The students glanced around with puzzled expressions. Meanwhile, Ms. Talbot flipped through the file folders.
“If I can just find his log-in info,” she muttered.
She finally pulled out a scrap of paper and held it up to her glasses to read it. Then she carefully typed the information into Mr. Jenkins’s computer.
“Now, I don’t know if there’s an exciting documentary about algebra out there,” she said. “But I know something that should entertain you little geniuses.”
Ms. Talbot tapped a few more keys, and a video streaming web page appeared on the classroom’s main board. She selected one of the videos and it began to play.
“Someone get the lights, please,” she said.
Terry Stephenson got up from the back row and switched off the classroom lights.
The video’s title screen appeared.
“The Ten Most Notorious Hackers in History,” Sam read.
“Cool,” said Noah. “I’ve seen this one.” He put his head on his desk. “Total nap time.”
Who could blame him? He had just been sick, after all. Besides, Noah probably knew every famous hacker by heart. He was a huge programming geek.
The documentary was interesting. It began with one of the first hackers ever—John Draper, who was nicknamed Cap’n Crunch. He was the guy who used the toy whistle from a box of Cap’n Crunch cereal to hack the telephone system.
The video went on to list other famous hackers. Some of them hacked into NASA, looking for UFO evidence. Others had hacked into major corporations, stealing credit card information. The FBI had caught most of them. Some of them had even been convinced to use their skills for good. They called themselves “white-hat hackers.” However, a couple of them were still at large.
Hacking and programming have never really been my thing, so I spent most of the time sketching out another drone design. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a decent programmer, enough to get good grades in computer language classes. But I’ve never had the passion or talent for it like Noah has.
I felt a nudge on my back. “Who does that guy look like?” Sam whispered.
I looked up at the video and saw a black-and-white photograph of a man with light hair and thick sideburns.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Elvis?”
Sam nudged me harder. “No. Doesn’t that look like Mr. Conway?”
Mr. Conway was the school’s custodian. He was much older than the man in the photograph, had gray hair, and didn’t have sideburns. He did have a similar pointed nose, as well as a stocky frame. It was hard to tell, since the photograph showed the man in profile and he wore lightly tinted sunglasses.
“I can see the resemblance,” I said. “Kinda.”
“I totally see it,” whispered Amy.
The video went on to identify the hacker only by his online username: Sh4dow H4wk—he did that weird programmer thing where he replaced some of the letters with numbers. Shadow Hawk’s true identity was never discovered, since he was never caught. He supposedly hacked into several military and government agency servers.
“If Shadow Hawk is still on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, I bet there’s a big reward for his capture,” said Sam.
When Shadow Hawk’s photo came up on the video again, Amy gently nudged Noah.
“Wha-what?” asked a groggy Noah.
Amy pointed at the screen. “Doesn’t that look like Mr. Conway?” she whispered.
Noah squinted at the video. “Maybe. When he was younger.” He grinned. “Check out those sideburns.”
“Sam and Amy think Mr. Conway is some fugitive hacker,” I whispered.
Noah was taken aback. “What? No, not Mr. Conway. I like him.” He nudged me. “Remember that time he came up with a perfect solvent for our . . . uh . . . mishap?”
Of course I remembered. The entire school remembered how our automated street painter went off during transport. Noah and I, along with three innocent bystanders and three square meters of school hallway, were blasted with the soothing shade of bright safety orange. Lucky for us, Mr. Conway had mixed a cleaner that removed the orange paint without damaging school property.
Our prototype didn’t make it to the convention that month.
“That means he’s smart,” Sam concluded. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a hacker when he was younger.”
Noah looked back at the video. “Really? Naw. Can’t be.”
The video moved on to the next famous hacker and we continued to bicker quietly until we were shushed by Ms. Talbot. We went back to watching the video while she went back to typing on Mr. Jenkins’s computer.
Sam’s theory didn’t really surprise me. She was something of an amateur conspiracy theorist. The four of us would often have discussions about the existence of Bigfoot or captured aliens at Area 51. Sam would always take the side of the implausible. As intelligent as she was, she felt it was more fun believing in fantastic things and then theorizing about the science of how they could exist. Honestly, she got a little carried away sometimes.
The video ended just before the bell rang. I packed my backpack so I could be the first one out.
“What’s the hurry, Tom?” asked Sam.
“I have to grab the drone before someone finds it,” I replied.
“You need help?” asked Noah.
I shook my head. “It’s on my way.”
“You should be okay,” said Noah. “Mrs. Gaines usually has the class cleaning beakers and putting away chemicals well into the break.”
He was right. I should be able to work in the doorway without being run over by escaping students.
“That used to drive me nuts.” Amy shook her head. “Always threw me off schedule.”
When the bell rang, I was the first one out the door. I jogged down the hallway and raced up the steps. The halls would fill quickly and I still didn’t know how I was going to get the drone off the ceiling tiles. I might have to borrow a stool from the chemistry lab. Actually, I would probably have to haul the stool through a rush of students, and then have someone keep people from coming out of the class while I climbed up to get the drone. It would be easier if I got there before the next group of kids was filing into the classroom, too.
I made it to the top of the stairs and headed toward the chem lab. I got to the doorway, looked up, and . . .
The drone was gone.
3
The Basement Abasement
MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS THAT the pins hadn’t held and the drone had crashed to the floor during first period. I scanned the floor, expecting to see bits of broken drone everywhere—however, the floors were clean. It hadn’t crashed and someone hadn’t simply cleaned up the pieces, either. There wasn’t a trace of the drone anywhere.
That meant someone had taken our drone from the ceiling.
I scanned the hallway. Students poured from classroom doors, but no one seemed to be watching me, waiting for a reaction. I almost wished I had seen someone like that. At that moment, I would’ve loved to have been on the receiving end of some sort of prank.
Ha, ha. Very funny. You got me. Now . . . can I have my drone back, please?
With no pranksters in sight, I left the doorway and drifted into the flow of foot traffic. I tried to reason out the possibilities. Maybe we didn’t lose the Collybird after all. Maybe Collin’s drone doubled back and spotted ours. If he came back himself and took it down, then that meant he would’ve reported us to Principal Davenport. Of course, Mr. Davenport wouldn’t know it was our drone until we tried to claim it.
Perfect. So, if we claim the drone, we get in trouble. If we don’t claim it, then we lose our prototype for the invention convention. Noah was going to kill me.
I adjusted the weight of my backpack and moved farther down the hallway. Then I remembered why my pack was heavier than usual. I still had my VR gear.
That was it!
I quickened my pace and searched for a secluded area. The library was halfway down the corridor and I ducked inside. Luckily, Mrs. Wel
ch was with a student at the front desk so she didn’t see me come in. I darted between two bookshelves and crouched. I had my VR headset turned on in a flash and powered up the drone’s cameras. If I couldn’t see our drone, then at least I could see what our drone saw.
My VR screen came to life and I saw kids walk past the camera. The drone was in one of the hallways as students rushed to class. I exhaled with relief. At least I didn’t see the inside of Mr. Davenport’s office on the screen. Whoever had taken our drone was still on the move.
I switched on the drone’s rear camera but the screen was black. The lens must’ve been blocked by something, maybe by whoever was holding it.
I breathed a sigh of relief. There was still hope that I could get our drone back without dealing with Davenport, Collin, or anyone else who had the power to confiscate our prototype. I just had to figure out where it was.
I toggled back to the front camera and tried to get a clue of who had it. I couldn’t see any part of the person. They just walked along the crowded hallway. In fact, whoever had the drone walked very smoothly. The image on the screen moved so steadily that it was almost as if the drone was flying. But since the angle of the video was askew, I knew that couldn’t be the case.
I turned my attention to the drone’s surroundings. Unfortunately, between the mass of students and the fact that all of the classrooms looked the same from the outside, I couldn’t tell where in the school it was. It could be on any of the three floors.
I groaned with frustration. My newfound hope evaporated faster than a cube of dry ice in hot water.
My thumbs instinctively moved to the joysticks as if I could turn the drone to get a better look around. But with the drone powered down, I was at the mercy of whoever was holding it. If I started the drone now, I risked damaging it if the person dropped it in surprise. I sighed and continued to scan the surroundings for a clue, any kind of clue that gave me the drone’s location.
Then I knew exactly where it was.
Between passing students, I had caught a glimpse of BB-8. Mrs. Scott has a poster featuring the popular Star Wars droid on the door of her robotics class. Whoever had the drone was on the third floor.
“Yes!” I said to myself.
I raised my headset to my forehead and bolted out of the library. I made my way through the crowded hallway toward the stairs at the end.
I heard a “Nice hat, Swift,” and even a “Take me to your leader,” but I ignored the jabs and kept moving.
I took the stairs two at a time until I was on the third-floor landing. Then I made my way to Mrs. Scott’s robotics class. I slid to a stop in front of BB-8 and bent over to catch my breath. I glanced around but didn’t see anyone holding our drone.
I slipped down the headset. The viewscreen showed the end of the hallway. My stomach lurched a bit when the view swung around. Whoever had the droid had just turned left.
I was closing in!
I slid up the headset and dashed down the hall. The crowd was thinning as the time for the next bell approached. I was probably going to be late for second period but I would deal with that later. I quickened my pace. Whatever trouble I had to talk my way out of would be worth it if I could just find out who had swiped our drone.
I made it to the end of the hall and turned left. The entrance to the stairs was to the right. The only thing to the left was the service elevator, and the only person there was Mr. Conway. The short, balding man had his back to me as he pushed his cleaning cart onto the waiting elevator car. I looked past him and saw our drone resting on his cart.
“Mr. Conway!” I shouted as I ran toward the elevator.
He didn’t seem to hear me. Instead of turning he reached over and pushed a button on the elevator without looking out of the car. The doors began to close.
I made it to the doors just after they shut. I punched the call button several times, but I was too late.
I glanced up, but the service elevator didn’t have any kind of directional indicator above it, like some elevators. I didn’t know which floor Mr. Conway was headed for. I sighed and lowered my visor. I was definitely going to be late for class.
The viewscreen showed the interior of the elevator for a while. Then the view shifted. Mr. Conway pulled the cart out of the elevator. I looked around for any clue to his location. I didn’t recognize anything at first. It didn’t look like the rest of the school. Then the stairwell came into view. There were stairs leading to the level above, but there were no stairs leading down. Mr. Conway was in the basement.
I raised my visor and sprinted for the stairs. With everyone else in class by now, I could really fly down the steps. Down to the first floor and then down to the basement.
I always knew there was a basement in the school but I never had reason to go down there before. As far as I knew, it was mostly storage. Occasionally, a teacher would talk about digging something out of the basement. Want to show a video that’s only available on an old VHS tape? We’ll have to get a VCR out of the basement. Looking for a chart of the solar system that still includes Pluto as a planet? Basement.
I came off the last step to find myself in a dimly lit alcove. Several cardboard boxes were stacked in corners and shoved under the stairs. A flickering fluorescent bulb gave the area a creepy, horror-movie kind of feel. If any of the students had bothered to come into the basement, there could totally be some cool rumors about former students being locked up down here, or other spooky stuff. I made a mental note to tell Noah so we could get right on that.
Up ahead, Mr. Conway pushed his cart through an open doorway. A long hallway led beyond.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Mr. Conway?”
Once again, he didn’t turn. Instead, Mr. Conway rolled his cart through the doorway and the door swung closed behind him.
I ran up to the door and grabbed the handle to pull it open. The door didn’t budge. I pulled harder but it was locked tight. I glanced left and saw a gray plastic box and keypad mounted on the wall beside the door. A tiny red light blinked on the upper left corner of the box. Mr. Conway must’ve used a key card or a code to get through.
I knocked on the door’s large glass window. “Mr. Conway,” I said louder.
He ignored me once again. He kept pushing his cart down the hallway beyond.
That’s when I noticed the tiny white cables stretching from his overalls pocket. They split and one cable went to each of the custodian’s ears. Mr. Conway was listening to music on his phone or some kind of MP3 player.
And then the bell rang.
Great. I was late for nothing.
4
The Search Suppression
“OH, DUDE,” SAM SAID BETWEEN bites of her apple. “Noah is going to be so mad.”
I hadn’t had a chance to tell anyone about the drone abduction all morning. My friends and I had different classes after first period. And in the ones we did have together, we couldn’t get away with whispering to each other. I had to wait until I saw everyone at lunch.
“It’s not like I lost the thing,” I said. I mindlessly twirled my mashed potatoes with a plastic spork. “I mean, okay, it’s kinda my fault. But I know where it is now.”
Sam laughed. “Held hostage by the hacker-in-hiding, Mr. Conway.”
“You still on that Conway thing?” Noah asked. He set down his food tray and sat. Amy was right behind him.
“Oh . . . he’s definitely a person of interest.” Sam looked at me with a glint in her eye.
“What did you find out?” Amy asked Sam. “I’ve been thinking about that movie all morning. I haven’t had a chance to do any research yet. But did you?”
“It’s not the hacking thing,” I said. Then I went on to tell Amy and Noah about the fate of our drone. As I relayed the story, I watched Noah’s expressions rise and fall with each turn. As I wrapped it up, his face cemented in a grimace.
Noah slowly shook his head. “Man, I’m so mad at you right now.”
Sam smirked at me. “Told you.”
<
br /> Noah pointed at me. “You do the invention convention all the time, but this is my first one! I even donate one of my drones to the cause and now it’s gone?”
“I know, I know,” I said, raising both hands. “But don’t worry, I’ll get it back. I’ll just catch Mr. Conway and ask for it. Simple as that.”
Noah snorted. “If he doesn’t turn it in to Mr. Davenport first.”
“If he was going to do that, he probably would’ve done it already,” Sam said between bites. “Instead of taking it all the way to the basement.”
“To the locked basement,” Amy added. “What does he really want with your drone, huh?” She glanced around and then leaned forward. “I wonder what he’s really doing down there.”
“Custodian stuff,” I replied. “What else?”
“With a security keypad?” asked Amy. “Why such a highly secure area for a school basement?”
“I saw one keypad,” I said. “That’s it. That hardly makes it Fort Knox.”
Sam popped a cherry tomato into her mouth. “Conway could be hacking into more government agencies as we speak.” She gave a sly grin. “The basement could be his secret lair.”
I laughed, nearly choking on my food. “Who says ‘lair’?”
Noah sighed with frustration. “This is crazy. Mr. Conway is not that Shadow Hawk guy.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “There’s no way some world-famous hacker is hiding out in our school.”
I glanced around and cringed when I saw other students taking notice of our conversation. Barry Jacobs craned his neck to get a better look from his table.
“Uh, I think we should keep it down,” I whispered. “You want everyone knowing about this?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sam said. “What if we’re right?” She leaned forward and jutted a thumb at Amy. “I trust Amy’s photographic memory.” Then she lowered her voice. “And if she thinks Conway looks like Shadow Hawk, then I agree with her. It’s at least worth checking out.”
Amy dug out her phone. “Wow. Okay, that’s a lot of pressure on me now.” She pulled up her web browser. “Maybe there’s more information on the FBI’s website.”
The Drone Pursuit Page 2
