The Phantom Chronicles BoxSet

by T. C. Edge

  At least, not until now.

  “Right then, let’s see what we can do for you,” said Dax. He moved off from the chair he’d been seated in - the group had conversed in a little sitting area at the back of the office - and headed for his workstation with its array of screens and monitors. He dropped into a swivel chair and set himself in front of a touchpad, sliding out from his central desk. Fingers hovered, eager for work. He glanced back at the others. “Well, where shall we start?”

  They moved up towards him, leaning down on either side of his chair. Dax glanced back at Ragan.

  “Not too close if you don’t mind,” he said. He made no objection to Chloe’s proximity.

  Swallowing the minor slight, Ragan moved a little away, thinking it better to let Chloe continue doing the talking where possible. Whatever he said, Dax clearly had a dislike for Ragan; or perhaps more of a distrust, he couldn’t be sure.

  “OK, so we’re looking for Martha Mitchell’s address,” said Chloe. “We know she lives in the Mid-States, somewhere around Chicago.” Chloe had filled Dax in on Martha’s involvement thus far, so no other explanation was needed.

  “Right, this councillor…” murmured Dax, who began tapping quietly. “You’re certain that’s her real name?”

  Chloe looked to Ragan.

  “Yes,” he said. “The Mitchells are a powerful family in Chicago, if not secretive in their dealings.”

  “And you never knew anything about her deceit? You never had any doubts?” queried Dax, voice surprised, without looking around. “I find that odd, Mr Hunt, given you were at the heart of both this group of anti-technologists, and the CID. I don’t understand why you don’t have more intel on her?”

  “Well, she was never a person of interest at the CID,” said Ragan. “Honestly, we spent very little resources on threats from the MSA, and those that we did would never have flagged Martha, or the Mitchell family, up as worth watching.”

  “Hmmmm, and what about this Project Dawn?” said Dax. “Do they not have files on their members? Do they not perform background checks to ensure no spies slip through the cracks.”

  It was a reasonable question. Ragan noted the slight raise in Chloe’s brows, her ears pricking up to hear his answer.

  “Yes, we do have files,” said Ragan. “Though, I was never privy to them myself. You have to understand, Dax, that Project Dawn is an independent organisation, built from people from all over the continent and from all four nations. Of course we performed checks on anyone recruited, and I’m certain the same went for Martha, as well as all of the council members. She was involved from the very early days. I’m still shocked, to be quite honest with you, that she’s committed this treachery.”

  “That’s…surprising, Mr Hunt,” said Dax, finally turning slowly to meet his eyes. “Of all people, I’d imagine that you are quite well acquainted with the concept of betrayal. After all, you have betrayed your own nation, have you not?”

  Ragan stiffened.

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” he said, jaw clenching.

  “There’s another?” Dax’s eyes shaped scornfully.

  He really doesn’t like me, Ragan thought, teeth gritted.

  “Of course there is.” Ragan’s voice was getting dangerously close to snapping. This was a sensitive subject for him. “I worked for the CID for years, and was perfectly loyal to them too. I only joined Project Dawn in order to see Professor Phantom’s work destroyed, and to save his daughter.”

  “How noble of you,” hummed Dax. “We have a noble traitor here.”

  “Dax!” said Chloe, reprimanding. “Why are you speaking like this?” She sounded disappointed, almost hurt by the accusations.

  “I’m just trying to get things into perspective, Chloe,” Dax explained. “For my own sake. I’m not trying to cause problems.”

  “Well just…stop,” said Chloe, blue eyes narrowing. “You’ve heard how dangerous my father’s research is. Ragan’s only been trying to stop it from getting out. And…this isn’t about him, anyway. It’s about Martha. Yeah, Ragan may have worked behind the CID’s back, but only to stop that murderer, President Rashmore, from getting his hands on the data. It was him who made my father complete his research. It was him who forced my father to kill himself in his lab-fire. Dad found out what Rashmore was planning, and had no choice but to kill himself to stop it. All of this is happening because of Rashmore, all of it! Ragan knew that, and made it his mission to stop it. So don’t sit there and accuse him of being a traitor…”

  She stopped, and took a breath. A short bout of furious panting ensued. Dax looked on at her, slightly shocked by the force of her defence of Ragan, head cocked to one side.

  “Well,” he said finally, his voice rather more shallow now. “I guess…I stand corrected.” He turned to Ragan, whose eyes were on Chloe, grateful, adoring of this beautiful, feisty, protective girl. “I…apologise, Mr Hunt,” he went on. “I didn’t mean any offence, or to accuse you of any sort of duplicity. I just care about Chloe. I want to make sure she’s in good hands.”

  Ragan dipped his head in respect. He appreciated a man willing to go back on his words, to admit when he was wrong.

  “It’s all right, Dax,” he said. “I honestly don’t blame you for questioning me, or my motives. You have Chloe’s best interests at heart, and so do I…”

  “No!” came Chloe’s voice suddenly. Both men’s eyes darted right for her again. “This isn’t about me anymore,” she said, eyes still smouldering from her previous speech. She turned them carefully between the two men. “My father’s research has been extracted from me. I am not special anymore! I’m just another girl who wants to stop a shitty future from happening. I appreciate all your help, both of you, but I’m just…” she trailed of, taking another much needed breath. Her voice calmed. “I’ve just had enough attention for the last three years. All I want is to be one of the team, and not spoken about like I’m important anymore. Because I’m not, OK? I’m not.”

  The men exchanged glances. Ragan wanted to refute her. She was important. She was special. This wasn’t about the data hidden in her nanites. It was about her now, and nothing else.

  For a few long moments, however, no one spoke. It seemed Chloe need a few seconds of quiet to recompose herself, and the men didn’t want to risk another outburst by saying the wrong thing. Even nice words were taken the wrong way right now. Best to stay quiet, Ragan thought.

  Eventually, Chloe returned to her usual manner, the tigress sneaking back to its lair and the more shy and retiring girl stepping back out. She looked coyly at the two men.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I just…had to get that out.”

  The men nodded. Ragan smiled at her, adoring her even more for it. Dax turned back to his monitors, swivelling in his chair.

  “Right, so Martha’s address then,” he said. “I guess I’ll get started…”

  64

  As it turned out, finding the location of Martha’s home wasn’t quite as easy as expected. Or, at least, as Dax told them it would be. As he began his search, he waved off the suggestion that it might be difficult by telling them that a quick search of a government database or two would yield the desired results.

  Chloe watched on, hopeful, almost expectant. Dax’s fingers flew into a frenzy, hacking, tapping, bypassing security, filling screens with data, eyes scanning them with an increasingly furrowed brow. After several minutes of frantic activity, he huffed loudly.

  “What’s the problem?” Chloe asked, leaning in.

  “Nothing major,” said Dax. “Just having some trouble finding an address for the woman. She isn’t listed on any databases here in the WSA.”

  “Well that sounds pretty major,” said Chloe, concerned. “Can’t you hack the MSA databases? Surely they’ll have more information about their own citizens.”

  “That’s my next move, Chloe,” said Dax, fingers flying into action again.

  Chloe studied him once more, growing nervous. He continued
to work at a furious pace, occasionally murmuring to himself or nodding. Suddenly, he sat back, stroked his chin for a moment, and then seemed to have another bright idea. A few minutes more, and he was seeming to have a little more success.

  It seemed almost like a battle to Chloe, some sort of intense cybernetic dance. Occasionally, Dax seemed to be getting the upper hand, landing a blow. Then some sort of security system would fight back, repelling him, blocking his attacks. He’d seek another way, working around the problem, his focus growing increasingly stressed as he did so, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

  After some time, he finally spoke, leaning back in his chair and letting out a breath.

  “OK…” be breathed. “We have a bit of a problem.”

  Chloe groaned.

  “What is it?” Ragan asked, eyes narrow.

  Dax pointed to one of his screens. He’d been collating information on it, drawn from several others. Chloe hadn’t understood the significance before Dax pointed it out.

  “You see this,” Dax said. Both of the others leaned in. Chloe now noticed that the screen was filled with a number of addresses. At least a dozen or them. Damn. “All of them are owned by the Mitchells,” went on Dax. “Some are private residences, others owned under company names controlled by the Mitchell family. Long story short, they have a lot of properties in and around Chicago, and there might well be more. This Martha Mitchell you’re looking for could be at any of them.”

  “Or none of them,” murmured Chloe, growing deflated. “What a waste of time coming here.”

  She moved off, bunching her fists and stamping around the room.

  Ragan leaned in to look more carefully at the screen. He studied the addresses for a few moments, before leaning back again and turning his eyes on Chloe.

  “What now?” she said, shrugging, huffing. “We can’t exactly go checking on each of those addresses. It was a stupid idea coming here…I wish I’d never mentioned it…” She huffed again.

  Ragan didn’t answer, though. He was thinking, mind occupied. He turned back to Dax.

  “I’m sure a few can be eliminated,” he said. “Martha spoke fondly of living on a large estate, somewhere near Chicago, I think towards the suburbs in the north, near the western shore of Lake Michigan. That’s got to narrow it down, surely?”

  Dax nodded, and set back to work. Ragan hovered behind, staying positive for the time being, perhaps in response to Chloe’s obvious frustration. It wouldn’t serve them to lose hope now. If one was being overly pessimistic, the balance needed to be redressed by the other.

  Chloe continued to march around the room, occasionally slipping forwards to check on Dax’s work, before pacing off again. She was restless, tense. They’d been so damn close before, so close to getting this done. It was infuriating that they were now having to be so speculative. They had a few dots, and were connecting them as best they could. But really, they were walking blind here. And time was quickly running short. Again.

  Ragan seemed to notice Chloe’s elevated stress levels. He glanced back at her.

  “Hey, why don’t you go check on the others?” he said. “Make sure Nadia hasn’t gone mad and murdered Tanner or something.”

  Chloe laughed lightly.

  “You think that’s a good idea? Me going out there?”

  “They’re just down the street. I think we can trust Dale and Bruno up there now, right Dax? We don’t need our people watching them?”

  “Those two morons?” murmured Dax, still working away. “They’re thick as two short planks, but trustworthy enough to not do anything stupid. They’re not going to give you up, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

  “And your artists upstairs?”

  “Same. You’re perfectly safe here, Mr Hunt. You’re among friends, don’t worry.” He turned his full attention back to his many monitors.

  “You hear that, Chloe,” said Ragan. “We’re safe here. Go and grab the others and bring them in. I’d prefer to get Tanner back under my supervision, to be honest.”

  “If you say so, boss,” Chloe grinned, ever amused by Ragan and Tanner’s friendly-yet-fractious relationship.

  She moved off up the stairs and out through the parlour. Once again, the two artists, lounging lazily to one side with eyes embedded into their hologram-tablets, barely raised a glance to look at her. Still, she kept her hood carefully positioned over her head to make sure, passing through the doorway to find Dale and Bruno still on guard.

  They, however, did look at her. With wide, almost awe-struck eyes.

  She began to move right past them, turning her eyes down the street. As she got set to melt into the flowing crowd, however, a voice drew her back.

  “Um…Chloe,” boomed a low voice, subdued in its tone. Chloe turned. The voice was Dale’s, the first bouncer who’d teased her when she came to visit Dax days ago. They hadn’t known who she was then. Clearly, they did now.

  “What?” she said, her guard up.

  Dale glanced at Bruno. Both men were frightening in appearance - tall, muscular, covered in an array of rather gruesome living tattoos. Their eyes, however, didn’t match their look. They looked almost…apologetic.

  “Bruno and I…er, we just wanted to…” started Dale.

  “To say sorry,” said Bruno, finishing his colleague’s sentence. “For…how we acted before.”

  “Yeah, we didn’t know it was you,” said Dale. “Not Chloe Phan…”

  “Shhhh,” said Chloe, eyes narrowing, glancing left and right. “Don’t say my name out loud. Not here.”

  Dale’s chin dipped, nodding slightly.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “We didn’t mean any offence, though. You know, before. We just thought you were a normal girl.”

  “I’m not a normal girl?” questioned Chloe, looking up at the two men.

  They looked at each other once more.

  “Um, well, you know…” stammered Dale. “You’re…different.”

  Chloe’s lips, flat until now, curved into a smile.

  “It’s OK,” she said. “I’m just teasing you. I know I’m different, Dale. But, I’m still just a girl too, right?”

  The men nodded hurriedly.

  “Of course. A very nice girl,” Dale smiled.

  “Nice? You really believe that?” asked Chloe. “With everything they say about me?”

  “It’s rubbish,” said Bruno. “The press twist things. Like those murders at Sub-Tower 12, they can’t have been you. You were here already. It’s all lies.”

  “Yeah,” added Dale. “It’s not fair how they treat you.” He looked suddenly shifty, leaning in conspiratorially and turning his voice to a whisper. “Why are they all chasing you anyway?” he asked. “You’re not a real witch, are you?”

  “Dale!” said Bruno, eyes widening. “He didn’t mean that, Chloe.”

  “He’s right, I didn’t,” retreated Dale nervously. “It’s just…that’s what they say. We’ve talked loads, me and Bruno, about why you’re being hunted. There’s load of theories, but…you’re here now. So…”

  Chloe smiled at their simple nature. They were nothing like how they were before. They seemed nice, though that was largely because they feared her. She didn’t, however, have any intention of telling them the truth.

  “You want to know?” she asked. “You really want to know?”

  The men nodded, silent, leaning in like children being told their favourite bedtime story.

  Chloe darkened her expression, eyes menacing.

  “I am a witch,” she whispered, building her face into a wicked, devilish smile.

  The men leaned back, gasping lightly. Then she broke into a smile again.

  “Or…not,” she said, shrugging. “I guess you’ll have to keep on theorising. Or maybe ask Dax, if he’ll tell you…”

  She turned, moving off with a smile, leaving the two men to quietly, and excitedly, discuss the exchange. From her pocket, Remus - who’d taken refuge there since they’d entered the parlour
- zipped quickly up into the air, already cloaked, to look out for peacekeepers, and help track down Tanner and Nadia.

  Chloe worked forward, moving into step with the crowd as Remus went to work. There was a small unit of peacekeepers a little way off, though they appeared to be moving away down a side-street in another direction. Within a few moments, Remus had spotted the others, hanging out at a perfume stand. She hurried on over to find them in conversation with the vendor; clearly they’d given up on following Ragan’s order to watch the bouncers.

  “It’ll smell good on you,” Tanner was saying as Chloe crept up behind them. “Go on, buy it. Or I’ll get it for you, if you want.”

  “That’s nice Cliff,” Nadia said, “but it smells like cat piss.” She sniffed the bottle of perfume, nose crinkling in disgust. Then she looked up to the vendor. “Sorry, but it does.”

  “No reason to apologise,” the man said, shrugging as if he got the same reaction fairly often. “You’re right about that one. Your friend here doesn’t have a good nose for it,” he chuckled.

  “Hey,” said Tanner, insulted. “I thought it smelled nice.”

  “You see,” said the vendor. “No nose for it. Now, come, many more fragrances to try. Find something you like, and I’ll give you a good price. Such a pretty girl deserves a discount…”

  As he spoke, the vendor’s attention was suddenly taken by Chloe, his eyes sweeping towards her and quickly narrowing as she approached.

  “No no, nothing for you here,” he said, raising a finger and shaking his head. “I know your type. Off with you…”

  He must think I’m a petty thief, thought Chloe. Her hood did make her look a little suspicious, to be fair.

  She ignored the vendor, however, and moved up beside Tanner and Nadia, who were still perusing the other perfumes on display.

  “Guys,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Ragan wants you in the parlour.”

  They turned together.