by Kells, India
An icy wind whipped her face, and she was instantly frozen to the bone but kept moving, head held high and her hand was holding tight to the briefcase.
Ignoring the two guard dogs, Orla bypassed them and kept walking. From the corner of her eye, she saw other men in the shadows, or was it her imagination? The more she walked, the more her eyes adjusted to the dark until she detected light coming from between two containers.
More men appeared, but as she turned the corner, it was the man without the mask that caught her attention. Sitting on a lawn chair by a fire, he was dressed more for glamping than a kidnapping operation. Blond hair slicked back, in his late forties, it was the man Mr. Black had pointed to at the party.
“Well, welcome to our little bonfire. Not every day we have a respected journalist like yourself join us, Ms. Karlsen.”
The men closed the circle behind her, but she ignored them as the head of the snake truly held the power here.
“Mr. White, I presume. Or whatever your real name is.”
The growing smirk on the man’s face told her what they’d suspected was indeed the truth. “And there is the briefcase, I presume.”
One of his guards took a step to retrieve the briefcase, but she stepped back. “Where is Kelli?”
Mr. White angled his head and snapped his fingers. A rustling came from inside a container and Kelli came into view flanked by two guards who were almost carrying her. She was disheveled and dressed in her typical sheath dress without a coat or shoes. In this temperature and these conditions, with the threat lurking over her head, Orla couldn’t imagine how her friend felt.
Aware how high the stakes were, Orla prayed for calm and a miracle. Was the vigilante nearby? Had he made his way there? And what about Devin? And the others? Would there be help?
“You see, Ms. Karlsen, she’s still in one piece. I can be a very generous man, although not a very patient one. Now, hand me the briefcase.”
That was where the crux of the problem lay. She was about to hand him the only leverage she had. And an empty one. Although the vigilante and Devin had told her just to give him the briefcase and they would make sure both of them got out alive, some part of her couldn’t hope and wait. “You can have the briefcase, but I changed the code. And from what I understand, it won’t be an easy task to open it and get what’s inside.”
The satisfied smile twisted a little, making it a lot less friendly before he smoothed his features again. He got to his feet and straightened his coat. He was a tall and fit man from the way he handled himself, with a definite air that told her that he came from money and not the streets. However, she wasn’t sure if that would be better or worse for her.
When he approached, way closer than she was comfortable with, her instincts told her that not only he was a dangerous man, but vicious as well. He loved to see the fear in his victim’s eyes.
Before she could react, he covered her mouth with his hand, squeezing so tight, Orla knew it would leave bruises. Standing her ground became difficult, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her shake in her boots.
“I won’t have anybody stand in my way, woman. Not a journalist, not the police, no one. And as you certainly have guessed now, not even my partner. And for an empire to grow, there could only be one emperor.”
The realization was like a punch in the gut; the threat hadn’t come from the outside, but from within. The whole thing had been a setup, one man wanting to get rid of an embarrassing partner to gain everything for himself. A tale as old as time, going back to Cain and Abel.
“You see, I have the power to kill everyone you hold dear, and once I do, I’ll skin you, one thin layer at a time, before I have my men finish you, and in the worst and most painful way. Or maybe I can give you a preview with your friend here.”
He snatched the briefcase out of her hand and pushed her hard, and she fell to the ground. Ignoring the rattling of her bones and her racing heart, she regained her feet as he sat on his chair and started fiddling with the lock.
Soon, he snarled a curse and punched the steel briefcase. “How did you know how to change the code?”
Orla didn’t answer his question and remained in place. She desperately wanted to look at her friend and reassure Kelli that everything would be alright, but that wasn’t a promise she felt she could make.
The more she observed Mr. White, the more she saw a spoiled child, used to having his own way. A very self-entitled, and dangerous child. Over the years as a foreign correspondent, she’d faced the most dangerous men on the planet, but most of them had their own agenda and never acted out of emotion. This man was doing both, which made him volatile.
He threw the briefcase to one of his men and stormed over to stand in front of her before slapping her. The pain almost didn’t hold back the sudden giggle bubbling up. She wasn’t sure if it was caused by nerves or the fact she’d been right in her assessment of his character.
“Give me the code now!” He spat in her face as he shouted. And before she could utter a word, he whipped out his gun and aimed it at Kelli. “Maybe you’ll be less annoying if I start putting bullets into your friend.”
“And if you put a single bullet in her, you’d better put one in my head, because I won’t give you the codes. And as I said, cracking the new one will take quite some time. If you want the code, let her go.”
The silence in between the containers was revealing. Either she’d made a tactical error, or her plan would work.
Without waiting for his answer, Orla reached into her pocket and produced Devin’s car key. “It’s simple, let her take my car, and I stay. As soon as she’s safely away, I’ll give you the code. You’re a businessman from what I gather. This is a simple transaction, and one that’s to your advantage.”
After a minute when she thought he’d stomp his feet in irritation, Mr. White looked at her before gesturing to the guards holding Kelli. They pushed her forward, and she fell to her knees before scrambling up and falling into Orla’s arms.
She wanted to hold her friend close and warm her, but there was no time for that. After a quick embrace, Orla pushed the key into her cold hand and whispered in her ear. “Go back to the road. Take the car and leave. Once you’re on the road, toot the horn. That way I’ll know you’re safe.”
It was clear Kelli didn’t want to leave her, and in an act of courage, was about to decline the offer, but Orla pushed her away. Kelli stumbled as she looked back. After a brief hesitation, she ran, disappearing in the dark.
Not soon enough, she heard the distant sound of an engine starting, and a few seconds later, the sound of a car horn.
The feeling of peace that descended upon her filled her eyes with tears. Kelli was safe. If she’d only managed that one thing, it was enough.
With a haughty smile on his face, Mr. White put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “Now, Ms. Karlsen, you can’t say I’m not a man of my word. Give me the code.”
The circle of men tightened around her again. What did they think? That she’d sprout wings and fly away?
When she hesitated, Mr. White got in her face. “Give me the code, now!”
The punch to her gut was unexpected; the pain of it robbing her of breath, making her cough as she fell to her knees. Her head buzzed as she tried to catch her breath and she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly when a loud boom sounded. Her vision cleared when something heavy fell by her side. It was a masked guard.
Her brain took a few seconds before the shouting and gunfire finally made sense. It was at that moment someone roughly dragged her up. Mr. White. There was an attack, and he was using her as a human shield, barking orders to his men against her ear.
“Take that bastard down! Now!”
The vigilante. Elation almost overtook her, but Mr. White’s grip tightened around her, reminding her she was far from saved.
The gunfire all around her was deafening, rendering it impossible to guess where the vigilante was attacking from. Was he alone? Mo
st of Mr. White’s forces disappeared from view when they reached the opposite side of a container. With two guards remaining, Orla knew she was still outnumbered, and couldn’t wait on her savior.
When he finally released her, or rather let her fall on the ground, Orla used all her strength to bounce up and tackle him. With her unexpected move, White fell back, and Orla’s goal was to make sure he stayed down. With all her might, she started punching him, aiming primarily at his face. For the hits she got in, the pain of bone hitting bone, and the incredible satisfaction of shattering his nose and having his blood covering her fist, was worth it.
But it was short-lived as someone pulled her by the hair. Nonetheless, she continued to kick and even had the satisfaction of giving him a good kick in his balls.
Whoever had torn her from White caught her by the arm and threw her against the side of the container, her shoulder and head hitting the rusting wall hard enough for her to almost lose consciousness. This was the end. They didn’t need her, really. It was only a matter of time before they broke the code.
From the corner of her eye, she saw shadows moving, and her last thought was of the vigilante. Under his mask, she’d seen a good man, even if he was a criminal and a killer. His intent to protect Chicago was all she asked, all she hoped for. She wanted him alive and well, and to survive until he took care of Phantom, and even beyond. The memory of being in his arms, of his warmth surrounding her and his lips on her temple, were the images she clung to like a comforting blanket as she waited for the end.
“Orla!” It was his voice. The Vigilante. His voice without the modulator, as she’d heard it when he made love to her, over and over again, less than twelve hours ago. “Orla! Damn it!”
This time, when she looked up, the mask she saw was the one she’d never thought she wanted so much. “Hey!”
One knee on the ground, he almost picked her up when he gathered her in his arms. “Good God, woman. You shaved a few years off my life with that stunt.”
Before she could enjoy his hold, he held her at arm’s length. “Are you all right? I saw him slap you, punch you.”
Orla wanted to forget about that and instead looked around, searching for any sight of White, but the man had disappeared. The silence hit her then; all she could hear was the rustling of tall grass and bare branches in the autumn wind.
She saw new shadows emerging from the darkness. Standing a few feet away, Orla realized how similar they looked to the vigilante, wearing similar outfits, body armor, and masks, but there the comparison ended. She could see at least two of them were way bigger than the vigilante, one resembled a giant, and another was definitely a woman.
There was more than one vigilante working for this city, and that was why so many different rumors circulated about his appearance and size. More than once he’d spoken of “us” and “we”. She now understood why.
One of the shadows, the biggest one, came forward. “White escaped with his surviving men. We need to finish it.”
The vigilante looked back. “Rack off!”
Orla blinked at the expression, but the biggest shadow wasn’t deterred, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of her. Go now. Quickly.”
The vigilante looked at her for a long time, hesitating, before letting her go. Without a backward glance, he started running with the other men and in a blink of an eye, was gone.
Now alone with the one that seemed to be the boss, Orla got to her feet and was glad to find them steadier than she’d expected. If the vigilante trusted this man now towering over her, she could try to do the same.
“Are you all right?” No voice modulator on this one. His voice was deep and soothing, concerned even.
“I am. I will be. Where’s White? And his men?”
“Gone, on the run with what’s left of his men. What you did back there was courageous, Ms. Karlsen. Bargaining for your friend’s life. Trying to track the Phantom distributor. You helped us find Mr. White, or whatever his name really is. We may not be able to prevent the immediate distribution of that awful drug on the streets, but we’re making giant leaps. Because of you. Come, I’ll take you home.”
At his words her body, turned into a puppet, and she followed like a docile puppy. She was safe now.
“It’s not over, not until White is stopped.”
The giant didn’t stop walking. “He’s carrying the briefcase with the GPS inside, so until he opens it and realizes it’s empty, we have a chance of tracking him down, discovering his plans and stopping them.”
The man was leading her away from where she’d initially parked, and in less than five minutes, they reached a clearing where a black pick-up truck was waiting.
Gallantly, he went to the passenger’s side and opened the door.
Orla put a hand on his. “I can’t stop. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop. I don’t want that drug to overtake this city. This is my home. I’ll never be willing or capable of staying on the sidelines and not fighting. I want to thank you, thank him, whoever he is, for your support and for saving my life. I know you have no reason to trust me, I’m a journalist after all, but you have my word. I’ll never betray him, or any of you.” And then she couldn’t help but smile. “Unless you do something really, really stupid.”
There was no way to know what the man thought, but she was getting better at detecting body language, and she could decipher amusement. “We sometimes do bad things, but we’re never stupid. Like you, we can’t stop. But what we do must be done in secret.”
Orla recognized a request, even when spoken as an order. For the first time since she’d become a journalist, she was ready to let a story go. “You have my word.”
A brief bow of his head confirmed they had an understanding, but as she went to sit in the car, it was he who stopped her this time. “You know it would be ill-advised to see him again.”
The sudden force of emotions that gripped her throat almost prevented her from speaking. “Is it an order?”
Several seconds passed, nearly a minute before the giant spoke again. “There is much you don’t know. Some of us don’t have the luxury of leading a normal life, maybe not ever. Sometimes it’s because of what we have to do. Sometimes it’s because of what we can’t help but do. That’s why unless you’re willing to accept never having a normal life, I’d advise you to forget about him.”
Chapter Seventeen
No way in hell could Orla sleep. That was a certainty the moment she locked the door of her apartment behind her. However, she knew when she needed a break and went to retrieve the bottle of white wine she kept in the fridge for such emergencies.
A full glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, she sat cross-legged on her sofa. The semi-darkness of her apartment combined with the first sip of alcohol was divine. It was probably the worst idea ever to mix her meds with wine, but on the other hand, after what had happened, she didn’t give a fuck. She was alive, and Kelli was safe, and the only ones killed were the bad guys. To top it off, if she’d was extremely lucky, White would be taken care of, thanks to the vigilantes.
That didn’t mean it would stop the spread of Phantom throughout the city, but if one head was dead, and the second followed him to the grave, it could lead to another round of negotiation with all new players, which would delay the release and give her more time to track down who was behind Phantom.
A scratching at her door drew her attention from her mental list, and before she could get to her feet to investigate, the lock turned, and the vigilante stepped in, tall and in full dark attire.
“I need to change the locks on that door, they suck. As does this building’s security.”
The man didn’t say a word and stood still as she took a bigger gulp from her glass, fearing she’d need it. Would he just stand there without a word, an ominous presence in her apartment? “Yes?”
“I only wanted to make sure you were OK. Everything was so quiet, I was worried.”
How she loved his deep voice, bu
t this time, the tone revealed an underlying meaning. “I’m fine, and as soon as I finish this bottle, I’ll be in fighting form for the next round.”
Still, he stood there as she downed her first glass. “Do you want a glass? You can drink from the bottle if you want.”
“I came to make sure you were fine. This will be the last time we meet.”
Orla’s head started to buzz, and it wasn’t due to the wine. “Come again?”
“There can never be more than one of us, a vigilante, out at the same time. Last night was the very rare exception. That way, the rumors keep circulating, and nobody suspects how many of us there are. My time is up.”
Carefully, she put her glass on the coffee table. “Your time is up? You’re giving up the Phantom investigation?”
He shook his head. “Never. I’ll continue to investigate underground, and another vigilante will take my place on the streets.”
As he spoke, panic tightened in her throat and she rose to her feet. When she started his way, he shook his head.
“Everything we accomplished, the investigation is over? What’s between us…”
“There is nothing between us, Orla. You’re a journalist, and I’m a criminal. That will never change, even after the Phantom investigation is over.”
Orla felt like punching something, mostly his seemingly stone-cold face, so she crossed her arms. “I’m not some lovesick school girl. I’m too old and too cynical for that, but there is something between us. There has been from the moment we met, and that has value. Whoever you are, whatever you’ve done, I’m sure we can work it out.”
The way he stood like a statue, unmoving, and her inability to see his face made her even more eager to get through to him, to find something to grab on him.
He denied her once more. “I’m not broken, Orla. There’s nothing to repair in me. I have regrets, but not about my line of work. I wouldn’t change anything. When I was offered the chance to become a vigilante, my life made even more sense. I know the risks and the outcome of my choices, and I won’t impose them on anybody.”
