Phantom Legacy: The Phantom Chronicles, Book 3 Page 4

  Instead, they were at an impasse, a fork in the road. Should they continue this hunt for the data, find some new way of tracking Mikel, and chase him down? He’d only escaped less than an hour ago, and his jet wasn’t anywhere near as fast as theirs. If they could locate him, somehow, then they just might be able to intercept him again.

  The thought was one that Chloe shared with the group, a positive if slightly naive one. The others gently told her that they had no means of tracking Mikel, the assumption being that he’d have disabled the transponder within his little jet. Seeing as it essentially served as an escape pod for the falcon, there was an easily accessible link between the two. Tanner quickly checked to make sure, and soon confirmed that Mikel had cut ties.

  The other option on the table was simply to give up. It had its merits, given the circumstances, though Chloe’s thoughts weren’t up to considering it quite yet. Oddly, it was Ragan who brought it to the table, his expression quite serious - as it so often was - when he mentioned the possibility.

  The reaction of the group was lukewarm. It was fairly obvious that they remained disheartened by the chase so far, their ability to remain upbeat starting to wane. Chloe didn’t like what she saw. She was first to speak, and in firm denial of the option.

  “We have a duty to complete the job,” she asserted, finding her audience surprised by her forthrightness. “Or, at least, I do.” Her voice faltered a little. “This is all my father’s doing. And now…it falls to me to make it right.” She looked around the group. “I could use some help, though, if that’s OK…”

  Ragan smiled, as did the others.

  “It’s as much my burden as yours, Chloe,” he said. “Perhaps more. You can’t be blamed for what your father did. Until recently, you didn’t even know about any of this. I’ve had it in mind for years, we all have.” He looked to Tanner and Nadia. Both nodded. “We swore an oath to Project Dawn, and even without them, we’re going to see this done. Right?”

  They nodded once more.

  “If it means finding Mikel, I’m obviously in,” said Tanner. “I know I said a few things in the cockpit,” he said to Ragan directly. “But…forget all of that. I’m still committed.”

  “Good,” said Ragan.

  “Same here,” said Nadia. “We’ve come so close, and I ain’t giving up now.”

  The group looked around at each other, eyes sharpening, wills fixing. They didn’t need Project Dawn. They didn’t need the backing of the Crimson Corps. They just needed each other. They could do this alone.

  “Soooo…” said Tanner, ending the silence. “Where do we start then?”

  “Martha Mitchell,” said Ragan quickly. “Mikel can do nothing with that data on his own, and we know he was working for her…” He stopped, a sudden thought flashing to mind. He began feeling around in his pockets, one after another.

  “What are you doing?” asked Tanner, bemused.

  Ragan continued to search his body for a moment. The others looked around, brows lifting.

  “Um…Ragan,” said Nadia. “You going to fill us in?”

  Finally, Ragan’s frenzied search relented. He ran his fingers through his short black hair, nodding.

  “The comms device,” he said. “The one we took off Mikel. The one he used - I used - to contact Martha.” He looked around. “It’s gone.”

  “Gone?” said Tanner.

  “Mikel must have taken it,” said Chloe, thinking fast. “When he grabbed you and took the sensory grenade.” Ragan’s eyes flicked away at the mention of the device that ended their mission so abruptly. He clearly still felt bad about it. “He must have stolen the comms device at the same time,” Chloe continued. “It must have been his plan all along.” Her mind was rushing, voice equally speedy in its delivery. “He got the money, and the data, and almost had us too.” She raised her eyes, reluctantly impressed.

  “Damn,” nodded Nadia. “He played us like a cat with mice. Well, least we know where he’s headed then, right?”

  “Not exactly,” said Ragan. “We know he’s likely to be arranging a new trade with Martha, but we don’t know where or when. She might well be back at base still.”

  “No way,” said Tanner. “From what you told us, and the way that call with her went, she’ll have left the base immediately. She won’t be sticking around waiting for Slattery to take her in. Nah, she’ll be heading home. She’ll probably have one of her cronies collect the data for her. Those bodyguards of hers are nano-enhanced, ex soldiers of the Ravens. It’ll be one of them probably…”

  “Sorry, hang on,” said Chloe, frowning and trying to keep up. “Who are the Ravens, exactly?”

  “You never encountered them when you were on the run?” queried Tanner.

  “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know who they are, so…”

  “They’re the special forces of the Mid-States,” said Ragan. “Basically their equivalent of the Panthers, Spectres, and Southern Queens. They’re not as prolific, seeing as the MSA have barely been involved in the war for some time. They wouldn’t have hunted you because the MSA have no interest in getting the data. They have no synthetic program, at least not as far as I know. We tracked most threats over at the CID, and never even thought about the MSA.”

  The group shared uneasy looks.

  “Sometimes your enemy is one you don’t even know is there,” murmured Nadia quietly, looking around the group. “Who really knows what’s been going on in the MSA. They’ve become very secretive in recent years. They know they don’t have the clout to fight the WSA or NDSA in a full blown war. Perhaps they’re more of a threat than we - than anyone - realises.”

  “Really?” huffed Tanner, doubtful. “The Mid-States? They’re a bunch of doves, preaching out against war. They have no interest in it anymore…”

  “Or so they’ve made us think,” said Nadia thoughtfully. “Martha Mitchell is a resident there, a prominent one at that. She’s not the end game here; she’s working for someone. Who do you think that is, exactly, if not her own nation?”

  “Could be anyone,” said Tanner, trying to dismiss the idea. “She was working with Project Dawn, so clearly her loyalty…”

  “She was working as a spy, Cliff. Or did you forget that part? Her loyalty has probably always been to her nation. They’ve been stamped under the boot of the other nations for years. Maybe this is their revenge.”

  Chloe watched the debate, narrow-eyed, thinking, with nothing to contribute. She’d spent her time evading capture, not analysing the political discourse, the current state of play between the nations of the Disunited States. Sure, she knew the gist of it, but not much more.

  It seemed to her that Tanner’s perception of the Mid-States was how everyone saw the smallest nation on the continent: militarily, politically, and economically weaker than all the rest. They had been ignored and forgotten in this hunt, this fight. But by logical reasoning, a covert move by them to get their hands on the data made perfect sense, if only to deny it from the others. Or, more worryingly, to use the research to fuel their own military power. To use it to gain vengeance.

  She zoned in again to find Tanner and Chloe continuing the heated discussion, until Ragan drew it to a close with a raise of the hand and a calming word.

  “Look, let’s work with what we have, OK,” he said, looking from one to the next. “We have this lead on Martha, but it isn’t much. As Tanner says, she’s probably left the base, but that doesn’t mean much either. Most likely, she’ll have gone home, but we can’t be sure…”

  “And where is home exactly?” asked Chloe, curious. “Chicago?”

  “I believe she has a private estate outside Chicago, yes,” said Ragan. “She’s spoken of home to me occasionally, but never gave a location. Some people are very careful in giving away their main address.”

  “Hmmmmm. So, we need to find where it is then,” said Chloe, scratching her chin. “We go there, take her in, question her. I doubt she’d have the data disc on site, assuming Mikel’s made the trade
or will do so soon, but we can grab her at least. I don’t get the impression she’ll hold out under interrogation like Mikel.”

  “I like the enthusiasm, Chloe,” said Ragan, towing the line between completely denying her, and yet being supportive of her energy. “But…it’s not as easy as that. The Mid-States aren’t as hard to infiltrate as the other nations, but it’s not like we can just wander in uninvited.”

  “Why not? I’ve been wandering around the continent for three years…mostly uninvited.”

  “That’s true,” grinned Nadia. “We’ve got the world’s expert here on evading capture and going unseen.”

  “Yeah, Hunt,” joined in Tanner. “We’re rogues now, even more than we were before. It’s just us four, no one else. We can slip in and out of just about anywhere, and you know it. The falcon will get us close. We’ll do the rest ourselves.”

  “Fine,” said Ragan, playing along. “In principle, sure, perhaps we can infiltrate Martha’s estate. However, we have no idea if she’s even there. Or, might I add, where her estate actually is. We have the beginnings of an idea and nothing more. It’s very little to go on.”

  “Hmmmm, then maybe we do need some help,” backtracked Tanner, though with that playful tone of humour returning.

  A thought worked its way into Chloe’s head, like a man with a hammer suddenly crashing through a wall. The bricks tumbled, and her attention was snatched. And as the others continued to confer, her voice broke free.

  “Dax!” she said. She all but shouted it.

  The others turned to her, frowning. Only Ragan knew the name.

  “Ragan, Dax will be able to help!” she went on. “He’s the best hacker in the business. He’ll be able to find out where Martha lives. Maybe even find out if she’s there or not.” Another thought came, following quickly after the first. “I’ve got a comms device!” she went on, eyes widening, glowing blue. “He gave it to me, said it’s a direct line to him. Told me to call him if ever I needed…” she trailed off suddenly. Her eyes closed a little, face scrunching up.

  “What?” asked Nadia, breathless, leaning forward. All were doing so, caught up in Chloe’s sudden, bright idea.

  Chloe huffed, shaking her head.

  “The comms unit,” she muttered disappointedly. “It’s back at base. It’s in my bag…in my room.” Her posture sank, deflating like an inflatable chair sat on by a man far too big for it. “We’ll never get it back now.”

  Nadia patted her on the arm consolingly.

  “It was a good idea, Chloe,” she said. “Shame…”

  “No,” said Ragan suddenly, shaking his head. “It’s not just a good idea…it’s the only one we’ve got. I don’t see that we have a choice.”

  Tanner frowned.

  “What are you saying, exactly? You wanna go back to base and get Chloe’s bag? That’s madness, Ragan. The place will be on lockdown right now. They’d see us coming for sure!”

  Ragan shook his head as Tanner spoke, a smile forming.

  “Nothing so brash, Cliff,” he said. “Returning to base would be a death wish, and far too risky. I’ve got something better in mind.”

  Chloe was half-excited, half concerned by the look that grew on his face. His eyes twinkled with a rare thrill, as if livened by some hope. A weak hope, yes, but something to latch onto.

  “OK,” said Tanner. “And what wonderful idea is your mind coming up with now?”

  “I think you’ll like it,” said Ragan. “You always love returning home, right?”

  Tanner started.

  “LA!” he said, incredulous. “You want to go to LA? That’s hardly much better, Ragan!”

  “We’re out of options, folks,” Ragan said, his voice strangely breezy in tone, as if he had some direction to follow now, and that was enough. “We don’t have Project Dawn. We don’t have the CID. So I guess Dax will have to do.”

  “And…who the hell is this Dax you speak of?” asked Nadia, folding her arms.

  “I’ll let Chloe fill you in on that one,” said Ragan, heading towards the cockpit. “Come on, Cliff, no time to lose…”

  Tanner held back for a moment, looking pointedly at the girls.

  “I think he’s losing it,” he said. “I’ve rarely seen him so animated.”

  “Stress does funny things to people,” nodded Nadia in agreement.

  Chloe watched on, bemused by it all. She’d been in LA only days ago. She’d escaped LA only days ago. And now…she was going back.

  The turns my life takes, she thought, sighing, as the others moved down the plane.

  5

  Mikel stood at the end of a long, well groomed track, stretching off towards a large, stately home. The structure was too far away right now to properly inspect, but appeared ornately designed and beautifully appointed, jutting off with many wings and stone balconies, surrounded by gardens, fountains, statues, and several other smaller buildings besides.

  Behind him, a whirring noise was sounding, made by the gate - attended by several armed guards - as it slowly closed shut. The gate was the only reasonable way into the estate, the entire grounds surrounded by walls and guarded night and day. Still, if Mikel had desired a different manner of entry, he’d have achieved it quite easily.

  Today, that wasn’t his intention. No, today Mikel came bearing gifts. He came in the spirit of goodwill, such as it was between liars and thieves, murderers and betrayers.

  He smiled at the thought, and heaved a breath of fresh air into his lungs. He’d spent far too long with Hunt and his team, infected by their enticing nanites. It had become unbearable, his hunger serving to coil his insides and pollute his mind. There was no worse torture for a nano-vamp than spending so much time amongst his prey, shackled and unable to feed, desperate hunger ever gnawing at him, ever clouding his thoughts, even his dreams. Another day or so, and he’d have been delirious. Enough, perhaps, to have given up the data without a fight, simply to seek a feeding elsewhere.

  But Hunt and his foolish band weren’t cunning enough for that, nor could they delay any further. Mikel had noted their desperation, and taken advantage of it. If only they’d had more patience, he mused, huffing lightly with a relaxed grin.

  He stepped forward down the track, posture smooth, his odd weightlessness barely causing the gravel to crunch as he advanced. The breeze flowed pleasantly, rustling the trees, bringing scents of flowers along with it that Mikel had never known. He drew in the smell, wishing he could enjoy it, but as always found himself wanting. He’d been cursed to enjoy one thing only; the very hunger he now sought to escape.

  Ahead, he could see members of staff at work. Several were tending the gardens. There was one cleaning the fountain, another performing some reconstructive work on a statue that had been damaged. Several more were stationary, guards standing at their posts, heavily armed and ever vigilant.

  They weren’t nano-enhanced, of course. Just regular men, trained to kill but without the special augmentations given to their lofty kin. It appeared that Martha Mitchell was a woman who liked to feel well protected, and a woman with plenty of money. It was something of a thrill for Mikel, coming here without knowing anything about her, without truly knowing what to expect. Life had become an endless hunt for nanite-filled blood, but this was something else. He felt alive, free, and hopeful at the prospect of what was to come.

  His appearance was noted as he ventured on, and several of the attending workers in the grounds looked up with quizzical eyes. Even from a distance, Mikel knew he could be a disquieting character to sheltered people. Most wouldn’t suspect him a nano-vamp, of course. They’d just see a man in a black suit, strolling calmly, his skin pale and hair an inky slick of black. Yet still, he had an aura about him, a danger that people noticed. Even before he bared his teeth and displayed his fangs, he often felt that fear rise up, almost visible to him as a mist, spreading from the tops of their heads.

  He glanced across the gardens, keen to make eye contact with those who looked at him. Each time he
did, they turned away immediately, or else did so before he’d snared them with a narrow-eyed glare, aware of what he was doing. He smiled and moved on, turning his attention back to the main entrance to the mansion. The door was opening, two large men dressed similarly as he was stepping out. One had an excessive black beard, a facial feature Mikel didn’t care for. The other was more appropriately designed, hair neat and face cleanly-shaven. It was clear enough to Mikel that these men were bodyguards.

  They turned now, as a third person moved through the door and out into the afternoon sunshine. They were still at least fifty metres away, but the new arrival remained striking even from this distance. An impressive array of auburn hair atop her head, lips painted red, contrasting nicely with pale, creamy skin. She wore a blue coat that complemented her look, walking stoically and with no hint of fear in her eyes. While Mikel could smell the fear on the others around the ground, these three gave off nothing. No hint, no whiff. Not even these men who…

  Mikel smelled something else. He stopped momentarily, as if to make sure, sniffing the air again. Yes, it was unmistakable. These men were nano-augmented. They had the smell of the Ravens.

  He felt a sudden rumble inside him, the scent throwing him off his stride a little. His focus was momentarily lost, but quickly recaptured. Ignore it, Mikel, he warned himself. Don’t give in.

  He straightened himself up again and continued on. The others came from the opposite direction moving down a set of marble steps and across a short courtyard, set with another fountain at its centre. They passed, moving towards the long driveway, the two towering guards flanking the rather diminutive woman. As she got closer, Mikel focused on her alone, ignoring the other two. He’d have to suffer the scent. Grin and bear it, he thought. He warned. He begged.

  “So, this is the enigmatic Martha Mitchell,” he said, voice smooth, as he approached the trio. They stopped several paces from him, the men’s feet reaching the gravel and crunching loudly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. To put a face to that strange, modulated voice.” He smiled, enjoying his little joke.