Chapter 13 – Sick Squid
Story so far. Drakken has used the Phoebus device to make himself smarter but is it having side effects? Team Possible are unaware that he, not Dementor, is working behind the scenes on a plot for world domination, based on synthodrones and Cyrus Bortel's Mark II Moodulator, which unlike the Mark I which got itself onto Kim before the Middleton Days parade, can create emotions and not just amplify existing ones. Bortel has gone missing and Team Possible are due to report to Dr. Director. Meanwhile, Kim's love life is non-existent, Tara has a crush on Ron but is dating Josh, Ron has a crush on Tara but is confused about Kim and has come close to revealing his Yamanouchi-enhanced mad fu skills to her, Monique is dating Felix and Bonnie is spying on Kim for "Miss Goh". And Junior Prom is only three weeks away.
Now read on.
Global Justice Headquarters, Middleton
Kim and Ron sat side by side on the upholstered sofa that was the only piece of furniture in the Director's waiting room other than a set of filing cabinets. Kim had turned down the Director's secretary's offer of a drink, while Ron was slurping a cola and feeding bits of the proffered biscuit to Rufus.
While Kim looked thoughtful, Ron was excited at being inside GJ headquarters for the first time. Wade had made a point of confirming to GJ that Ron would be attending the hastily-convened meeting as well as Kim. This was not merely to smooth Ron's ruffled feathers about having been left out of the loop previously. Wade had been impressed at Ron's recent intuition when it came to potential threats, and he was also keenly aware that Kim was not a reliable witness at the moment, given her emotional state. Ron's ability to keep calm was an important element in Team Possible's present situation.
ooooOoooo
While returning from Rio, the pair had taken a call from Wade. The genius had been following up on "Miss Goh".
"Hi Wade," Kim had greeted the appearance of the young man on her Kimmunicator as they sat cheek to jowl in the back of a cramped Cessna three-seater that Wade had secured for their return.
"Hi Kim," he responded. "Just wanted to update you on a few things. First, I've got you an appointment with Betty an hour after you touch down – you'll have time to change and freshen up before you have to be there."
Kim looked gratefully at her techie. She so hadn't wanted to see Dr. Director straight off the plane.
"I also did a bit of digging around about Sheila Goh."
Kim looked at Ron, then back to the Kimmunicator. "What did you find?" she asked.
Wade looked serious. "I didn't find anything at all wrong," he responded. "And that's got me somewhat suspicious."
"How so, Wade?" The freckled boy asked the question before Kim could respond.
Wade gave a tight smile. "Look, it's probably nothing, but well, she's just a bit too clean. Anyone who's a temporary teacher might be expected to have a few gaps in her record, and a few fuzzy statements of achievement. But Miss Goh appears to be Miss Perfect. It might be coincidence, or Ron may have something." The techie knew exactly whose idea this had been.
The blond flashed a smile at Kim. She scowled but caught herself.
"So what now, Wade?" as she returned her attention to the screen.
"I think I should do some more digging. I'll see if I can find someone who knew Miss Goh at a previous school. We shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. After all, Miss Goh doesn't seem to have done anything untoward during her stay at MHS."
Ron begged to differ, still seething from Miss Goh's efforts to put him on the spot during her math lessons. But even he had to admit that this was hardly prima facie evidence for villainy.
"Okay, Wade, keep on it. Even if it turns out to be Shego, maybe she's trying to go straight?" Kim observed. She ignored the voice in her head that told her plainly just how unlikely that scenario was, but right now she just wanted a break from chasing villains, and some time to get her head back in the game. As soon as she had briefed GJ about Bortel, she was planning to hold Betty to her promise of a break from freak-hunting while she dealt with more immediate concerns.
Like what to do about the Prom.
ooooOoooo
Elizabeth Director's door opened and a familiar voice called for them to enter. Kim led the way to a pair of chairs facing Dr. Director's desk and the pair sat themselves down. Ron looked nervously around the unfamiliar room before returning to the GJ boss.
"So Wade says you have a theory about Dementor?" the one-eyed woman began, looking into Kim's eyes.
"Yes, ma'am." Kim was normally very comfortable with GJ and Betty, but today she felt unaccountably tense. She sneaked a glance at her companion, but he was giving the GJ chief his full attention, and even Rufus was sensible enough to keep out of sight.
Is it Ron's presence that is making me nervous? Or am I still out of whack?
She looked up at Dr. Director who was waiting expectantly for her to continue.
Kim cleared her throat. "We went to Bortel's laboratory today after an alert that he was being threatened. When we arrived, the site was a wreck. It looked like a gas explosion, but I'm not sure."
"Was anyone hurt?" her questioner asked.
"No, no sign of a body. Which in itself is suspicious. I think that Bortel was abducted then someone – probably Dementor – tried to conceal the crime by blowing the place up," she finished.
"Interesting speculation." Dr. Director emphasized the second word. "And why do you think it was Dementor?"
"We think he may have had problems with the EMA that he took last time," – she winced at the memory – "and came back to grab Bortel. And this."
She pulled the Mark II Moodulator control out of her pocket and handed it to Elizabeth, who looked at it inquisitively. The woman did not fail to notice the slight shaking of Kim's hand.
"And what might this be?" she asked Kim.
Kim looked at Ron before turning back to the GJ boss. Ron took her hand.
"It's a remote control for a mind-control device," she replied uncomfortably. "We found it in the rubble. We think it was overlooked."
Elizabeth looked sharply at her. Wade had briefed her before the meeting but had mentioned nothing about this device. Her voice softened.
"How do you know what this is, Kim?"
"Because I had the business end of this stuck to me for 24 hours, until Ron got it off me," the girl said bitterly.
Ron squeezed her hand then looked up at Dr. Director.
"Ma'am, Bortel created a device called a Moodulator Mark I. When Kim went to stop Dementor last week, the device got attached to her neck by accident. It messed with her emotions, making her angry enough to attack a henchman."
"And other stuff," he added under his breath.
Elizabeth thought back to the debrief after that incident. Kim had seemed completely out of character, dismissing her case officer's concerns about the attack on the henchman, and behaving almost as though nothing mattered except her desire to get back home.
"Is that all," she asked the pair, suddenly alert.
The two looked uneasily at each other, as Kim's face flushed.
Ron decided to respond. "Kim's feelings of friendship towards me got a bit … exaggerated," he explained hurriedly.
Dr. Director sat back in surprise. She could read between the lines and, remembering the nervous excitement that Kim had displayed when she was being debriefed, guessed what had actually happened between the pair. No wonder they both looked so uncomfortable.
She looked again at the remote control. Taking out a magnifying glass from her desk, she examined the base carefully.
"This says Mark II. What does it do?"
Kim looked helplessly at her case officer. "We don't know."
"So," the GJ chief summarized. "We have a missing scientist who is capable of designing mind-control devices that mess with people's emotions and who knows what else. And a real possibility that Dementor is involved?"
"Yes," said the two together.
"Okay, you did right to come and see me. Kim, have you been checked out by a neurologist?"
"Yes, my Mum arranged for a scan. They didn't find anything …" The girl trailed off.
"But you're concerned about longer-lasting effects?" Elizabeth finished. Ron's eyes widened.
"What effects, Kim?" he queried.
Kim didn't want to reveal her confusion over their relationship, or her harshing on Bonnie and yelling at Monique.
Elizabeth could see Kim's discomfort in front of her friend and decided to step in.
"Kim, you are to take off the rest of this week come what may." She typed a command into her computer and Wade's face appeared on the wall screen.
"Wade," she ordered. "You are not to pass any missions to Kim for the next seven days. GJ will handle any problems that arise. Is that understood?"
Wade looked at Kim for confirmation, as the leader of Team Possible nodded her head barely perceptibly. He confirmed his agreement to the instruction and Elizabeth dismissed him from her screen.
"Kim, leave Dementor to us. You have given me some valuable information that I can use to persuade the Council to give us the resources we need to find Dementor and deal with this threat now that I have something concrete." She indicated the remote control.
The doorbell buzzed and Elizabeth pressed a button to release the lock. The tall brunette who walked in smiled as she saw the girl sitting in front of the desk.
"Kim," she called delightedly.
"Hello, Candace," the girl responded,
"Can, please," came the mild rebuke. "And you must be Ron Stoppable," turning to face the boy.
Ron had a strange feeling that he had seen the woman before but was equally sure that they had never met.
"Doctor Du." Her boss called her to attention, handing her the remote control. "I want you to take this to the lab and work on it with the neuro-psychologists. We think that it controls a mind-control device. It is imperative that we figure out what that device is capable of as quickly as possible."
Can Du took the device and, giving the pair a beaming smile, left the room.
"Doctor Du," Ron whispered to Kim. "As in Will Du?" The girl nodded.
"I thought one Du was bad enough," he whispered back, but not quietly enough.
"Mr. Stoppable," the Director said icily. "You will not speak about one of my most valuable assets in that way." Ron had the grace to look embarrassed.
And Kim thought, Assets? Is that what she considers us?
"Now leave and return to your normal lives for the next week. Global Justice needs the two of you operating at full effectiveness. Do not be tempted to get involved in villain-hunting for the next seven days. Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the pair responded.
Drakken's room – 3am
Doctor Drakken tossed and turned in a restless sleep. He had gone to bed hoping that by letting his mind focus on nothing he would see the missing pieces of the plot. But his brain was racing too fast to allow him to relax. After contemplating synthodrones and hotties for a few minutes, he decided that the best thing to do was to pour himself a cup of coco-moo and crawl into bed to get some much-needed sleep. It took a long hour before the calming effect of the hot drink finally sent him off, and his heated dreams were filled with incomprehensible images.
His eyes flew open at a particularly vivid image of a giant squid reaching out for him. He instinctively recoiled as his arm shot out and knocked the alarm clock off his bedside table. The sound of the clock hitting the floor woke him fully and he stared bleary-eyed around the room, a headache beginning to pound.
The squid image was fading as he recalled his previous night's dream. Of octopus arms linking Bueno Nachos buildings. There was something else nagging at his unconscious mind too – a recollection of an early dream about plastic toys with creepy grins. Suddenly an image of Bob Chen popped into his mind, picking up and drinking a glass of some liquid that was offered to him by someone familiar. What had he called it? Cider tonic?
Cider tonic?
Hold on.
Cider? Or Cyber?
Tonic? No, tronic!
Drakken sat up with a start, his heart pounding with excitement.
Cybertronic! Wasn't that the secret technology behind the Centurion Project that he had tried to get hold of from Duff Killigan last year? And what about that rumor that an even more advanced form was being developed by Middleton Space Center for the Department of Defense? Last month's Villains' Monthly had speculated that it was self-repairing, semi-sentient and with the ability to change its shape.
And wasn't the Space Center research department led by a certain Dr. James T. Possible?
Ooh, the irony!
Drakken climbed out of his bed and sat down at his desk. He knew that he was almost there.
He wrote down on a pad the phrases "Cybertronic Technology", "Bueno Nacho" and "Plastic Toys".
He wasn't sure what these meant, but he just knew that the dream elements were connected. And sooner or later his subconscious mind would reveal its secrets.
Suddenly, Drakken felt calmer and his headache retreated, as though the dream squid had let go its tight grip on his brain.
He was tempted to go to the lair's library computer to research cybertronics, but a yawn made him realize how tired he had become. Heavy-eyed, he lay back on his bed. Within moments he was fast asleep, his face smooth and unlined as he sank into a dreamless repose.
Shego's room – the same night
The green-skinned villainess was also having trouble sleeping that night. Having returned from Middleton with Cyrus Bortel, and handed him over to Drakken and Dementor, she had found herself with little to do. She had gathered from the most recent meeting in the lair's conference room that Dementor was having trouble with his so-called synthodrones. While Drakken had been annoyingly unforthcoming about exactly what they were, she had figured out from the conversation between Drakken and Dementor that they were some kind of plastic artificial men that Doctor D intended to use as troops. But there was only going to be nine hundred of them – nowhere near enough to take on Global Justice, let alone the rest of the world's armed forces.
With nothing to do until Drakken's conference the following day, and with nothing to report other than some banality from Bonnie Rockwaller that had come in that afternoon, she had drifted around the lair, annoying everyone she came into contact with, until she found herself alone with Manfred.
The security chief was putting the finishing touches to the lair defenses. This was something that Shego could relate to, and she listened patiently as Manfred explained the new anti-intruder protection that he had placed in the shafts. She quickly realized that he had deliberately made them non-lethal. She found herself surprisingly pleased with that decision. Shego had never actually killed anyone, and although she recognized the nature of her chosen vocation, she always hoped that she would never have to do so. Apart from the obvious consequences, her sense of professionalism had led her to push herself to succeed with the minimum impact on building or person. Indeed, she prided herself on the number of daring raids she had pulled off without the victim even being aware of the theft.
Of course, when fighting Princess, the gloves were partially off, so to speak. In an open fight, she had no reason to hold back, but even in this situation, she was strangely reluctant to let loose with a lethal burst of plasma. She knew that if her life depended on it, she would have no hesitation in going for the kill, but with Kim there was something of a challenge to beat her nemesis without going nuclear.
She thought back to the last time they had fought. It was the night that Stoppable had screwed up and Doctor D had survived the collapsing lair. She had lost her temper that evening, and she was sure that Possible had returned home with more than a few bruises. But even with her dander up she had still held back. The truth was that Kim was the only person who gave her a real challenge. She felt alive when the two of them were fighting. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Princess shared something of the same.
Shego returned her attention to Manfred. Her visit to him was not solely out of interest in his actions. She was bored, and when she was bored she generally got horny too. She had given Manfred come-hither glances while he was talking, but to her annoyance he was so focused on his task that he had completely missed them. She had suggested a nightcap after dinner, and for a moment thought he was going to take her up on her offer but then she saw his regretful grimace.
And so, at 11pm, Shego found herself undressing alone in the privacy of her room. And as was her wont when she felt useless, her thoughts darkened.
She began to wonder if Drakken was really any closer to succeeding than with any of his previous plots. Granted that he had acquired some useful technology – the EMA from Dementor and the Mark II Moodulator from Bortel, and he had Bortel himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had something in mind involving mind-control. But with some gizmo that had to be physically attached to its victims – world domination one person at a time? Surely not?!
Whatever the grand plan was, there was only just over three weeks to make it happen. And what did they have at the moment? Some plastic robots that could be deflated with a sharp knife?!
She was sharply reminded of Doctor Zaruda's comments when they raided the Des Moines laboratory two weeks earlier. He had said that Project Phoebus didn't work consistently. What if it made Drakken feel full of confidence but actually had no real impact on his intelligence? She thought back over the last fortnight. Certainly his manner had changed, and not always for the best. He seemed more organized and less random, and she had to admit that he wasn't the buffoon that she had got used to. Instead, he seemed more purposeful and serious.
But what did they actually have to show for the last fortnight? Other than a lair that she would happily stay in until this all blew over. But actual achievements on the evil villain front? Essentially zilch, nada, nothing. Unless you count tweaking Kim Possible, bamboozling her high school enemy and watching her meltdown when exposed to the Moodulator a success. Now, if the plan was to grab Princess and expose her to a permanent attitude change, that she could go with! Maybe she should suggest that to Doctor D tomorrow?
A word came into her mind. Bourne. She struggled for a while to place it before remembering where she'd seen the word – Jack Hench's dispatch office when they found the lair address. Drakken had said that it sounded like some black ops operating under Betty's nose. And didn't Zaruda say that the Phoebus project had been shut down – the frightened man had clearly been hiding something.
I wonder if there's a connection between Phoebus and Bourne?
She felt useless in the lair, and she was only going to get more irritated with the lack of any serious progress if she hung around.
Shego resolved to pay a visit to Toronto to find out more about this Bourne.
With that settled, she fell back onto her pillow and dropped off to sleep.
Drakken's room – 7.45am
Doctor Drakken was awakened by the sun streaming into his room through a large picture window. He had forgotten to pull down the blind before going to bed the night before and he took a minute to look out of the window, enjoying the view of the snow-covered Tibetan Himalayas glistening in the morning sun from the east. This was the only room in the lair that had an outside view. Dementor had been paranoid about reflections of the sun off windows giving away the location of the lair, but he had made a single exception in the case of his - now Drakken's - bedroom, considering its location inside a lava fold on the side of the volcano to make spotting it from the outside impossible.
The brilliant sunshine soon had the effect of clearing his head and revitalizing his spirit. He climbed out of bed and quickly dressed, before noticing the pad on his desk that he had annotated earlier in the night.
Cybertronic technology.
Bueno Nacho.
Plastic toys.
Immediately his mind turned to the meaning of these phrases.
And it was as if the sunlight was starting to clear away the darkness that obscured his inner view. He felt tantalizingly close to the solution to the puzzle but something was still missing.
Shaking his head he dressed and made his way to the dining hall, the phrases racing through his mind. Shego had just arrived and she greeted him cheerily but his only response was a grunt.
"What is Dr. D's problem today?" she thought snarkily.
As he queued for a portion of yak's milk yoghurt, his attention was caught by a small television that was set into the corner of the room just below the ceiling. Someone had decided that the morning needed some entertainment and the set was tuned to a Japanese channel, one of the few available in Tibet. He watched for a moment as the canned laughter suddenly ceased and a commercial replaced the Japanese-subtitled US situation comedy that some of the henchmen had been watching.
Drakken was about to look away when a tinny-sounding "konnichiwa" drew him back. As he watched he saw a distinguished-looking grey-haired Japanese gentlemen, surrounded by laughing young children, hold up his latest prototype toy, a small black and red robot standing some 14 inches high. Below him on the screen, in English and Japanese, were the words "Coming soon – from the Nakasumi Toys Corporation. L'il Diablo".
Plastic toys.
Suddenly, everything fell into place.
And Drakken knew exactly what he needed to do to beat Kim Possible and Global Justice.
He turned to Shego, his eyes shining. She looked blankly at her boss.
"I see it all," he breathed. "And it is magnificent!"
Breakfast forgotten, Doctor Drakken rushed out of the room toward the library, while the other diners looked on in confusion.
Row three of the Fifteen Puzzle had fallen into place, and row four was revealed in all its glory.
Somewhere in Go City. 11pm the following day.
The room was silent apart from the regular tap tap of keys from the occupant of the dingy office, sitting at the computer which rested on his modest desk. A bare bulb provided the only illumination, casting gloomy shadows across the grey filing cabinets that lined the opposite wall of the small room. Two chairs, a notice board on which was pinned a long out-of-date invoice, and a low table supporting a computer printer and a box of paper completed the furniture. The walls were crying out for a fresh lick of paint, but their pleas had gone unanswered for some considerable time.
The man was dressed as drably as his office – an ill-fitting blue pin-striped suit that had known better times, covering a white shirt unbuttoned to the chest, with scuffed collar and a dark blue tie that was half-undone and dangling from his neck. Only the discrete pair of diamond cufflinks suggested that all was not as it seemed. The shabby image was more to keep the authorities off his back than a true reflection of his financial state – as well as being a nod to his childhood hero Philip Marlowe. His real wealth was safely stashed away in Switzerland.
Nevertheless, business had recently been poorer for the criminal defense lawyer. Too many of his regular clients were incarcerated for extended periods, and the ones at large were unwilling to associate with someone who they suspected was being monitored by Global Justice. He had had to let go most of his staff, which explained why he was still working an hour before midnight.
The lawyer had to deposit an affidavit with the court the following day on behalf of Frugal Lucre. The idiot had managed to get himself arrested for trying to pass counterfeit coins to the checkout clerks at his local Smarty Mart. The fact that the coins were clearly marked 'Novelty only. Made in China' had led to his detection at the first attempt. Now the lawyer had to enter a plea of temporary insanity to try to avoid his client going to prison for yet another amateurish fraud attempt.
Philip Marlowe never had such useless clients he told himself. Where's the mysterious blonde bombshell when you need one?
The ping of an incoming email broke his gloomy thoughts.
Who was emailing him at this hour?
Hank Perkins read the message.
ITN. Channel 45. Ten minutes.
The lawyer inhaled sharply. It had been months since anyone had tried to contact him via the In-Terror Network. Because the "dark web" had not been penetrated by law enforcement, it was mainly used by villains to communicate between themselves. Breaking cover like this could only suggest something major.
Eagerly, Perkins fired up his TOR browser and logged in to Channel 45. After exactly ten minutes, a message appeared on his screen.
Welcome Cousin Sigmund.
Hank recognized this as the call-sign of Wolfgang Demenz, otherwise known as Professor Dementor. He racked his brain for the correct response. He knew that if he made an error, his interlocutor would immediately break the connection. Then it came to him.
Hildegard sends her regards.
The screen cleared and a fresh message appeared.
Uncle Hans has sent you a birthday card.
This Perkins knew meant that he should disconnect and open his ITN email.
There was only one message in his inbox.
A few minutes later, Hank Perkins finished reading the detailed instructions that he had been sent. His brow furrowed. His mysterious client – who may have been Dementor or was merely using Dementor as a go-between – wanted him to quietly buy up stock in order to build up a controlling stake in a corporation using a chain of offshore shell companies to conceal the ultimate owner. Money was no object but he was not to draw any undue attention by over-paying.
The author had clearly thought this through, giving detailed instructions on the maximum holding that any company could acquire. He estimated that he would need to create in excess of thirty companies in a complex pyramid structure. However, there was no reference to the name of the company or to the source of finance. And crucially, no mention of his compensation.
The message ended with an instruction to reconnect to the In-Terror Network in ten minutes, where he hoped the missing information would be revealed.
Someone was going to the most enormous lengths to conceal his activity. It doesn't feel like Dementor. I wonder who it is?
He reconnected to Channel 45. On the screen appeared two paragraphs.
The money required to purchase the stock will be available in a Swiss numbered account reference 857142. The present balance is $5 billion. You will be remunerated with 1% of the cost of the transaction.
That meant that he would earn up to fifty million dollars!
Hank wondered briefly which villain had five billion dollars to spend on a takeover. And why?
As a sign of good faith, one million dollars has already been paid into your personal account in Zurich. Please check this now and confirm your acceptance of our proposal.
Not unduly surprised by the admission that his supposedly secret account details were known to the caller, he quickly checked online to find that indeed his balance had just increased by seven figures.
He typed assent to the proposal.
The screen went blank. A final message appeared.
He looked at the screen and frowned.
Why would a villain want to take control of a fast food chain?