Wired Ghost: Vigilante Justice Thriller Series (Paradise Crime Thriller Book 11)

by Toby Neal

  “That damn camera,” one of them grumbled. “Stupid thing is always making the alarm go off.” He was wearing a red ball cap, a bright target in the dim jungle.

  “Probably just another wild pig or a battery that needs changing,” the other man agreed. He wore a Primo Beer hoodie over drop-waisted jeans like an urban gangsta dropped into the Hawaii wilderness.

  These guys weren’t pros, but the weapons they packed were plenty deadly: Red Cap carried an AK, loosely hanging by a chest strap, and Primo Beer carried a couple of Desert Eagle chrome magnums, one in his hand and the other tucked into his belt.

  Jake and Sophie held absolutely still as the men passed them, loud and oblivious.

  “Now’s a good time to get some distance toward the camp,” Jake whispered. He grabbed Sophie’s hand, guiding her up onto the well-maintained trail. They broke into a run, both holding their weapons at the ready, and soon reached a fence topped with razor wire, and a locked gate.

  “We’re at ground zero,” Jake whispered. He led Sophie into the shelter of a large, fallen log off to the side of the path. “Let’s move in closer and see what we can see.”

  Chapter Three

  Connor

  Connor walked among the rows of drilling trainee ninjas in the main courtyard of the Yām Khûmkạn’s temple stronghold. The recruits practiced all around him, their black robes anonymous, their shaved heads rendering them almost indistinguishable. And yet, Connor could sense each man’s energy, and registered them in his mind’s eye in all the shades of the rainbow.

  He could already tell which men would struggle. He could see the ones that would fail. And he knew which ones would betray the code. A perception of the energy field around each person had been becoming clearer and clearer to him in the time since he’d been promoted to Number One leader in the Master’s absence.

  But Connor had no one to discuss his perceptions with, now that the Master had gone.

  Was this how the Master knew which number to ink onto the back of the recruits’ shaved scalps when they first arrived? Why then, did the Master allow things to play out, and the recruits to go through their training? Was there a chance for someone to change the ugly color of their aura to something cleaner, clearer?

  Connor glanced towards the dais at the front of the orderly rows, where his second-in-command, Pi, lead them by example.

  Pi’s movements were crisp. His form was impeccable, perfect. His stance was strong. The color of his aura was a fine bright blue, but there was a sickly quality wavering through it, a bruised edge that revealed corruption.

  Connor knew, when he had defeated Pi in combat and allowed him to live, that he’d potentially only delayed a problem that would have to be resolved.

  But still he didn’t want conflict. He wanted a partnership with Pi, an equal sharing of the responsibility of leadership. He didn’t feel ready to run everything at the compound indefinitely, alone. How long would it go on?

  He already missed Sophie and her precious daughter Momi, the daughter of his heart. Not only that, but he also had many possible cases awaiting his brand of justice. Running the compound and the management of the recruits was time-consuming. With no idea of the time frame of the Master’s absence, he couldn’t make any forward movement in the ways that would make sense to him: namely, handing over more and more of the responsibility for the day-to-day running of the compound to Pi, and spending more time on the overall mission of the Yām Khûmkạn and his vigilante justice activities.

  Jake was back with Sophie, and sometime in the future, there would be a reckoning between him and his onetime friend. Jake still carried anger toward Connor for a perceived deception involved with his ongoing friendship with Sophie, and Connor didn’t look forward to when Jake delivered the beatdown he’d promised—but he’d endure it, for Sophie’s sake.

  Connor adjusted a recruit’s stance near him with a touch of the ivory baton he carried. Moving on, he corrected another man’s kick, falling in beside him to model the proper form. He moved to the end of the row, and then, when all of the fight choreography had been completed, and Pi had given the signal to fall back into stillness, Connor raised his hands and gave the daily blessing.

  The men dispersed to their various tasks, leaving Connor and Pi alone in the courtyard.

  It was time.

  Connor nodded to Nine, his closest friend and ally in the organization. Nine trotted off. They’d discussed this plan in advance, and Connor approached Pi. “Come. Take breakfast with me in the garden, and we will discuss the progress of the men.”

  Pi was a harshly handsome man, bulkier than Connor, with dark eyes and expressive black brows. His hair, too, was growing out and was already longer than the blond fuzz covering Connor’s scalp now that he no longer had to shave it.

  Connor led the man through the maze of aisles and stairs to the Master’s garden. This sanctuary was the antithesis of the Spartan environment of the compound, with its ancient stone and lack of ornamentation. The garden was surrounded by high walls to protect it from the jungle and the elements. Beautiful flowering and fruit trees lined those walls. A koi pond, thick with water lilies, was the centerpiece. The grass around the pond was smooth as velvet, and a table waited under one of the trees, already laid with two places and their meal dishes.

  He felt Pi wondering at the beauty of the place, at Connor’s motives for bringing him there. This wasn’t telepathy, but an odd kind of knowing, a sense of the emotions of those around him. Connor’s new ability to slow and manipulate time was evolving in new directions. He had to speak to the Master about it as soon as possible. But that time was not now.

  Connor brought his attention back to the moment. Facing the pond was a six-foot high, one-foot diameter, column of tiger’s eye gemstone. That plinth had been the site of Connor’s first exposure to the Master’s incredible abilities, powers he was beginning to share.

  “I have a test for you,” Connor told Pi. “Something the Master showed me.”

  Pi glanced around the garden, but his gaze came back to the column as he stood beside Connor. Early morning sun struck the stone and seemingly lit it from within. Light flared over the polished surface in mesmerizing patterns.

  “What is this test, Number One?” As always, Pi’s words were outwardly respectful but vibrated with challenge.

  “Leap up on top of that pillar, seat yourself in lotus position, and engage in meditation. When you feel ready, dismount and land standing.” Connor well-remembered the Master, one of the first times he had met with him privately, seated cross-legged atop the column. The first rays of the morning sun had struck the gem, turning the column to fire. Connor would never forget standing there, wondering how the Master had gotten to the top, let alone seated himself in that position.

  And then the Master had dismounted with a flip, landing on his feet in the grass, perfectly serene.

  “Looks easy enough,” Pi said.

  Connor did not reply.

  Pi approached the column. He had clearly never seen the Master at meditation there, or he would not have done what he did—he grasped the column with his hands and thighs, gripping on with tree trunk legs and powerful arms, attempting to shinny up the pillar. He almost made it to the top, but then slid down the length of the pole to land in a disgruntled heap on the grass.

  Pi immediately began another assault on the stone column.

  Connor might as well get comfortable. He walked over to the table, sat down, and uncovered the dishes, poured himself tea and began a breakfast of eggs, fried rice, and fresh vegetables from the compound’s garden.

  Pi continued to attempt to climb the plinth, but every time he neared the top, he slid back down. Connor was reminded of watching greased pole climbing contests on YouTube, in another life before this one.

  Finally, Pi was able to hook his fingers over the top of the plinth, and, using pure arm strength, drag his body up onto the circular, flat top. The diameter was too narrow for Pi to get his feet under him to stand
, or even sit. He hung, draped over the pillar’s crown, on his belly.

  He glared over at Connor, who was nearly finished with his breakfast. “I will have to work up to this task.”

  “So it appears. Come have some breakfast before it gets cold.” Connor picked up his teacup and took a sip.

  Pi shoved back off of the top of the tiger’s eye and slid to the ground, frustration in his abrupt movements. Connor, watching the man’s energy field, frowned as it darkened from dark blue to almost black around the edges.

  That was all the warning he had, as Pi reached into the pocket of his gi. A flash of metal—and something was flying toward Connor.

  Connor stretched time, slowing it down—and he saw a steel ninja star spinning gently, end over end, moving through the air like a child’s whirligig and headed straight for Connor’s head.

  Connor got up from his seat, moving at normal speed, and plucked the six-bladed shuriken out of the air, absorbing its momentum with a whirl of his own. He sandwiched it between his palms and walked over to Pi. The man’s face was mottled with rage and his energy had gone black with hate.

  Connor would have to find someone else to be his leadership partner. He shut his eyes; he felt nothing but compassion and sorrow for Pi. The man could have had all that he wanted, but he’d let jealousy control him.

  Connor positioned himself directly in front of his rival, and allowed time to move forward normally again.

  Pi crashed into him, carried forward by the momentum of his throw. Connor steadied him with a hand on his shoulder and held out the star, glinting on his palm. “This is yours.”

  Pi’s eyes widened. He staggered back and away from Connor’s touch, sputtering. “How did you . . .”

  Connor gathered energy from within, centered himself, and leaped from the ground, performing a neat twist to land on top of the pillar. “You failed, Pi. You are not fit to lead the Yām Khûmkạn. Witnesses?”

  Nine, and three more of the senior brethren, were stationed around the walls of the garden, watching through secret peepholes on ledges outside the walls. They rose to stand in their positions, and their heads appeared at the four compass points of the circular garden. They then ascended to stand on the parapet and look down into the sheltered bower.

  “We witness, Number One,” Nine called out in a loud, ringing voice. “Pi is not fit to lead.”

  Connor stood on one leg and, carefully using balance and the strength of his feet, eased down into lotus position on the top of the plinth. Seated with his legs folded on the narrow circle of the column, he shut his eyes. “Escort him from the compound,” he said quietly.

  From behind his closed lids, Connor could still see Pi below him, emitting dark vibrations of hate and despair. The warm, bright energy signatures of Connor’s loyal followers on the wall moved as they walked to escort Pi to the outer wall of the compound, where he would be sent out onto the jungle road and into exile.

  Pi darted suddenly toward the breakfast table.

  Connor opened his eyes as his rival grabbed a knife off of the table, reversing the handle and pointing it toward his own throat.

  Connor slowed time again. He floated down off the plinth and plucked the knife out of Pi’s fingers. Once more he stood in front of the man, close enough to touch him, this time grasping the means of Pi’s intended suicide.

  Connor set the knife back down on the breakfast table as time snapped back into normal speed. Pi gasped and his empty hands touched his throat. His eyes fastened on Connor, filled with despair and rage. “How are you doing this?”

  “I don’t really know. But time obeys my will. And I sense that it is not your time to go from this mortal plane.”

  “I don’t want to live if I am not a part of the Yām.”

  “I understand. And yet, live you must.”

  A glimmer of hope in the man’s dark eyes. “But why, master?”

  Connor didn’t correct him; the title of respect was merited. “I can’t see the future. Maybe I will be able to someday. I just know it’s not your time to die.”

  The elders from the top of the wall had finally reached them, and they took Pi’s arms to escort him away.

  “I will never forget what I’ve seen here,” Pi said.

  Connor inclined his head. There was nothing more to say. The senior men escorted him away.

  Connor sat and gestured to Nine. “Why don’t you join me for breakfast instead?”

  Nine sat across from him. The man’s square, solid shoulders hunched forward, and his unreadable eyes met Connor’s. “Your powers are increasing, Number One.”

  “Yes. But I don’t yet know what it means. I can now see the energy fields around people, and read their feelings. This was one of the Master’s gifts, although he did not explain that. Now that I have this gift, too, I realize that’s how he did so many of the things that seemed impossible to us.”

  “A divine mystery.” Nine uncovered a dish and began eating.

  Connor poured some more tea. His thoughts returned to Sophie and her daughter. What did it mean that his powers were increasing? Would they affect his ability to spend time with the only people he considered family?

  His private island, Phi Ni, off the coast of Thailand, continued to be an open secret from the Yām Khûmkạn, and the place where he could meet Sophie and her entourage.

  “I think you should reach out to the Master,” Nine said. “It’s time to find out what his plans are, why he has left you in charge, and update him on the situation with Pi. It would also be good to have news of your beloved Sophie’s mother, and her health.”

  “We are not together like that. Sophie has another man in her life.” Connor needed at least one person he trusted like a brother. Nine had been that person.

  “And yet she is your beloved.” Nine poured himself some more tea.

  Connor paused to think that over. He and Sophie had had no physical chemistry when they’d last kissed, even filled with expectation and excitement at being together. And still, he had no doubt that she was the only woman he would ever love. “I guess you’re right, after all. There are many kinds of love.”

  “And we explore none of them here at the Yām Khûmkạn,” Nine said. “Unfortunately.”

  “That’s another question I have for the Master. Why the celibacy? What does it do for us? How does that aspect affect us as guardians and agents of Thailand? And yet, the Master himself is not celibate.” Pim Wat, Sophie’s deadly mother, had long shared the Master’s bed.

  “My assumption has always been that focusing our sexual energy towards the work increases our power.”

  Connor shook his head. “Perhaps. As my powers have increased, sexual desire and interest have waned.”

  “We can see that in the older men, in their discipline. The younger ones still suffer. There is much changing of the sheets,” Nine grumbled.

  “If I stay here permanently, I will want to understand more clearly why we do things the way we do, and how it helps our mission. If it doesn’t, I am not opposed to the men having lovers and families.”

  Nine raised his head, his eyes wide. “That would require a complete overhaul of all protocols.”

  Connor smiled. “Then perhaps it’s time for me to get in touch with the Master, before I change things so much here that he can’t recognize this place when he returns.”

  Chapter Four

  Sophie

  Sophie crouched beside Jake in the lee of the fallen log. The smell of damp and rotten wood, a pleasantly earthy scent, filled her nostrils. Her ears were tuned for any sound from the trail or the camp, but all she could hear were her own elevated respiration, the twitter of the birds in the trees overhead, and the deep sound of Jake’s controlled breathing. She could feel his warmth too, without even touching him; the man threw off heat like a stove.

  She scanned around them one more time, still feeling vulnerable and barely hidden, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She refocused on Jake.

  Her partner had hi
s phone out. Using his fingertips, he expanded an image. “This satellite pic of the camp just came in from Bix. This is the intel I was hoping for, going in.”

  Sophie leaned in close to see.

  The image was surprisingly clear for a satellite picture; it made her shiver a little to think of how much of anyone’s life could be tracked easily using the cameras circling the planet.

  The photograph showed a perimeter of forest inside the fence line, providing some cover for the camp. A central metal barn, whose roof was painted in camouflage colors, squatted beneath the trees, surrounded by smaller outbuildings.

  Jake pointed a finger at the closest hut. “Drawing a line from the front gate to this shack, I can estimate where we are relative to the main building. Let’s wait here until nightfall. Then make a cut in the fence and go into the sheds that look like they house people; see if we can identify our target. Dark will be a better potential opportunity to extract her, given that they have so many countermeasures.”

  Sophie looked up into the canopy of trees. “What time is nightfall?”

  “Three hours.”

  She raised her brows. “That’s a long time to sit behind a log and wait.”

  “We could find somewhere with more cover.” Jake’s smile flickered. “I can think of some ways to pass the time.”

  Sophie wanted to smile, but shook her head instead. “I think we should go in now. The longer we’re hanging out here, the more chance of discovery.”

  As if to underline her words, they heard the two men coming back. Both ducked lower behind the log. “Gonna have to replace that camera,” Red Cap’s voice grumbled. “Freakin’ pigs.”

  “At least with our fence, they can’t get inside the compound,” Primo Beer said.

  “O’Brien is going to be pissed.”

  Jake and Sophie exchanged a glance. “The boyfriend,” Jake mouthed.

  Sophie risked a glance up and over the log. Red Cap was undoing the padlock on the simple gate made of a square panel of fencing wire. He pulled it open with a creak, and he and Primo Beer went through.