Paradise Hacked (First Circle Club Book 2) (2 page)

"I had to get Haymaker's attention."

"You certainly accomplished that," the darker face said.

"Events should move briskly now. I'm eager to see Virgil back at work. His vacation has lasted too long. I'm afraid he might become soft."

"Don't assume you can control him."

"Not at all," the lighter face said. "In fact, I expect him to exercise his free will to the fullest measure. It should be very entertaining."

The darker face grew even darker.

"Don't be so gloomy, my ancient friend. One lesson I have learned from humans is that we should always try to have fun. The opportunities are fleeting."

"We are not human," the darker face said. "We were not made to have fun. Our purpose is to serve."

"Nonetheless, I choose to follow the lesson. I'm done here. Good bye."

The cloud formations dissipated.

* * *

Virgil Wheeler's cell phone vibrated. He ignored it. He had far more pressing issues to deal with.

He was clinging to the side of a brick building, eight stories in the air. He wasn't bothering with ropes or harnesses. His ability to grip window sills and stonework was the only thing keeping him from a long fall to a sidewalk below.

He was wearing all black clothing and a ski mask like a cat burglar. The costume had worked well during the night, but the sun had just started to rise after several hours of work. Every minute which passed increased the likelihood of him being seen. He had to finish the operation quickly or abandon it.

Virgil looked over to see how Lisa was doing. Her dark brown skin and black hair meant she hadn't needed a ski mask. Black tights and booties showed off long, muscular legs, but a loose black sweatshirt covered her upper body. She was hanging from a decorative concrete flower by one hand.

He swung his body over to the next window and grasped the sill with just his fingertips. It was a maneuver very few men could've accomplished, but he wasn't a man. His human soul was encased in a body made of animated Hell mud.

He pulled himself up and peeked through the window. The curtains were closed, but a crack allowed him to see into the room. His exceptionally sharp eyes peered into the darkness.

He saw a young woman lying on a bed without a sheet or a blanket. She was wearing just panties. Thick ropes bound her wrists to the bedframe. A cloth gag was in her mouth, and bruises marked her face.

Virgil recognized the girl from a picture he had seen. He whistled softly to get Lisa's attention.

When she looked over, he mouthed the words, "Found her."

Lisa smiled. She quickly worked her way across the face of the building, going from grip to grip with inhuman agility. She spent as much time flying through the air as holding on. She was absolutely fearless.

When she arrived, Virgil shifted over so she could look through the window. She pulled herself up, and her face twisted in anger.

"We're just here to save the girl," he whispered. "You will not express your murderous rage towards men who victimize women. Nor will you strike a blow for justice which will ring down through the generations. Nor will you send a blood-soaked message to the Chicago underworld that a new sheriff is in town."

Lisa pouted. "You're no fun."

"If Mammon finds out what we're up to, we'll be in a lot of trouble. In and out, quick and clean."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "OK, but I'm taking the lead."

He hesitated. He didn't quite trust her to keep her temper once they were inside.

"Sure," he said at last. "Go."

Lisa yanked hard on the windowsill and somersaulted through the window glass. The sound of shattering glass was loud in the still morning air. Virgil pulled himself up and into the apartment right behind her.

The hostage squealed through the gag.

"Quiet," Lisa said. "We're here to save you."

"Get ready," Virgil said.

The two of them took up positions on either side of the open bedroom door. A moment later, a man ran into the room. He was wearing a dirty T-shirt and boxer shorts. He had a gun in his hand.

Lisa kicked him in the gut hard enough to knock him off his feet. He fell to the floor, gasping for air. She snatched the gun from his limp fingers.

"Stay down and be quiet, asshole," she growled.

Virgil untied the girl. The knots in the rope were tight, but he had strong hands, and she was quickly freed.

The man on the floor tried to sit up. Lisa stomped on his face hard enough to flatten his nose with a loud crack. Blood trickled from his nostrils.

"Told you to stay down," she said.

"Sammy!" another man yelled from somewhere outside the bedroom. "Are you OK? What's going on?"

"I'll get him," Lisa whispered.

Virgil shook his head. "No. My turn. Watch the girl. Use the ropes to tie up the guy."

"Why don't I just break his legs?"

He gave her a warning look.

She sighed. "I'll use the ropes."

Virgil poked his head out of the bedroom and into a hallway. He didn't see anybody. He walked quickly and silently through the apartment.

He found the second bad guy in the living room. Pillows and blankets on the couch indicated he had been sleeping there. He was standing up and holding a gun.

The bad guy saw Virgil at the same time. Virgil charged straight forward. The guy had time to squeeze off a single gunshot before their bodies collided. Virgil tackled him with enough force to drive his body into a wall. Virgil then punched the guy in the face, knocking him out. Virgil grabbed the gun, popped out the magazine, and threw both pieces across the room.

He stood up. A wet sensation on his chest made him look down. Black, sticky blood was oozing from a gunshot wound.
Another shirt ruined,
he thought.

Lisa and the hostage walked into the living room.

"Call the police," Virgil told the girl. "When they show up, explain what happened, but give them the wrong description. You can say you were rescued by mysterious strangers, but misremember what we looked like. OK?"

She nodded with a fearful expression.

Virgil and Lisa left through the front door of the apartment. They hurried down a back staircase and emerged from the building using a rear exit.

The morning was turning out beautifully. The sun was rising in a clear, blue sky. The air had the chilly bite of early winter, but no snow had fallen yet this season.

For the ten thousandth time, Virgil was glad to be out of Hell. That place had been dark, hot, smoky, foul, and most of all, lonely. He had spent thirty years in Limbo, a comparatively mild circle of Hell, but Earth was so much nicer. He treasured every sunrise as if it were his last.

He and Lisa walked quickly towards their car.

"That went pretty well," she said.

He nodded. "I can't complain. We got the job done with minimal fuss. No reason for Mammon to hear about it."

"You were shot again."

He shrugged. "No big deal."

"I'm surprised you don't jingle when you walk. How much lead are you carrying in your body?"

"Thirty or forty bullets. It's getting to be quite a collection."

They arrived at their car, a blue Nissan Altima. Virgil took the driver's seat, and Lisa rode shotgun. He started the engine.

He remembered the phone call he had ignored earlier. He took out his phone and saw Sara had tried to reach him. With a puzzled expression, he called her back.

"Hello?" Sara said.

"It's Virgil. What do you need?"

"Why didn't you pick up earlier?"

"I was, uh, busy," he said.

"Busy with what? You and Lisa have been spending a lot of late nights together."

"We're training."

"Without Alfred or me," she said. "What exactly are you doing?"

"You guys don't enjoy the same kind of training as us. We like to mix it up on the city streets. Is there a specific reason why you called, or did you just want to accuse me of unspecified misdeeds?"

"Haymaker is coming to headquarters. He has some pictures he wants me to see. Maybe you should be here."

"We're coming home right now," Virgil said. "See you in twenty minutes. Bye." He hung up.

"We need to change our clothes," Lisa said. "We look like crooks."

He nodded. "Sara is getting suspicious."

"I'm not surprised. I'd suggest we cut back on the hero stuff, but it's too much fun."

We need a real mission,
Virgil thought.

Chapter Two

Virgil and Lisa were walking through an alley in Chinatown on the south side of Chicago. Flies buzzed around dumpsters behind restaurants. Flattened cardboard boxes and shipping pallets formed piles. A cat was chewing on a fish head, and it eyed the two intruders warily. Colorful graffiti decorated the walls. Virgil's nose could only perceive supernatural scents, so fortunately, he couldn't smell the rotting food.

He and Lisa reached a concrete staircase leading down to the basement of Red Palace Antiques. They went down the stairs and stepped carefully on the frosty surface at the bottom. The door was made of steel painted red, and it had a brand new, high-security deadbolt lock. Virgil used a key to open it, and he entered the basement. Lisa followed him.

The headquarters of the First Circle Club wasn't very impressive. A mixed collection of tables, chairs, desks, and shelves formed a haphazard workspace. The furniture looked antique, but most of it was actually cheap fakes. Shelves held office supplies along with equipment used for collecting evidence. Footlockers contained weapons and body armor. A couple of bare bulbs cast yellowish light on the dingy, concrete floor.

Headquarters only occupied a quarter of the basement, and Red Palace Antiques used the rest of the space for storage. Chairs and tables were stacked to the ceiling. Three identical Buddha statues stood in a line. Sheets covered the nicest items, but the rest were coated in dust.

Sara was sitting on a couch reading a magazine. She appeared to be a thin woman with long, brown hair. Hazel eyes complemented her pretty, pale face. Virgil knew she was no more a real woman than he was a real man. Angels in Heaven had crafted Sara's body.

"You finally showed up," she said.

"We got here as quick as we could," he said. "There is traffic even this early in the morning."

"Keeping busy?" Haymaker said.

The detective was sitting on a comfortable, stuffed chair. He was a short man with a thin build. Curly, black hair formed a dense mat on his head, and his skin had a little color. His brown suit was nicer than what most police detectives wore. He always paid close attention to his appearance and projected a professional demeanor.

"Just trying to stay sharp," Virgil said.

"Speaking of which, I keep hearing stories of odd occurrences in the city between midnight and dawn."

"What do you mean?"

With a puzzled expression, Virgil looked at Lisa, and she shrugged innocently.

"Daring rescues," Haymaker said. "Foiled crimes. Impossible feats of athleticism. I heard about somebody jumping off a five-story building and walking away. Another ridiculous story involved a person getting shot in the head and still winning the fight. It seems a mysterious man and woman are responsible, but oddly, none of the witnesses agree on what they look like."

"We plead innocence, your honor. As emissaries from Hell, we're not allowed to use our powers for good."

"Of course."

Sara was glaring angrily at him. He smiled weakly in response. He would likely hear from her later.

"I'm not exactly complaining," Haymaker said. "Our crime-ridden city could always use a little help from heroic citizens. I just would hate to see you get in trouble with your management. I believe you work for Mammon, right?"

"Yes."

"The patron demon of greed and a prince of Hell. A professional soul torturer. Not a 'forgive and forget' kind of a guy. As a friend, I'm cautioning you to be more careful."

Virgil nodded slowly. "OK. Message received."

He glanced at Lisa. She was staring at the floor.

"Where is Alfred?" Virgil said. "Is he coming?"

"No," Sara said. "He's at a homeless shelter. I called him, but he said he was caught up in a 'meaningful and important' conversation."

Virgil frowned. Before Alfred had died, he had been a famous psychologist specializing in treating criminals. Upon returning to Earth, he had resumed his old profession with gradually growing enthusiasm. His hobby had reached the point where he was neglecting his responsibilities to the team.

"We came to see some pictures," Lisa said.

Haymaker took out his phone. Everybody crowded around to look at the crime scene photos.

The images made Virgil gasp in disbelief. The carnage looked like an enraged butcher had attacked a man. Meat and bone had separated cleanly. Body parts and organs were scrambled together.

"The victim was embedded in the ground," Haymaker said. "He hit hard enough to make a furrow."

"A skydiver?" Lisa said.

"No." Sara shook her head. "I examined skydiving accident victims back when I was a medical examiner. Broken bones and ruptured internal organs were the rule. The bodies weren't torn apart like this. What's wrong with the color balance? The muscle tissue looks brown."

"That was the real color," Haymaker said. "The victim was cooked through. He was long dead before he hit the ground."

"Ugh," Lisa said.

"It gets stranger. A bunch of feds showed up and took away the body. They claimed they were from the Office of Experimental Aero-Physics. They told me the victim was a test pilot, but I'm sure there is a lot more to the story. The way they acted made me think cover-up. That's when I decided to call you guys."

Virgil took out his phone and searched the internet. He quickly found the home page for the O.E.A.P.

He read out loud, "Part of the Federal Aviation Administration and the Department of Transportation. The O.E.A.P. studies advanced, experimental technologies which might be applied to air and space travel. There are pretty pictures of airplanes and spaceships."

"I already saw that," Haymaker said. "The website is just a single page which lacks essential details. It doesn't say who is in charge or what specific projects they're working on. The only contact information is a phone number."