Читать книгу The Colossus Rises - Peter Lerangis - Страница 12

CHAPTER SEVEN

YODA IN TWEEDS

I DIDN’T STAND a chance. Red Beard’s hands were like steel bands. He hefted me up into the chopper in one effortless swoop. The movement was so jarring and such a shock to my fragile system that I blacked out.

When I came to, we were rising high above the jungle to a chorus of simian screeches. I tried opening my eyes but even the light hurt. My brain felt as if someone had pumped it full of air.

“Seat belt,” the man grunted.

The chopper’s blades were deafening. I was going back. Back to the institute. Taken by the same man who had injected me with who knows what while he posed as a priest. He had walked past my house on bare feet. Now he was wearing earphones, moving the controls and humming tunelessly to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard.

I tugged on his shirt to get his attention. “Take me home!”

“Hunh?” He turned, a little startled, as if he’d already forgotten I was there. Pulling off the left side of his earphones, he said, “Can’t. Got to go back. Seat belt!”

My sight was slowly clearing, the pain in my head subsiding. What was he doing here—in the middle of a jungle? What had he been doing in front of my house…at the hospital?

What was going on?

“You…you injected me…” I said.

He shrugged. “Job.”

“Why?” I said. “Why do you want me?”

“Do what I’m told,” he replied.

“What’s the Karai Institute?” I pressed.

“Bosses,” he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

I gazed out the window. Off to one side, the mountain was like a black wound. In the distance, the sea stretched out in a silvery sheet. I could see where the helicopter had been waiting. The spot was surrounded by acres and acres of jungle. What were the chances I’d walk right to it?

“So…you were just waiting at some random place in the middle of the jungle?” I asked. “What if I didn’t show up?”

The man’s face darkened. “Blasted monkey thief!” He pulled down his arm angrily and the chopper swooped. “Stole keys!”

My eyes slammed shut and my stomach jumped. Do not get him angry. And do not hurl.

In a moment we were descending. I peered downward to see a round helipad hidden behind the largest building on the Karai Institute compound.

“Torquin,” the guy said.

I figured he had lapsed into Swedish. “I’m sorry?”

“My name. Torquin.”

“Oh!” I replied. “My name. Jack.”

He cocked his head curiously. “You talk funny.”

The chopper landed and I reached for the door handle. But Torquin let out a grunt and held me back.

Five uniformed workers, three men and two women who looked like the Olympic weight-lifting team, had rushed out of the building. The helicopter door opened and a gloved hand reached in. I tried to pull away, but it grabbed me tight. I heard a sharp, metallic click.

Handcuffs.

“Wait here.” In the basement of a KI building, Torquin pulled open a conference room door. Unhooking the cuffs, the guards shoved me in. The place smelled of fresh cement.

“Go,” Torquin barked. For a moment I thought he was talking to me. But the guards instantly began to grumble and leave the room. I watched them disappear into a long hallway until Torquin slammed the door shut.

He pushed me around a long, polished-wood table to the other side of the room. The place was windowless with pristine white walls, swiveling leather seats, a coffee machine, and a pile of food on the table. With his Visigoth beard, bare feet, and camo clothes, Torquin looked way out of place. “Too many people. Don’t like crowds,” he said.

“Me neither,” I agreed. “Handcuffs, too. Can you take them off?”

“Sit.” He pulled out the leather chair at the very head of the table. My eyes shot directly toward the food spread: fresh and dried fruits, doughnuts, and pastries. On top of it all was a huge, gleaming, chocolate chocolate-chip muffin. It looked awesome, and I was starving.

As he undid my cuffs, Torquin pricked up his ears. “What’s that noise?”

“My stomach,” I said.

“Stay here,” he replied. “Eat. Professor will come.”

As he left, he grabbed the muffin off the top and inserted the entire thing into his mouth.

I hated him.

At the click of the shutting door, I began cramming doughnuts into my mouth. I chased them down with enough fresh pineapple and sliced mango to feed a small Caribbean nation.

When I couldn’t fit another crumb, I slid back into a comfy leather chair and closed my eyes. I would have fallen asleep, I think, and slept for a week straight if five seconds later, the door hadn’t flown open. This time, it wasn’t Torquin.

It looked more like Yoda in a tweed jacket.

“Well, that must have been an ordeal,” the man said in a flat, high-pitched voice. “Greetings and a cordial welcome, Jack.”

He was an older guy, short and lumpy looking with dark, wrinkled skin and a broad nose crossed with veins. His eyes were droopy and sad, and his salt-and-pepper hair seemed to have slid off the top of his head and skidded to a stop just above his ears, forming two messy thatches on either side.

He walked around behind me, leaned in too close, and peered at my head as if I were a lab specimen. Pushing a pair of thick glasses up his nose, he said, “Are we feeling all right?”

“I’m trapped in this room with you,” I said. “I was kidnapped and handcuffed. Nobody will tell me where I am or why I’m here. They took away my phone—”

“Yes, yes, that is a lot to unpack, isn’t it?” the man said, still peering at my head. “But you were hardly kidnapped. You were found wandering off into the jungle. Dear Torquin saved your life. Now please turn and let me properly see the stitches. I promise not to hurt you.”

He reached toward me. I flinched, but he took my chin in his hand and pushed it gently to one side. With his other hand, he lifted one of the bandages on the back of my head. “Splendid! The surgeons did a clean job back there. Are you still in much pain?”

My patience was gone. I was always taught to be nice to grown-ups, but that had expired. “They knocked me out and dug into my brain—yes, I’m in pain! I want to call my dad! Why am I here? And who the heck are you?”

The man pulled up a seat. As he extended his hand, his Coke-bottle glasses slid back down his nose. “Forgive my poor manners. As I used to say to my students at Yale, ‘I have three names—Professor Radamanthus Bhegad—but unlike most academics, I let you use my first name. So you can call me…Professor Bhegad!’”

He sniffed with a very satisfied expression.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” I growled.

“It slew them at Yale,” he said with a sigh. “I apologize for all the secrecy here. You see, Jack, it’s very simple. You need us. You have a rare genetic condition that is about to kill you, and we at the Karai Institute are the only ones who know how to treat it.”

I looked at him warily. “I thought you already treated it.”

“We’re not done yet. This condition is complex. It has lain dormant in you until now. Untreated, it will overload your circuits, so to speak, and cause death.” He sighed and wiped his glasses. “The good news is that when we are finished, you will attain superpowers beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Is this a joke?” I asked.

“Pardon?” he said.

“You mean, superpower superpowers?” I asked. “Like flying, stopping bullets, becoming invisible, having X-ray vision?”

“Dear, dear boy,” Professor Bhegad said, shaking his head with a barely tolerant smile, “the radioactivity in X-ray vision would wreak havoc, wouldn’t it? It is a silly comic-book myth.”

“And there are some superpowers that aren’t?” I asked.

Bhegad nodded. He began to get this odd, faraway look in his eye. “The brain is an amazing thing, Jack. Quite exciting for a boy, no? Whoosh…whoosh…Geronimo!” He seemed to be igniting from the inside. Beads of perspiration lined his forehead. “Of course, this goes two ways. You see, we need you, too. Which is the main reason I am here. To explain your connection to a lost ancient civilization.”

“Wait. Lost civilization?” I said. “I’m still at superpowers.”

Without explaining, he began lifting doughnuts and fruit and glancing underneath. I noticed his fingernails were yellow, practically bitten to the nub.

That’s when it finally hit me. This guy was a nutcase. And I was alone with him. This place wasn’t a lab or a hospital. The “Karai Institute” was an institution!

“Excuse me, Professor…sir…” I said slowly, trying to keep my temper from rising, “I need to see your bosses. Please. Tell them where I am. Tell them there’s been some mistake. Tell them I don’t have my phone, and I need to contact my dad now. Because if they don’t, he will sue their pants off!”

Bhegad looked up from the plate of food. His fingers were smeared with chocolate icing. “You sound frustrated. But you needn’t worry. We have taken care of all details.”

“What does that mean?” I shot back.

“For reasons that will become clear, secrecy is necessary. You will understand when I show you this informational slide show, if I can find that blasted remote….” Leaving the pile of food, he flicked a switch on the wall, and a screen began to lower from the other end of the room. He knelt to peer under the table. “Honestly, no one puts things back where they belong….”

I had to get out of here. Slowly I stood up. The exit was just beyond him. I was sitting at the other end of the table, on the right side. On the floor behind me to the left was a pile of papers. “Oh! Is it that little black thing?” I said, pointing to the corner. “Behind that stack of folders?”

“Ah, thanks…let me see…” he said, waddling around the table.

I waited until he was leaning over, looking away.

And I bolted.