Chapter 4 - Preparation - Phantom

Stepping off the plane, it seemed like he had not travelled anywhere, he was stood in the middle of yet another make shift run way in an abandoned field, with strings of light bulbs, connected to portable generators, stretching in all directions, making each of the shady henchmen look even more sinister. Parked in the corner of the field was an ex-military, covered truck, encased in a thick layer of rust. Within an hour the back was loaded up with the crates and was ready to go. Tibalt Grime's was already gone, he stayed just long enough to leave a hastily scribbled address on the corner of a newspaper, stating he'd have the merchandise in two hours, come no later or no earlier. Phantom burned the address away with the end of his cigarette, blowing the ash into the mist that now encircled the whole area and boarded the cab of the truck. There was a henchman already sat at the wheel, not any henchman, his henchman. The man's name was Harry, he probably had a surname but no one knew it. Harry was a little too large to fit comfortable anyway and thus always looked out of place but Phantom tried to always have him on any job he had in England, due to their history. Soon they were making good time, burning down the motorway, the engine straining slightly under the weight of the load and the added boxes that Phantom had just picked up from the poorly lit lock up, hidden behind an even dodgier looking casino. Phantom then gave Harry a sideways nod and Harrys eyes were suddenly transfixed on the road ahead. Phantom removed his glasses, closed them and propped them on the dashboard, then with great care, began to unwrap his bandages and rolled them up placing them in the glove compartment. He leaned forward and fished under his seat and soon produced an ornate wooden box, opening it revealed face putty, various cosmetics, contact lenses and other such items. Harry had not forgotten Phantoms ‘special' requirements. Within a few minute Phantom had suddenly become a man in his late forties with thinning dark hair, rosy cheeks and a general weather beaten complexion. All the time this was happening Harry's eyes never faltered from the road and it was only once Phantom had replaced his spectacles that he turned to face him. It was said that Harry was the only living man who knew what Phantom looked like before the incident and one of the few who knows what he looks like under the wrappings. "You could make any face you wanted and you always pick ugly," Harry sniggered, he loved trying to get a rise out of Phantom, it never happened but Harry always tried. Phantom turned to his college, his tone one of pure logic, "People love to see beauty in things and shy away from the displeasing, ugly is more likely to be forgotten." Harry simply laughed at Phantom's social commentary as he applied the brakes, the truck lurched violently forward, the crates sliding right up to the cab with a loud bang. "We're here Boss."