Phantom Legacy Page 13

  She shook her head at the grandeur of it all. She’d been born into money herself, the Phantoms being a family of some repute in New York once upon a time, but this was another level entirely.

  As she continued to direct Ragan and Nadia’s path, she got the sense that she was being studied. She opened her eyes and glanced at Tanner with a frown. He was staring at her with a curious expression.

  “What?” she whispered harshly. Chloe never liked being gawped at like that.

  He shrugged.

  “Just wondering how you do that. You and Remus…I’m trying to work it out.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. She didn’t need this right now.

  “So, you can see what he sees, right?” Tanner continued. “But you have to close your eyes to do it?”

  Chloe glanced again.

  “It helps, yeah,” she said quickly.

  “Fascinating,” hummed Tanner. “So, how do you give him orders? It’s all done by mental command obviously. Do you control him entirely, or does he kinda do things on his own, you know, without your help? And what about…”

  She lifted a hand to shut him up. Her attempts to ignore him clearly weren’t getting through.

  “Cliff,” she said, raising her eyes, “I’m kinda busy right now.”

  “Right,” he nodded, “sure. I wouldn’t worry about them, though. This is a walk in the park compared to missions we’ve undertaken before. I remember one not too long ago…”

  “Cliff! Seriously, would you just…” She drew a breath. “You know when you needed to concentrate when you were flying the falcon?” He nodded. “Well, I need that now, OK? And anyway, shouldn’t you be watching for Mikel…”

  “Pffft, Mikel,” grunted Tanner. “That wretched creature isn’t around here. He’s probably wherever Martha is, that deceitful, conniving…” he trailed off, lips mumbling a series of insults.

  Good, thought Chloe. That should distract him for a while.

  She sighed and shut her eyes once more, returning to Remus’ sight. He remained in a holding position, just hovering along near to Ragan and Nadia below. He was, of course, quite capable of doing all of this himself, and merely relaying the information to Chloe for her to decide what to do with. If any specific commands were required, however, she needed to give specific instruction. Remus was more effective in an info-gathering capacity, but needed Chloe’s human intellect to make decisions.

  After three years together, however, that had become a highly intuitive and instinctive process. Chloe would merely think in her head, for example, about finding a possible entry point into the mansion - a window or unprotected door - and Remus would go searching. He was an extension of her, really. He was in her head at all times, and yet physically embodied beyond it too; his form floating about here and there, and yet his sensory experience of the world always there in the back of Chloe’s head, capable of being tapped into at any time.

  For Chloe, it had become just…normal, and she dreaded the day when something might happen to him. It was possibly her greatest fear, losing Remus. Without him, she’d find herself lost.

  It took another minute or so for Ragan and Nadia to approach the mansion, doing so without running into a guard and being forced to disable them. Along the western wing, Remus had spotted a balcony door that looked like it could be easily forced. All Ragan and Nadia needed to do was get up to it, easy enough for people like them, despite it being on the second floor.

  With Remus on lookout, they approached the mansion at pace, black shapes appearing suddenly from the shadows and surging forward. Leaping a good ten feet into the air, both began gripping at stone knobs jutting from the outer wall, strong arms hauling them swiftly up towards a first floor balcony. They landed on the outer edge of it, bent their knees, and leaped again, continuing on up to the next floor. It all happened so fast and with such startling dexterity, causing Chloe to watch on with an appreciative nod.

  “Wow,” she murmured down comms. “That was awesome.”

  “Nothin’ to it, honey,” hummed Nadia, giving Remus a little wave.

  Ragan was turning towards the balcony door. It looked to be made of wood, with glass windows. Breaking that glass would make too much noise. Best to try to force it open as quietly as possible.

  He seemed to study it for a moment, and then looked up to Remus, speaking directly to Chloe.

  “Can you still see the nurse?” he asked. “She in the same room?”

  Chloe turned Remus to the right. The shape of the woman appeared through the walls, still in the same room. She seemed to be sitting in a chair in the corner, bent over, head in hands. Probably still weeping.

  “Yeah, she’s there,” said Chloe. “Straight through the room ahead, into the corridor, second door down on the left.”

  Ragan gave Remus a thumbs up, then turned to Nadia, nodding.

  Ragan looked ahead at the balcony door, reaching forward and taking a grip of the handle. His scanning lens had indicated that it was locked top and bottom with latches, with an additional key-opened lock right there next to the handle. They were old-fashioned - the house itself was incredibly ornate and archaic in its structure and external furnishings - and could easily be broken with a strong shoulder-charge or thrust of the boot.

  That, of course, would surely be heard and thus raise the alarm. Not what Ragan wanted. Instead, a lighter touch would be needed. And thankfully, the key was still in the lock on the other side.

  He turned to look up at Remus, hovering nearby. He remained cloaked, and was hard to spot, at least if you didn’t know he was already there.

  “Chloe,” he whispered. “Can Remus emit a magnetic charge?”

  “Sure,” Chloe answered down the line. “Why?”

  “The key is in the lock on the other side of the door. I need Remus to come turn it like a magnet. You think he can do that?”

  “Guess we’re about to find out.”

  Remus zipped down quickly from his hovering position, rushing up to the others at the door. He moved to the central lock, his form pulsing and buzzing a little. A few sparks of electricity began to surround him. Then, slowly, he began to rotate.

  Ragan stepped in, looking through the glass window. He could just about see the key, sticking out of the lock on the other side. He smiled. It was turning.

  A moment later, the lock clicked.

  “Excellent,” whispered Ragan down comms. “Now have him do the same for the latches at the top and bottom.”

  He heard Chloe grunt her acknowledgement, before Remus moved down to their feet, working the latch across using his magnetic force. He then glided up, doing the same at the top. Ragan heard the sound of the metal latch scraping within its sheath, before the door itself seemed to budge a little. He reached forward, took the handle, and turned it down.

  The door pulled open.

  Ragan smiled and looked over at Nadia.

  “OK, let’s go.”

  With Remus following like a curious pet, floating above their heads, the two moved into the room. It was dark inside, though the space was given shape by the pale moonlight spilling in from outside. They saw a door and moved straight towards it. This one was open.

  Gently, they moved through, stepping out into a long, darkened corridor, the floor covered with a deep maroon carpet. They looked right, and saw the corridor stretch away to a landing above the central hall below, doors on either side and carved light fixings on the wall, all of them turned off and emitting no glow. Voices began to filter up gently from the distance, those of the two guards stationed down there in the hall. Remus, sent forward by Chloe, drifted silently past them to act as lookout and make sure no one came their way.

  Second door on the left, Ragan thought.

  He stepped forward, Nadia just behind, creeping low. It was dim up here, though plenty of light was pouring from the gallery ahead of them, the atrium clearly well lit. They reached the door and stopped. Ragan altered the settings on his scanning lens to check into the room beyond.
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br />   He saw the woman, sat in a chair in the rear left corner. There was a large bed ahead of her, machinery to the left and right of it. It must be where the sick girl was being kept, he thought.

  He glanced at Nadia again, and whispered quietly.

  “Quick, but silent,” he said. “We take her before she can make a sound. She’ll be frightened, and will scream if she gets a chance.”

  Nadia nodded her understanding. She didn’t really need to be told.

  “Chloe,” Ragan whispered down comms, “keep Remus on watch. If the guards come, tell us.”

  “On it,” said Chloe.

  Ragan reached for the door handle, took a breath, and felt the adrenaline surge. It enlivened his nanites, pumping them full of renewed life. He loved that feeling. It made him feel invincible.

  Slowly as he could, he began turning the handle, keeping an eye on the woman beyond as he did by using his lens’ X-Ray setting. She was trembling gently, shaking her head occasionally. Ragan noted the shape of a glass on a table beside her. She reached across and took it, lifting it to her lips. She had to turn slightly to the left - away from the door - to do it. The distraction was enough.

  With a sudden movement, Ragan pressed abruptly down on the handle, opened the door, and poured inside. Nadia rushed in right behind him, shutting the door as quietly as she could as Ragan pounced on the poor woman sitting in her chair. She turned, but too late, eyes of the wildest terror and panic lighting within the gloom. Her mouth gaped, wet with whatever she was drinking - brandy, by the smell - and tears, ready to issue forth a terrible, blood-curdling scream.

  She didn’t get a chance. Ragan was too quick, too fleet of foot, too precise with his movement. He reached her, springing forwards like a cat, one hand hurrying to cover her mouth, the other drawing her up from the chair into a standing position, twisting her around so her back was pressed against his chest. Her scream came out a muffled wail, body wriggling and trying to break free. It would be no use against him.

  He turned his eyes up and saw Nadia hurrying forward from the door, now tightly shut, looking extremely intimidating in her black combat gear. Ragan could only imagine how horribly frightening this must be for the poor girl shackled to his grip, and clearly Nadia was aware too. As she drew near, she immediately reached up and pulled away her headgear, revealing the friendly face of a young woman, calming smile on her lips, no threat in her warm brown eyes.

  The nurse seemed to calm a little at the sight, probably not expecting such a reveal. Nadia lifted a finger to her lips, and shook her head gently.

  “It’s OK, it’s quite all right,” she whispered. “We are not here to hurt you, darling. We are no threat to you at all.” She was so earnest, so sincere, that the woman’s body stopped its writhing, leaving behind only a gentle tremble. Nadia smiled - she had one of those smiles that was almost impossible not to adore - and nodded gently.

  “Good,” she whispered. “Now, we’re only here to talk, that’s all. Nothing else, I promise.”

  She looked past the nurse, and nodded to Ragan. He slowly began to ease up his grip; just a tester to see how the young woman might react. If she started struggling again, they’d have to consider another method. If not, he might be able to release her entirely.

  “Now, don’t be afraid of my colleague here,” Nadia went on. “He’s harmless, I assure you. The masks make us look scary, don’t they?” She smiled again. “Sorry about those. But look, he’s not as scary anymore, is he?”

  Ragan took Nadia’s meaning, and released one hand from the woman to remove his helmet. He turned the nurse around gently, hand still to her mouth, and showed off his face. His smile was a little forced, and not quite so loveable, but he did his best.

  “You see,” said Nadia lightly. “Just a young man. Nothing to worry about. Now, he’s going to let you go, but you have to promise not to shout or make a noise, OK? No one wants that. We know there are guards downstairs, and we don’t want to have to hurt anyone. You can help us with that. Do you understand?”

  The nurse hesitated, then nodded gently. Her eyes remained wide, fearful, and yet not so stricken. Nadia looked to Ragan, and he withdrew his hand.

  The nurse took a breath, several of them, panting. Ragan took a step back, moving to Nadia’s side, but remained close enough to leap in again should the girl start to cry out or rush for the door. She didn’t do either, but merely looked straight at Nadia, lips quivering.

  “Who…who are you?” she whispered. She looked to her side. “I…I need to sit down. I’m…”

  “It’s OK, you can sit,” said Nadia softly. The woman staggered for the chair she’d been in, falling into it, limbs tightly bunched, knees shaking. Her glass of brandy sat on the carpeted floor by her feet, dropped during the struggle. Ragan knew she’d drop it, but didn’t consider it a problem. A glass of that weight hitting a carpeted floor would hardly make a sound. “Would you like some more?” asked Nadia, seeing it. “To help sooth your nerves?”

  The nurse nodded silently, and Nadia moved in, acting bartender. She took up the glass, filled it from the bottle on the table, and handed it over. The nurse took a long gulp, and then breathed out loudly.

  “So, you were asking who we were?” said Nadia gently, pulling up another chair from the side of the room. Good idea, thought Ragan. Better to be on her level, not standing above her. That would be too intimidating. This was more friendly, open. “Well, we’re associates of your mistress here,” said Nadia. “Martha Mitchell.”

  Ragan stiffened a little, and studied the nurse’s reaction. She just stared at Nadia blankly for a moment, before a little, nervous frown dropped over her eyes.

  “You…know Madam Mitchell?” she croaked.

  Ragan sighed silently with relief. That was one box ticked - this definitely was Martha’s main residence.

  “We do,” nodded Nadia cheerfully. “We have worked with her for several years.”

  “Worked with her?” asked the nurse. “I don’t…understand. Why would you come here like this?”

  “Because of necessity, unfortunately,” said Nadia, shaking her head. “What is your name, sweetheart?”

  “It’s…Cynthia.”

  “Ah, Cynthia. A beautiful name, it suits you nicely.” Nadia frowned, leaning forward just a little, turning her voice concerned. “But…you seem upset. You’ve been crying, Cynthia, before we came in here.” She glanced to the bed. “Is it because of poor…” she trailed off, sniffing, as if upset herself.

  “You know Sarah?” asked Cynthia weakly.

  Nadia looked up.

  Good girl, Ragan thought, smiling.

  “Yes, Sarah,” said Nadia. “So young.” She sniffed again, and shook her head. “Best to be with her mother right now.”

  Cynthia nodded.

  “Martha…loves her so much. She’s been so worried. We all have.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Nadia, working the girl around nicely. She’d quickly become her friend, side-stepping the bigger issue of just who they were like a pro. Ragan would never have been able to do this. Few, in fact, could.

  Cynthia’s eyes began watering again, squeezing out a few tears. Then she frowned and looked up again.

  “So, who are you?” she asked again. There was a little more assertiveness in her now, her voice not so brittle. “I don’t get it. We have lots of security here. You’re obviously not working with them. I…I think you should go…”

  Her voice was beginning to rise, her body starting to tremble. Nadia leaned in, though not in a threatening way, her smooth voice a soothing whisper.

  “We’ll go soon,” she said. “I promise. We just need to ask a few more questions.”

  “About what?” asked Cynthia, frown ever deepening. “You don’t work for Madam Mitchell at all, do you. You wouldn’t come in like this if you did…”

  “You’re right, you’re absolutely right,” said Nadia. “We don’t work for her, I never said that. We have worked with her, alongside her. But
something changed recently, Cynthia, and that’s why we’re here.”

  “I don’t know anything,” said the nurse softly, dropping her head. “Madam Mitchell is a businesswoman, that’s all I know. But you’re…I don’t know, military? I can’t say anything. I don’t know anything.”

  She was becoming defensive now, tensing up. Nadia’s spell was wearing off, the sense of security she’d drawn the girl into beginning to fade.

  Nadia glanced up at Ragan, standing back, arms folded. Probably not the least threatening pose he could adopt. They shared a brief look, Nadia clearly reading the look in Ragan’s eye. It was a look that said, ‘Take a risk, we’re losing her…’

  Nadia looked back to the quivering girl, hunched in her seat, cradling her brandy glass like it was a newborn child. She leaned in once more, hands out in a calming posture, voice soft and gentle so as not to alarm her.

  “I think there are things about Martha that you do not know, Cynthia,” she said, her eyes comforting and yet concerned. “She is involved in some very dangerous things, things that could cause a lot of pain for a lot of people. Now, Sarah has been taken to her, is that correct?”

  Cynthia hesitated.

  “I don’t know. I think so,” she whispered. Then her face scrunched up and she began shaking her head. “I really don’t know anything. I really don’t. I just take care of Sarah, that’s all. I don’t even know what the procedure is. There’s nothing that can cure her cancer…nothing…”

  She began crying again, uncontrollably, a mixture of grief and fear combining into violent sobs. Nadia moved quickly forward to help stifle the noise, placing an arm over her shoulder.

  “There there, it’s OK. Shush now. It’s OK…”

  Ragan stood by, watching, thinking. Cancer, he thought. Martha has a daughter called Sarah, who has incurable cancer.