‘I’m sorry, Doctor Nero, but I think we all deserve a fuller explanation of just how you allowed this creature to nearly wipe out an entire generation of future G.L.O.V.E. operatives,’ Cypher said calmly, his featureless mask turning to face Nero.
‘The report that I submitted provides all of the necessary detail, Cypher,’ Nero replied. He had expected this.
‘Indeed, that report was most revealing. What it showed me is that maybe it is time that we either placed control of H.I.V.E. in more capable hands or perhaps finally considered that your school has outlived its usefulness to this organisation.’ Nero could have sworn that he detected a note of smug satisfaction in Cypher’s voice.
‘The school has been training G.L.O.V.E. operatives for many years without anything of this kind happening before,’ Nero replied, trying to keep the note of irritation from his voice. Cypher had made it clear on many previous occasions that he was not a supporter of the school. ‘I see no reason to overreact to what was an unfortunate but unforeseeable accident.’
‘Just like the accident that led to the school being relocated a decade ago, I suppose,’ Cypher replied, ‘an accident that cost several billion dollars to rectify and almost led to the discovery of the facility by at least one law enforcement agency. When you add that to the repair bill for the recent fiasco it appears that H.I.V.E. is becoming rather an expensive indulgence, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?’
‘Perhaps you would rather that we left the training of future members of this council to common criminals, then,’ Nero replied, ‘because that is what would happen if H.I.V.E. did not exist.’
‘My dear Doctor,’ now the note of sarcasm in Cypher’s voice was unmistakeable, ‘this organisation existed long before your precious school. Are you suggesting that this council is incapable of ensuring its own future survival?’
Nero was used to this verbal fencing with Cypher at council meetings, but this was quickly becoming annoying.
‘I have no doubt that this organisation would survive without H.I.V.E., Cypher, but would it be as successful without the training that new operatives receive at my school?’
‘Your school, Nero? I was under the impression that it was G.L.O.V.E.’s school, not yours –’
‘Enough!’ Number One said sharply, breaking into the argument. ‘I tire of listening to you both bicker like children. H.I.V.E. has not yet outlived its usefulness to G.L.O.V.E., but I have made it abundantly clear to Doctor Nero that I will not tolerate any more incidents of this type at the school. I expect that to be the end of the matter, unless you feel that I am handling this matter incorrectly, Cypher?’
‘No, sir. As always, the final decision is yours.’ For all of his recent successes Cypher appeared to know better than to openly question Number One’s decisions.
Nero had been a loyal G.L.O.V.E. operative for more years than he cared to remember, but for the first time he was starting to experience doubts about the direction in which the organisation was heading. Cypher was just one representative of a new breed of villain that seemed suddenly to be filling the ranks of G.L.O.V.E. These new members seemed to lack all of the grace and finesse of the older generation. All too often the answer to their problems lay in violence and chaos. This was not the way that it had always been; Nero had always been impressed with the way that Number One had kept the more homicidal excesses of his council members under control. It was this discipline that had stopped G.L.O.V.E. from becoming just another bloodthirsty criminal cartel, but in recent months that control over the council members seemed to be slipping. No, Nero mentally corrected himself, what worried him most was not that Number One’s control of the council was slipping, but that control was being deliberately relaxed.
‘Is there any other business?’ Number One asked as the meeting drew towards a close. None of the assembled master villains seemed to have anything to add.
‘Very well,’ the shadowy figure continued, ‘I shall see you all again in a couple of months. Until then . . . do unto others.’
‘Do unto others,’ the members of the council replied, echoing the G.L.O.V.E. motto as was traditional at the end of these gatherings. The screen went dark and as quickly as their audience with Number One had started it was finished.
Nero rose from his seat as Gregori approached. There was a look of irritation on the big Russian’s face.
‘That was unnecessary,’ he said quietly, glancing over in the direction of Cypher, who was now engaged in hushed conversation with Baron Von Sturm on the other side of the room.
‘Yes, but not unexpected,’ Nero replied. ‘Cypher was never going to pass up an opportunity to criticise me so publicly.’
‘Maybe so, old friend, but you need not worry. The council know how well you run the school. No one pays any attention to his complaints.’
‘You may not believe him, Gregori, but some people will.’
On the other side of the room Cypher was still talking to the Baron, both men occasionally glancing over at Nero. There was little doubt as to the topic of their conversation.
As Nero walked away from the opera house he considered the events of the meeting. The attack by Cypher had been predictable but he could not help but be worried by his masked adversary’s directness. Once upon a time Cypher would not have dared to question Nero’s authority so openly at a council meeting, but it seemed that he now felt no such reluctance. Nero had always disapproved of open hostility between council members. He had seen too many petty arguments evolve into dangerous and costly blood feuds, but frank confrontation between the two of them seemed more and more inevitable every time they met.
As he continued walking he started to feel a growing sense of unease. Any villain who had survived as long as he had developed a sixth sense that warned of danger and Nero had learnt long ago not to ignore it. He slowed down and stopped to look into the window of one of the many expensive shops that lined the street. There, on the other side of the road, clearly reflected in the window, were two men who were trying a little too hard to appear inconspicuous. He was being followed.
He set off again, now acutely aware of his two unwelcome companions. He continued down the street until he came to a quiet alleyway and quickly turned down it. The alley was a dead end, exactly as he had hoped. Behind him he heard the sound of footsteps as the two men followed him into the shadowy passageway. Nero deliberately slowed his pace, hearing his pursuers getting closer as he walked further into the shadows.
‘Stop,’ one of the men said. They were now just a few metres behind him. Nero did as he was instructed, slowly turning to face the two men, one of whom was now pointing a large pistol fitted with a bulbous silencer straight at him.
‘There’s really no need for that,’ Nero said calmly, ‘Why don’t we just all have a little chat?’
‘Shut up,’ the man holding the gun replied. ‘No talk. The amulet, now.’ He held out his other hand.
‘Amulet?’ Nero replied. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He knew exactly what they were talking about, but what he needed to find out was how they knew about it.
‘We know you have it with you. Give it to us now or we’ll take it from you!’ The gunman punctuated the threat by cocking his weapon.
‘Gentlemen,’ Nero said softly, ‘each and every one of us makes decisions in the course of our lives, some good, some bad, but you at least will have the dubious pleasure of knowing that this was the absolute worst one you’ll ever make. Natalya . . .’
The throwing star seemed to simply appear in the gunman’s forearm. He dropped the weapon, howling in pain, as a shadow detached itself from the rooftops above and dropped into the alleyway. The unwounded man was quick – he had been trained well. He had drawn his own weapon and almost raised the gun to a firing position before there was a flash of silver and the pistol fell to the ground, neatly sliced in two.
Raven advanced on the startled men, her dual katanas drawn.
‘Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet a
friend of mine,’ Nero smiled. ‘She seems to take it rather personally when people threaten my life.’
The two men continued to retreat as Raven advanced, their confidence replaced with panic.
‘Now,’ Nero continued, ‘a wise man once said that life was nasty, brutal and short and, unless you want to find out just how nasty, how brutal and how very, very short, I suggest you tell me who sent you.’
Fear overtook panic in the two men’s eyes as Raven moved closer to them.
‘No, please . . . we don’t know who hired us . . . it was an anonymous contract. Please, don’t . . .’
Suddenly a beeping sounded from one of the cowering men. He appeared surprised as he looked down to see a small red light flashing in the centre of his own belt buckle. Raven acted without hesitation, sprinting towards Nero and diving into him, knocking them both to the ground as an explosion filled the alleyway, instantly vaporising the two would-be assassins.
Raven rolled off Nero as the smoke cleared.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked as Nero sat up slowly.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Natalya. Which is more than can be said for our two new friends.’ There was no trace left of the two men, just a black scorch mark on the cobbles where they had once stood. ‘Whoever hired them certainly didn’t want them talking to us, that much is clear.’
‘They were with you from the moment you left the meeting,’ Raven said. ‘They knew exactly where you’d be.’
‘I know,’ Nero replied. There was only one inevitable conclusion that could be drawn from that. Whoever had hired them had known about the council meeting.
‘It has to be him,’ Raven continued. ‘No one else would dare to act against you as overtly as this.’
‘Perhaps, but we have no proof. Whoever sent those two saw to that.’
In the distance sirens wailed. Unsurprisingly the explosion had drawn the attention of the Viennese authorities.
‘For now we need to get out of here and back to H.I.V.E.,’ Nero said, brushing the dust from his suit. ‘Then we’ll decide how to proceed.’
.
Chapter Two
Otto took one of the heavy ball bearings from his pocket and looked along the brightly lit corridor to the steel blast doors at the other end. He’d been impressed by the facility’s security measures up until this point and he had no reason to believe that getting to the door would be as straightforward as it appeared. He knelt down and rolled the ball bearing slowly down the corridor. At first nothing happened, but as the small steel sphere rolled further down the corridor there was a click and a soft hiss as two large guns dropped from the ceiling on either side of the door and fired simultaneously. As the projectiles hit the ball bearing they expanded instantly, encasing it in sticky foam that quickly hardened into a worryingly solid-looking block. Otto smiled to himself. This would be easier than he’d anticipated.
He reached into another pocket and pulled out his latest creation. It was a metal disc, about ten centimetres in diameter, and it had taken several hours in Professor Pike’s labs to perfect. He had suspected that it would come in useful and now his suspicions were proving correct. He pressed a tiny stud on the disc and the device rose smoothly into the air, hovering just above his palm.
‘Flight pattern Malpense Musca Domestica, engage,’ Otto whispered to the tiny hovering disc, and it shot off down the corridor towards the waiting guns. Just as before the guns whirred into life, firing at the buzzing disc, but the results this time were quite different. As the guns opened fire the disc began to bob and weave crazily in the air, its flight path wildly unpredictable. The first shots from the guns missed the darting device, the projectiles impacting the walls and floor of the corridor, the foam expanding and hardening as the disc continued to dance through the air. The guns kept firing, their sensors driven crazy by this wildly dodging target. Otto had written the code controlling the flight of the disc himself. It was based on the evasive capabilities of the common housefly and, just as he had hoped, the motion sensors controlling the guns were finding it impossible to hit. They would be designed to hit an object that was moving in a predictable way and anyone who had ever tried to swat a fly would know that this was exactly the opposite of what the tiny disc was doing right now.
Otto watched as the disc buzzed down the corridor and swept up between the two guns, coming to a perfect stop in the air between them. Both guns fired and the disc twitched upwards, evading the shots, each of which hit the other gun and expanded to encase the twitching machines in sticky, rapidly hardening foam. The mechanisms controlling the two robotic turrets whined in protest as the foam set to the consistency of concrete, rendering the twin sentries useless. The tiny disc, meanwhile, ceased its crazed flight and settled into a stationary hover as its onboard sensors confirmed the absence of any further incoming projectiles.
Otto walked down the corridor, carefully avoiding the numerous bizarrely sculpted foam lumps that now decorated the walls and floor ahead. As he reached the steel blast doors that the guns had been guarding, the tiny disc flew towards him and landed gently in his outstretched palm. Otto set to work quickly dismantling the panel on the wall that controlled the doors, and within seconds had bypassed the locking mechanism, forcing this final portal open with a low rumble.
Resting atop a pedestal in the centre of the huge dimly lit room beyond was his target, a simple plastic keycard. Getting to the pedestal, however, would not be as straightforward as he had hoped, surrounded as it was by sweeping green laser beams, their random movements seemingly impossible to predict. There was no easy way to tell what would happen if he was to break one of these beams, but Otto was willing to bet that the consequences would not be pleasant.
He watched the beams dancing around the room for half a minute, tracking their movements, trying to discern a pattern. Then Otto felt a familiar sensation, almost like a switch tripping in his skull, and now the beams were no longer just a forbidding light show. Suddenly, to his eyes, the beams were simple sets of trajectories and coordinates, the numbers that defined their movement almost seeming visible. He closed his eyes and the numbers kept moving and changing in his head, their movements reduced to mathematical formulae. He would not have been able to explain how he did it, but slowly these strings of numbers resolved down to the simple core algorithm that the computer that must be driving the beams was using to give their movements the appearance of randomness.
As he opened his eyes again the dancing lasers seemed to him to now be moving with total predictability. He took a long deep breath, picked his moment and walked slowly through the beams towards the pedestal. To an observer what he was doing would have looked impossible, like walking between raindrops, but to him it was as straightforward and as natural as breathing. Several times it looked inevitable that he would break one of the beams but each time it would miss by millimetres as he continued across the room.
He reached the pedestal within seconds, the elaborate security system still blissfully unaware of his presence. He reached for the keycard, but as he did so a dark shape descended from above with a high-pitched whirring sound. Shelby Trinity, suspended from the ceiling on an almost invisible wire, suddenly hung upside down above the pedestal. She grinned at him, winked and snatched the card before Otto could reach it. She hit a button on her belt and the tiny motor attached to the line whirred into life again, pulling her rapidly back into the darkness above.
‘Second place is just the first of the losers,’ she laughed as she vanished into the shadows. Seconds later alarm bells started to sound and a steel cage shot up out of the floor surrounding the pedestal, trapping Otto, as blindingly bright floodlights illuminated the entire room.
Otto braced himself; whatever happened next was bound to be unpleasant. The steel blast doors on the opposite side of the room slowly rumbled open and a familiar shape trotted across the room towards him. It was a fluffy, white cat wearing a jewelled collar, not what one might normally expect to see in a situation like this, but th
ere was very little that was normal about life at H.I.V.E. This was no ordinary cat; this was Ms Leon, H.I.V.E.’s Head of Stealth and Evasion training, who had been trapped in the body of her cat ever since Professor Pike’s experiment to give her the instincts and agility of her feline companion had gone horribly wrong.
‘Oh dear, Mr Malpense, it would appear that you have been pipped at the post,’ Ms Leon said. The blue crystal at the centre of her collar pulsed in time with her words as H.I.V.E.mind, the school’s omnipresent super-computer, worked to grant her the voice that her new body would have otherwise denied her.
‘It would appear so,’ Otto replied as Shelby descended from the ceiling again and walked over to the cage that now surrounded Otto. The huge grin she was wearing made it quite clear that she found the whole situation highly amusing. Otto didn’t really mind that he had been beaten to the objective by Shelby. She may have looked like a typical Valley girl, but, as was so often the case at H.I.V.E., appearances were deceptive. Shelby was actually the world-famous jewel thief known only as the Wraith and had proven on numerous previous occasions that getting past security systems like this was all in a day’s work. If he was going to be beaten, at least it was by the best.
‘Oh, Otto, you came so close,’ Shelby said, still grinning. ‘That stunt with the lasers was cool, but sometimes the old-fashioned ways are the best, you know.’
‘You both did well,’ Ms Leon said, slipping between the bars of Otto’s new cage and jumping up on to the now empty pedestal. ‘Not many students make it this far through the Maze on their first attempt.’ The Maze was the most elaborate part of the school’s Stealth and Evasion training, consisting as it did of an ever-changing array of highly sophisticated security devices that were designed to test the pupils’ abilities to the limit.