by T. C. Edge
Her heart pulsed hard for a few beats, and she shut her eyes to see the world from Remus’ view.
He was scanning the street as he hovered down from above, taking in the long view of the path they’d trodden from the west. And down that path, slipping quickly after them, a figure was rushing, hurrying in their direction.
Chloe opened her eyes immediately, just as Remus came flying in through the door, almost appearing to be frightened himself. He landed on her shoulder in the form of a bird, and she immediately turned and began sinking into the darkness of the building, with one thought going through her mind.
That agent has found us. We need a way out…
15
Ragan stood face to face with Dax, proprietor of the Ink-Alive tattoo parlour and, more importantly, the criminal who had harboured Chloe Phantom. Curled up around his feet, the large frames of Dale and Bruno lay, breathing lightly and still unconscious. Ragan was certain they’d be out for some time.
His gun was lined up right for Dax’s face, a fact that didn’t seem to put the bespectacled man off. Clearly, he’d had plenty of weapons pointed at his forehead in his time. This was nothing new.
Ragan had little time to delay, however. He got a quick sense of things, and swiftly concluded that Dax’s voluntary appearance here was a ruse, a way to either distract him as Chloe escaped, or convince him she’d never been here in the first place.
Unfortunately, Ragan was not to be swayed. Already, his scanning lens was working to seek out any elements of her DNA. If she’d spent any time here, he was certain to get a hit.
“Good afternoon, Agent Hunt.” Dax was stepping forward. Inadvisably. Ragan tightened his grip on his weapon, halting Dax’s motion. The forger raised his hands. “Am I under arrest or something? I know the law, Agent Hunt. And I know, too, that you don’t belong here. Unfortunately, you have no jurisdiction, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
From somewhere below, a light thud seemed to sound as he spoke. It appeared to come from a floor down, away in the distance about fifty metres ahead.
The quizzical frown that fell over Ragan’s eyes forced Dax to speak again.
He’s covering something, Ragan thought.
“As I say,” Dax said hurriedly, and a little louder than before, “you have no place being here. If the authorities catch you…well, we both know what happens. You are an enemy of this city, Agent Hunt. I don’t recommend you pry on its business, or that of its citizens…”
“Cut the crap, Dax,” said Ragan, stepping forward and over the meaty frame of Dale. “I know who and what you are, and have no interest in lowlife scum like you. What I am interested in, as you well know, is Chloe Phantom. She came here last night, and you gave her a new identity. I need to know exactly what it is. Now,” he ended with a growl, pointing his pistol menacingly.
Dax appeared unmoved. He thought a moment and then shook his head, blinking a few too many times to be convincing.
“Chloe Phantom,” he huffed. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. If Chloe Phantom was to come here, I’d run the other way. I value my life too much to have any dealings with the likes of her.”
A snarl worked up onto Ragan’s face, his blue eyes narrowing. He stepped forward and reached out with his spare hand, taking a firm grip of Dax’s throat.
“And if you really do value your life, Dax, you’ll tell me exactly what I want to know. You seem to know my name, and therefore I assume you know something of my past too. I’m not a man to be trifled with. And, as you say, I’m behind enemy lines here. I’ll happily kill to get what I want. This isn’t my country. And you’re not my countryman anymore.”
He squeezed tight, cutting off the air supply to Dax’s lungs. His face quickly began to redden, his hands reaching up to try to prise off Ragan’s immovable grip. His efforts were futile.
“All…all right,” he gasped desperately. “I’ll tell you…what you want…to hear.”
Ragan’s grip gradually loosened.
“Better,” he said. “Now, when did Chloe leave? I want all information about her new identity, and you’d better know where she’s going, too. One false move, and you’ll get a knife to your throat instead of a hand. Got it?”
Dax dropped his eyes, but stayed silent.
“Now, come on, spill it,” grumbled Ragan. “How long ago did Chloe leave?!”
Dax stayed silent a moment longer. Only when Ragan grabbed his throat again, tilting his neck up, did he begin talking.
“She…she left…” he started, drawing things out. Then he stopped entirely, shook his head, and sent a flat look right to Ragan eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ragan’s body tensed, his anger brewing. This guy wasn’t as wet as he looked. He might not be so easy to break, and Ragan had no time to equivocate.
A little more coercion was needed.
His fist obliged, working quickly and suddenly into Dax’s solar plexus. The smaller man bent over at the hip, wheezing heavily and trying to haul some air into his lungs. As he did, Ragan gripped his neck again, this time lifting him clean off the floor and up to his own height.
“Now listen here, little man. Clearly, you’re not getting it. I commend you for protecting Chloe, whatever your reasons are, but it’s only going to get you killed. There comes a time when a man needs to abandon his sense of loyalty. I’m going to find her, one way or another. There’s no need for you to die first.”
Dax continued to gasp as Ragan spoke, sweat now beading on his forehead. His eyes were losing their mask, showing their fear. He was starting to break…
A sudden alert caught Ragan’s attention, beeping before his left eye. He dropped Dax back to the floor, and turned his focus to his scanning lens. A red blur was appearing, coming from the floor below.
Chloe’s DNA signature.
Brushing Dax aside with a swipe of his arm, Ragan stepped quickly forward through the door at the back of the main parlour, down a corridor, and to a set of stairs. He marched down and to a basement floor below, reaching a corridor. Through a door, he could see a network of computers and monitors set up, clearly Dax’s base of operations. Following the signal, he marched into the room, ignoring all the equipment, and looked to the rear, where another door lay shut.
He marched towards it and stopped outside, priming his weapon for action. He could hear Dax stumbling after him, hurrying down the stairs. It was now or never.
With a sudden burst, he kicked the door open and aimed the gun within. His eyes took in the small space - a single bed, a few shelves and container units, some storage boxes. No Chloe.
“Damn it,” grunted Ragan, refocusing once more on his scanner. The DNA signal had been strong, but not enough to be Chloe herself. It was coming from the bed, from a couple of strands of hair and particles of sweat soaked into the mattress. Clearly, she’d slept here last night.
Perhaps that’s what Dax is getting out of it, Ragan mused angrily.
Turning, he stormed back into the main office, just as Dax came stumbling in. He seemed relieved to find Ragan where he was.
“You find her yet?” he grinned.
Ragan’s tolerance for this man had reached its conclusion. It was time to dial things up to eleven.
Stalking back into the office, a shadow consumed him. His eyes sharpened to shards of glass, his jaw fixing to granite. His fingers reached down to his jacket, withdrawing an extendable blade, masked within a slim, silver cigarette holder. Pressing his finger to the surface, his print was read, and the blade came forth.
If Dax wasn’t frightened of guns and fists, perhaps a knife would do.
“Now, this is your last chance, Dax,” growled Ragan. “I know she slept over in that bed. I know you fixed her up with a new I.D. You have the answers I need, and I’m not leaving until I get them.” He raised the knife menacingly close to Dax’s quickly bruising neck. “Now, tell me what I need to know.”
Dax’s veneer was slipping now under th
e examination of the knife. His eyes darted left and right, and finished on his feet, as if contemplating his options. Then, they glanced across the room, and stopped. A small frown fell.
“What the hell…” he murmured.
Ragan’s curiosity spiked. He turned to see what Dax was looking at, and found the man’s attention upon a bank of screens to one side of the office, silently relaying all the latest news, much of it about the recent sighting of Chloe Phantom. All the channels were on mute, but the latest report coming in was clear by the pictures currently being displayed.
Without speaking, both men moved closer to take a closer look.
Then Dax spoke.
“Un-mute channel 9,” he said.
Immediately, the screen blazed with sound, a reporter outside Sub-Tower 12 dispensing the latest info, all with a grisly backdrop of imagery to truly paint a picture.
Two men, sitting behind a table in a gloomy office, their necks cut wide open and blood splattered all across the table and floor. Both Ragan and Dax recognised them immediately.
The news reporter, an attractive woman with warm brunette locks, was speedily relaying the info.
“It seems the murders of the two security guards took place only recently, within the last half hour. Guards Matthew Lindon and Derik Flannery, working here in Sub-Tower 12, had been taking interviews with investigators and press all night and through the morning regarding the purported sighting of Chloe Phantom here last night…”
She shook her head and dabbed her right eye, as if drying a tear. When she spoke again her voice was growing increasingly upset, no doubt a show to endear her to the public.
“I was one of the last people to visit with the two men, and the last member of the press. As yet, the investigators here are trying to ascertain just how this could have happened, with the building so secure.”
Then, she went on with a little bit of sensationalism, an ever present facet of news reporting.
“Could it be that Chloe Phantom was to blame?” she asked. “We have all heard the rumours about her, and even this morning, Matthew Lindon and Derik Flannery spoke to me of a girl of immeasurable power. The word they both used is perhaps most indicting of all - sorceress. That’s what they called her. A witch who could do things they never imagined possible. So, I ask…is it possible that she committed these murders? Has she taken two more innocent victims to the grave. Is she still out there, right now, waiting to kill again?”
It seemed Dax had had more than he could take.
“Mute channel 9,” he grunted, turning to face Ragan and fixing him with a stare. “Was it you?” he asked. “You didn’t have to kill them…”
“Of course it wasn’t me,” returned Ragan. “What would I have to gain from that?”
“Who knows. You appear to rather like violence.” Dax referenced the knife in Ragan’s hand.
“Look, it wasn’t me,” repeated Ragan. “I left before they died.”
“Then who?” queried Dax. “Did you see anyone…”
“What the hell does it matter!” stormed Ragan’s voice. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not. This is the subject, Agent Hunt. This is about Chloe…and if someone’s killing those men, then they’re probably on her trail too.”
He moved over to another set of monitors, and began bringing up security footage from various cameras around Sub-Tower 12. Ragan’s curiosity remained enough to let Dax work, his setup quite impressive, and hacking skills equally so. If a guy like this lived over in the NDSA, he wouldn’t be a criminal. He’d have a government job instead.
With a bit of effort, he managed to hack into the feed displaying the corridor outside the interview room in which Matt and Derik had spent the hours before their deaths. He ran through the footage, and they saw the reporter off of channel 9 step out and march down the hall. Then, sweeping forward, Ragan himself moved towards the door and entered.
Dax paused the feed, and turned to Ragan with an accusation for a face.
“It wasn’t me,” said Ragan a final time. “I went there to confirm that the DNA sample I found in Chloe’s room didn’t belong to Matt Lindon. I needed to make sure it definitely was Chloe’s before I traced…” He stopped himself abruptly and laughed. “Why the hell am I telling you this! Just play the damn footage, Dax, so we can see who it really was.”
With a lingering look of suspicion, Dax swept his eyes back to the screen. He let the footage play, fast-forwarding through it. Ragan came back out, marching quickly off and out of sight. For a little while after than, no one came.
Then the feed went black.
“What the…who turned out the lights?” asked Ragan.
Dax frowned.
“It’s not the lights. It’s the feed. It’s been cut.”
“Check other cameras,” commanded Ragan, the two now suddenly, and unexpectedly, working together on the project. “Search for feeds heading back up to the lobby.”
Dax did so, filling the monitors before them with a range of different views. And one by one, they all went blank.
This guy’s good, thought Ragan. Whoever it is…
As the feeds went dead, however, one stayed alive. It wasn’t from Sub-Tower 12, but a view from Sub-Tower 11 nearby. It was a camera fixed to the extremity of the building, and included a partial view of its neighbouring earthscraper.
The men leaned in, watching closely. The area beyond the lobby of Sub-Tower 12 remained busy, a host of investigators, reporters, insurance agents, factory managers, and security personnel mingling outside in the smog. No one appeared particularly suspicious, except one.
Striding away from the building, in the same direction as Ragan had gone not long before, was a man in a black suit and long black cloak, tall and lean and with a slick of tar-coloured hair upon his head. He moved effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing, gliding through the fog as it parted before him.
Watching him, Ragan felt a deep quiver rattle up his spine, his veins seeming to constrict as if sensing danger.
Dax looked up at him.
“You recognise that man?” he asked.
Ragan nodded, watching the strange creature slip away into the smog, his slit-like eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“His name’s Mikel,” he said. “And he’s not really a man.”
A short silence smothered the room as Dax contemplated Ragan’s meaning. Then, his mind kicked into gear, noting the fear echoing in Ragan’s voice.
“A nano-vamp,” he said. “That’s what killed the guards?”
Ragan was still looking at the feed, though Mikel was no longer there. He seemed frozen for a moment, before thawing and returning to life.
He nodded and looked to Dax.
“Now tell me, Dax,” he said, his voice less strict, more genuine. “I need to know where Chloe’s gone, and I need to know right now.”
“This again?” said Dax. “I’m not going to bite, Agent Hunt…”
“Bite,” smiled Ragan, shaking his head. “You know who will bite?” He pointed at the screen vacated by Mikel. “You know his kind, but not like I do. Things like that were created to hunt people like me…and people like Chloe. He’s clearly caught her scent, and he won’t have trouble tracking her down. You have to tell me where she is!”
“Why the hell do I have to do that? What, so she can have two of you scavengers after her instead of just one? I trust Chloe to deal with anything that comes her way. This Mikel…”
“Will kill her,” cut in Ragan. His voice was abrupt, leaving behind a grim residue. “He feeds on nanites, Dax. He takes them for his own, and Chloe is a grand prize…”
“The prize is the reward,” countered Dax.
“Not for men like that,” breathed Ragan, exasperated. “And even if you’re right, once whoever he’s working for have taken her in and got what they want, Mikel will have his way. She’s too tempting for his kind.” He took Dax’s shoulder and fixed his expression. “You have to tell me where she’s gone,” he
said softly.
Dax withdrew, shaking Ragan off. He was conflicted, unwilling to be convinced and yet unable to deny the logic. He knew about nano-vamps, he’d heard the horror stories. A man like him, dealing in secrets, knew more perhaps than he really wanted.
“And you, Agent Hunt? If you find her first, you’ll just do the same. You’ll take her to New York, and she’ll never leave. It’s the same no matter who catches her. If she’s caught, she’s dead. Nothing’s going to change that, and she can never stop running…”
“That isn’t true, Dax!” stressed Ragan. He reached out his hand, taking a grip of Dax’s in a shake. “I give you my word, I will not harm her, or let her be harmed. That’s not what I’m here for. That’s not who I am.”
Dax dipped his eyes.
“Given your behaviour here, I find that hard to believe…”
Ragan drew a breath.
“And I apologise for that. But it is absolutely paramount that I find Chloe first, before anyone else. That’s always been the case, Dax. I have to be the one to find her.”
Dax found himself drawn into Ragan’s striking blue eyes. Intense, yet true, he saw no deceit in them.
He hesitated again, caught in a conundrum.
“You promise you’ll keep her safe,” he asked tentatively, looking up at the strong man before him.
“I promise,” nodded Ragan immediately.
“And you’ll kill this…Mikel?”
“I’ll…try,” growled Ragan.
There was a short delay, and then Dax began to nod.
“I guess I have no choice,” he said. “Much as I hate it, I’m going to have to trust you, Agent Hunt. Please, do the right thing.”
“I will.”
Dax turned to a monitor, and drew up a holographic map. His finger hovered across the city’s centre, drifting away to the outer districts to the east in the shadows of the mountains.
“I don’t know precisely which route she’ll take, but I know she’s gone here,” said Dax. “She took a passage at the back of the shop. You only just missed her, Agent Hunt. If you go quickly, you might be able to catch her before this nano-sucker does.”