The Drone Pursuit Page 3

  Sam and I gathered around Amy as she pulled up a page. The same black-and-white photo appeared on the FBI’s site. But this time, they also listed Shadow Hawk’s approximate characteristics.

  “He has blond hair,” Sam read. “No help there. Mr. Conway’s hair is gray.”

  Amy zoomed in on the hacker’s height. “Look. It says he’s about five three. Mr. Conway is about that height.”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “Because there are no other hackers who are five three.” He took another bite from his sandwich.

  After I saw the photo again, and after just running into Mr. Conway, I had to admit, they did look a lot alike. More than I thought the first time I saw the photo.

  “Pull up a photo of Mr. Conway,” Sam said. “Maybe we can compare them side by side.” She grinned up at Noah and me. “If there is a photo of Conway on the web, Amy can find it. She’s a search master.”

  “Good idea,” said Amy. “I think his first name is Joshua.”

  I stood up and stretched. “Let’s go to the computer lab and do this,” I suggested. “So we don’t have to crowd around Amy’s phone.”

  “You really buying into this?” Noah asked me.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I sat back in my chair. Sam and Amy are two of the smartest students here. If they believed it, I thought it was worth looking into. Besides, we still had twenty minutes left of lunch period.

  Noah shrugged. “All right. Let’s do some digging and rule this out so we can concentrate on getting our drone back.”

  We finished our lunch and zipped over to the nearby computer lab. Everyone was still in the cafeteria during the rest of the lunch period, so we had the place to ourselves. Amy logged on to one of the computers and the rest of us pulled up chairs. We could’ve all searched on different computers, but Sam was right. Amy whizzed through the search engine and different social media sites faster than our eyes could keep up.

  “This is weird,” Amy said. “I’m not getting any information about Mr. Conway.”

  “Really?” asked Sam.

  Noah sighed. “Let me try something.” He slid his chair over to the next computer. He tapped the space bar, and the screen saver was replaced with the school’s log-in page. Noah logged in and pulled up the Swift Academy’s official website. He clicked through a couple of pages. “That’s weird. He’s not listed in the staff section,” Noah reported. “They have everyone else’s picture there.”

  Amy’s fingers blurred over the keyboard as she typed. “Nothing on social media. Nothing on phone listings. Nothing relevant with Josh or J. Conway. I’m drawing a blank.”

  “That is too weird,” I said. How can anyone manage not to leave some kind of digital footprint these days? It would certainly take mad hacking skills to erase any trace of someone from the Internet. Could Sam really be onto something this time?

  I glanced up at Sam. She looked back at me and shrugged. Then we both grabbed computers of our own and began to search.

  “Nothing with an image search,” Sam reported.

  “Zilch on class reunion sites,” added Noah.

  “I’m working local census records,” I said.

  “I was just getting to that,” said Amy. “What did you find?”

  I typed a few more keys. “Nothing,” I replied.

  This was too strange. Here we were, four of us burning up the Internet, searching for any trace of Mr. Conway, and we weren’t finding anything. It was as if the man didn’t exist. But then, something stranger happened.

  All four of our computers shut down at once. In fact, all of the computers in the computer lab went dark. The dancing geometric shape screen savers all disappeared in unison. Every computer screen was black. We glanced around at one another in disbelief.

  “Okay,” said Noah. “That’s . . . something.”

  5

  The Communication Complication

  PING.

  My phone chimed as I received a text.

  I got up from my desk and walked toward my bedroom door. I stepped on the pressure pad just inside my room and the robotic arm on my bedside table extended toward me. The plastic hand opened, revealing my phone resting in its palm. I unplugged the phone from the tiny power jack jutting from the plastic wrist. You know, with just a few weeks designing, a 3D printer, and a trip to a Halloween store, I never had to search my room for my phone. It was simply offered to me as I left. It wasn’t really invention convention material, but it kept me from forgetting my phone.

  My room was a mess of inventions like that. Actually, to the casual observer, my room was just a mess. Okay, maybe to the astute observer, too. But hey, I have a very complex and detailed pile system. I can find any book, note, or schematic in any of the many piles around my room. Really. My dad didn’t always agree with my system. He had me clean my room once and I was lost for months. We finally met halfway. As long as there were no dirty dishes and the dirty clothes stayed in the hamper, I was golden.

  I sat on my bed and checked my phone. The text was from Noah. What are we going to do?

  I wasn’t sure if he meant our missing drone or the Conway situation. But my answer was the same for both.

  My thumbs flew across my phone screen. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.

  None of us had a chance to talk after the big computer blackout. At first, we thought it was just the computers in the computer lab that went down. It turned out that every computer in the entire school went out. I didn’t realize just how much our school relied on computers until we couldn’t use them at all.

  The students weren’t the only ones taking computers for granted. The teachers used them for electronic slide shows, pulling examples from the Internet, and even making notes digitally on the electronic boards in front of each class. The afternoon classes were a little chaotic to say the least.

  Teachers dug out old dry-erase boards and overhead projectors (the ones with bulbs that still worked). Even the school bell system was offline. Individual classes dismissed according to the classroom clocks. And since the clocks weren’t synchronized, class beginning and ending times were staggered throughout the school.

  Ping.

  You don’t really think Mr. Conway crashed the computers, do you? Noah asked in his next text. Because we were looking into him?

  The timing is pretty suspicious, I replied.

  He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would do something like that, Noah wrote.

  Unless he was a wanted hacker trying to cover his tracks, I thought. Instead, I wrote: You’re right. He doesn’t.

  “Tom,” my dad called from downstairs. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Gotta go, I typed. Talk to you tomorrow. I slipped the phone into my pocket and went downstairs.

  My dad had the table set and a freshly cooked meat loaf ready to go. I had to hand it to him. For someone who runs a major tech company with massive government contracts, he always makes time to have dinner with me every night. Since my mom died when I was little, he has always tried to be two parents in one. Luckily, being his own boss lets him set his own hours and even work from home when he wants.

  “Heard you had an interesting day at school today,” he said.

  I froze mid-bite. Was he talking about our lost drone? Had someone told him about our Conway investigation? Tom Swift Sr. knew about everything that went on in Swift Enterprises. It would make sense that he would keep his ear to the ground at the next-door Swift Academy. I mean, when they both have your name on them, you kind of have to.

  “The computer outage?” my dad asked. He chuckled. “Surely you noticed.”

  I laughed, mostly with relief. “Oh, yeah. It was crazy.”

  I told him about the teachers scrambling to find low-tech solutions to replace their new high-tech problem.

  “Mr. Wilkins seemed happy about the whole thing,” I said. “He thinks we rely too much on technology. He said it was a good chance for the teachers to stretch their brains for a change.”

>   “I’m sure he has a point there,” my dad said. “Still, we’re sending in someone to fix things. We think someone uploaded a virus into the system.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Do you know who it was?” I asked.

  You don’t have to be a world-famous hacker to upload a virus to a computer system. Then again, a world-famous hacker could probably do it with ease . . . and not get caught.

  “No, and that’s not the priority right now,” my dad replied. “We need to clean the virus as soon as possible. After all, the academy’s servers are tied to Swift Enterprises. There are firewalls in place, but you never know.”

  That was news to me and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it sooner. Of course there was a link between the Swift Academy and Swift Enterprises (other than the name). But I didn’t know their computer systems were linked somehow. Suddenly the meat loaf felt like a rock in my stomach.

  “Do you think someone was trying to hack into the company’s servers?” I asked.

  My dad shrugged. “I doubt it. It was probably just an overzealous student. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  My father seemed way too nonchalant about the whole thing. But if Mr. Conway was really Shadow Hawk and if he got a job at the academy to be closer to Swift Enterprises and if he released the virus . . . then this was a big deal. I opened my mouth to tell my dad about our suspicions. But then I closed it again. There was one problem—way too many ifs.

  I couldn’t go to my dad with some half-baked conspiracy theory. He’s warned me about having too many side interests as it is. He thinks I don’t apply myself enough at school. Sure, I make decent grades and all. And sure, if I concentrated more I could probably ace all my classes. The trouble is, I like exploring everything and get excited about some new idea or invention. My dad would think this Conway investigation was just another distraction. He wouldn’t take it seriously. We needed more than just a theory.

  Ping.

  I pulled out my phone when it chimed again. It was probably Noah.

  I opened my messages to a text from an unknown number.

  Back off, it read.

  That was weird. Must’ve been a wrong number or something. Or maybe one of my friends got a new phone and was updating his or her contacts.

  Strange way to announce a new phone purchase, though.

  I quickly typed a reply. Who is this?

  There was no response.

  “No phones at the table, Tom,” my dad said.

  “Sorry,” I replied, slipping the phone back into my pocket.

  My dad and I finished dinner. We talked more about my day and his day—what he could tell me that wasn’t top secret. But honestly, I don’t remember our conversation. My mind kept going back to the Conway conspiracy and that strange text.

  6

  The Surveillance Solution

  “BACK OFF?” ASKED SAM. “IT’S gotta be Conway. He’s onto us.”

  “Us?” I asked. “Did you get a text too?”

  “No,” Sam replied.

  I turned to Amy and Noah. “What about you two?”

  They shook their heads. “Looks like you’re the only one,” said Amy.

  Sam shrugged. “Okay. Looks like he’s onto you, Tom.”

  As everyone showed up for first period, I told my friends about my conversation with my dad. I told them how the school’s servers are connected to my dad’s company. And I ended everything with the mysterious text.

  Amy kneaded her hands together. “Did you tell your father any of this?”

  I shook my head. “But maybe I should. I don’t know.”

  “What I want to know is: How are we going to get our drone now?” asked Noah. “If Conway’s onto you, then you can’t ask for it back.” He pointed to himself. “And he knows we’re buds, so that leaves me out.”

  I shushed Noah and glanced around the classroom. Students were filing in, and Noah wasn’t being quiet. Kaylee Jackson and Barry Jacobs pointed and whispered.

  I didn’t have to answer Noah. The bell rang—the usual bell. Unlike the afternoon before, we didn’t have to wait for the teacher to keep time. Of course, that would’ve been difficult in this case because, like yesterday, we didn’t have a teacher.

  “Good morning, Swift Academy students,” said Mr. Davenport’s voice over the loudspeaker. “As you can see, the bell and intercom systems are working again. However, the computer and wireless Internet systems are still offline. It turns out our system was infected with a computer virus . . . again.”

  Mr. Davenport had to be referring to last year’s big April Fool’s prank. Everyone called it the computer cat-astrophe because every computer in the entire school played an endless loop of funny cat videos from around the Internet. It only lasted for an hour and I heard Anya Latke got in big trouble for pulling it off. But to the academy students, she was a hero.

  “Now we all had a little chuckle from the last time,” Davenport continued, “but this virus is quite malicious. We have someone coming in to take a look but until then, we’re going to have to make do a little longer. Thank you.”

  Suddenly, the door flew open and Ms. Talbot swept into the classroom. “Sorry I’m late again.” She carried an armload of folders and a large satchel to the front. “It turns out that Mr. Jenkins has a bout of food poisoning.” She held up a hand. “He’ll be fine, but he’ll probably be out for the rest of the week.” She put her things down on the desk. “Which means that I’ll actually have to teach some real algebra.”

  She rummaged through her satchel. “Unfortunately, all of Mr. Jenkins’s lesson plans are on the school computer system. So . . . we’re going to watch another movie today.”

  Sighs of relief rippled throughout the class. Several students began slipping their phones and books from their backpacks.

  Amy raised a timid hand. “Excuse me,” she said. “But how are you going to show a movie if the computers are down?”

  Ms. Talbot pulled a laptop out of her bag. “I brought my own computer.” She took out some other cables and devices. “And a wireless hotspot to access the Internet through my phone.” She gave the class a grin. “And no, you can’t have the password.”

  While Ms. Talbot connected her computer to the system, Noah leaned over. “Whatever is going on with Mr. Conway, we have to get that drone back,” he said. “This was just a test flight. You were going to calibrate the microphones, I was going to tweak the filter program. We have tons of work to do to be ready on Friday. We should just go ask him for it.”

  Sam leaned over. “Want to know my opinion?” she asked.

  “If it means not getting our drone back, then no,” said Noah.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Mr. Conway has your drone somewhere in the basement, right?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “And we want to know what he’s up to, right?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  Amy’s eyes widened. “Then why not just turn on the cameras and see what he’s doing?”

  Like I said, two of the smartest students at the academy.

  7

  The Power Predicament

  THE FOUR OF US DECIDED to skip lunch and see what the drone could see in the basement. Noah and Sam scouted the school for Mr. Conway while Amy and I went down to the basement itself.

  Everyone thought Amy would be the best copilot not only because of her photographic memory, but also because Noah got sick during the last flight. Nothing like someone running to the bathroom to ruin a covert operation.

  Once at the end of the stairs, we couldn’t get through the basement’s main access door, but we had to get as close as possible so the remote and headsets would definitely be in range. Amy and I slid under the stairs and pulled a couple of the cardboard boxes in front of us. Once we were hidden, we put the visors on.

  “No sign of him yet,” came Noah’s voice in my ear. I had an earpiece attached to my phone. Amy had one too. She was in contact with Sam.

  “Okay, let’s see what
we can see,” I said as I hit a switch on the controller.

  The screen on my headset turned on but it barely glowed.

  “Did you turn it on yet?” asked Amy.

  “I did,” I replied. “I think the drone’s in a room with the lights out.”

  “Or something could be covering the camera,” said Noah, listening in on our conversation.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s a dim glow coming from the bottom of the screen. And I see a bunch of green dots.”

  “I see them too,” said Amy. “I thought maybe something was wrong with the camera.”

  “The camera better be okay,” Noah warned.

  “I’m going to see if I can get a better view,” I said.

  I moved the left joystick, powering up the drone’s motors. I just hoped the drone wasn’t parked next to anything that could get entangled with the propellers. If it was, this was going to be a very short spy mission. And Noah was definitely going to kill me.

  The dim view shifted as the drone rose a couple of inches into the air. The green dots danced around on the screen as the drone evened out. I adjusted the other joystick to move it forward, before a bright light suddenly blinded me.

  “Ah!” I cried out.

  Amy gasped. “Someone turned on the lights.”

  I rotated the drone to the right. It hovered in a small room with a single door leading out and a small closet on the side. There wasn’t a standard light switch on the wall beside the main door. Instead, there was a white plate with a small plastic dome.

  “What’s going on?” asked Noah.

  “Motion-sensor switch,” I replied. “The drone must’ve triggered it.”

  “Sam says she spotted Mr. Conway,” Amy reported. “Third floor, next to engineering.”

  “Good,” I said. “At the other end of the school.”

  I rotated the drone some more and saw where it had been parked. A large metal shelving unit extended across one wall. The drone had been on a pile of dark cloths on one of the shelves.