Four| Oh God, I Might Need To Bring A Bible With Me Next Time
Olivia Rose
_____________________
"THIS IS RIDICULOUS."
Katerina scoffed beside me, her dark eyes glaring at the men standing around the table. Ivanov paused, his hand freezing in mid-air as he pointed at something on the world map stuck behind him. Apollo leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs until his knee bumped into mine.
"You do realize that we have absolutely no way to find his identity, right?" Katerina continues, pointing a manicured finger at the map. "We don't know anything about him— his name, his age, his appearance. He doesn't stay in one place for too long, and last time he was seen in Germany—"
"So obviously he would travel to a country that is close to it." Emir pipes in, crossing his legs as he leans against the wall. The sunlight shining in through the window made his features appear more sharper.
"Or." I speak, uncertainty lacing in my voice. "He would travel all the way to the other side of the world. He knows we are after him, he will try to run away."
"So that closes down to countries in Asia." Ivanov grabs a marker, placing a cross on Germany and Italy. "Fantasma never travels to a place he has already been to, so that cuts out Japan, India and Indonesia."
"Thailand, Singapore and China as well." Emir says. "That leaves basically the Gulf countries."
"What about Korea?"
"No. Too predictable." Ivanov furrows his eyebrows. "Olivia, bring out the list of countries Fantasma has been to."
"In Asia?"
"Entire globe."
I nod my head, my fingers swiftly typing on the keyboard. I can finally enter the agency's database without any agents knocking at my door and literally stabbing me in the neck with a syringe.
"Let's see. Australia, Germany, Italy, Spain, Thailand, Singapore, India, Japan, America, London, China and Indonesia." I list out, Ivanov crossing out each country with a red marker. "He started with America, and then travelled all the way to India. Then London, then China. He travels back and forth a lot."
"He was in Germany. So he must go to—"
"What if he just closes his eyes and throws a dart at the world map?" Sam questions. "Maybe we should do that—"
"Sam, no."
"This is useless." Apollo finally speaks, his voice as blank as a white canvas. "We are wasting our time. Let's just admit Fantasma targets random countries, how are we going to know which state he is in? Where he is currently? How can we be four steps ahead of him when we don't even know if he is in the race?"
"There has to be a pattern." My eyes flicker from the computer screen to my leader. "What else do you know about him?"
"He kills billionaires."
"Good thing I am broke them, eh?" I let out a chuckle, finding humour in the situation. But my team mates did not look amused— well, except for Sam and Emir. Apollo glared at me, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat slightly, "Okay, so he targets billionaires. At the charity galas, or he just goes into their homes and— pew pew?"
"Red carpet events, charity galas, basically anything that is broadcasted on national television." Ivan tapped the red marker against his palm. "He wants everyone to know about him, I think he finds sick satisfaction in knowing he creates fear in the hearts of people."
"But he doesn't attend all charity events." Apollo speaks up, his dark eyes flickering to me. "Only the ones that require a mask, or where you are supposed to cover your face—"
"You mean to say a masquerade?" Sam coughs into his fist.
"—and this." The agent points a finger at the world map behind Ivanov. "There has to be a pattern. A mastermind like Fantasma wouldn't just randomly select a place. Is there a particular kind of person he's going after, or a family line?"
"What were the charity galas for?" I ask, but my fingers were already furiously typing on the keyboard. I felt Katerina scoot closer beside me, trying to peek at my screen over my shoulder.
"Paintings." Emir replies. "Uh, famous paintings, basically. But he didn't steal from all of them. He only stole one from Indonesia, India and London. The rest of the places it was just a murder." He taps a finger to his chin in thought. "Maybe he hates artists?"
"Or maybe he hates billionaires in general?" Sam reaches forward, grabbing a bottle of water from the table. "Like you know, Robin Hood or something. He steals money from the rich people and gives it to the poor ones."
"He steals paintings, Sam!"
"Maybe he sells them in the black market—"
"Your theories are bullshit, Samuel."
"You are bullshit!"
Ivanov signs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was a mother dealing with two stubborn children. He shakes his head and instead turns to me, quirking a perfectly arched brow. "Olivia, found anything?"
"Almost." My eyes flickered across the screen, nose scrunching at the words written on the website. "Uh, let's assume this Fanta dude—"
"Fantasma." Apollo corrects.
"—only targets galas that hold paintings. So there's one in Korea, Canada and Czechoslovakia two weeks from now. We know he travels around a lot, but if you look clearly you will notice he always goes back to Asia. America, and then India. London— and then China. He travelled to Germany last, didn't he?"
"Which means he will be going to Korea next?" Katerina questions.
"A possibility." Ivan nods. "We don't know when he will strike next. The killings in London and China had a span of two months between them, but in Spain and Thailand, it was only a month."
"This is our best bet." Katerina taps the screen, her eyes holding exhaustion. I am pretty sure we all look the same— we 've been at it for two hours now and all we could come up with were theories.
"It's an assumption, Katerina." Apollo signs, leaning back in his seat. "We can't afford to make assumptions, this man— we don't even know if he is a single person or if there's more than one person behind it. We don't know anything! He wiped two teams off the face of Earth— two teams. Ten people, gone. Just like that. He's dangerous and we might as well be laughing at the face of death while going behind Fantasma."
"Maybe we can just hand this mission to someone else." Sam shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. I nod in agreement, fiddling with the hem of my sweater nervously.
"And let everyone call us cowards?" Ivan scoffed. "Absolutely not."
"Ivan—"
"Look, I 'll take this over to the Director, and if he gives us the green light, we 'll go. And if he doesn't, we will waste another three hours trying to figure out the fuckers next move." He grabs my laptop and the file from the desk, "I will return this to you as soon as possible."
"Take your time." I awkwardly give him a thumbs-up.
Ivan nods, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. Director Owens was kind enough to give us an office, but the problem was that it was small. There were three desk lines against the wall and two other desk parallel to it. A projector screen was hung on the wall right next to the door, and beside it was a small table holding a microwave over that looked like it had seen better days. A mini fridge was placed in between the two desks— and the fridge actually emitted a horrible stench. Over all, the room looked like it could be holding demons and possible endanger your life of you even looked at it.
"This is just our temporary office, Olivia." Katerina gives me an amused look as I uneasily stare at the cobwebs lining the walls. "We will be out of here in no time."
"Sure." I mumble, eyeing the coffee stain on the carpet with distaste. "Not that there's a risk of us getting an infection or anything, right?"
Sam snorted, grabbing a chair and plopping down on the seat. The chair creeked under his weight and I was afraid it was going to break. Emir opened the mini fridge, immediately closing the door when the horrible stench wafted in the air. I coughed dramatically, unable to control my facial expressions as they controrted into a scowl. "Oh god, I might need to bring a Bible with me next time."
"It's not that bad—" Katerina was cut off by the lights flickering, the four of us glanced at the tubelight which turned off completely, leaving us in darkness momentraily before Sam turns on his phone flashlight, shining the light straight in my eyes. "—okay, maybe it's bad, but hey, atleast it's not in someone's basement, right?"
"Katerina." I groan out, rubbing my forehead with my fingers. "We are literally in the basement." The tubelight turns back on, momentraily blinding me. Great, I am going to be blind by the time I leave this god for saken room.
Ten minutes later, Ivan finally enters through the door, a confused expression on his face as he glances at me holding his wife's hand for dear life. I should be grateful that Katerina didn't push me off the moment I launched onto her lap because I thought a spider was walking on my back, but it was really just Apollo trying to stand up, and his arm accidentally brushed against my back. Katerina merely patted the top of my head, loosened the tight grip I had on the collar of the button down shirt and held my hand the entire time.
"So?" Emir asked, a hopeful look on his face as he leaned forward. "What did he say?"
"He rejected it." Ivan smacks the file on the table, his lips quirked up in a sneer. "Said he couldn't afford to make assumptions and waste time. We need solid evidence."
"This is solid evidence." Katerina scoffed. "What else did he expect? A detailed description of Fantasma's whereabouts? The only thing we ever saw was the back of his head, and that haircut is worn by every white guy in America."
Apollo wordlessly grabs my laptop, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he types something. I tried to peek over his shoulder but he just gave me a glare that me put atleast four feet of distance between us.
"Fantasma only steals sculptures and paintings from just one artist: Derola Montoya. ( I just made the name up, this person is not an actual artist) He's still alive, but the he has already sold his creations to several museums. Three of which were in Indonesia, India and London. The other four are in Las Vegas, Portugal, Sweden and Argentina. And as far as I know, there is going to be a new museum opening in Las Vegas."
"When?"
"Next week." Apollo smirked, knowing we got our first lead. I blinked at him, feeling my cheeks flush when he turns his head to glance at me.
"So, urm, we are going to Las Vegas?" I bounce in my seat excitedly, clutching the fabric of my sweater. Sam swivels in his chair, holding his fist up for a fistbump.
"We are going to Las Vegas, baby!"