Wraith

by Shane Smithers

  James and Aureole froze, watched as the police officer cautiously moved down the slope toward them, keeping her arms outstretched for balance. The woman was only a few steps away when Aureole suddenly turned and tried to make a dash for freedom. The officer reached out, caught Aureole’s jacket. Aureole swung around in a wild arc, lost her footing, tumbling backwards over the lip of the building and into the darkness.

  ‘No!’ screamed James.

  FORTY-SIX

  Rooftop, Adelaide, South Australia

  The instant Aureole fell, James darted for the edge and dived into the void. Both officers made a grab for him, but missed, colliding heavily.

  As she fell, Aureole’s flailing body parted the fog, leaving only a narrow trail for him to follow. James had to accelerate faster than gravity. He clenched his teeth and tried to make his body as aerodynamic as possible when suddenly he felt his jacket zip up, his sleeves tighten around his wrists and his hood mould to his head. He shot through the air like a bullet. With only a few metres of air between Aureole and the concrete, he altered his trajectory and swooped in under her. Her elbow scraped the rough ground, but she was safe in his arms. He continued in an arc and carried her back up into the air, flying for several blocks until he found a place to land.

  ~

  Back on the roof, the two police officers peered anxiously down into the darkened alleyway.

  ‘Did you see that kid? He just dived off the roof,’ said the male officer, a waver in his voice.

  The female officer covered her mouth and shook her head.

  ~

  The park where James landed appeared deserted, except for a stray tabby or two. The landing was, as usual, a little rough, but they were both in one piece.

  ‘You can let go now,’ James said gently, flipping down his hood. ‘We’ve landed.’

  ‘I know,’ said Aureole. She had her arms still wrapped around his chest and her face buried in his neck.

  For several minutes, they stood like statues. James could feel her heart beating against his chest and her warm breath against his throat. He held her a little tighter.

  Slowly, Aureole lifted her head and smiled at him. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, her face only inches from his.

  James smiled back. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. He hesitated. ‘This is nice, but do you think we’d better get back to the hopper before we’re spotted?’

  Aureole released her grip from his chest and stepped back. ‘Yes, you are right,’ she said, the smile fading from her lips.

  James suddenly noticed blood trickling down her hand. ‘Are you all right?’

  She held up her elbow and looked through her torn jacket at the bloody wound. ‘It is just a scratch. I will be fine.’ She didn’t look at him.

  ‘’Ere, ’ave this,’ came a voice from behind, making them both jump. A man with a short, grey beard and a blackened face was holding out a very dirty handkerchief.

  He was stretched out on a park bench under several layers of newspapers.

  ‘Ah . . . no thanks,’ said James, trying not to stare at the handkerchief. ‘I’ll just take her home. It’s not far from here. She’ll be fine.’

  The homeless man shrugged and said, ‘Suit yourself.’

  James and Aureole turned to walk away.

  ‘Ain’t you gonna fly ’ome?’ he yelled after them.

  They stopped in their tracks and slowly turned back around. ‘We can’t fly,’ said James with an unconvincing laugh.

  ‘Yeah, you can. I saw you!’

  ‘No, you’re mistaken.’ James gave another small laugh, just as unconvincing as the first.

  ‘I. Saw. You,’ repeated the man.

  ‘You have had too much to drink, now go back to sleep,’ said Aureole.

  ‘I know what I saw,’ said the man, shaking his head.

  In the distance, several sirens echoed through the streets. ‘Let’s go,’ James said to Aureole. ‘He probably won’t remember anything in the morning.’

  The homeless man’s face lit up. ‘The cops after you, are they? They’re after me, too.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘I’ve got a good hidin’ spot. No one will find you. Quick, get under ’ere.’ He lifted up some of his newspapers and motioned for them to come over.

  ‘No thanks,’ said James, screwing up his face.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said the man with a shrug, readjusting his newspapers.

  Again they turned to walk away.

  ‘Ain’t you gonna fly ’ome?’ yelled the man once more.

  James and Aureole smiled at each other and quickened their step. ‘No one will believe him,’ whispered James.

  ‘I know,’ Aureole whispered back.

  Welkin Palace, Nebulosity

  Nimbus had been staring at the phone on his desk for some time. It was a crude way of communicating nowadays, much too easy for spies to listen in. However, in times like these, simple technology was often overlooked and underestimated. Still, this waiting was infuriating. He took a deep breath. His blood pressure was much too high. He must learn to relax. And he did . . . for about two seconds.

  ‘I thought you said he would be ringing at 2.30,’ said Nimbus into the intercom. His reflection stared up at him from the surface of the polished ice desk. The tips of his beard were glowing red again.

  ‘A watched phone never rings, Your Excellency,’ replied Nimbus’s assistant through the intercom. ‘You know he is always late.’

  ‘Yes, quite. I suppose his rude manner makes him feel superior.’

  ‘If you like, Your Excellency,’ said Nimbus’s assistant, ‘when he calls I will make him wait.’ Nimbus heard a buzz through the intercom. ‘Ahh, this must be him now.’

  ‘Patch him through, Miss Strata. I don’t need bad manners to feel superior.’

  ‘Yes, Your Excellency.’

  Nimbus waited for the ring and then picked up the receiver.

  ‘Ambassador,’ he said coolly . . . Yes, yes. I think we can dispense with the frivolities. What news do you have since our last discussion? . . . Kidnapped! Are you quite sure? . . . I know your agent is one of the best . . . Do you have any idea who kidnapped them? . . . Has a ransom been asked for? . . . Well, has any contact been made, any at all? . . . Ambassador, if you do not mind my saying so, your information is scanty at best . . . I understand that, but you are not giving me much to go on. If you could give me a name or an organisation, or why they would have been kidnapped . . . I see . . . Yes, quite . . . Well, keep me informed . . . Thank you, and regards to your wife . . . Pregnant, you say? Well, congratulations, some more little Aquariens swimming around . . . Yes, quite, nothing like the splish splash of little feet . . . Goodbye Ambassador.’

  Nimbus replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair. Things seemed to be spiralling out of control. He had far too many questions and far too few answers, and time – there was never enough time.

  Leaning over the intercom once more, Nimbus said, ‘Get me the Agrarien Ambassador, please, Miss Strata. It is urgent.’

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Backstreets, Adelaide, South Australia

  The docks were only a few blocks away, but with sirens blaring all over town and police cars parked at every major intersection, James and Aureole were forced to stick to the shadows. The going was slow, not to mention nerve-racking.

  As they waited in the darkness, five police cars raced by, sirens wailing. ‘Does Mr Watanabe have the SAFFIRE?’ asked James.

  ‘Unfortunately, no,’ said Aureole, still nursing her injured elbow.

  ‘It wasn’t in the suitcase?’ asked James. He made sure the coast was clear and then stepped out onto the narrow street.

  Aureole followed him out. ‘No,’ she said

  A taxicab drove by the end of the street, giving them both a start. They walked on. ‘Then what was in it? asked James. ‘He seemed awfully protective of it.’

  Aureole sighed. ‘We were too late. It was the money from selling the SAFFIRE.’

&nb
sp; ‘He sold the SAFFIRE? How? To whom?’

  ‘I do not know.’ Aureole sounded miserable. ‘He would not tell me. He was scared we were going to take his money and hand him over to the authorities. I think he was planning on staying.’

  ‘Staying?’

  ‘Staying here in Australia. He kept saying he was starting a new life.’

  ‘Wow, no wonder he pulled out a knife.’

  A loud rhythmic whirring caught James’s attention.

  Soaring over the top of the building opposite was a helicopter, its search beam directed at the road only a few metres away.

  ‘This way,’ cried Aureole, grabbing James’s arm and pulling him under a shop awning. They darted into the nearest alley, crouched down behind a dumpster, pressing their bodies hard against the wall.

  ‘I can’t believe they’ve brought in a helicopter,’ whispered James, feeling a slight tingle of excitement. This was just like in the movies. Then he had a horrible thought. ‘Mr Watanabe will be okay, won’t he?’

  Aureole, her face half covered in shadow, glared at him in disbelief. ‘Yes, of course,’ she hissed. ‘I just rendered him unconscious. I did not hurt him in the slightest.’

  ‘It’s just that the helicopter . . . Mr Watanabe lying there on the floor . . . you know . . . I didn’t think you would, but . . .’

  ‘I thought you would know me better than that by now.’

  ‘Sorry.’ James shut up and watched the helicopter’s search beam run up and down the street. A minute passed and then the chopper moved on to another street.

  ‘I think they are gone,’ whispered Aureole, her tone still a little icy.

  They hid in the shadows and gave the street the once-over. When all seemed clear, they upped and ran the last few hundred metres to the docks, reaching the little wharf completely out of breath.

  James bent over, exhausted, and placed his hands on his knees, gulping mouthfuls of air. ‘I . . . think . . . we . . . lost . . . ’em,’ he panted.

  ‘Lost . . . them? They . . . never . . . found . . . us,’ said Aureole, drawing breath after each word.

  The wooden planks creaked under their weight as they made their way down the wharf. James was more than glad to see the hopper, which lay silent, gently rising and falling with the tide. Across the port, in the distance, a large tanker was navigating its way down the river and out to sea.

  Aureole stopped at the side of the hopper and motioned for James to halt. ‘Someone has been here,’ she said, spinning around to face him.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I left a small pebble, I picked up from the island, on top. It is not there anymore. Someone has opened the hopper.’ Aureole peered nervously back up the ramp.

  ‘Do you think it was the police?’ whispered James, following her gaze.

  Aureole shook her head. ‘No. Only a high-ranking NIB agent could have opened the hopper. Somehow they have found us.’

  ‘Aureole!’ The silhouette of a man emerged near the top of the ramp.

  Even without the night-vision sunglasses, James would have recognised him from his voice. ‘Cirro,’ he said. He wondered how much trouble they were in.

  Both Aureole and Cirro removed their sunglasses – some Azurien rule of etiquette, James surmised.

  ‘I am glad you two are all right,’ said Cirro as he walked slowly down the ramp. ‘I was getting worried.’ He sounded surprisingly calm.

  Aureole raised her hand, and Cirro stopped a short distance away. ‘Why are you here?’ she said.

  ‘I thought that would be obvious.’ Cirro’s voice was less calm now. ‘I have come to take you home.’

  ‘Then you have wasted a trip. I am not going until I get the SAFFIRE back.’

  ‘You do not know the danger you are in, Aureole. Or the danger you are putting Nebulosity in,’ Cirro said, anger flashing across his face.

  ‘None of that will matter if we do not find the SAFFIRE,’ snapped Aureole.

  ‘Father is worried about you . . .’ said Cirro, his voice trailing off.

  James looked from one to the other as though watching a tennis match. ‘Father!?’ he asked. Both Azuriens ignored him.

  ‘So, he thought my big brother could persuade me to come back,’ Aureole said with a sneer.

  Cirro looked furious. ‘Persuade! Do you know how many laws you have broken? I could arrest both of you right here and now.’

  James shifted uncomfortably. This was bad, worse than bad. He didn’t want to end up in some Azurien prison for the rest of his life. ‘We’ve got a lead on the SAFFIRE!’ he blurted out.

  ‘The whaling boat,’ said Cirro, keeping his eyes on Aureole. ‘Yes, I know. When I have the two of you safely back in Nebulosity, I will send some men to investigate.’

  ‘That will take too long,’ said Aureole. ‘And besides, I am not going back until I have the SAFFIRE.’ She had that determined look in her eyes again.

  ‘Aureole, this is too dangerous for children,’ said Cirro. ‘I saw what happened on the island. You were lucky to escape.’

  ‘You went to the island? Is Batak okay?’ asked James. ‘And the villagers?’

  ‘No one was there,’ replied Cirro. ‘Do you know who attacked?’

  Aureole shook her head. ‘I have never seen craft like that.’

  Cirro removed a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘Batak wrote this note. It speaks of ghosts.’

  Aureole eyed the paper with a frown. ‘I do not know what he means. He did not explain it to me.’

  ‘He mentioned something else,’ said Cirro. ‘He wrote . . . Only the dead have seen the end of The War.’

  For the first time, Aureole looked truly shocked. ‘What?’ she said almost in a squeak. ‘W-what did he say?’

  ‘You heard me.’ Cirro’s jaw clenched as though he wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

  ‘You are lying!’ spat Aureole. ‘How could Batak possibly know . . .’

  ‘I assumed you told . . .’

  ‘No!’ Aureole shook her head. ‘I have told no one, ever.’

  ‘I am not lying,’ said Cirro, gazing at her steadily, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. ‘You can read it for yourself.’ He held the paper out for her to take.

  But Aureole began backing away. ‘James,’ she said, keeping her focus on Cirro. ‘We need to go – now!’

  James could hear the sudden urgency in her voice. ‘What’s going on? Why are you both acting so crazy?’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard that phrase before. What does it mean?’ He looked from one to the other for an answer. Neither responded. Cirro’s mouth was set in a grim line and Aureole looked visibly shaken.

  ‘James,’ said Aureole again, pleading.

  Should they try to escape? How much more trouble were they going to be in, ignoring the Primary Agent’s instructions? But how could they go back, when they were so close to finding the SAFFIRE? They weren’t in any real danger. The stuff on the island had nothing to do with them. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Weren’t they? Maybe James could convince Cirro to help them. Cirro was here now.

  ‘Cirro, why don’t you help us find the SAFFIRE?’ said James.

  ‘Sorry, James, my orders are to take you both back to Nebulosity,’ said Cirro. ‘The Empyrean needs to speak with you. And as for you, Aureole, you have a lot of explaining to do.’

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Docks, Adelaide, South Australia

  Cirro’s mind was made up. He wasn’t going to help them find the SAFFIRE. Aureole turned to face James and put one hand on his chest, the other around his neck, her pale blue eyes pleading with him.

  As Cirro went to take a step closer, James pulled Aureole to him. ‘Hold on,’ he whispered. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. He glanced at the primary agent. ‘Sorry, Cirro.’ Hoping he wasn’t going to regret this, he placed his arm around Aureole’s waist, bent his knees and launched into the air.

  ‘Do not be foolish,’ yelled Cirro, running toward them, too late.

&n
bsp; The wind rushed over their faces as they soared high into the cool night sky. It was exhilarating but short-lived. ‘Bloody hell!’ James suddenly realised that they were losing altitude, and fast. ‘Hang on!’ Seconds later, they ploughed into the middle of the murky Port River.

  ‘What happened?’ spluttered Aureole as she resurfaced, coughing up several mouthfuls of saltwater.

  James peeled off a piece of seaweed that was clinging to his face, flung it away from him. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand it. You felt as light as a feather when I carried you to the park.’ He smacked the top of the water with his fist, frustrated at himself.

  They had no other option but to swim until the river became shallower and then wade up to the shoreline. Even after leaving the water, the smell of the river lingered on their clothes. James’s jacket looked drenched, but, remarkably, he felt warm and dry. However, one of his shoes must have been floating somewhere out in the dark. The other was full of sand. If it were possible, Aureole appeared even more soaked than he was. Her hair was limp and clinging to the sides of her face like some strange sea creature. But he didn’t laugh. He was too busy wondering why they had crashed. Why had he lost control? He had no answers. ‘Well, what are we going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘One thing is for certain . . . we cannot go back to the hopper,’ said Aureole, stopping to remove seaweed from James’s shoulder. ‘Cirro will be monitoring it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me Cirro was your brother?’ said James.

  ‘I assumed you knew,’ replied Aureole with a shrug.

  ‘Well, I didn’t.’ They squelched along the beach in silence until they found a path leading up to the road. ‘We need to find somewhere to sleep and dry off,’ thought James aloud.

  ‘A motel?’ suggested Aureole.

  ‘Yeah, where my face is plastered all over the walls.’

  ‘We could always go back to the park. That homeless guy might let us share his bench,’ said Aureole with a short laugh.

  James screwed up his face. That homeless guy stank. ‘I’d rather go for another swim in the Port than go anywhere near that guy.’ He looked toward the city lights. ‘Let’s head that way.’ They started off. James hobbled along for about a kilometre, finally decided to throw his remaining shoe in the bin. He gave Aureole a shrug. ‘I wonder if Kawasaki will be upset I lost his shoes?’