Ghost of a Thief

Without looking over my shoulder, I slunk down the suburban back road, working to appear as if I walked this way routinely. I was fighting not to leap to the right and cover the last few feet so I could hug the buildings and remain in the shadows—hopefully to drop the tail I had picked up several blocks back. Good thing I had a contingency plan in place for just such an occasion. I was also—per my usual MO—dressed in all brown/black, soft stretchy material that moved with me aiding me whether I wanted to appear as a sexy professional or stretch with me when I needed to leap up and catch a fire ladder to jump floors in one of my ‘retrieval’ assignments. At the moment I topped my outfit with a signature trench coat, lightly belted. I fought not to give tails a pattern to lock onto which still showed up tonight when I wore my trench coat lightly belted. This showed, an observant tail, I wasn’t quite ready to leap floors so much as I was appearing as a young, busy entrepreneur. I had been practising for the last six months, always varying the scenarios, as it appeared I was gaining as a target and almost daily seemed to attract a new tail trying to catch me on my way home. I had a family that I protected fiercely and with my life if needed.

A few more steps and I rounded the corner that would lead me into a part of town that you better have at least a passing nodding acquaintance with, or just turn around now. They will shoot first and maybe ask questions after. This way if the dude or dudette—I couldn’t be 100% positive which—kept on tracking me, I knew they were most likely from around here and would know this place even better than I do. On the upside, I could finally be the ghost I’m becoming famous for a chameleon, using the thousands of bricks as my safe backdrop—virtually undetectable. This time, though, my tail is sticking with me, so I know where they probably hail from here and I will have to adapt my strategy if I want to stay one step ahead of them in this part of town.

I was a semi-retired electrician, specialising in large networked infrastructures turned… retriever. Yeah, can you believe it? After all this time, I think I’m growing a conscious. It’s starting to intrude and these last six assignments have added brutal mental gymnastics to my brain I couldn’t seem to control—to shut off, circumvent—nothing. Maybe this was my body trying to tell me it really is time to retire—and on the heels of that thought burst out, “And do what?” I couldn’t go back to just being a mainstream electrician. I would surely fall asleep on the job from the boredom. I hated when I started feeling this way—hmm, has it only been since June 29th that I started feeling this way?

Like it was last year, I fondly remembered my first significant case that starred my new handle as it appeared in our local circulation, written by a snappy young reporter who carelessly placed in his headliner, The Chameleon, a Ghost of a Thief—what an amazing night it turned out to be. They had just started installing CCT cameras in high-crime areas, and I was young and full of mischief, cocky enough to think I could make them chase me all night. Thanks to a challenging pair of tails, that was the night I discovered my best-kept secret weapon. In an effort not to leave my figure anywhere on those cameras, I began hugging brick buildings, checking in mirrored surfaces across from me to determine if I could see myself. To add to this near invisibility, I could throw off any tail, at least for a short period if not for the rest of the night. You see, I know where every primary power supply and its brother and sister cut-offs are located, and all the best underground entrances. I could bring down power in small sections, daisy chain, or by quadrants. If the chase got too close for comfort, I went for the quadrant. By the time they worked their way out of the powerless quadrant, I was long gone with nary a hint in the wind as to which way I escaped.

Abruptly, I thrust myself from my memories as I narrowly missed the quick right turn I needed to make while remaining stealthy. I quietly plastered myself against the wall and held my breath. This should be the reset time when the next cycle of retreat and move onto another quadrant begins. And right on queue I watched, unseen, as the drone turned and all my senses registered I was no longer being followed. Of course, they don’t look like drones should, which is to this date and for the most part, still obvious as to their purpose. These are very sophisticated ones—they can almost pass for human, if you’re not paying careful attention to detail.

I had to snap out of it! This was becoming more and more ridiculous, not to mention dangerous for my well-being. I need to just get over myself and at the very least take some time off to figure out my best course of action—and all options, pros and cons. When things get this messy in my head the best way out is to roll up my sleeves. Time to put things on paper so I can choose what’s best. Time to bring out my mind’s cabinets, cleaning up all the mental debris clogging my system.

Once again, I attempted to shake off my merry-go-round of thoughts. It was time for me to stop dilly dallying and find the main. I knew I needed to go dark so I could complete this assignment. It looks like it’ll be a long night as I lead my quarry on a merry goose chase—well, I’m turning the tables on my tail now and I’m doing the chasing. My family knows if I don’t show up for a night—then I’m out protecting them, the best way I know how.