Phantom Hunter

by T. C. Edge

  Chloe turned to Nadia as the jet sped off, cutting through the clouds in a gentle descent.

  “So you were a member of the Southern Queens?” Chloe asked.

  Nadia smiled, a note of pride in her eyes, a twinkle of a time she appeared to cherish.

  “I was,” she said.

  “And is it true that it’s an all female force?” queried Chloe. She’d heard the rumours, but had never had confirmation.

  Nadia’s wistful smile was going nowhere, though took on a playful frame as she glanced at Chloe, brows lifting.

  “Well, doesn’t the name give it away?” she asked. “I’m not too sure many men would enjoy fighting in a special forces troop called the Southern Queens.”

  Chloe felt foolish, and was quick to correct herself.

  “Um, sure. There’s the Southern Kings too, right?”

  “Indeed. Down in the Southern Republic, the men and women fight separately. It’s not the same in the other nations. The Panthers and Spectre Squad are exclusively male.”

  “And what about the Mid-States?” asked Chloe. “I’ve been chased over the years by just about everyone, but I never encountered their special forces. Not that I know of, at least.”

  “Yes, well that’s no great surprise. The MSA are militarily weak and predominantly peaceful. They have augmented soldiers, but rarely deploy them these days. They’re more about consolidation than anything more. I suppose the Southern Republic is similar now. We can’t compete with the WSA and NDSA.”

  “We?” remarked Chloe, surprised that Nadia had referred to her ex-home nation in such a manner.

  The tawny-haired girl laughed gently at the slip of the tongue.

  “It’s a habit that dies hard, Chloe,” she said. “I support the cause of Project Dawn, and am committed to their fight, but I will always have a soft spot for the place I grew up.”

  Chloe understood the attachment, to some degree at least. Her return to New York a couple of days before had been brief, yet it still woke in her some ancient longing. She hated that the home she once loved had been so soiled in her mind. That her father, whom she loved so dear, had been forced to place her on this path in order to, as he saw it, protect her.

  A lingering bitterness remained in that regard. Remus Phantom had never intended for any of this to happen, but it had. Whatever way you wanted to spin it, a father had cursed his dear daughter to this life.

  “So will you ever go back?” Chloe asked, breaking her train of thought. She didn’t want to delve too deep into that particular rabbit hole. Nadia was a distraction, and a pleasant one at that.

  “Back home to Texas?” asked Nadia. She shrugged and said gently, “Who knows.”

  A silence dawned, and the falcon continued its descent through the dark night sky. A jet filled with outcasts, all striving to belong.

  15

  The evening was a long one, things just starting to unravel.

  Ragan sat within the jet, set down in a cluster of trees in a long forgotten patch of land far from civilisation, alone. At the rear, Mikel remained tied up, unconscious. Outside, the others were sleeping around a fire, handily set ablaze by Chloe’s magical lightning powers.

  Ragan needed some time to himself, and had thus declared himself happy to conduct the first watch over Mikel. It hardly seemed necessary given the fact that the vamp was so heavily shackled and drugged out of consciousness. Such was his threat, they weren’t taking any chances.

  Yet, he’d become a major piece of the puzzle too, even more so than before. As yet, they’d managed to squeeze no further information out of him, and thus it had been decided to shut him down for the night, catch some sleep, and come at things again in the morning with fresh heads and, hopefully, the sort of realigned perspective you get after letting your mind rest, and your thoughts settle.

  Still, Ragan had a hunch that Mikel was telling the truth about the data, an opinion not shared by Tanner. The swaggering Californian believed the vamp to be playing for time, keeping his throat from being cut. His advice was simple - kill the creature and be done with it. Then head back to base and weed out the mole, if there truly was one.

  Ragan, however, thought he knew Mikel a little better. He’d seen no deception in his eyes, and hadn’t sensed the usual biological red flags that usually appear when someone’s lying. No raised heartbeat. No increase in perspiration. No shifty eye movements, or indicting body language of any kind. Ragan had watched closely and seen nothing to make him doubt Mikel’s words. And aside from that, he wanted to believe them.

  After all, this was his chance for redemption. It was he who’d stolen Chloe away, he who’d set the data free. And he who chose to save Chloe from the clutches of the CID, thus giving Mikel a chance to escape.

  Colonel Slattery had been quite clear in his suggestion. This was Ragan’s opportunity to make things right, to track down the data before it changed hands. If Mikel had hidden it away somewhere only the nano-vamp knew, then there was no chance he was going to risk offing the creature quite yet.

  That, of course, led to another point of contention, one briefly discussed after they landed, and before the fire was started, an evening meal hastily prepared, and sleep sought by the three currently resting around the little woodland camp.

  It was, of course, Tanner once more who went head to head with Ragan. The two were always fighting for dominance, for alpha male status. And Tanner, being in the subordinate role on this occasion, appeared committed to being the one to question Ragan at every possible turn.

  All of it was much to the amusement of the girls, in particular Nadia, who rolled her eyes and glanced occasionally at Chloe, entering the conversation only when she had something pertinent and meaningful to contribute.

  “Boys will be boys,” she’d whispered to Chloe, who observed the interaction with a firm curiosity. All of this was new to her, and highly intriguing. She and Remus, in his avian form and perched upon her shoulder, watched on together, always learning. And that, too, made Nadia smile.

  The point of contention in this case was the simple fact that, if Mikel was telling the truth, and he was the only person who knew the location of the data disc, then killing him might solve their problem anyhow.

  “If he’s hidden it somewhere no-one will find it, then what’s the issue?” asked Tanner forcefully. “Kill him, and the data is essentially lost anyway. We get to kill two birds with one stone.” Then he’d turned to Remus with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the phrasing, little guy,” he said. The little drone fluttered his metallic wings in acknowledgement.

  It was at this point that Nadia had made one of her apposite contributions.

  “Much as I hate to admit it, Tanner’s right,” she said. “You remember that old book…Lord of the Rings?”

  She waited for the question to sink in, looking around the group. She was greeted by eyes that required further elaboration.

  “Well, in the book there’s this magical ring. Everyone wants it. The bad guy wants it to gain power. The good guys want to destroy it to stop the bad guy from…”

  “Ah, yeah, I remember this one now,” cut in Tanner. “It was a movie, though, right? It’s really old now.”

  “Well, it was a book first,” corrected Ragan.

  “Yeah, so you do know it,” said Nadia. “And you know what I’m getting at then?”

  Ragan drew a breath.

  “Sure. In the book, movie, whatever…the ring is lost for thousands of years. No one knows where it is, and only by chance does it get found. I can see what you’re saying, Nadia, but we can’t just allow the data to stay lost. This isn’t Middle Earth.”

  “Unfortunately,” murmured Nadia. “I love that world…”

  “Look, can we be serious here,” Ragan had said, losing some patience. “We need to destroy the data, once and for all. We can’t just leave it out there to be stumbled upon. We have no idea how well Mikel’s concealed it. We have no idea whether he’s telling the entire truth on the matter, and the l
ocation of the disc isn’t known by someone else. I understand what you’re saying, but let’s consider that more of a last resort. We have time on our side here, people. Let’s not waste it.”

  The debate had been ended at that, and little more had been spoken on the topic since. They were all tired and drained, and a few hours of rest would do them the world of good. They decided to wait until first light to speak with Mikel again, and set about eating, setting up camp, and sleeping under the leafy canopy with the flickering fire to warm them.

  And now, alone, Ragan was happy for the respite and solitude. He considered this his task, his responsibility. And he wasn’t willing to kill off the only true lead they had.

  He grew weary as he sat there, glancing occasionally at Mikel, but primarily looking out into the woods, at the soft glow of the firelight, and the three bodies draped upon the earth around it.

  Though secreted away out here, he remained nervy and tense, an anxiety within him. He’d checked several times to ensure all comms links were severed, all ways of tracking the falcon cut off. According to the logs, Colonel Slattery had tried several times to get into contact, to hear updates on the mission. So far, he’d chosen to ignore all return communication.

  Only days before, he’d lost the support of the CID, his cover seemingly blown, even if he still considered it salvageable in his more positive moments. Now, he’d been forced to cut off comms with Project Dawn as well, fearing that there was a mole on the inside working against them.

  He considered, though his mind was weary, the various options as he sat alone, letting his thoughts settle and arrange themselves. He went through each member of the council, and others of more lowly standing within the organisation, and wondered whether they could truly be trusted.

  Slattery was, perhaps, the obvious choice, wielding more power than anyone else back at base. His former position within the WSA army was indicting, though hardly conclusive. He’d been shunted out when he lost his hand, and then part of his proficiency in the role as a result as he fell into a depression. Had he truly turned against his former nation? Was his position within Project Dawn merely a route to discovering the data, getting it back to his former masters in LA?

  He’d spoken passionately about destroying the data, and had for some time, but was that just an act? Was he truly going to go through with having Chloe killed, or would he have snuck her out, just as Ragan did, and taken her as his prize?

  Surely not, Ragan thought. If that had been his purpose, he might have stolen her away at any point.

  It didn’t add up, none of it did. His mind turned to others, working through their history in the organisation, their past, any personal interactions he’d had with them. He was searching for something, clutching at straws, hoping for some sudden light to shine upon the truth, revealing it to him in all its wondrous glory.

  No light came, but for that of the fire, fading now as it sat unattended. Ragan stood, needing to stretch his legs, and crunched out into the forest. He spared a look at Mikel, still shackled and sleeping, and ventured towards the nearest grouping of trees, fetching up some wood to help restore the blaze.

  He gathered kindling, and heaped it on quietly, keen to not wake the others. He felt comforted by his solitude, by the tranquil setting. Some of the tension within him began to ease away as he drew a breath of cool, fresh air, looking up to the stars overhead, visible through the tops of the trees and the light smoke, billowing from the campfire.

  His eyes turned down to Chloe, sleeping peacefully by the soft, relaxed expression on her face. Remus wasn’t hovering above her, but lay snuggled in her arms instead. He stirred, noticing Ragan looking down, but sent no alarm to wake his master.

  Ragan smiled. It meant he trusted him.

  He stood there for a minute or two, watching Chloe sleep as Remus crept from her side, stretched his magnificent silver plumage, and fluttered up into the air to land on Ragan’s hand.

  He stood for a while, inspecting Ragan’s face, before flying off again and gliding gracefully back to Chloe.

  “You sleep well, little guy,” whispered Ragan, before turning and wandering back off to the jet.

  Arriving, he turned his eyes straight to the rear. Mikel remained in position, looking like death, covered in his black cloak. It took a great deal of willpower for Ragan to leave him be, his hatred for the creature superseded by more pressing concerns. Then again, could he trust Tanner to be as sensible? If he took up the next watch, might Ragan wake to find Mikel’s throat slit, his blood drained to the falcon’s metal floor?

  It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. No, he’d continue his watch till morning. Ragan didn’t intend on sleeping that night.

  Over the next couple of hours, he regularly returned to his feet, often wandering from the jet and under the starlight. The clouds drifted overhead, gently ambling across the sky. When they departed for an extended time, leaving the black canvas beyond unobstructed and glowing with a dazzling array of stars, Ragan would wander off and discover an open patch in the canopy, looking up in wonder at the heavens above.

  He never ventured far, or for long, however, returning quickly each time and resuming his vigil. His thoughts continued to search and scan, seeming to bloom with fresh ideas whenever he took to his feet.

  And in the twilight hours, with the glowing bloom of dawn appearing pink through the dark trees, Ragan’s thoughts began to take an ugly turn.

  There was one particular Councillor who’d been denied his attention. One whom he liked above all others, trusted above all others. He’d passed her over in his thoughts, never stopping to even consider her possible duplicity. But as the hours passed, so his mind began to turn to her once more.

  It was she who’d been more keen than any to protect Chloe from Slattery’s death sentence. She who’d manipulated the room into a stalemate. She who aided Ragan significantly in helping get Chloe clear of the base, in bringing her to New York to see the data extracted from her nanites.

  Martha Mitchell.

  The realisation dropped like a heavy stone, tumbling down a mountainside. Ragan’s mind was suddenly loud, hurrying in various directions like a scattered flock of birds.

  Could it be that Martha was Mikel’s secret employer? Could it be that she was the mole within Project Dawn?

  His heart was pressing hard against his chest as he considered the questions. He retraced their interactions, brow crinkled as his mind slipped to the past. She’d always spoken of keeping Chloe safe, if ever she was found. She’d always championed that particular cause, facing up against Slattery and his cronies, Benedict Oppenheimer and Archie Westham, whenever the council met.

  But was her true intention to keep Chloe safe, to save her? Or was she merely twisting things to another purpose, forging a bond with Ragan, like-minded in his desire to see the girl freed, in order to meet another end? Ragan, in deep cover with the CID, with access to one of the only places on the continent where the data could be safely extracted from Chloe’s body.

  Ragan stood from his perch, and began pacing, turning things over in his mind. Was he just overthinking it all? Was it lack of sleep that was doing this to him, warping his thoughts, driving him to places he wouldn’t otherwise go.

  Perhaps he should have slept after all. Perhaps a few hours of rest would replenish his sanity.

  But then again, perhaps not. Maybe, out here in these silent, empty woods, with the first blush of morning warming the sky, his mind was as clear as ever.

  Marching from side to side, his eyes fell upon Mikel once more. Still draped in his chair. Still hidden in his cloak. Still locked into an induced sleep.

  Ragan’s eyes set themselves firm, and his feet drew him on. He came up on the vamp, seated below him, and withdrew a thin, pen-like device from his pocket. He stabbed it into Mikel’s neck, administering a drug to wake him.

  The creature’s black eyes opened almost instantaneously. He drew a long breath, almost a gasp.

  Ragan’s eyes were b
urning with a need for the truth.

  He gripped Mikel’s chin, held his gaze upon him.

  “Martha Mitchell,” he growled. “Do you know that name?”

  Mikel took a moment to configure his bearings. His eyes swam with a momentary mist, before growing clear as crystal, hard shards set upon Ragan’s face.

  Mikel’s answer wasn’t sufficiently quick for Ragan.

  He gripped tighter, and violently shook the man’s neck, lifting that red mist into Mikel’s eyes.

  “Answer me! Is Martha Mitchell your employer!” he roared.

  Mikel tore his head back, releasing his throat from Ragan’s grip. He snarled up at him, and shook his head.

  “Never heard of her,” he hissed. “I told you already, I don’t know who my employer is.”

  “How is that possible! Was it a female voice, or male?!”

  Mikel shrugged, enraging Ragan further.

  “It was modulated. I always assumed it to be a man, but…how fascinating if it’s a woman.” He smiled, his fangs still slightly extended.

  And then Ragan remembered something - the comms device they took from Mikel. It must have been what he was using to contact his employer. It might just hold the answers.

  He quickly dug around in his pockets, searching for it. He found it on the third attempt, pulling the little orb into the light. He inspected it fully this time, barely giving it a thought when he’d first been handed by Tanner it after Mikel was searched.

  He gazed at it, half in a trance. He considered handing it to Mikel, shoving it into his ear, telling him to contact his employer. But he didn’t. He had a better idea.

  He turned, leaving Mikel alone, and hurried into the blushing morning. The light was creating pleasant shafts through the trees, sparkling on the dewy forest floor. The fire was all but spent, its flames flagging, its warmth replaced by that of the waking sun.

  As Ragan stormed down from the jet, the motion was noted by Remus. He seemed to sense the tension in Ragan’s step, the thrashing of his heart. He rose to the air as a bird, and quickly alerted Chloe. Her eyes ripped open as they had so many times before, and so often in lonely places like this. Yet this time, she woke with others around her.