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it?”
    “Guess not.”
    Mills led them along the hall and down into the storm cellar, where a hidden door slid back to reveal the wide stone stairway that led into the prison.
    As the men began to unpack their equipment, Mills turned to the woman. “How long will this take?”
    “Not long,” she said. “Anything to report?”
    “No.” That annoyed the warden a little; they were aware of everything that happened—they even monitored his vital signs—but they still felt they had to ask him stupid questions.
    One of the men sat down at the warden’s computer and began tapping away at the keyboard. The other men took out sophisticated scanning devices and started to check the integrity of the doors and walls. Two men made several trips back up to the helicopter, bringing in heavier equipment.
    “So,” Mills said to the woman. “How’s life in the outside world? It’s Mystery Day, right?”
    “You know I’m not allowed to discuss such things with you.”
    “I kind of miss the celebrations.”
    The woman didn’t respond to that. Instead, she examined her clipboard. “Now…I’ve been ordered to check on the prisoners.”
    Another test, the warden said to himself. “Not possible. No one but me and Doc McLean get to see the prisoners. You know that.”
    “We’ll need your access codes to override the locks,” the woman said.
    “Yes, you would. If you were getting to see the prisoners. Which you’re not.”
    “I’m not asking you, Warden Mills. I’m telling you. Give us the codes.”
    “You know I can’t do that without a signed order from Central Command,” Mills said with a smile, to give the impression that he was playing along. Inwardly, he was beginning to get worried. They occasionally sprung surprises on him, but this one felt wrong.
    The woman turned to one of the soldiers. “Davison?”
    The soldier stepped up to Warden Mills, saluted and said, “Sir! Direct order from Central Command, sir! You are to provide us with the override codes necessary for us to access the cells, sir!”
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that, soldier.”
    The warden found himself facing the dangerous end of a gun. He sighed. “Son, put the gun away. You’re embarrassing yourself.” He turned to the woman. “Now, I know that you’ve been ordered to put me to the test, but let’s not, and say we did, OK?”
    The soldier fired.
    Mills glanced down to see a tranquilizer dart protruding from his chest. He collapsed to the floor.
    Davison leaned down and smiled at him. “We know you’ve got a biometric implant that will trigger an alarm if your vital signs fluctuate, Warden Mills. Can’t have that happening.” He reached out and pulled down on the warden’s eyelids, closing them. “Don’t worry, you’re not dying. I’m just closing your eyes to prevent them from drying up. You’ve been dosed with a muscle relaxant. You’ll be paralyzed for about seven hours.”
    “We have to move fast,” the woman said. “Get those doors open!”
    One of the technicians said, “We won’t have time to open them all.”
    The woman said, “We don’t need to open them all. Just…” She checked one of the computer screens. “Just Cell 18. The man we’re looking for is called Joseph.”

3
    L ATER, AS HE WAS ATTEMPTING TO DO his homework, Colin couldn’t get the thought out of his mind: Suppose it’s true? Suppose Danny is a superhuman? Maybe he’s been one all along, but kept it secret. Or maybe Danny didn’t even know. This could be the first time he’s ever done anything like that.
    If superpowers are inherited, wouldn’t that mean that one of Danny’s parents is a superhuman too?
    Colin dismissed this idea almost immediately; Danny’s parents were just too ordinary. Danny’s father was a manager in the local supermarket and his mother was a driving instructor. Danny also had a seven-year-old brother, Niall. If Danny had inherited superhuman powers from one of his parents, then that would mean that Niall