The New Heroes: Crossfire

by Michael Carroll

  At that, Yvonne laughed silently. “If you do discover that Cross is still alive, get me out of here and I’ll help you track him down. And I’ll kill him for you, at no extra charge.”

  Cassandra watched her for a moment. Why did you do it? Why did you betray the New Heroes? Don’t you care that hundreds of thousands of people were killed?

  “No, I don’t care. Call it solipsism, if you like.”

  What’s solipsism?

  “It’s the belief that only oneself is real, that all others are… just background artists, playing their roles without any thoughts or agenda of their own.”

  Is that how you see things?

  “No. But it’s how people think I see things. I don’t care about all those deaths because in the long run everyone dies. Everyone. They just got their buckets kicked for them a little early. I’ve saved them years of worrying about their jobs and families. They’ll never feel pain again, never go hungry. I’ve given each of them their own utopia.”

  Cassandra looked away. You’re sick. Twisted. And you’re never getting out of here. They should execute you for what you’ve done!

  “Yes, they probably should. But they won’t. They’re too weak, and I’m too useful.” Yvonne raised her bare feet onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her calves, rested her chin on her knees. “I think we’re done here, for now. But I’m sure you’ll be back. Tell Platt I want more books. And a TV or a radio would be nice.”

  Cassandra turned to Stephanie. “That’s all we’re going to get out of her.”

  “Anything useful?”

  “Maybe.” To the doctor, she said, “She’d like more books, and a radio or TV.”

  “Of course she would.” He looked in at Yvonne. “Would you like a zebra too? How about a hovercraft? Or a complete set of tools to help you break out of here? Consider yourself lucky you’ve got a bed.”

  On the walk back to the helicopter, Cassandra told Stephanie of Yvonne’s theory that Mina had somehow been tricked into leaving Berlin.

  They climbed on board as the guards were unlocking the copter.

  “You think she could be right?” Cassandra asked.

  “I think so. Mina’s a bit flighty, but she’s not an idiot. If someone attacked her she’d just teleport away.” Stephanie clipped on her seat harness, and told Cassandra to do the same.

  As the copter rose into the air, Stephanie said, “You can’t tell the others that Yvonne is there, understood?”

  “Sure. I’m a telepath. I understand the importance of secrets.”

  “Good.” She banked the copter to the left, heading south-east. “Because it is a secret, not a mystery. Mysteries are designed to be explored and shared. Secrets are meant to be kept. Now get some rest. Flight time’s a good four hours.”

  Cassandra rested her head back against the co-pilot’s chair and tried to fall asleep, but her thoughts kept returning to the meeting with Yvonne.

  The coldness of Yvonne’s mind disturbed her. The girl was almost totally selfish. The only concern she’d shown was for her sister, and even that had been mild, about as much concern as an ordinary person might have for a pet belonging to a distant relative that they’d never met.

  How does someone get like that? Cassandra wondered. In the prison camp in Lieberstan, there had been many selfish people, but that had mostly been out of desperation and fear. Yvonne didn’t seem to be afraid of anything. And she appeared to be almost without emotion. Aside from her slight worry about Mina, she had only become emotional at the thought that Victor Cross had betrayed her.

  Fifteen minutes into the return journey, Cassandra was startled from her doze by Stephanie’s panic-filled voice.

  “Sakkara, this is kilo-niner! I’m seeing an incoming craft, no ID. It’s moving fast and… We’re under attack!”

  Cassandra looked around wildly. “What is it? Where?”

  “Directly behind us! Hold onto something—I’ve got to set her down. We’ve no armaments and whatever’s coming is a lot faster than we are!”

  The copter bucked and swayed, and Cassandra felt her stomach tighten as they suddenly dropped.

  “Sakkara, come in!” Stephanie yelled into the radio. “No good—I think we’re being jammed! Can you sense the thoughts of the pilot?”

  Cassandra reached out with her mind. “No… Yes, there’s something there. Two of them. They’re men. Soldiers... Mercenaries. They’ve been ordered to capture us!”

  The copter lurched again, a sickening drop that sent Cassandra’s heart racing. Through the cockpit glass she could see the ground approaching far too quickly.

  “Under your seat!” Stephanie said. “There’s a survival pack. Take it out and hold on tight. It’s got water, rations, a flare-gun, radio and a compass. If I don’t make it, you find a way to get back to Sakkara!”

  Cassandra pulled the bulky canvas bag out from under the seat, then glanced again through the glass. “We’re crashing!”

  “Just hold tight and don’t panic. I’ve trained for this. Close your eyes if it helps.”

  Cassandra closed her eyes, and seconds later the copter slammed heavily into the ground.

  Stephanie woke to find Cassandra dragging her across the ground, away from the crashed Alouette.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, but was sure it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. A minute at most.

  The copter had hit the ground hard enough that the landing struts on the port side had collapsed from the impact.

  Its rotor blades had been sheered off, its engine was belching oily black smoke—it was not going to fly again.

  “You’re awake!” Cassandra said. “Are you hurt?”

  Stephanie pushed herself to her feet. “Bruises, cuts. Nothing broken. You?”

  “I’m OK. Steph, we need to run—they’re coming!”

  A gruff voice behind her said, “No, we’re here.”

  Stephanie slowly turned around.

  A large man wearing camouflage fatigues was staring at them down the barrel of an assault rifle. “Hands where I can see them. Where’s the pilot?”

  “I’m the pilot.”

  “Sure you are, kid. Shango, what do you see?” The man paused for a second, then nodded. “Got it.” To Stephanie, he said, “My partner says it’s a two-seater. You’re both about fifteen? Sixteen? Got to say, this isn’t what we were expecting.”

  Stephanie glanced toward Cassandra, who was frowning in concentration at the armed man. She muttered, “Can you read him?”

  Cassandra nodded, and whispered, “He’s confused. They were hired anonymously. Doesn’t yet know where they’re supposed to take me.”

  “Just you?”

  The man lowered his gun a little and strode toward them. “Move apart. Slowly. At least five meters. Eyes on me at all times. No talking.”

  Stephanie moved to the side. He’s good, she thought. He’s done this before.

  “Both of you, get down on your knees. Hands behind your head. Interlace your fingers.”

  The man stopped in front of Cassandra. “You. I know what you can do with that superhuman brain. My partner is watching you. Try anything and he will kill your friend.”

  As he slung his rifle over his shoulder Stephanie risked another glance at Cassandra, who was staring intently at the mercenary. Trying to read his mind...

  The man turned to watch Stephanie as he clicked a set of handcuffs into place on Cassandra’s left wrist, then pulled her arms down behind her back and cuffed her right wrist. “All right. Stand up, start walking. Don’t look back.”

  “Where are you taking her?” Stephanie asked.

  The mercenary unclipped a gun from the holster on his hip, and aimed it at Stephanie.

  Her sense of relief that the weapon was not a pistol but a taser lasted less than a second before he pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 15

  The ChampionShip was half-way across the Atlantic Ocean when it suddenly surged forward. Renata knew what that meant; Fa
çade, at the controls, had ramped the craft up to top speed by activating its rarely-used jets.

  “What is it?” Warren called out.

  “Gimme a minute,” Façade called back.

  Sitting next to Renata, Danny said, “This isn’t good.” To Kenya, he explained, “We never use the jets unless there’s an emergency—the antigrav engines don’t leave any trace someone could follow, but the jets do.”

  “What sort of a speed increase are you talking about?” Kenya asked.

  “Four or five per cent, at best,” Renata answered.

  “That’s not a lot.”

  Façade climbed out of his seat. “Autopilot’s on. OK. Bad news. Stephanie took Cassandra out on a job. They were on their way back when her copter came under attack by an unknown aircraft. Steph was forced to land. Two men—mercenaries, Steph says. They took Cassandra, left Steph unconscious. She’s OK, no major injuries.”

  The silence that followed was broken by Renata: “Three down. They’re picking us off one at a time.”

  Danny asked, “Why did they send ordinary men to get Cassie when they could have sent that guy Shadow?”

  Kenya replied, “Because they wanted her alive, maybe?”

  Renata shook her head. “You don’t capture a telepath—they’d be able to read all your secrets.”

  “Our ETA at Sakkara is three hours. Impervia called in the air force to pick up Steph. They’re taking her back to Sakkara.”

  Kenya asked Renata, “Can your jetpacks get you there any faster?”

  “No. We have greater speed than the Fish but we don’t have the range.”

  “Then all of you who have jetpacks, I suggest you get out and push.”

  Everyone looked at her.

  “I’m serious.”

  Façade said, “She’s right. That’s smart. And it’ll help.”

  In Sakkara, Colin Wagner and Lance McKendrick sat in the machine room watching Razor at work. They looked up to see Stephanie Cord entering the room.

  “Still with us?” Lance asked.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Stephanie said. She flexed her right arm, and grimaced. “It still hurts, though.”

  Colin said, “I was worried. A bit.”

  With a smile, Stephanie said, “I know.” Then her smile faded. “There was nothing I could do to stop them taking Cassie.”

  Lance said, “But they didn’t want you dead. That’s something, at least. Cassandra’s tracker blinked out about four miles north of the crash-site.” Before the others could respond, he added, “Yes, I planted a tracking device on Cassandra. And on you too, Stephanie—that’s how we got to you so fast. Your assailants either found Cassandra’s tracker or they’re blocking its signals.”

  Colin said, “You don’t seem very concerned about her!”

  Lance gave them both a reassuring smile. “We’ll find her, I promise. The fact that they took her alive is a good sign. And she’s a telepath... That makes her far too valuable to kill. It’s my guess that her captors just want her out of the way before they make their next move. Telepaths are notoriously hard to attack because they can see it coming. I’ve had some experience in that area.” Lance nodded toward Razor. “The kid knows his stuff.”

  Stephanie nodded. “He does. Well, he was trained by the best. My dad. Solomon Cord. You knew him too, right?”

  “Oh yeah. I knew him.”

  “You didn’t like him?” Stephanie asked, her eyes narrowing.

  Lance smiled. “Stephanie, I loved him. Sol was the coolest, greatest guy I’ve ever known. After my parents died I struck out on my own. That was a mistake. I should have stayed with your dad. Don’t ever get to thinking you know better than your folks, kids. I know that’s a trait that all young people have, but it’s an illusion.”

  “What about you?” Colin asked. “Do you have children? Married?”

  “There’s been a good number of girls I’ve managed to avoid marrying. And one or two who’ve been lucky enough to avoid marrying me.” Lance smiled, then swiveled in his chair to face Colin. “Joshua Dalton believes that Victor Cross is still alive.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you think?”

  Colin shrugged. “If anyone was smart enough to fake his death and get away with it, it’d be Cross. Sorry, Mister McKendrick, but why are you here? You were never a superhero, were you?”

  “What do I bring to the game? A little experience, maybe, plus my innate skills. One of which I will tell you about in exactly three minutes. What time is it now?”

  Colin looked at his wrist. “Don’t know. I must have left my watch in my room.”

  Lance pulled back the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s OK, I have mine here.”

  “But that’s my watch!”

  Lance unfastened the strap and held up the wristwatch. “Misdirection. A very simple trick. Most magic tricks don’t take place when the audience thinks they do. The work is done before. The trick is practically over by the time the audience sees it. Here, give me your hand.”

  As Lance put the watch back on Colin’s wrist, he nodded over toward Razor. “I’ll teach you how to do it. You can try it on your friend.”

  Colin glanced at Razor. “I don’t know. He’s pretty smart. So it’s like with card tricks, right? You have it all set up in advance so that you know exactly which card is going to be chosen?”

  “Exactly. That’s what Victor Cross is doing, you know. He knows the rules—or, rather, he’s invented his own rules—and you guys are the audience.”

  Stephanie asked, “So you think he’s alive?”

  “I’m certain. There are only two ways to beat a shyster. Number one, you learn all the rules so that you know what’s coming next. Number two, you force him to play your game. Cross is not only alive, but he and his pal Evan Laurie are, like, ten steps ahead of us. Are those three minutes up yet, Colin?”

  Colin looked at his wrist again. “Oh come on! How did you do it that time?”

  “You saw me putting the watch back on your wrist?”

  “We both did,” Stephanie said.

  “No, you didn’t. For a couple of seconds as I was closing the clasp the watch was completely covered by my hands. I pulled the straps tight enough that Colin felt like it was fastened. That feeling of pressure on the skin lasts for a little while. And just as he was putting his arm down I made you guys look over at Razor. Neither of you actually checked to see that the watch was still there.”

  “Because he thought he could still feel it?” Stephanie said. “I get it.”

  Lance grinned. “Yep. If our files on Victor Cross are accurate, the man has been playing you from day one. He gets himself noticed by Max Dalton, persuades Max to hire him. He learns about Quantum’s visions of the future, and of Max’s involvement in Ragnarök’s power-stripping machine. It’s easy for him to appeal to Max’s vanity, because Max desperately wants to be the guy who saves the world. So Cross uses the money and resources he steals from Max to infiltrate the Trutopians, because he knows that with the right person at the helm the Trutopian organization will be huge. And bit by bit, all the pieces of Cross’s plan fall into place.”

  “It can’t work that way,” Colin said. “There were things he couldn’t anticipate. You can’t plan for stuff if you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “Sure you can. You make big, long-range plans at the start, and then you work like crazy to make sure they come about. Cross seems to have the ability to work on a lot of different things at the same time. Look, this is how it goes… Stephanie, think of a number between one and six. Inclusive.”

  Stephanie shrugged. “Five.”

  “A good number. Now, turn around. On the bench behind you is a mug. Lift the mug and take a look. And be careful—the mug is full. You don’t want cold tea spilling all over you.”

  Stephanie reached over to the bench and lifted up the mug. There was a small folded piece of paper under it. She unfolded the paper, and read the words aloud. “I knew you’d pick 5.” />
  “Let’s see how smart you are. How did I do that?” Lance asked. “Colin? You care to guess?”

  Colin shrugged. Lance couldn’t reach the bench from where he was sitting, not unless he had telekinetic powers. No, that can’t be it, Colin thought. And then he remembered that when they entered the room Lance had asked Razor to explain exactly what he was working on. He took notes, Colin remembered. He smiled. But he wasn’t taking notes. He was setting up the trick!

  Lance had said, “The trick is practically over by the time the audience sees it.”

  Colin stood up and examined the bench. Next to where the mug had been was a slim folder. He opened it, and inside there was a note with the words, “I knew you’d pick 3.”

  “But that’s cheating!” Stephanie said.

  “No, it’s clever,” Colin said. “He hid a different note for each number. And he manipulated the conversation so that he’d have a chance to bring up the trick.” To Lance, he said, “So you’re saying that’s how Victor Cross works?”

  “For some of what he does, yes. At any given time he’ll have one primary plan and several secondary ones. If the primary plan looks like it’s not going to work out, he’ll switch focus to the next most likely one.” Lance sat back in the chair, and stretched out his good leg. “That’s what we have to do, kids. So far you guys have been reacting, letting Cross steer this boat while you just follow. But we have to change that.”

  “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “I’m saying that Shadow told you they had something that would… what was it you said? ‘Render you about as threatening as a kitten.’ And you’re sure he emphasized the word ‘you’?”

  “That’s right,” Colin said. “Definitely.”

  “Cross understands how superhuman powers work. He knows how to wipe everyone’s abilities. Since he hasn’t done that we have to assume that he doesn’t want to. Yet. But there’s no doubt he wants you out of the way… And he knows you inside-out, knows exactly what it is that makes your powers work. After all, he’s created multiple copies of you. Plenty of material for experimentation there. So I’m going to take a guess that Cross has figured out a way to strip only your powers and leave everyone else’s intact.”