by India Kells
“We all agreed that with fewer people trafficking Phantom, the distribution will slow as the producer or lab hasn’t given the formula to anybody else. But no one agreed to you trying to trap them underground. How can we support you if we can’t contact you through the comms?”
Sloane shivered. It was apparent Lance hadn’t finished, and she knew she wouldn’t get a shower any time soon, so she put on a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt. “It was a spur of the moment decision and the right one. The only way to shut down Phantom is to go up the chain to the source. The only way to do that is to figure out where they’re moving and shipping the drug from. We’ve tried to locate them for weeks, and this was the first time we got them. We suspected the tunnels and they were there, all right. My only intention was to follow them, not to engage, you know that. But you know how valuable it would’ve been if I’d captured one. While I waited for them to return, I decided to explore a little and saw the opportunity to trap them inside. It was a calculated risk and I failed. Satisfied?”
Lance pulled at her hand until she sat beside him. She hated it when the fight drained out of her friend because it meant he was dead serious with what he was about to say.
“I heard your report on the way back and how that man saved you. That wasn’t a calculated risk. It’s sheer luck you aren’t dead. Admit it, you had no idea how many there were or if others were waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. Hell, you didn’t even know the layout. If you’d gone any deeper, you could’ve been trapped for good.”
There was no way she’d admit he was right. Instead, she locked eyes with the blond giant. “Lance, we need to stop Phantom before it drowns the city, and that means taking action. Maybe even dangerous ones. I agree it was risky, but we’ve been monitoring them for quite some time and our only lead on the distribution has been the underground. I swear I’m not voluntarily putting my life or our organization in danger, but don’t ask me not to take advantage of an opportunity when it appears. You know how all this affects me.” Her words sounded strong, but her chest squeezed painfully. It wasn’t time to wallow in the past, and there was so much to do.
Lance patted her knee. “But we still need to think this through. What if one of the men had escaped? We were lucky this time, killing them all and getting rid of the bodies, so no one will suspect their network has been discovered. We’re assuming your mystery man isn’t with them, but I hate not having all the facts.”
So did she. “Any news on that front? I know the entrance I went through doesn’t have any cameras, but what about where my unknown hero fled?”
They stood and headed toward the command center, where Lance brought a chair closer in order to sit at one of the high-tech workstations. “I worked on what I could find, but it’s taken me a bit more time than I hoped. Devin would’ve already found the guy, his address, and what he’d had for lunch by the time I turned on the computer.”
Devin Curtis was Carpe Noctem’s hacker in residence when he wasn’t taking care of his multi-billion gaming development company and Sloane arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he’s not here tonight. I thought he didn’t sleep.”
“He had some sort of charity event last night. Just knowing he was forced to put on a tuxedo is enough to make me forget how much I hate doing computer research.”
Lance tapped a few keys, popping up a series of windows. “But while you were finishing up and coming back, I popped a painkiller and got to work. Here’s what I found.”
The camera feed showed an empty street she recognized as one of the avenues to access the underground but hadn’t chosen that one as that entrance was wide open and there was only one street to use as an escape if need be.
“There’s only one camera on that street, at an old repair shop, two miles north of the point of entry. Not a car to be seen from the time you said your guy left. And then...”
Lance trailed off just as an older model black jeep came into view. “It’s the only one that appeared. The next vehicle doesn’t appear for another forty-five minutes. So, my best guess is that’s him.”
Without waiting for her to answer, Lance brought up a new screen, this one zooming in on the license plate. Sloane held her breath, but the moment where the image was at its clearest, a light flashed on the plate, blurring the letters. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I know. Bad coincidence, isn’t it?”
At the tone of his voice, Sloane turned to look at his face. “Is there is something you’re not telling me?”
“I thought as a former cop you’d already know about it, but I guess it’s more of a thing in Eastern Europe. They’ve developed a thin film that you apply to the plate, front and back, and it makes it impossible for the camera to get a clear image of it. From what I know, it’s only a problem with automatic digital cameras, which are used everywhere now. The lens tries to focus, but the film causes it to constantly move back and forth so it can’t get a clear picture.”
Impressed, Sloane looked more closely at the blurry part of the image. “Never saw it when I was in the force. I can’t imagine why it hadn’t crossed the Atlantic yet, though. Happy for the boys in blue, but pissed for us. How can we find him?”
Lance leaned back on his chair, swaying a little. “Did you get a good look at his face before you let him go?”
Sloane thought hard about it. One thing she hadn’t wanted to do was get too close. At 5 feet 8, she wasn’t short, but it would give a clue about her gender, especially since he’d appeared quite large. By keeping in the shadows, and wearing the suit that toned down her curves, it was two ways to keep them guessing. From what she could see, he was over six feet, had broad shoulders, and the way he moved, a definite athlete of some sort. Under the low light and helmet on his head, she could see some strands of hair. His jaw was scared and covered with a dark beard. His eyes gleamed, although it was impossible to know their color, and that annoyed her. Since she’d left the tunnels, the stranger had lingered in her mind, which annoyed her even more. What caught her attention, though, was how he hadn’t been afraid of her.
“Not really. Not enough to get a decent composite drawing. One thing did strike me though. You know how most people we face just freeze when we appear, seeing our suit and mask? Well, instead of cowering before me, he moved into a fighting position. He either has police or military training, or I had the most ruthless villain known to humanity in front of me.”
With a groan, Lance rolled his shoulders, getting restless. “We’re chasing our tails, and most probably for nothing. Let’s get back to our main mission.”
“I’m with you on that. However, we’ve checked all the possible tunnels from all the maps we could find and checked all known entries and we’re back at the same point. Maybe we could get more team members on it. More eyes, more resources, may solve the puzzle.”
Lance pushed himself up and crossed his arms. “Not an option. The more we’re in the field together, the more visible we are. We need to remain out of sight, stay a ghost if we want to continue our mission.”
With a sigh, Sloane planted her smaller frame straight in front of him, not at all intimidated. “We’ve installed countless cameras in the tunnels. I watched hours of video footage until my eyes almost bled. All that for what happened tonight. There must be another entrance, one that threw me off, and where the trio was heading. They got inside at one point and out at another undetected. There are probably hundreds of access points. We may have overlooked some of them.”
“That’s my theory, too. Vanish for maybe a couple of yards, pop up somewhere else. They may have forced an exit inside a building which is even better for them. There’s still one problem. We’re at a disadvantage down there, and what we know or have found so far isn’t enough. Knowledge is power.”
“If Devin hasn’t dug up the info, it means it doesn’t exist.”
Lance’s mouth quirked. “Not everything can be uncovered on the web. Sometimes, you have to dig into people’s minds.”
Her boss and friend ignited a flare of hope. After sitting down again, he closed all the windows but one. An article from the Chicago Tribune glowed on the screen.
Sloane blinked a couple of times before frowning. “An article about how the old tunnels should be declared part of Chicago’s heritage and protected for future generations? Unless they provide an exact map, I don’t see how that is helpful.”
Not answering her quip, Lance zoomed in on the part of the text where a Professor Radcliffe from Chicago University explained the historical value of the infrastructure and how it was a reflection of the city.
“He’s a professor of Urban History. He’s written quite a few papers on the tunnels here in Chicago, and I think that if anyone has the answers, it’s him.”
It was her turn to smile this time, her purpose returning with a vengeance. “Never thought I’d ever say it, but I believe I’m going back to school.”
Chapter 3
Well into the fall semester, the campus at the University of Chicago was bustling with activity. Many students hurried to their next course, or maybe it was the frigid weather that didn’t entice them to enjoy the beautiful surroundings.
Sloane fought the cold to stroll around a bit. Even with the shriveling shrubs and bare trees of November, the clear blue sky framed the prestigious architecture in a stunning landscape.
Eyes scanning the area, she knew that Professor Radcliffe’s office was inside one of the imposing buildings on 59th Street, or more precisely, the Social Science Research Building. After digging into the professor’s schedule, Lance had told her that the professor had several meetings in the mornings, mostly with his graduate students, and only one course in the afternoon. That was the one Sloane wanted to attend.
All her experience as a vice cop and undercover agent told her that knowing your target beforehand could be critical for any mission. She’d hidden her pink hair under a dark blond wig, knowing that older folks, especially scholars, might pre-judge her because of her hair color. It wasn’t a problem to reinvent herself for a mission, and she’d traded the combat gear for high heel boots, donning a deep gray classic peacoat over a navy pantsuit. Polished, classy, but forgettable, a woman who fitted right into this posh environment.
Shivering, Sloane checked her watch and headed for the building. At this time, the good professor was supposed to be in his library at the William Rainey Harper Memorial Library, giving her time to snoop inside his office. The distance between the two points took less than five minutes to walk. She figured it would take the old professor a little longer.
The sudden burst of warmth stung her cheeks when she entered the building, and she removed her leather gloves and put them in her handbag as she walked. Even though it was the first time she’d been there, Sloane entered the building with confidence, and to all outward appearances it looked like she knew where she was going, which made her even more invisible. So many people entered and exited the building, security wouldn’t notice her if she didn’t want them to.
The office was on the second floor, in the middle of the hallway, and as expected, the place was almost empty, with only two students taking the stairs to leave as she arrived. Not spotting any surveillance cameras, Sloane went straight to the door and, with nimble fingers, unlocked it in a matter of seconds.
Once inside, sunlight streamed the room and she whistled at the unexpected decor. Where she’d thought Professor Radcliffe would be conservative with chocolate leather chairs and dusty bookshelves, she instead admired a slick office with clean lines, light wood, and a definite contemporary style.
Several diplomas hung on one wall and beside them, black and white pictures of several cities. She recognized Moscow in one, and Budapest in another. She wasn’t sure where the most beautiful of them had been taken, and couldn’t tell if it was Chicago, but the subject was fascinating. Dark and dirty, but beautiful in showing ugly, decrepit structures, dark holes, and tunnels only lit with a single light beam.
The other wall contained low, suspended shelves and above them, an ancient map of the Chicago tunnels, one she’d used herself for research.
The desk was flanked with chrome cabinets, folders piled high on top of it, pens and pencils scattered about. There was a plug for a laptop, but no computer around.
There were scribbles on a notebook, but Sloane couldn’t discern what was written, guessing that the professor had very poor penmanship. On the other pages, the scribbles had turned into talented drawings. Done with a black pencil, there were building angles, parts of streets in a style that reminded her of the pictures she’d just admired.
It seemed the professor was full of surprises.
Time was running out, and Sloane slid out of the room, comforted that he was probably the well of knowledge she needed. Also, Lance had reminded her that he was their best bet, in fact, maybe the only one they had.
The course was to start in five minutes and as Sloane headed to the lecture hall one floor down, someone slammed hard into her. Instinctively, she reached toward the person in an attempt to avoid slamming her ass onto the marble floor, and the wall of flesh in front of her did the same. Experience made her brace against a potential attacker, but when she looked up, deep brown eyes met her blue ones. The bearded hunk was probably as stunned as she was, clinging to her for dear life, but too soon the hold loosened a bit, although without releasing her completely.
Thoughts flashed inside her mind in less than a second: realizing she should stop staring at him and react, a reminder that she was undercover and should act accordingly.
“Thank you, sir.” The sound of her voice was enough to make him move, steadying her and finally let her go.
Sloane didn’t have to fake being flustered. Now that she could see him from head to toe, she realized she’d probably been bumped into by a grad student, although he wasn’t as young as she’d first thought. He was dressed in dark brown pants with a dark sweater and a black leather jacket and boots.
“I’m so sorry, I’m late for my next course and I was running. Are you all right? That was quite a collision.”
Glad her wig hadn’t moved, Sloane straightened her coat, taking those few seconds to get back on track. “I’m fine. It was an accident, don’t worry about it.”
The student hesitated. “You’re certain?” He stopped himself from reaching for her again and hitched up his leather messenger bag instead.
Sloane didn’t have to look at her watch to know if she didn’t get going, she’d miss Professor Radcliffe’s course. So she smiled. “I’m still in one piece. No harm done.”
As there was nothing else to say, the hunk nodded and jogged away.
With a smile on her face, Sloane watched him until he had disappeared, and with a pang of regret, forced herself to go down to the lecture hall.
Luke hated being late for a lecture, especially since it was a full house, and he didn’t get that many of them during the fall semester. However, rumors of his new course brought a record crowd. He was ready, but a bit anxious. He wished he’d had a minute more to check his notes, but his sudden encounter with a blonde siren had finished sidetracking him.
The blue of her eyes was almost blinding, and her beautiful features had caught him off guard for a moment, especially the feel of her hips against the palms of his hands. Even through the thickness of her coat, it had felt as if he were touching her bare skin.
It wasn’t the right time for foolish thoughts about a lady he’d never see again. It was obvious she wasn’t a student, or a faculty member. And with everything he had on his mind, there was no way he could indulge in any kind of pursuit.
Between his work at the university and his personal research, he had enough on his plate, let alone the danger that had skyrocketed into his life last night.
The Vigilante came to his mind. The dark figure hadn’t stopped invading his thoughts from the moment he’d faced him.
Again, Luke clenched his teeth as he entered the lecture hall; being distracted or horny wouldn�
��t help, and there would be time after his lecture to right his newfound obsession.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Please forgive me for being late, but I hope you’re ready for this lecture, because you’ll be bombarded with information. I’m Professor Lucian Radcliffe, and welcome to the lecture titled Urban Design: Justice vs. Criminality.”
His leather bag on the desk, Luke pulled his tablet out and plugged it in for the presentation. Only then did he remove his coat and look at the assembled crowd with a smile.
As he expected, most of his usual people were there, as well as his grad students. “Today, I’ll show you how the design and architecture of a city influence security and police intervention, but also criminals. We’ll do an overview of how that same design evolves over time, either to the benefit of justice or the mob.”
As he scanned the students, his eyes caught on the side of the room, by the wall, where the blonde woman was seated.
Luke blinked a few times, and it was clear by the woman’s expression that she was as surprised as he was. It took a solid dose of self-control to return to the task at hand and start his lesson.
Despite all his questions, and his irresistible temptation to look in her direction every five seconds, Luke willed himself to resume his presentation. The topic he was passionate about soon took over, and the words flowed easily.
