The background song changed to the Beach Boys song, "Don't Worry, Baby"; Kroot placed his drink to the side, near his gored-up instruments, and pulled the sheet down from the body's face to reveal a man's head with a round hole in the temple.
"It's the same sniper, right?" Cogan started, starting to feel bored and knowing the outcome.
She was wrong. Kroot shook his head. "Nope-a-roonie, no ceegar for you, chicky," he crooned with a strange accent. Picking up the forceps, he reached into the kidney dish on the nearby trolley and picked up a cylindrical shaped object covered in blood; the object slipped from the forceps, landing in Kroot's glass. Reaching in to the glass, he picked it up and fished it out again to show her.
It definitely wasn't a bullet. Instead of being made of metal, it appeared to be made of some kind of stone with a colour similar to a turquoise. "It's not stone either," he told her. "I've got to run it off to one of the other labs to have it checked."
Detective Cogan looked closer at it, noting its definite strangeness, and saw something from the corner of her eye. She turned towards Kroot who had taken the final swallows from his drink; he crunched on the final ice cube, swallowed and licked his lips.
"It's not the same sniper," he answered, ignoring Cogan's face as it went a shade greener. "In fact, this one has something that the other gunshot victims don't have! Do you wanna guess?"
Cogan forced an initial wave of bile back down her throat, and looked back towards the body. Kroot started to say something but the detective held her hand up to silence him; she wanted to find it herself. Her eyes passed over the corpse's wax statue-like features and then she smiled in recognition. There was a tattoo, number 134, ingrained on the back of the victim's shoulder.
"This tattoo," Cogan spoke, indicating it with the end of her little finger. "What can you tell me about it?"
Kroot looked closer at it, thought for a moment, and stood up again. "It's not a tattoo."
"What?" Cogan couldn't believe it.
"It's not a tattoo," Kroot repeated. "At least, not in the sense of the one I got on the night I married the midget in drag - I really should stop making decisions while drunk. When I noticed so many of them, I took a sample and had the ink checked. It's not ink. It's a burn."
"But it's in the skin," Cogan interjected, "it can't be a burn."
Kroot moved back towards his deckchair and plonked himself back down. "It's not burned from any sun rays or lasers," he explained, picking up a sun tanning reflector board and placing it around his face. "It's been burned from inside the body, kind of like a microwave. I've never seen anything like it before and the lab boys confirmed it's just burnt meat. Now, are you going to join the party or not, Detective Cogan?"
She shook her head in refusal and lifted the sheet back over the corpse's face. "What about the other bodies from the weekend?"
Kroot turned his head back towards the detective, his eyes hidden by his 1960's style sunglasses. "They didn't tell me anything different to what the lab boys said either. The police officers they brought in on Saturday had been shot by the same rifle we talked about last week. Good luck in catching that son-of-a-bitch. He's a good shot. Haven't seen anything like that since I left Johannesburg."
TAK AND RAY WERE ON the third lap of the oval, practising for their school's sports day. The meet itself was less than two weeks away and their Phys Ed teacher, who happened to also be one of the teachers hosting their sports house, had been running them through a gruelling practice session. He'd given them the drill of running three times around the oval, a distance of 400 metres each lap; sprinting the first lap; jogging the second; and sprinting the final lap. After a short rest, they were to do the same again another three times. They were now on their third of four sets; sweat layered their skin, cooling them in the cold morning air from which their sports singlets and shorts offered little protection, and they did their best to match their breathing rhythm to their pace of the jog.
Tak coughed loudly, finding himself unable to breathe properly, and felt like he had drifted into a cloud of something. Ray looked back, wondering what had happened to his running partner.
"What was that about?" he asked.
Tak suppressed the urge to vomit. "I'm not sure, dude. It felt like I ran into a cloud of something rotten."
Colonel Ryan watched them, scowled a little and muttered. "It's a premium Cuban cigar, you little shit."
They didn't hear him, but Ray felt the yellow glob of spit hit his left shin at the top of his sock. He looked down, pulled a face and let out a sound of disgust.
Picking on the kids again, Colonel Ryan?
The phantom colonel turned around, clamping the phantasmic cigar between his teeth, and exhaled another cloud of smoke; this one was visible to the two runners, and they bolted. Craig Ramsey stood outside the school's fence that divided the oval from the cemetery. Colonel Ryan snorted, floating back towards the cemetery. "When I was a kid, I could have run rings around those two easily. These days, now they don't smoke as much, they're turning into pussies."
"So now you blow smoke rings in their face to make them 'man up', right?" Ramsey answered wryly.
Ryan snorted again, good-humouredly this time, and shook Ramsey's hand with his astral limb. "What's so important you had to see me this morning?"
Craig Ramsey looked around, seeing a nearby tree where less spirits congregated. He motioned to the colonel who followed him into its shade, telling the phantom he had something of potential interest for him.
Colonel Ryan asked if Ramsey had found him a ghostly woman who was willing to give Ryan some pleasurable sexual favours. Before Ramsey could respond, the colonel smirked. "That's damn decent of you, Mr Ramsey."
Craig Ramsey thought to himself, privately so that Ryan didn't catch it, that it was a good thing Emily Fraser didn't come along this time either. "I believe I have something that could benefit us both," he explained, refusing to acknowledge Ryan's comment. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone, and found one of the video files of the spirit assassin's Friday evening speech.
The colonel floated around to get a better look of the video playing on the phone's screen. This video played the similar scene only from a different angle. Ramsey had visited Sally Green after watching her original video on the Saturday morning. By the time she discussed the rest of the events to him, he learned that other people on the scene had recorded the same thing on their phones as well.
They watched as the black-hooded figure turned and faced Sally Green to look through her camera's lens. From this second perspective, the viewers could see the definite outline of the spirit assassin's profile.
"You can see me?" its raspy voice boomed.
"Y-yes," Sally's surprised voice responded. "But only on the camera."
It approached Sally's camera lens even closer, moving through the car's body, until it was less than a foot away from Sally, and then its voice boomed. "This is a warning! Another one! I will keep killing these stupid selfish bastards, and you won't stop me. Someone tried to stop me but I am unstoppable and nothing you mortals can do will make me."
(Colonel Ryan snorted at this point, blowing more smoke as he studied the figure.)
"Who are you?" Sally's voice asked.
The hooded figure kicked backward at the crumpled mess of a car and it moved. (Colonel Ryan snorted in mild amusement again. "Pipsqueak ****," he murmured around his cigar. He's all show.")
"My name doesn't matter," the spirit assassin's voice answered. "Names are just words on air, and so many words are meaningless these days, falling upon ignorant ears! But my message is clear for you. Heed the warnings or I will keep killing you."
("Melodramatic," Ryan insisted. "He seems like one of those poofy theatre kinds who like to prance and dance on stage like cheerleaders, doesn't he?")
Sally's voice asked what the spirit assassin wanted.
At this point, Sally Green's recording had stopped, however this different video of the same event continued. T
he spirit assassin's voice boomed through the speakers, which vibrated from the volume, "The police and the authorities have not figured it out. I am killing people who use their mobile phones while driving." The hooded figure's hand swept behind him, indicating the corpse in the driver's seat.
("Yep, there's the theatrical gesture," Ryan chortled, coughing a little on his cigar smoke although it wasn't truly affecting him.)
A slight shimmering appeared around the corpse as the spirit assassin continued speaking. "This idiot was one of them, fingering this woman's genitals just before talking on the phone to his wife while he drove!"
Although Craig had seen this through YouTube the day before, he still couldn't help feeling sorry for Jenny, the victim's wife. It wasn't for him to judge the victim's cheating streak, but he felt it was a terrible way for the man's wife to find out about his cheating. He was still her husband, the father of their children, and his mother's son. Colonel Ryan, on the other hand, still let out a snorting grunt; Craig wasn't sure if that was because the victim's karma had bitten him on the backside, or something else.
The spirit assassin's voice and image continued on the screen.
"All of you people, even you filming this with your camera, deserve to die if you are using your mobile phones while driving," the spirit boomed.
They heard the surprised voice of the man filming the spirit. "W-what?"
"W-what to you too!" The spirit moved closer to the person filming, forgetting to look in the lens as it faced the human. "You have all been warned! All of you! You not only risk your own lives, which you seem to value far less than the piece of shit phones you will be replacing in a year or two anyway, but you also risk the lives of those who are doing the right thing! The innocents!"
Some static came through the video, and it corrected itself so the playback continued.
"You all deserve it!" The spirit's voice boomed through Craig's phone even louder, and he was aware that the two students on the oval looked up again as they made another circuit. "You've received messages before. Here's another one! Since the police can't catch you, I will catch you-AND - I - will - kill - you - when I do!"
The spirit assassin reached towards the camera's lens and the image crackled away to silent blackness. The video ended.
"There are other videos like that from the same time, including one by a news reporter who was there too, but this is the best one," Craig told Colonel Ryan.
Colonel Ryan removed the cigar from his mouth, blew a large cloud of putrid smoke that smelled like death into the cold air, and replied, "I still don't know this guy." He paused for a moment and Craig could see him thinking. "I may know someone who can track him though. I'll meet you back at my office."
With that, he disappeared. Feeling tired this morning from the cold temperature, Craig followed the path back to Ryan's office and met the Colonel there.
The Colonel had another ghost with him by the time Craig arrived. The second spirit had a wiry frame, apart from a pot-belly that poked from underneath his black Pink Floyd t-shirt and spilled just over the belt buckle of his torn jeans. His beaten up Nike shoes looked like they had seen better days at least a year before the spirit died. "Meet Chaz," Colonel Ryan grunted around his thick cigar. "He's our tech boy."
"Spirit Force has hackers?" Craig's eyebrows lifted in surprise, as he reached forward to shake hands with the ghostly IT guy. "I had no idea."
"Of course we do," Colonel Ryan laughed, standing back for Craig to get a better view of the laptop, which looked as ghostly as its user. "They don't all live forever. Hell, even Chaz here died at a computer keyboard, didn't you?"
"Hey, dude," Chaz said, reaching out a pearly-white hand. As Craig did likewise, Chaz moved his outstretched hand so that they ended up fist-bumping instead. "I remember seeing you on YouTube years ago. Until I died, I didn't think you were real, man."
"Unreal," Craig answered, managing a grin.
Chaz peered at Craig's other hand, seeing the mobile phone it held; he pointed at it. "The Colonel says you have something there for me."
Craig handed his phone to the hacker who looked it over with studious eyes. "Holy shit! An iPhone 6S. I read about them online but this is the first I've seen," Chaz exclaimed, turning it in his hands before inserting a USB cable into it and connecting it to the laptop.
Files flickered up on the screen, mostly photos and video files, and Craig marvelled at how quickly it responded on the spirit's computer. Chaz wasn't using iTunes or Microsoft either. The hacker quickly flicked through the icons until Craig pointed at the screen.
"Those two videos there," he indicated with his finger. "This is the one I showed the Colonel."
"Rightio," Chaz mumbled, clicking on the file and scrolling through the video file until he found a few worthwhile frames. He double-clicked on the frames so that they appeared on the screen beside each other, clicked another icon to the side of the screen and sat back as a green line moved over each picture; a banner appeared across the screen briefly, captioned, "Scanning", before disappearing from the display.
The whole process happened so quickly that Craig felt breathless by the time a three-dimensional composite image of the spirit assassin appeared on the screen; the rendering rotated on the screen. Craig felt impressed. Chaz tapped furiously at his keyboard and a multitude of photos flicked by on the screen until, at last, an alert appeared on the screen.
SEARCH COMPLETE - NO MATCHES FOUND
"Are you kidding me?" Colonel Ryan sounded exasperated. "How up-to-date are the files, Chaz?"
The hacker replied matter-of-factly, scratching his neck nervously. "They are constantly updated every day. This guy must be newly-deceased."
"Crap!" Colonel Ryan exploded. "This guy has been dead for at least a month. He's the bastard behind half of the crap we're going through now." He paced away, a plume of smoke drifting behind him, and then turned back abruptly. "You've checked the databases for the other cemeteries in the city?"
"I've scanned the whole world," the hacker replied. "He's simply not there."
Colonel Ryan took a long deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. When he felt more relaxed, he patted Chaz on the shoulder. "Thanks, soldier," he said. "You've tried but we can do more. Send a copy of this turd's picture out to the other units." Ryan paused a moment; an idea came to him. "Send it out to all the bases around the world. Tell them to keep an eye out for him, and someone, somewhere, has to have seen him before. I know he's here in Statton but I don't want to take any chances. I want to know the moment he's seen, and I want the bastard tracked."
Craig sighed, feeling the hope drain from him again.
"It's okay," Colonel Ryan told Craig, handing his phone back to him. "I will send word to you the moment I know anything. For you, and for Debra."
THAT AFTERNOON, CRAIG Ramsay was watching a DVD movie in his living room when his mobile phone beeped. He picked it up, read the message, and a smile curled one end of his mouth. He returned the phone to the side table.
Emily's voice spoke from the chair at the end of the sofa he was sitting on. "Oooh," she crooned. "I know what that smile means!"
Craig's smile grew slightly bigger as he tried to suppress laughter; he couldn't stop the light blush. "I don't know what you mean," he replied.
"She's coming here, isn't she?" Emily answered.
"No, she's not," Craig responded, and realised he answered too fast. "And it's not a date."
Emily raised a knowing eyebrow and counted down from ten in her thoughts. As she reached three, Craig stood up, turned off the DVD, ("Hey, I was watching that," Emily told him, indignantly, but with a smile on her face) and went to the bathroom. A moment later, Emily heard the shower start and laughed to herself.
"I suppose I should help him," she said to herself, moving across to Craig's mobile phone. She waved her hand over the phone, unlocking it, and saw the message popping up. He let out a "Ha!" as she read it. "No, she's not coming here. He's going there!"
"What?" he asked innocently.
"That's the quickest I've seen you shower and dress in a long time, Mister! Going somewhere?" Emily asked, cheekily, as she looked him up and down. "You're looking neat but you seem too casual."
"It's not a date!" Craig insisted, heading to the door. "I'm meeting her at Nemo's Restaurant."
He didn't notice that Emily's look betrayed she already knew his destination.
That's a fast food restaurant, Emily thought to herself and then called out after him. "I didn't know they did candlelit dinners there!"
"They don't," he called out, shutting the door behind him. "Don't wait up."
Emily hesitated, thinking. Not a date? Don't wait up? Who did he think he was kidding? A cheeky look crossed her face again before she stood from the sofa, straightened her ghostly clothes out, turned invisible, and headed out through the door after him. He didn't invite him along but that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun watching.
Just as she passed through the door, she saw a familiar face; he looked different, completely different, but he she still knew who he was, and she stopped in surprise.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise. "What happened?"
Chapter 17
Craig was only telling half of the story to Emily when he told her he was going to Nemo's Restaurant to see Brianna Cogan. It's not that he planned it that way. When they arrived, other people already packed the venue to the point they both knew it would be impossible to discuss things. So, they found another little Turkish restaurant down by Statton's river, which seemed quieter and allowed for a semi-private conversation, where they could fill each other in on what they found. Craig sensed Brianna seemed uncertain about talking with spirits, so he hurried through his story. As sceptical as she claimed to be, Ramsey believed she felt apprehensive about them just the same. At last, he came to where he mentioned that the spirit assassin wasn't on Colonel Ryan's network, or on their database of known rogue spirits.
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