When you have done some works in the 'low life' part of the city like I have, you get to know some shady characters. Those tend to be very useful whenever I need information, like I needed now. The loading docks, next to the cargo-links were arguably the shadiest part of town, and that's where I went. Hired muscle is a normal job in this town, but still there aren't that many people doing it, and finding someone who knew 'John' was easy. He was new in town, arrived in the last month and had worked a couple of days at the cargo-links before being hired to work as a Security Guard at one of the Clubs. That's where I went after, only to find out he had been fired for not showing up to work twice, just a couple of days before. A little luck and a couple of bills helped find his house.
A small apartment much like mine, near the night district, that I broke into easily. I searched the place but the only thing I found was a paper sheet with the same symbols they had on their tattoos on one side and a address on the other. I passed by the police station to find out he was still there and that he had not yet made a phone call. Unless I pressed charges they'd be forced to let him out the next day. I promised to pass there before, and I went to the address. It was a small door between a antique shop and another building door. In front there was a hot dog stand, so I went to it, asked for a beer and leaned over to the wall, waiting, coat covering half my face, hat covering the rest. The first beer too me half a hour to drink, the second another hour and only when I was about to get the third did something happen.
A woman came out, but I only recognized her a few seconds after, already following her down the street. She had changed into less noticeable clothes and was going fast down the street. I followed her to the hyperlink. If let her enter she would be as good as lost, since this was one of the new fully automatic link. I ran and bumped into her as soon as she got her feet up to enter the link. We both traveled and I landed in top of her, she in top of sand. In front of me a pyramid and to my side a town right out of ancient Egypt. Houses of mud bricks and temples of stone as far as I could see.
"Hey there honey, there's sand in your hair." - I said while cuffing her - "And now it's you who are cuffed. Shall we repeat last night?" - She was kicking and trying to get me off of her. My hand covering her lips meant she wasn't able of screaming, so I was able to pick her up and move her into the city, mingling with the people where I put her against the wall. "So. Why did you steal my little notebook?" - being unable to speak she mumbled until I remembered I'd better take m hand of her mouth.
"That damned bitch stole something of great value to us."
"How did you know what to look for?" - since she wasn't answering I took out my gun and put it against her clothes, and asked again.
"You and the 'love of your life' are well known in the police station, and so is the little book where you write down anything connected to jewel heists or her. The Order of Horus is everywhere in the System! And if she thinks she can just run away with the Eye of God, she is very mistaken. We will find her, kill her and get back what is ours."
I must have become distracted by the thought of Stella, because the woman was able of kicking me and running away. I searched the entire link but I couldn't find her. Their symbol was everywhere, so that was not something I could follow as a lead. I returned to the Dark City, wondering how could I enter their meeting place, for I had decided that was what it was, without being recognized. I ended up going home, thinking that sleep would actually do me some good.
The door to my office was unlocked, so I took out my gun, took a deep breath and kicked it in. The gun fell on the floor, followed by my chin. She was there, sitting on my chair, my glass on one hand, one of my cigarettes in her beautiful lips, a green eye of Horus in a chain at her chest, my Stella was there.
Thursday 7 October 2010
Entry 19 - the woman with the evil tattoo
She smiled and left the room, leaving me in the bed, cuffed, gagged and naked. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her as soon as I saw her tattoo : the small trio of green hieroglyphs, the stairs above the eye and the scribe, sitting, on the side, on her left breast. It was the same tattoo the guy that had tried to kill me earlier had on his left arm.
Unfortunately, at the time she showed me hers, I was already tied down. It could have been worst. She did keep the promises she had made when we were at the dance before leaving me there alone, without my wallet, without my gun and without any way to warn someone...
The room had been paid for the night (I would have never taken her to my place... Way too many dishes to clean and clothes to wash), so until morning nobody was going to check on me. I reviewed the day in my mind, starting with the moment I first saw the man.
It was around 4 in the afternoon and I was sitting, back turned at my desk. No new cases for three days, so I was just relaxing and watching the street, a glass of my favorite vintage Brandy in one hand. A knock on the door and I turned, said a 'Come in' and the door opens to a man, in a dark gray suit, about 45, not very tall nor fat but with large shoulders. He looked like hired muscle, and when he spoke I knew he was. His voice was heavy, but his eyes were looking around while he was telling me that he had just lost his wife.
I couldn't really say why, but all of it smelt false. Now, lying in bed and thinking about it I know what it was. I should have noticed it before, but somehow I missed it. It was so obvious now. The name was the first thing. John Smith. Such a obviously fake name. Yet many people give fake names to PI's. As long as they pay, I don't mind. But what should have given it away was that he kept mentioning his wife yet he had no weeding ring. He did mention money, and I was kinda needing it, so I took his case.
We went in his car to the place where he said she had last been seen. I was driving and he was giving indications, we were in the worst part of the city, on a small street, nobody watching, nobody passing and suddenly a kid appears on the road, seemingly out of nowhere. I break not to hit him, and John, if that is his real name, misses the shot. I grab his arm, take away his gun and cuff him without even thinking. After a few years in the Special Ops, some reactions become instinctive.
I left "John" locked in the car and went to see if the kid was alright. I call him kid, but I never saw his face. All I know is that he was wearing what looked like a light brown tweed suit, and that he was gone by the time I got out of the car, like if he had never been there. He must have run, scared in the time it took me to get out. After that I dropped the hired muscle in the police station.
The inspector was there and he greeted me with a small nod, as usual. Every other week I'd be there, delivering a caught criminal or just asking about Her. I had not forgotten that she was the reason I had chosen to return here, and I'd been slowly collecting info, and so I was already known in the police station.
I went home after that, and off to the monthly dance after dinner, alone as ever. I kept going there, because it was there that we danced, that one night so long ago. There I met the girl and that led me to the bed where I now waited for either sleep or the morning.
One thing was still bugging me. The hired muscle tried to kill me, but the woman could have done it easily, with me tied and unmovable in bed, but she didn't. So it's not that they wanted to kill me, they wanted something I have. Or they think I do. Lying cuffed in bed, there wasn't much I could do to find what it was they wanted, so I just forced myself to sleep.
I woke with the motel's owner knocking on the door. I tried to reply before remembering the situation I was in. So I just waited for the owner to open the door, laugh at me because she had left the window opend and it was cold, and then help me get ungagged. I explained roughly what had hapend, but still I had to pay for the afternoon since the locksmith was only able to take me out some three hours after my time period ended. From my clothes only the keys were missing. My wallet had everything, and my cigarettes were still there. I thanked the gods that she hadn't taken those, lighted one, and went home. I had to ask the landlord for a spare key, and to pay for it too. The office was a mess, as I half expected. The cabinet was spilled on the floor, the drawers opened and emptied on top of the files. My apartment was in the same state, clothes everywhere.
It took me the rest of the day to clean everything up and finding out what was missing. It was one single notebook, the one I always kept in my top drawer in the desk, the one marked Stella, Her name where I had been compiling all information I could find. So they were after Stella, I thought. What was it that she stole them? Since the Heart of Fire, twelve other rare jewels had been reported stolen, and in some of the cases a beautiful woman had been described by witnesses, sometimes just wandering by, once inside the shop before everyone lost senses and not there after...
Now, what I needed was to find them, retrieve my notebook and with luck, I might even find Stella again.
Unfortunately, at the time she showed me hers, I was already tied down. It could have been worst. She did keep the promises she had made when we were at the dance before leaving me there alone, without my wallet, without my gun and without any way to warn someone...
The room had been paid for the night (I would have never taken her to my place... Way too many dishes to clean and clothes to wash), so until morning nobody was going to check on me. I reviewed the day in my mind, starting with the moment I first saw the man.
It was around 4 in the afternoon and I was sitting, back turned at my desk. No new cases for three days, so I was just relaxing and watching the street, a glass of my favorite vintage Brandy in one hand. A knock on the door and I turned, said a 'Come in' and the door opens to a man, in a dark gray suit, about 45, not very tall nor fat but with large shoulders. He looked like hired muscle, and when he spoke I knew he was. His voice was heavy, but his eyes were looking around while he was telling me that he had just lost his wife.
I couldn't really say why, but all of it smelt false. Now, lying in bed and thinking about it I know what it was. I should have noticed it before, but somehow I missed it. It was so obvious now. The name was the first thing. John Smith. Such a obviously fake name. Yet many people give fake names to PI's. As long as they pay, I don't mind. But what should have given it away was that he kept mentioning his wife yet he had no weeding ring. He did mention money, and I was kinda needing it, so I took his case.
We went in his car to the place where he said she had last been seen. I was driving and he was giving indications, we were in the worst part of the city, on a small street, nobody watching, nobody passing and suddenly a kid appears on the road, seemingly out of nowhere. I break not to hit him, and John, if that is his real name, misses the shot. I grab his arm, take away his gun and cuff him without even thinking. After a few years in the Special Ops, some reactions become instinctive.
I left "John" locked in the car and went to see if the kid was alright. I call him kid, but I never saw his face. All I know is that he was wearing what looked like a light brown tweed suit, and that he was gone by the time I got out of the car, like if he had never been there. He must have run, scared in the time it took me to get out. After that I dropped the hired muscle in the police station.
The inspector was there and he greeted me with a small nod, as usual. Every other week I'd be there, delivering a caught criminal or just asking about Her. I had not forgotten that she was the reason I had chosen to return here, and I'd been slowly collecting info, and so I was already known in the police station.
I went home after that, and off to the monthly dance after dinner, alone as ever. I kept going there, because it was there that we danced, that one night so long ago. There I met the girl and that led me to the bed where I now waited for either sleep or the morning.
One thing was still bugging me. The hired muscle tried to kill me, but the woman could have done it easily, with me tied and unmovable in bed, but she didn't. So it's not that they wanted to kill me, they wanted something I have. Or they think I do. Lying cuffed in bed, there wasn't much I could do to find what it was they wanted, so I just forced myself to sleep.
I woke with the motel's owner knocking on the door. I tried to reply before remembering the situation I was in. So I just waited for the owner to open the door, laugh at me because she had left the window opend and it was cold, and then help me get ungagged. I explained roughly what had hapend, but still I had to pay for the afternoon since the locksmith was only able to take me out some three hours after my time period ended. From my clothes only the keys were missing. My wallet had everything, and my cigarettes were still there. I thanked the gods that she hadn't taken those, lighted one, and went home. I had to ask the landlord for a spare key, and to pay for it too. The office was a mess, as I half expected. The cabinet was spilled on the floor, the drawers opened and emptied on top of the files. My apartment was in the same state, clothes everywhere.
It took me the rest of the day to clean everything up and finding out what was missing. It was one single notebook, the one I always kept in my top drawer in the desk, the one marked Stella, Her name where I had been compiling all information I could find. So they were after Stella, I thought. What was it that she stole them? Since the Heart of Fire, twelve other rare jewels had been reported stolen, and in some of the cases a beautiful woman had been described by witnesses, sometimes just wandering by, once inside the shop before everyone lost senses and not there after...
Now, what I needed was to find them, retrieve my notebook and with luck, I might even find Stella again.
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