"Chief Inspector Neilson's office."
"No dice, Chief."
Neilson sighed into the phone. "All right, thanks, Manny. You and Roe can come back to the station."
"Sure. See you in a few."
Neilson hung up and ran a hand through his hair. This had been the seventh 'hint' he'd given out in four days, and this time he'd been fairly suspicious of the guy, Bosner. Bos had been calling in sick a lot lately and, truth be told, there had always been something a little 'off' about him. But he was obviously clean.
Damn. Would he have to go through the entire employee roster? Neilson went to take a sip of coffee only to find that his mug was empty. Suddenly, he wanted a cigarette. It had been three years since he'd had one, but he found his hand instinctively going to his left breast pocket as if he'd find a package of them there. Instead, he found a couple of pens. Sighing again, he pulled one out and proceeded to cross Bosner off of the list he kept in his desk. He had no other names written there that didn't have a line through them. He'd have to start from scratch again.
Four days without Valentine and his motorcycle. It wasn't enough for a real crime wave, but it was enough for Neilson to notice that the organization was getting its feet back under it. No wonder they had so much trouble catching anyone; there was a leak in the system. He should've realized it earlier. The dispatchers had been the first people he'd tested, and then the people who transferred the information to them, and then Bosner. Who else was there who would have a chance to tamper with the directions?
A knock on his door brought Neilson out of his thoughts. He glanced up and Gunther gave him a little wave through the window. "Come in, Yves," he called out.
Gunther stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Hey, Len. Someone asked me if there was an evaluation coming up."
Neilson frowned. "Not that I know of. Why?"
Gunther shrugged and sat down in the chair across from him. "It was Lacy. She said you were 'mentioning' something about the organization to her, telling her where we were going to be sending some 'special forces'. She wasn't sure what to make of it."
Neilson had a feeling Lacy hadn't asked Gunther to come and inquire about it, however. "What do you think I'm doing, Yves?"
Gunther shrugged again, and this time it looked a little too careless. "That's your business. It's not my place to speculate."
Neilson bit back on the 'That's never stopped you before,' that wanted to pop out of his mouth. "Yves," he started, but Gunther interrupted him.
"We haven't seen Valentine in a little while."
"The organization thinks he's dead. We might as well leave it that way for the time being."
"Of course."
Neilson wanted to frown in irritation. "If Valentine were with them, don't you think he would've squashed us by now?"
"Not necessarily."
"But I assume by the fact that you haven't come dancing in here with more news articles that you haven't found anything conclusive about him."
"I haven't found anything that proves him completely clear, either."
"Goddammit, Yves! I've been patient, but this is about all I can stand. I have seen nothing, absolutely nothing, that causes me to think that Valentine is up to something."
"And that made you think that Lacy was? Or me?"
Neilson sighed. "We were having problems before Mr. Valentine showed up. If there is someone who's working both for us and for the organization, I'm inclined to think that they've been here for awhile."
Gunther didn't say anything but he seemed unconvinced. Neilson scowled at him. "You know what I think, Yves. I think you're jealous of the attention Mr. Valentine is getting."
Gunther's expression turned to one of incredulity. "You can't be serious. I just think that...well, dammit, Len, when 'Phantom Vigilante' fever starts taking over the station, I think it's time to worry about how it's affecting job performance. I mean, Tesner spent half of our shift bugging me about Valentine, asking me if we're sure he'd been killed. I was almost ready to hit him just to make him shut up."
Neilson blinked. "Wasn't he with you when we found out about the ambush?"
It took Gunther a few moments to come down from his rant. "No, he called in sick that night."
"What did you tell him? About Valentine?"
"Well, I eventually broke down and told him about the bullet-proof vest."
An uncomfortable feeling began in the pit of Neilson's stomach. "How did he find out that Valentine is the Vigilante?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"Because I didn't tell him. I only told you, a couple of others in our group, and a couple of people higher up. And I gave them strict instructions not to tell anyone else."
"Well, I didn't tell him. I'd just assumed that he'd found out from somewhere."
"Oh, shit." Neilson stood from his chair and left the office, ignoring Gunther's following questions.
Tesner wasn't in the break room or in any of his usual spots. Eventually, after getting directions from someone at the coffee machine, Neilson found him in an empty office with the door closed. He was on the phone. When the inspector opened the door, Tesner looked up suddenly and a panicked expression came over his face. "I've got to go. No, I'm sorry. Good-bye."
"Who was that?" Neilson asked him.
Tesner straightened his tie briefly. "My wife, sir."
"I'll bet. Jorge, can I ask you something?"
Tesner glanced at the door as if judging an escape route. "Of course."
"Who told you that Mr. Valentine was the Phantom Vigilante?"
The other man froze momentarily. "It was Gunther."
Neilson smiled crookedly. Got him. "I don't think so. I think you're under arrest, Jorge, for treason."
Tesner stood for a moment like a rabbit in headlights and then tried bolting for the door. But Neilson was quicker and he managed to grab him and pull him to the floor before he could get away. This attracted some attention.
"Somebody get some cuffs!" Neilson shouted as Tesner struggled under his weight. "We've got a leak that needs permanent plugging!"
Mr. Brescher put the phone receiver down and then, after a moment of thought, picked it up again and pressed a number. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Yes, Mr. Brescher?"
"Tell M to meet me in my office."
"Yes, sir."
He put the phone down again.
Less than ten minutes later, M was standing across from him at his desk. Brescher smiled at him. "Guess what, M."
M didn't say anything.
"Valentine isn't dead. You failed to kill him. Which means we have another chance to capture him."
M clasped his hands behind his back as if in resignation.
"I'm not sending you to do it, though."
M's head came up.
Brescher smiled again. "That's right. I'm sorry, M, but you failed me. This time I have a better idea. Now, would you be kind enough to dismiss yourself and go find Pokorny for me? I have a task for him."
M bowed stiffly and left the room. Brescher chuckled after him. "And this time," he muttered to himself, "it'll run so smoothly even Racchus would've been impressed."
The door to the dojo opened. Vincent ducked around the corner of the building so as not to be seen. After a couple of seconds he dared a peek to see who had just exited.
Over the last few days he'd spent a lot of time here, outside of the dojo, waiting for the chance to talk to someone. So far, the only ones to leave the building had been the sensei (who he wasn't sure could be trusted) and men in black suits and sunglasses. This time, however, it seemed one of the dojo's young patrons had decided to venture out.
It was a girl of about Pegatha's age. She was slight with long platinum blond hair that had been pulled into a hasty ponytail and she carried a backpack on her shoulders. As the door shut behind her she glanced around herself warily as if expecting to be mugged and then took a few steps, both from the dojo and from Vincent. Quickly, he took the opportunity fate had granted him and slipped out from around the corner. "Excuse me," he said.
The girl turned suddenly, surprised by his appearance out of, seemingly, nowhere. She looked ready to bolt.
Vincent approached slowly. "I'm sorry to have startled you. Can I ask you something?"
She glanced from him to the door of the dojo and then back to him. "Um, okay. What?"
"Do you know a Pegatha Valentine?"
The girl's eyes lit up with recognition at the name. Vincent didn't need any other answer. "Is she here?"
The girl was reluctant to reply. Vincent took a small step forward. "Please, she's my daughter."
She eyed him critically for a few moments and then seemed to decide that he was telling the truth. "She's not here anymore. She was taken to the higher classes."
"Higher classes?"
The girl nodded. "If we're good enough at our training we get to go on to the higher classes."
Vincent took another small step. "Where are these higher classes?"
The girl shrugged. "They don't tell us. They just take us when we're ready."
Vincent repressed the urge to curse. Back to square one again. "Thank you for your help," he told the girl.
"S'okay." She turned and went on her way. Vincent stayed for a minute more, debating whether it would be worth it to go in and ask the sensei about the other classes, but then decided against it. If he was a willing part of the organization it would give him away, and then put Pegatha into a bad situation if they didn't already know that she was his daughter. With a sigh, he left for home.
The order he'd been working on was still at his station when he walked into the forge. He hadn't had much time to work on it lately and he felt a little bad for the customer he was making wait. Oh well, there was nothing for it. Maybe if he could spend some time on it this afternoon it would give him time to think.
Classes had been over for twenty minutes and, true to recent history, everyone had left the training area for the Saucer. Everyone except Pegatha. She'd been spending a lot of her free time exploring, though at first she'd found nothing more than empty offices, storage areas, and many, many locked doors. Maybe to some it didn't sound as fun as playing the games upstairs, but for Pegatha it was just the kind of subdued stimulation she craved after a day of training followed by a few hours of school. She was, through habit, used to a quieter type of life, the kind of life her parents lived, and it was nice to find a little bit of solitude now and again.
The last time she'd gone wandering she'd stumbled across a long staircase going down, but Arick had come to find her for dinner before she'd had a chance to see where it led. Now, however, she had the perfect opportunity. No one was around, as usual, so it wasn't difficult to slip away without being noticed. Maybe the men in suits believed all of the kids went up to the Saucer and so they didn't hang around; whatever the reason, Pegatha was grateful every day for their lax attention during this period before the evening meal.
The staircase wasn't hard to find. After days of exploring she thought she probably knew this place better than any of her fellow students. Trying to keep silent, she pried open the heavy door that led downstairs and then closed it slowly behind her.
The steps were well lit and Pegatha wondered if the men in suits used them much. Skipping swiftly down to the next level, partly out of impatience to see what lay down there and partly out of a fear of being discovered, she soon came out into a hallway. Unlike the ones upstairs, this one didn't branch off into offices; in fact, it didn't have any doors along the walls. The only thing that seemed of any interest was at the end of the hall, something large and silver, as if it was made of metal. Curious, Pegatha approached it.
Expecting some kind of box, she was surprised to see as she got closer that it was a sort of door that jutted out from the wall, no more than five feet in height and only a few feet wide. It had a combination dial on it, as well as a bar that she supposed opened it up, though no matter how she tugged on it the door stayed firmly shut. A dead end. She sighed and puffed a breath up toward the bangs that had slipped free of her butterfly clips. She'd run into quite a few dead ends all ready, and they always meant a trip back upstairs where she'd been caught once. It had been the sensei who had found her, and he'd asked why she wasn't upstairs. She'd made some excuse about not feeling well and had kept to her room for the rest of the evening, not wanting to rouse suspicion so they'd take away her freedom.
She crept back up the stairs to the floor they were supposed to be confined to and glanced around herself. No one. She sighed and started walking back toward the lounge. Only a few paces from the heavy door, however, she began to hear voices approaching. She swung around to look at the place they were coming from, but the area was still empty. Quickly, she glanced around herself and found an alcove not too far away in the wall where it looked like there had once been a water fountain or something. With a few quiet running steps, she ducked into her chosen hiding place to wait.
As they got closer, she knew one of the voices as belonging to Mr. Brescher. The other she didn't recognize at all. It wasn't until they came around the corner, where they would've been in sight if she hadn't been in hiding, that she could make out any of what they were saying.
"This is the door," Mr. Brescher was saying and it seemed to Pegatha that they stopped to look at it. "I want the vault made into a cell, comfortable with a cot and things. You know what I mean. A sort of solitary confinement. You think you can handle this, M?"
The other man, 'M', didn't reply. Brescher chuckled, not a completely pleasant sound, and after a few moments of silence Pegatha heard their footsteps heading away from her. She let out a breath and stepped out of the alcove.
What would Mr. Brescher want a cell for? Was he hoping to catch the leader of the thieves and put him in there? There was no telling. Maybe Arick was right about wanting to stay here. If the Phantom Vigilante really was dead, North Corel would need all the help it could get to fight off the robbers, and even though she was only one person she might be able to help. After all, the entire planet had been saved by only nine people all those years ago. Maybe one person's effort could tip the scales.
Pegatha tried a little more exploring, but now found herself glancing regularly over her shoulder for fear of being caught. After a little while, she headed back to the lounge. This was where sensei Deke found her later. He seemed a little surprised to see her at first, but then broke into a shallow smile. "Oh, Pegatha, I thought you'd be playing the games with the others."
She shrugged a little. "I don't really like the games."
"Oh, I see." He paused for a moment and glanced at the spot beside her on the couch as if deciding whether to sit down, but finally seemed resigned to standing. "Well, maybe it's for the best. I've come to ask you about these classes, Pegatha. How do you feel about them? Do you feel ready to commit yourself to them?"
Pegatha had sort of been expecting to have to make a definite choice at some point, but she had been hoping that time wouldn't be soon. She sighed. "I don't know," she answered. "I guess I just kind of came here to get away from my parents, but I suppose that's probably not a good reason. I probably should've come because I wanted to learn from the classes."
Deke nodded with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I understand. Perhaps you should make your decision now, then, before any more time goes by."
She chewed on her bottom lip. What did she really want? She did miss her parents, so much she tried not to think about it most of the time, but she also wanted to help stop the robberies with Arick. In a moment, however, she knew her own mind. She'd never wanted to stay for good, and it was time for her to go home and face the music. It had been childish to run away, she realized now, and both her mother and father would be angry because she'd made them worry, but it had to be done. She couldn't run away any more. Feeling nearly on the verge of tears, Pegatha looked back to the sensei.
"I want to go home," she told him.
He nodded again, that sympathetic half-smile still pasted onto his face. "I thought it might end up this way. You can go back on one of the trams; they're still running for another hour or so. And I can make sure there's a van waiting for you at the station to take you home. Do you want to pack your things?"
Pegatha suddenly felt a little confused. "You mean, I can just go? I remember before you said Mr. Brescher didn't want me to leave."
Deke shrugged. "Well, the well-being of the hearts and minds of our students is our primary concern here. We've been watching you and we think it would probably be best if you went back home. Perhaps you're just not cut out for this kind of a future."
Pegatha nodded, trying to keep some tears of disappointment back. Did they really think that? Well, maybe it was true. She'd never been completely sure. With a thin smile at the sensei, Pegatha went to pack her things. It wasn't until she was leaving what had been her room for a time that she realized she wasn't going to have the chance to say good-bye to the others. Then the tears came.
The tram ride was lonely and uneventful, even though there were a few others taking the trip with her back into North Corel. The sky was dark with looming clouds, blocking out the sunset, just suiting her mood. Her parents would be angry and Arick would wonder where she'd gone. She hoped he'd understand, and that she'd see him again someday so that she could explain why she'd left. It seemed a shallow chance at best. She hadn't seen or talked to anyone in the outside world for weeks.
The van was waiting for her just as Deke had said it would be. As she approached it a man in a suit and sunglasses opened the door for her. She climbed in. Another man, attired like the first, was in the driver's seat.
"Where do you live?" the man in the front seat asked her as she put her backpack down and prepared to do up the seat-belt.
"423 Updike Avenue," she answered. "It looks like a house, but it's really a weapons shop."
"That's all we need to know," the man who had opened the door for her said, and it was then that Pegatha noticed how uncomfortably close behind her he was. She wanted to scoot away across the wide seat, but before she could move even an inch the man grabbed her around the waist. She started to scream but the sound was cut off as a pungent smelling rag was put over her mouth and nose. She tried to struggle out of his grip, but after a few moments her limbs started to feel too heavy to move. Frightened and desperate, she attempted to wrench her head up, but it was no use. The man was too strong. Her eyelids started to droop and she felt herself starting to lose consciousness. She wondered if she was going to die.
Daddy...
Vincent was just finishing up the molded pieces of his order when Elira came in from the front room and stood at his desk across from him. He glanced up.
"A phone call," she said over the lathe. "I think it's the inspector."
Vincent stood from his station and followed her out of the forge. She handed the phone to him.
"Vincent Valentine."
"Hello, Vincent. I'm calling with some good news for a change. We caught our leak."
"Who was it?"
"Gunther's partner, Tesner. I was originally just looking at the dispatchers and the ones who worked with them, but it seems Tesner was just taking his orders and then finding a phone so that he could tell the organization what we were doing."
"So he's been arrested?"
"Hell, yes. He's gone and we've got a chance now of stopping some of the crimes. But, I do have some bad news along with the good. Tesner managed one more phone call before we caught him, and that was one telling the organization that you're alive."
"Damn."
"Yeah. Well, I suppose I don't even have to ask if you still want to be on the case. You know, if it were anyone else I would've just told them the job was over."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Really, I should be thanking you. And I'm not sure you'll be so happy with me in a moment. I'm going to be giving you a group to work with, Vincent."
Vincent frowned. "A group?"
"Yes. They're all well trained men and women and I think it would be best. Can you come down to the station?"
Vincent glanced at Elira. Guessing his question, she answered, "Yes, by all means, go. And yes, you can borrow it."
"I'll be there in a little while, Inspector."
"All right, see you soon."
"Good-bye." He put the receiver back into its cradle and turned to his wife. "Elira, they know I'm alive."
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and began to nibble on it. "Do they know where you live?"
"No, I'm sure they don't. I haven't given our address out at the police station and, of course, we're unlisted. You'll be safe here."
"I was more worried about you." She pulled him into a hug. "Be careful."
"Of course."
"I love you."
"I know. And I love you, too."
"I know. Now get out of here."
After going upstairs for his coat and the keys, Vincent headed around back for the motorcycle.
The drive to the station was familiar by now and only took a few minutes. Vincent parked the bike in the lot and walked into the building. Mindy let him behind the front desk and he went straight to Neilson's office.
"Come in," Neilson called out when he knocked. He opened the door.
The inspector, for once, wasn't working on anything. He was just sitting in his chair with a coffee. He smiled. "Hi, nice to see you. How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Much better. The bruising has gone down considerably."
"Good. Do you want some coffee?"
Vincent looked around the room, a little surprised by how neat and clean it looked when it was usually cluttered with paperwork. "No, thank you."
"All right. Your group is waiting. Follow me." He stood and led Vincent to a conference room. There were four people inside. One of them Vincent recognized immediately as Yves Gunther, and he didn't look too thrilled to be there.
"Vincent Valentine, meet your group: Perry Warner, Yves Gunther, who you already know, Hessy Marks, and Darby Innis. Group, this is Vincent Valentine, a.k.a. the Phantom Vigilante."
None of them seemed very surprised by the title and Vincent guessed that Neilson had already informed them of his identity. He nodded his head to them in greeting.
"Now that they know you're alive," Neilson continued, "the organization is going to want to kill you this time for sure. The group is here for your protection and you're not to make a move without them. It may save your life."
Vincent nodded and tried to keep his reservations from showing in his expression. Gunther, however, was not so inclined to keep his feelings to himself and he wore a permanent scowl.
Neilson smiled again and Vincent thought he'd never seen him smile so much in all of the times he'd seen him. "Good." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Now, the organization is probably going to come looking for you. They'll probably start leaving very obvious clues, and then we'll have a trail to follow. They'll think they have the upper hand because they don't know that we've caught their informant in the act. And then we've got them."
Vincent and three of the members of his new group nodded. Gunther just stood with his arms crossed over his chest.
"All right, then." Neilson turned to the group. "Dismissed. Mr. Valentine will get in touch with us when he's found some clues."
The four officers left the room, but Gunther made a point of giving both Neilson and Vincent a hard stare before walking out. Neilson sighed as if remembering something. "Vincent," he said, moving to close the door, "there's something I should tell you about Gunther."
"All right."
"He...well, the truth of it is that he is a good officer with a lot of sense, and that's why I picked him for your group. But, since the beginning, he's had a problem accepting you. He doesn't trust you."
Vincent said nothing.
Neilson sighed again. "I've tried talking to him, but he can also be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch sometimes. He asked to do a background check on you."
Vincent's eyes narrowed suddenly. "A background check?"
"Yes. Was that a problem?"
Vincent didn't answer immediately. "Did he find anything?"
Neilson pursed his lips. "Well, maybe. Were you...oh, how do I ask this? Vincent, about ten years ago were you a part of the group known as Avalanche?"
Vincent raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth twitched before he composed himself. "No," he replied, "I was not."
Neilson wanted to accept his words at face value, but he couldn't. "Vincent, I don't want to accuse you of lying, but Gunther found an old newspaper clipping with a photo of Avalanche in it. One of the members looked an awful lot like you. Are you... This is going to sound idiotic, but are you sure it wasn't you?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
Neilson frowned and it looked as if he was about to speak again. Vincent held up a hand. "Inspector," he began, "please understand. I am not denying that there may have been a man in Avalanche, ten years ago, similar to me in appearance. But he would've been very different than the man you see standing here before you."
Neilson was still for a second or two before he nodded. "I understand." He pursed his lips thoughtfully and then cast Vincent a sidelong glance. "You don't have any other secrets, do you?"
The small twitch at the corner of his lips returned, but this time it seemed somewhat self-depreciating. "Everyone has secrets, Inspector. Mine are no danger to anyone anymore."
Neilson nodded, and then he started to smile. "For a man that seems to want to stay out of the limelight, you sure get around. A part of Avalanche, and now the Phantom Vigilante." He shook his head. "Though I suppose it suits you, to be the anonymous hero."
Vincent silently realized the irony of that statement, considering that he'd once been an anonymous part of Shinra. "Perhaps," was all he said.
Neilson continued to smile for a moment before he spoke again. "Gunther's a good officer and he shouldn't give you any problems. He'll be a good leader for the others, and even if he doesn't trust you completely he will do his job."
Just like I'll do mine, Vincent thought, with or without them. He gave a parting nod before leaving the room, and then heading out of the station.
It had been threatening to rain all day and now, as Vincent clambered onto the motorcycle, it started to come down in scattered drops. He glanced at the sky and saw the looming clouds, dark and heavy. Hoping to get home before the storm hit, he tucked his hair into his collar and sped away from the station.