Needless to say, I could have driven myself, but BT had insisted on it. The words hadn’t been spoken aloud, but I got the impression that BT was worried about me and was tagging along as my protector.

“I’m assuming since you’re here that there was no problem setting things up?” I asked.

“I could have used a little more notice,” said BT, with a grin. “But no problem.”

“Good.”

“Look, we’ve got about an hour before we get there. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

“I slept on the plane,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true. I had dozed a couple of times, but never long enough to go deeply into la-la land. I chalked it up to nerves.

BT nodded. “Okay, but don’t feel obligated to stay up and chat for my sake.”

“Understood.”

BT went silent after that, leaving me to my thoughts. I contemplated what I was doing and what I hoped to accomplish today. In all honesty, I really didn’t know. The truth of the matter was that this was simply where the bread crumbs had led me thus far, and I felt compelled to keep going.

Stifling a yawn, I looked at my watch. Back home I would have been in school by now. If all had gone according to plan, the school should have received a doctor’s note by now (courtesy of BT) explaining that I was out sick. I leaned back in the seat, trying to think of the last time I’d played hooky…

*****

“We’re here,” BT said, nudging my leg with his hand to wake me.

I looked around nervously for a moment, not remembering exactly where I was or what I was doing. After a second, however, it came to me.

I yawned and stretched. “Where are we exactly?”

“Places like this don’t have names. They don’t pop up on Internet searches and don’t appear on federal registries. Officially, they don’t exist, so right now
we
don’t exist, even though we had to pass three checkpoints to get here. So watch your step. It’s very easy to go missing in a place that’s off the map.”

I nodded, showing that I understood. While BT had been talking, I had glanced out the window to get a sense of our surroundings.

We were in some sort of compound, currently parked in a small lot that was enclosed on three sides by high-walled structures. Through the open space where a fourth wall would have been, I could see numerous interconnected buildings, all of which appeared to have armed guards stationed on the rooftops. There were even a few guard towers, and farther out – surrounding the buildings – I could see what looked like a security fence.

All in all, the place felt like a prison. Frankly speaking, however, I shouldn’t have been surprised by that. When I had called BT the night before, I had asked if he could arrange for me to see Vir, who was (as I had already been informed) in the pokey. Ergo, here we were.

Not for the first time, I marveled at BT’s connections. I doubted I was on Vir’s approved visitors list – he surely didn’t have any idea who I was – and yet, with only a few hours’ notice, BT had arranged for me to get in to see him at what was clearly a black ops site. I knew that BT had clones in place at high levels of government and industry, but this gave me a newfound respect for and perspective on his reach and knowledge.

“Through there,” BT said, getting my attention.

I looked in the direction indicated and saw that a door had opened in one of the three walls around us. I took a deep breath, and then got out of the car. Steeling myself, I walked towards the open door, stopping just short of the threshold. Peeking inside, I didn’t see anyone – just a well-lit corridor about ten yards long.

I looked back at BT.

“Good luck,” he said.

“Thanks,” I mumbled back, and then stepped inside.

Swinging on silent hinges, the door automatically closed behind me once I was in the building. Looking around the hallway, I couldn’t help but notice that it was essentially featureless. Other than fluorescent lighting in the ceiling, there was nothing. No guards in place, no mounted security cameras, no intercoms – all of which struck me as unusual for a prison.

I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then tentatively reached out with my power.

Ahhhh
, I thought as I began to sense, behind the walls, all kinds of equipment and machinery. Although not visible, there were obviously recording devices (such as cameras) in operation, as well as fixtures in place to make sure I wasn’t likely to try anything untoward – metal detectors, turret guns, and the like.

With no other options open to me, I began walking down the corridor. When I was about halfway across, a door opened at the end of the hallway. Not needing anything more in the way of an invitation, I stepped briskly down the rest of the corridor and through the doorway.

I was now in a large, square-shaped room about twenty-by-twenty feet in size. It was bisected evenly across the middle by a large pane of glass that went from wall to wall. Also running across the center of the space at about waist height was an embedded countertop that extended to both sides of the glass. Finally, there was a chair at the counter on both sides of the room.

Taking it all in, I realized that I had seen variations of this area a thousand times before – on television, at the movies, on documentaries… It was a prison visitation room.

The door I’d come through began to close behind me; at the same time, I felt an odd sensation, like some part of my mind had just gone numb. I had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening, and for confirmation I reached back with my power towards the corridor I’d just left. I felt nothing.

I groaned. The room I was in contained a nullifier, which was a device intended to nullify superpowers. I should have expected as much. After all, I was here to visit a prisoner who had been a member of the Alpha League. That meant – or at least implied – that he was a super, and imprisoning supers usually required a means of nullifying their abilities.

As the door to the corridor closed, I heard an audible click come from the other side of the room. A door opened, and a man wearing an orange prison jumpsuit came through it. I immediately understood that it had to be Vir. I also realized something else.

He was my father.