by Jack Hammond
A slight smile appeared on his face. “Okay, thanks Wes.”
“Tonight.” Wes finished as he moved away deeper into the swell of students.
The pit was business as usual tonight; the contenders huddled in their groups. The occasional fighter splintering off from the pack to challenge someone before swiftly returning to the fold. Patrick wandered nervously down the steps. He glanced left and right, drawing in breath slowly as he drank in the landscape before him. Youngsters of all ages spread out across the black marble, grouped together on stone benches, or in front of flaming cauldrons. The scene was magnificent, between the cracks in the bustling people; Patrick could make out the wondrous golden sand of the Colosseum. His heart pounded faster as he saw it.
Patrick crisscrossed his way over the gleaming marble to the stone bench where he recognised a few people. Alex Winter and Sadie Kirk were talking between themselves as he moved into sight. Sadie smiled at him. “Hello, Patrick.”
“Hi Sadie, I didn’t know you were here too.” He glanced at Alex. “Hi.”
Alwin just nodded, remaining silent.
“Wes told me he would give me some pointers tonight.” He gleefully informed them.
“Wesley did?” Sadie replied surprisingly.
“Yeah, so what are you two then?” he asked genuinely interested.
“I’m a sword fighter.” She replied.
“A lycan.” Alwin said plainly.
“Lycan?” he asked. “What’s that?”
“Werewolf.” He added, again with plain disinterest.
Wesley stepped through the stone doors, freezing in place instantly. His line of sight falling immediately upon Patrick Pullman, he had hoped he wouldn’t attend tonight. Wes didn’t want to be nasty about it, but he didn’t want to deal with him. He noticed Darren wasn’t present as he reached the three of them. Patrick’s face filled with eagerness as he saw Wesley arrive.
“Hi, Wes.”
“Hey.” He replied.
“I was just talking to Alex and Sadie about what you said about giving me pointers.”
“Oh right.” Wes said reluctantly.
“So do you think the archer's a good idea?”
"Umm, I'm not sure. Probably." Wesley looked at Alwin’s smirking face. "I have to talk with them," Wesley said abruptly. Seeing Patrick’s lack of reaction he added, "Alone."
The obvious tension was unmistakable. “Okay.” He replied solemnly.
Wesley watched him walk away slowly. “Patrick.” He called.
Patrick looked over his shoulder at Wesley, his face was dejected. “Yeah?”
“Challenge anyone. It doesn’t matter for your first fight.”
“Oh right.” He said turning away.
Alwin laughed out. “Awww, poor Paddy. Wesley doesn’t love him.”
“That wasn’t nice.” Sadie commented. “I don’t think you should have been so cold.”
“I’ll talk to him later, I just don’t want to deal with him right now.” Wesley told her.
Alwin quickly changed the subject. “Oh damn, incoming!” he pointed away to his right. “Perry is on the warpath.”
They all saw the older brother of the Grim Reaper barging his way through the contenders, his face like thunder. Wesley was surprised to see him without Chris by his side.
“Hey!” he yelled. “What did you do to Chris?!”
Alwin jumped to his feet. “Beat his ass like a drum!” he retorted on Wesley’s behalf.
“Shut it you nab. I’m talking to him,” Perry growled as he prodded two fingers into his chest. “What did you do to my brother?”
“I beat him, badly.” Wesley said confused.
“He can’t get in no more. What did you do?”
Sadie, Alwin and Wesley all exchanged astounded looks.
“He can’t get in?” Sadie asked.
“Yeah, you deaf? Dumb cow.” He responded furiously. “Now what the hell did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Bull!” he spat.
“I swear I just clashed him.” Wes replied innocently.
“Liar! You did something. Now clash me.” He demanded.
Wesley looked at him, he was incensed. “You know what? No!”
“You what?”
“He said, no.” Sadie replied. “You deaf? You dumb idiot!”
Alwin laughed out at Sadie’s delivery. “Why do you want to clash him?” he asked. “He already embarrassed your brother so badly he doesn’t want to come back.”
“Keep out of it.” Perry rasped at Alwin.
“You can’t beat him, if his shield doesn’t get you, his hammer will!”
Wesley looked sideways at Alwin, silently telling him to shut up.
“I don’t feel like fighting tonight. So I will have to say no.”
Perry glared at him, his stare burrowing into his skull. “Clash me you coward!”
“Coward? I’ve clashed three times and none of them are below me on echelons. Two of them were way above me.”
“You!” Perry pointed at Sadie. “Mouthy cow, you clash me!”
“Sod off.” She retorted sharply. Wes and Alwin laughing at her reactions.
“I won’t fight you either tell your bro Chris I’ll clash him if he’s man enough to come back.” Alwin laughed in Perry’s face.
Shouldering himself past Wesley he stormed away. The three of them laughed at Perry’s outburst. “Man, he’s upset.” Alwin laughed.
“Called me a cow, cheeky sod.” Sadie agreed. “Why didn’t you fight him, Wes?”
Wesley looked at Sadie. “Honestly? I thought it would be funny to see him start raging.”
“Oh Wes, that’s beautiful.” Alwin replied admiringly.
“Nasty, Wes. You've been hanging with him too long.” Sadie added pursing her lips at Alwin.
Unable to withstand the allure of the clash, Wesley accepted a challenge. Surprising not just for him, but everyone else as well he had decided to clash someone of equal level. Andrew was echelon four and excited at the prospect of clashing the new big thing. He didn’t expect to win, nor did Wesley expect to lose, for Andrew it was purely to say, he had fought him. The power Wesley had felt fighting the higher echelons were incredible, but also scary Andrew seemed to satisfy both issue. Wes desired the clash, but not the overwhelming power.
Perry watched as Wesley took hold of the challenger Andrew’s hand. He couldn’t be sure if he was scared to fight him or deliberately trying to anger him. If it was the latter, it had worked. To Perry it seemed a waste of time fighting someone of equal level, it was unchallenging. After how he had handled his brother last night, taking on this Andrew was disrespectful. Perry would make things right, he would get his fight with him and he would destroy him. Chris’ defeat would be avenged, he swore to himself.
Laughing as he made his way over, Alwin couldn’t hide his delight. “Can you see his face?” he asked. “Oh, so angry!”
Wesley and Sadie cast glances in Perry’s direction, before they smirked at his stern face. Glaring back, Perry refused to break eye contact first.
“I think he expects me to fight him.” Wes smiled. “But watching him like that, it’s so much better.”
“Be nice to see him get a taste of his own medicine.” Sadie added.
The pit seemed a huge place now; it was no longer mesmerising, but cold and cruel, like everything else in Patrick’s life. He had slumped himself down in the corner, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He sniffed hard, noises from Wesley’s clash filling his head, the depression and misery engulfing him.
“Hey kid.”
Patrick looked up. “Yeah?”
“Are you friends with those Guildford lot?” he enquired.
“No. No I’m not.” He admitted.
“But you go there right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I thought I’d show you the ropes. You’re new right?”
Patrick smiled, climbing to his feet. “Yeah, I’m new.”
“I’d like to challenge you,
show you how to get on.”
“Really? Wow that would be great.” Patrick gushed. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He replied holding out his hand.
With a firm shake Patrick smiled. “I’m an archer, what are you?”
“I’m the Hydra.” Perry replied.
Chapter Eleven
The sound of the snack machine banging, rumbled up and down the hallway. A Snickers bar teetered on the edge of the screw, but remained steadfast refusing to drop, in an attempt to cajole another pound coin from its customer. Neither the chocolate bar nor the vending machine expected Paul Ruben to be so rebellious. Rather than pay the already extortionate fee again, he chose to slam the silver box furiously against the wall. The plastic window bowed with each exchange. Finally relenting, the Snickers bar fell into the draw with a plonk and as if in apology a packet of crisps followed. Paul gave a satisfactory glance at the machine as if it had tried to rob him on purpose.
An open file sat on his desk, four sheets of paper and two photos. He took a bite of the Snickers bar and dropped the crisps into his drawer. Paul leaned his elbow on the desk and rested his head on his hand. The left side of his chest, just below his shoulder still stung from the unidentified person that had cut him. He'd woken in blood-stained sheets, his tattoo removed. Paul had taken almost an hour to patch himself up, knowing a trip to the hospital may alert Sarah Mather. His meeting with the darkness had to be kept secret. He didn’t have an issue with the person who'd carved into him, more than likely he or she was just like him, forced to do something they really didn’t want to. His eyes scanned the toxicology reports of the victim from Titchfield Road. Nothing stood out; he looked again at the pictures and winced as he moved a bit too suddenly.
“Jesus!” he snapped at himself. His mind was soon drawn away from the pain; his mobile rang on the desk.
“Hello.” Paul said sliding his finger across the screen.
There was a moment of silence, then Sarah Mather replied, “Paul, has there been any progress in the Martin Hampton case?”
Paul shook his head; the case still had him as unidentified. “No, I am going through a few reports here in case anything’s been missed.”
“The necklace is still missing?” Sarah asked.
“No sign of it yet.” He confirmed.
“No light fingered colleague of yours may have taken it?”
“I doubt it.” He didn’t care if he was honest.
“The man I met with the other day, we'll be meeting again later. Your attendance is required.” The inference of required clearly meaning demanded.
“Give me a time and place.” Paul puffed, taking out a pen from the plastic beaker.
“The bookstore on Bridlesmith Gate, at two.” She said. “Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.” He replied hanging up.
Paul sat back in his chair and it creaked under the pressure, just like him. He selected the number that had been imputed into his Blackberry while he was unconscious. There was no reply; it went straight through to voice mail. “Call me,” he said after the beep. He put the mobile on his desk and chomped off another piece of the Snickers bar, chewing agitatedly. Paul was not happy playing piggy in the middle; his ex-wife had told him about being a pushover for years. It was only these last few months he’d seen everything she had said was true. Paul wouldn’t admit it though, never! Not even on his death bed, would the words ‘honey, you were right’ pass his lips.
The phone rang, picking it up he swallowed the remnants of the nutty chocolate with a gulp. “Yeah?” he said.
“You called.” Max replied.
“I was told if I had any information, to contact this number.”
“What information do you have?”
“I'm meeting with Sarah Mather and the man from a previous meeting.”
“Do you have a name?”
“No, I'll try to get one though.” Paul confirmed. “I haven't got any further with the case, we're still no closer to finding his killer.”
Max paused for a moment. “Keep me posted.”
“Oh, we’re meeting at the bookshop in town.” Paul quickly added.
“On Bridlesmith Gate?” Max enquired.
“Yes…” Paul said surprised.
“Keep me posted.” Max repeated hanging up the phone.
Paul looked at his phone for a second. The moment he told him the location of the meet, Paul’s gut reaction was, my phone’s been tapped. Without hesitation he pulled the back off, removed the battery and sim card to see. Nothing, had he just guessed? Or was it a regular haunt for these weirdos? Paul put his phone together, closed the file and decided to have another go at the vending machine.
The call had not been easy for Max even though he knew Paul Ruben had no idea he was the person that had hacked away at him. The possibility he might have guessed or even suspected made him feel a little anxious. He had no choice, being a ‘him or me’ situation, but still he couldn’t help harbouring a tiny bit of guilt.
Max zipped up his coat and headed outside, he was desperate for a coffee and then it would be business as usual today he hoped. Unless Paul called with some urgent information about the meeting with Sarah and the mystery man. Pausing as he locked the door behind him, he considered not watching over Wesley this afternoon. After all who would know? The Associates didn't know who the boy was yet. Max could quite easily catch the tram into town and get a look at who Sarah and Paul would be meeting. No, he decided. Stick to your assignment, he told himself. The minute you stray, that’s when it all goes wrong.
The bad coffee at their previous meeting was enough to prompt the change in location. Edward knew the bookstore well; he had met Max frequently there. Sarah however had only ever been here once before when she was buying a gift for a friend and had discovered the coffee shop purely by chance. The place wasn't as busy as Edward's previous visit.
Edward chose a table near the window. He enjoyed looking down on the people, he had been trained to observe and it was something he did without thinking. Edward removed his hat and gazed at a couple moving along the street. They were young in their early twenties possibly late teens. They seemed jubilant in each other’s company. Edward posed a scenario in which one of them, would have to make a choice that would affect their lives. Who would live and who would die. He realised it was unlikely they would have to choose, some people did, some had. Edward just wondered if their love was as strong as it looked.
The sound of a saucer clanking on the table broke Edward’s train of thought. “Morning Edward,” Sarah said.
“Hello Sarah, how are you this fine morning?”
“Well after yesterday,” she paused. “Feeling more confident in our decision.”
“As well you should.” Edward remarked with a nod.
Sarah took a sip of her caffé latte and licked her lips, she was impressed. “Now that’s a coffee.”
“We should return to the archive again tomorrow.” Edward wasted no time in pushing it into the conversation.
Nodding Sarah placed her cup down, “Yes that would be a good idea, follow up as if we have a lead.”
“Exactly,” he smiled.
“Also,” Sarah began. “I have called the ‘lackey’ from the other day to join us.” She explained. “Last night I was thinking, the last time Max and Martin crossed paths, was at the castle. I read in your report he had to follow two boys as they looked so similar.”
Edward narrowed his eyes as he replied. “Yes, I recall.” Where was she going with this?
“Whoever’s protecting the boy would have covered his tracks. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“But what about the other kid? He obviously knows him, what if his tracks have not been covered? What if we can locate him?” Sarah’s bright white smile grew broader by the second.
“It would only be a matter of time before he would lead us to the boy.” Edward graciously finished. “Brilliant.”
“With any luck, my ‘lackey’ can get th
e video footage. If I put a request in for his location, not saying it’s linked with the boy.”
“May I suggest you get someone else to enter in for the search?” he interrupted.
“You think they would be that careful?” Sarah asked surprised.
“It isn't worth risking, it’s a very good play.”
Sarah nodded her head as she sipped her coffee, the two of them sharing the comfortable silence. Then Sarah broke it. “Should we select random files again?”
Edward leaned in, he knew he needed at least two files but couldn’t come straight out and say that. “I think we should get maybe, I don’t know.” He pretended to think of a number. “Three random’s? Two files on Max, so if anyone asks we are following up some thin leads between Max and Martin?”
“Paper thin,” Sarah corrected with a smile.
“Not even a mil.” Edward said holding up an invisible gap between his thumb and index finger.
Paul Ruben stood on the escalators, the perpetual motion of the moving steps jarring his wound. His face twisted ever so slightly as the pain stung him. He stepped off on the third floor and gingerly made his way around a few people gathered at a display table. Passing by, Paul couldn’t imagine getting so worked up about a book. He scanned the faces as he entered the cafe area, then seeing Sarah, he walked over. Paul noticed they had taken a table near the window with only two seats available. With a discontented sigh, he snatched up a free chair from another table and sat himself down next to the pair.
“Morning,” he greeted them.
“Mr Ruben.” Sarah said.
Edward just nodded; he didn’t like talking with outsiders as he called them.
“What can I do for you today?” Paul added with a smile.
Sarah reached inside her coat pocket, producing a folded piece of paper. “I need you to get the video footage from there. At that time, on that day,” she explained handing him the paper.
Ruben looked at the note. “Nottingham Castle… I can’t just go in there asking for CCTV material, without a warrant or a bloody good reason.”
Edward glanced at him. “We suggest you find a ‘bloody’ good reason.”