G.H.O.S.T. Teams: Book 1 - Magic (12 page)

“How old are you?” I asked.

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he watched me. Picking up his glass, he took a sip of a golden liquid that I couldn’t identify without a label, and then very casually laid his glass back down on the desk. He sighed heavily before speaking.

“Look BD, you’re going to have a lot of questions. I can understand that. I make it a point to know as much as possible about the people that I deal with. Most of your past however, is inaccessible to me. So I’ll make you a deal. You tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine,” he said.

It seemed a bit like a waste of time to me, but then again my goal was to keep him safe. Sharing stories seemed like as good an excuse as any to hang about. Plus, there was a chance that something from his past would give me a clue as to why these people were out to kill him. It was almost funny how little I knew about the man. We went into a deadly situation together, all those years ago, with nothing more than code names to call each other. I was Black Dragon and he was Visine and that was all we knew.

We plunged into battle, trusting our lives in each other’s hands. That kind of bond, forged in the fires of war, is not something that can be explained with words. It’s more than friendship and more than family. I owed him my life and he owed me his. So I could say that it was simple curiosity about his past that made me agree. But the truth is that after what we went through together, I figured the least I could do for the man was tell him my story.

“Deal,” I agreed.

So I told him everything. How my adoptive parents rescued me as an infant from a secret super-soldier program and stashed me in a hidden Buddhist temple in China. Why the murder of my father prompted me to infiltrate and destroy an entire ninja society. I even admitted that my quest for revenge had cost my mother her life. It was a dark tale and nothing to be proud of, but it made me who I am today. Speaking about the death of my parents even caused me to choke up a bit, but Visine was polite enough not to notice. I took a slow breath.

“And that is the story of Bruce Tiberius Chang.”

Visine raised an eyebrow.

“Dad was into Kung Fu movies and Mom was a Star Trek fan. What are you gonna do?” I shrugged.

He half smiled and finished off his drink before leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers over his belly.

“I guess that means it’s my turn,” he said.

I nodded and got comfortable. Visine was looking down as if his mind was wandering before he finally let out a heavy sigh and met my eyes.

“Ninety years ago I woke up in an army hospital with no memory of who I was,” he started.

In case my wide-eyed stare didn’t make it obvious for you, he had my attention.

“They found me during the Hundred Day Offensive, my body lying among the dead on a French battlefield. There was a huge piece of shrapnel sticking out of my head and both of my legs were missing. Apparently my pulse came as a great shock to everyone,” he smiled.

“Holy crap. How long did it take for your legs to grow back?” I asked.

“Almost ten years. My body healed slower back then, forcing me to miss the dance craze of the twenties,” he frowned.

“Seriously? That’s what upset you about that situation?” I scoffed

 
Visine smiled, “There will only ever be one twenties. Legs it would seem come and go.”

I didn’t even know how to begin to argue with that logic. Maybe having to watch your legs slowly grow back gives you an unusual perspective. Here’s hoping that I never have to find out.

“My head injury was the real problem,” he continued, “the resulting brain damage caused my memory loss. The brain healed, but the memories never returned. The army knew me as John Smith, a man fighting with the allies for four years. Nothing more of my past has ever been recovered,” he said, taking a sip of his drink before continuing.

“Little of interest happened until World War II. I hadn’t aged a day, so in order to keep my secret I fought with the Allies as John Smith’s son, Thomas. Towards the end of the war, word of my natural toughness reached someone high up. They asked me to partake in an experiment to create a self healing soldier,” he said.

I couldn’t help but lean forward in my chair. Could we be from similar programs? Visine read the expression on my face and answered my unasked question.

“Not like you,” he said, “This involved mini robots which patched up wounds from inside of the body. But like you, I was the only survivor. My natural healing ability is to be thanked as the mini bots didn’t function. The assumption was that the broken bots would pass naturally so no effort was made to remove them. I returned to the war effort, not thinking of robots again for decades.

“The next thirty years I was a soldier, fighting the world over in different conflicts. But after Nam, I started to feel a change. The mini robots had remained in my system and now numbered in the thousands. Empowered by the very energy that keeps me young, they adapted and became more efficient. I wasn’t sure what to make of them, until a sniper bullet a year later showed me what they could do.

“I was tracking a KGB agent across Luxemburg. She had a partner that I didn’t discover until the bullet entered my chest. I found cover and after a minute, the bullet hole had filled with silver, stopping the bleed. I could feel them inside of me, working to patch my muscle, bone, and skin. My usual healing time was cut in half. The nanites, to use a more modern moniker, have continued to shrink their size, improve their methods, and increase their numbers. And in the eighties, when wireless communication became more prominent, they found new abilities,” he said.

“Wait! Are you about to tell me that you can talk to machines?” I asked.

“Among other things,” he smirked, “Up until about ten years ago I worked for the US Government, helping to contain the Red Threat,” he said.

“Um, didn’t the cold war end in the eighties?” I laughed.

Visine gave me a look that seemed to say “did it now small child”. There was clearly amusement on his face at my remark. Then he continued on as if I hadn’t asked anything at all.
 

“With the new century came my retirement and the bar,” he smiled.

“Wow, ninety years in five minutes. Were we racing?” I smiled.

“Some people run their mouths more than others,” he grinned.

Just because it was true didn’t mean that I had to let it go.

“Oh yeah, well it looks like you got twins in that fat belly,” I said.

Visine stared at me for a good ten seconds, letting the silence fill the room. I held his gaze for a moment and then couldn’t help myself. I mouthed the word huge and looked at his belly. He let out a loud chuckle, a deep guttural thing. The sheer passion of the laugh forced me to join in. We had bantered back and forth just like this in Brussels, our way of dealing with the horrors of killing. Once the laughing died down, Visine patted his belly with his hand before speaking.

“A necessary storage,” Visine said.

“Worried about that long winter?” I joked with a nod.

“When my body is damaged, the nanites require raw materials to work with. Fat stores well,” he said straight faced.

“Oddly, that makes sense,” I replied.

I finished off my sandwich and washed it down with my drink. Then I looked Visine in the eyes, keeping my voice low as I spoke.

“What can you tell me about Dirk Camalon?” I asked.

His whole body went still. There was no shift in his face or the slightest hint of emotion, but I knew from Timothy’s report earlier that the two men had fought together in Korea. Visine however was far too good at controlling his expressions to give me any hint as to the current state of their association.
  

“He was a very old friend,” Visine said flatly.

“Sorry.”

Visine gave me a slight nod.

“He wasn’t the first,” he said.

“Right. I can’t imagine how many friends you have lost in ninety years,” I frowned.

“I meant not the first of our group,” he corrected.

“Oh, you mean those other two dudes in Europe?”

“And Shin back in Korea,” Visine started.

His eyes glazed over as if he was running the event over again in his mind. He took a sip of his drink, before looking back up to meet my eyes and continue.

“After they found Percy’s body in Germany, Argo, Dirk, and I got together to remember an old friend. We were all going to look into the murder from different angles, sharing anything that we found. I was following up on a lead here when I heard that they got Argo in Sweden. Dirk was finishing up some research in England and he said that he would be in touch soon. He was killed shortly after arriving in town. I never got to speak to him again,” Visine said.

 
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t imagine losing a friend you have known for fifty years.”

“Seventy actually, but he knew me for far longer,” Visine replied.

“And…you lost me.”

“We bumped into each other in the thirties. He called me Lazarus before he realized that I had lost my memory. Apparently we had been friends for a very long time, but aside from my name, he refused to give me any details,” he said, a hint of frustration to his tone.

“Why?” I asked.

“He claimed that we had some great purpose. He thought that my amnesia might cloak me in some way from any who would wish us harm. There was also the fear that restoring my memory would trigger some event too early. That was as much as I could ever get out of him,” Visine frowned.

“Well that sucks.”

A slight smile formed on Visine’s lips and he exhaled loudly out of his nose in place of a laugh.

“It was less than ideal,” he said.

I actually felt bad for the guy. Imagine losing your memory and then meeting a man who claims to be one of your oldest friends. But that guy refuses to tell you anything about who you are. Claims that he is protecting you. It had to feel like a parent dealing with a child. We all hate that. Dirk had now taken the secrets of Visine’s life to the grave. I figured that even discussing Dirk’s murder was more pleasant than the lost past. So I kept pressing on the case.

“And you all didn’t learn anything in your investigations regarding Percy’s death?” I asked.

“Just that a Fae cult was apparently responsible,” he replied.

“Okay, which one?”

“We weren’t able to narrow it down,” he said.

“Not even a little?”

“You do know what Fae is short for don’t you?” he asked.

“Sure, Faerie right?”

“Which makes it such a generic title that it could mean almost anything,” he said.

“So basically a needle in a haystack?”

“In the paranormal world it’s more like a needle in a needle stack,” he corrected.

“Then maybe we need to work backwards. How are they tracking you guys?”

“What makes you think they can track us?” he asked.

“Well I asked Kara, our team witch, about it. She thought that if she had more of Dirk’s magical essence to work with that she might be able to track the rest of it. You are all some kind of magic immortal dudes, so I just assumed that you had a unique signature. Something that someone could use to find you,” I said.

“If that were true, it would seem that Dirk may have been right. Perhaps my amnesia blocks me from their scans,” he said.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“Because they were waiting here, instead of chasing me,” he said.

“Fair point. Unless they just have a limited range,” I offered.

“No way to be sure,” he said.

“Sure there is. Come down to GHOST HQ and let Kara scan you so she can see if you really are cloaked.”

“Kid, what makes you think that I need your help?” he asked.

“Two things. One, I just saved your life from deadly sorcerers,” I stated.

“No you didn’t,” he shot back, shaking his head and grinning.

“Two, hanging out with me is a ton of fun. You loved being my sidekick last time,” I smiled.

“Sidekick?” he questioned.

“I call em like I see em.”

His look told me that he wasn’t amused. He was about to say something when I held up a finger, asking for a moment. I felt a familiar presence.

“
Hey Boss, I’m here
,” Vlad said.

“Sweet, my car’s here,” I told Visine.

Visine furrowed his brow, a slight look of confusion on his face. I got the impression that he was scanning me somehow, looking for something.

“You have no electronic devices on you, how were you notified that your car arrived?” he asked.

I held up my wrist, showing the leather band, “Magic,” I winked.

Visine’s stare made it clear that he didn’t really believe me. There was a look of curiosity on his face but it quickly faded. I assumed that he decided it would speed up my departure if he let it go. Clearly he didn’t know me.

“Is there any chance that you leave me alone now?” Visine asked.

“None at all,” I smiled.

“Fine,” he said with a sigh as he stood up, “Let’s get this over with.”

He had a scowl on his face, but I knew that it was an act. After all, who wouldn’t want to hang out with me?

I took point as we made our way out of the crowded bar. Vlad was waiting out back behind the bar and he let me know that everything looked clear before we stepped out. I told Visine and he nodded his head in agreement, clearly looking at me as if to say “no duh”. I guess his little nano-bugs checked all the local surveillance cameras or something. But even with that assurance I stepped outside cautiously, keeping my eyes peeled for danger.

Vlad, my super sweet, super slick, two-door black sports car was parked just outside the door. The nearly full moon and the parking lot lights danced across his shinny exterior. He looked like a Trans Am on steroids. Vlad’s doors, which opened by sliding underneath the car, did so automatically as Visine and I approached. I jumped into the driver’s side and Visine took the passenger side, the doors closing instinctively behind us. The electric motor gave a quiet whine as it started up and we were off. I figured I should make some introductions.