Page 8 of Urban Justice

Lance, keeping a hand on Joshua, touched her hand next. Melina gripped her waist, their little quartette forming an imperfect, but solid unit.

Lance’s voice was low, but strong. “We never doubted you. We all get the job done, Sloane. All of us. Usque Ad Finem.”

To the very end.At hearing the motto that was inked on all of them, that bonded them in their mission to safeguard and protect their city, Sloane settled more. Betrayal and suspicions had scarred her so deeply, she sometimes reacted the wrong way, even with her own team members. Old habits were difficult to change, if ever.

“Oh! Are we having a group hug? I want a group hug!”

Sloane rolled her eyes as Melina, Joshua, and Lance laughed at Devin, who’d barged in, a phone in one hand, a bag of chips in the other. His comic t-shirt blinding with its colors.

He skipped their way. “What? No hug? You’re a sorry band of pathetic losers. I, on the other hand, deserve a one for the information I’m bringing you. So come here, darling Sloane.”

He extended his arms as if he expected her to participate in his nonsense. “Spit it out, and I may refrain from punching you, geek boy.”

Unfazed, he put his phone in his pocket before putting his hand in the bag of chips and scarfing down a handful. “Hey! Be respectful of the geek, especially one as awesome as I am.”

Joshua shook his head and slapped Devin’s shoulder before leaving the gym. Melina was still laughing when she disappeared into the locker rooms.

Emptying the few remnant crumbs from the bag into his mouth, Devin smashed it into a ball and threw it into a corner.

Lance growled and went to get it before putting it in his pocket. “Stop turning every inch of this space into a tip. I swear you’re worse than a teenager.”

Sloane couldn’t agree more, but more pressing matters needed her attention. “I hope the fact you’re this excited means you found something good.”

Wiping his greasy fingers on his jeans, Devin took his phone out again. “Yeah. When I came in, Lance told me about your intention to use Professor Radcliffe to get more information about the tunnels. I don’t know what you did or said when you finally met him, but I started getting ghost pings soon after.”

Pings were alarms that the group got when someone did a search on their company name, phone number, or vigilantes in general.

“Why ‘ghost’ pings?”

“Well, it means that someone isn’t opening just any web browser to do research but took the time to hide under a few protective layers. If our guard wasn’t up, those pings would’ve remained undetected.”

Lance crossed his arms, all business. “You know who did the search? Professor Radcliffe?”

Devin smiled. “Wasn’t so straightforward, but yeah. He didn’t use any of his official computers or phones and would have remained a mystery if I hadn’t done the initial search for Sloane on the dear professor earlier. No offense, Slo, but I went deeper, and found a nickname linked to his military past. When I cross-verified the information found on the ping, the intruder’s name made sense. The only mistake he made was using his team’s nickname for him.”

Sloane’s curiosity spiked. No surprise there, a Marine with his service record would certainly take precautions to hide his identity. “His nickname?”

“Yeah, Hollow Chaser.”

Her heart stuttered at the name. The chaser of holes, tunnels, and caves. It represented his dedication and was proof his passion had taken root way before university. Had it been a passion as a young boy or did he find it, gun in hand, during his combat in Iraq and Afghanistan? She shouldn’t ask those questions, they were too personal, and she needed to focus on what could be useful.

“So he used his alias to dig up information on Noctem Consulting. Big deal. I left the card with the phone number. He probably saw what we made available.”

Lance didn’t seem impressed, nor was she.

“First point of interest, not only did he check out Noctem, but he also did extensive research to make sure we weren’t linked to some conglomerate or a terrorist group. It seems it’s not the first time the good professor has had a request for help. It’s probably one of the reasons he turned you down so fast, I guess. The guy is careful and has been burned before.”

“Do we know if he accepted any of those offers?” Sloane was worried about the possibility of having other people battling her for his expertise.

“That’s my second bit of good news. He used another device to do his research, but it allowed me to wiggle myself into a teeny crack, big enough to access part of his personal email account. The emails date from the last three years and have been deleted since, but you know me. Nothing can be deleted forever. Some are small criminals with big egos. I’ll forward the list to the team for verification, and one name led to another until I found the tail end of a fucking snake: the Maximon Group.”

Every cell in Sloane’s body went into high alert at the name. When the rumors of Phantom hitting Chicago became scarily real, the entire team had been on edge, trying to discover the identity of who had won the exclusive bid. The winner turned out to be Mr. White, the elusive head of Maximon and a dangerous man. He’d attacked one of the Vigilante team members, Sam, and his girlfriend, Orla Karlsen, a hotshot journalist at the Chicago Tribune. Orla had almost been killed in the process, and Mr. White had escaped. He remained their target, along with bringing the entire distribution network down.

“White contacted Radcliffe directly?”

Devin huffed. “That would mean White is stupid, which he isn’t. No, one of his minions is doing the talking and sending an email every week, and lately, the tone is hardening, sounding more like a threat. I can show you the emails if you like.”

“And what’s Radcliffe’s answer?” Sloane could guess the answer already.

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