Persona Non Grata

by D. C. Grahame

  ‘I’ll tell ya. You think I hate you. Gordon’s celebrating your little visit like it’s Chinese new year.’

  With all the pain still surging through his body. John believed his blood was fizzing underneath his skin. He studied the floor, concentrating on its smooth surface. Kane now enjoying himself, turned up the radio. Starship’s Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now bellowed across the workshop. The eighties anthem’s heavy bass awakened John as he repeatedly tried to slip out of the moment and the pain.

  Observing from the main door to the house, two of his men called out from behind. Kane shut off the radio and removed the clamps from John vibrating body.

  ‘What is it?’ Kane demanded, irritated by the interruption.

  ‘The front gate has been set on fire, someone’s shooting fireworks at the house.’ The men reported, amazed and afraid of the scene in front of them.

  ‘What exactly am I paying you for? Tell Gordon to deal with it. Don’t interrupt me again.’ Kane barked, holding back a frustration that was simmering into a rage. The guards rushed away, slamming the door shut behind them.

  ‘My apologies, what was I doing?’ he asked himself, ‘Ah, I was getting you primed for tonight’s special feature.’ Kane commented, clasping John’s hands with the clamps a third time.

  On this occasion, John remained stoic. Subdued, unflinching and still. Seeing that his victim had not passed out, Kane looked on befuddled by the reaction. Reconfiguring the clamp’s grip several times to no success. Heading to the power mains to investigate. He flicked the switch back and forth with a repetitive tenacity typical of a frustrated old man.

  Breathing in a deep frustrated sigh. He suddenly felt something hard, blunt and metal press into the back of his head. His long and rather violent career informed him that the object in question was most likely the barrel of a gun. As a mark of respect for the situation, he raised his hands.

  ‘Turn around.’ A predator echoed, the voice low and alien. Kane turned to see the vigilante standing in front of him, holding a gun up to his face. The weapon stolen from the glovebox of one of his cars.

  ‘I wondered when we would meet.’ Kane pitched as the dark figure looked back silent. His skull-like fascia producing an eery sense of dread that left Kane unable to define his next move. ‘I don’t know what your connection is to the Vinyar boys, but my dispute with them is personal, it’s not worth your time. That man on the ground there, he murdered my son. What would you do in that situation?’ Kane asked, unintentionally bringing the delicate topic of consequence to the table. Hades nodded, appearing to either acknowledge or agree before lowering his gun, firing a bullet into the kingpin’s knee.

  Screaming as he collapsed. Kane watched as Hades casually flicked the radio back on. ‘What do you want?!’ Kane squealed, holding his leg in place so not to agitate his blown up knee.

  ‘I want you to see.’ A composed Hades replied.

  ‘See what?!’ Kane replied.

  Hades lifted up the gun and aimed it toward Kane’s forehead. ‘Go on boy. Let’s see how much of a hero you are a?’ The crime lord proposed. The mask frozen in its expression looked back towards the semi-retired king. The fabric-coated face almost tranquil in its lifeless scowl.

  ‘I’m not a hero.’ Hades replied. Firing a second bullet into Kane’s shoulder causing the large man to shriek in pain.

  Hades swung the facet of the gun’s barrel against the bosses temple, knocking him out for the count.

  He untied his routed brother and lifted him into one of Kane’s extravagant cars. Scanning the workshop counter for keys. Finding a matching set before stumbling across a can of black spray paint.

  John inside the car gathered enough energy to observe from the rear window. The vigilante, once again to his rescue, stood over Kane’s unconscious body. Stripping it down until there was nothing but the old businessman’s tighty-whiteys. To John’s astonishment, Hades then followed up by spray-painting his alias onto Kane’s body and the floor surrounding.

  With the vandalising scripture complete. Hades removed a burner phone from his pocket and took a picture of the scene.

  To sign off affairs, he picked up the now fully-functioning clamps and attached them to the each of the man’s ankles. Kane’s comatose anatomy flickered intermittently as Hades exited the space. Climbing into the car nonchalant. John watched the dark figure, questioning whether his younger brother was indeed the man beneath the mask.

  ‘What are you doing?’ John muttered. For in the rarest of microseconds. He actually empathised with Isaac Kane and his wired predicament.

  ‘Leaving.’ Hades replied, starting the car and triggering the garage door to open.

  ‘You can’t leave him like that.’ John yelled with authority.

  ‘I can.’ Hades replied, revving the engine.

  The fireworks began to slow and eventually cease. Molar picked up the remains of a missile near the front gate as his subordinates searched and failed to locate the Rocketeer. Counting the men around him, he realised the number was equal to his total headcount for the night.

  ‘Max, who’s watching the house?’ He asked, leaving poor, oblivious Max at a loss. They looked at one another, a growing anxiousness pitching up between them.

  In the distance behind their investigation. The garage door of the compound began to open, and Molar without a second thought sprinted down the drive to meet it.

  One of Kane’s cars burst out of the garage, reaching a high speed in only a few seconds. Molar remained in the centre of the driveway while his men began to trail him from either flank. He hoped that Isaac was making a hasty departure rather than anything more severe.

  With the car’s front lights set to high-beams. It was near impossible to identify the driver, leaving Molar no choice but to order his men not to fire on it.

  The car roared forth and its light intensified. Molar raised his hand to block the brightness. For once too distracted to realise his position.

  ‘Gordon!’ a man hollered from the side. Molar, not used to hearing his first name called by anyone but Kane. Turned to see his horrified compatriot. With little recess, the front of the car crashed into Molar legs. Sending him crashing upward into the windscreen and somersaulting over the vehicle.

  The guards looked on as Kane’s motor sped out of the estate and Molar’s body clattered to the ground.

  A few roads clear of the grand mansion, Red arrived from a small offshoot lane and followed the car. His own vehicle full of empty fireworks boxes.

  Reaching and parking up in an abandoned garage complex. Indy de-masked and tossed his burner phone to Red.

  ‘Here it is, you know what to do.’ Indy informed Red.

  ‘Where are you going?’ The reluctant accomplice asked.

  ‘Keep his head down and use the obvious roads, I’ll see you back at the pub.’ Indy informed. Re-masking and disappearing into the shadows as the elder pair watched on. Amazed, Red turned to his close friend.

  ‘I always thought he was the sweet one of you three.’

  ‘Just drive.’ John replied exhausted.

  ✽

  Red wasted little time in boarding the doors and windows of the Old Market.

  ‘You’re barricading us inside?’ John asked.

  ‘I’m barricading the front in case Molar drops one of his grandpappy’s IRA grenades at the front door. He likes to do that remember.’ Red explained.

  ‘He won’t.’ Hades reverberated from behind them, arriving in from the back door.

  ‘Jesus, Indy, stop breaking in.’ Red requested with both annoyance and humour. Indy removed the mask and grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar. Red returned to his wood and nails as John climbed off his bar stool to have a quiet word with his sibling.

  ‘What was that?’ He prompted.

  ‘What was what?’

  ‘That shit with the graffiti and the phone. Actually, never mind that, god, you left him there clamped to that generator?’

  ‘You’re joking rig
ht?’ Indy said, irritated by John’s concern. ‘Do you know what he was going to do to you? Do you know what was on that worktop?’

  ‘Since when do you share his conviction?’ John questioned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. Having Red send that picture to the press. You told me before that what you were doing, was sending a message. A warning of consequence. That wasn’t consequence, that was punishment.’

  ‘It’s the same thing.’ Indy replied, ‘besides, it wasn’t me in a sense’. Indy excused, giving the mask a glance. John could see the thinking, and it scared him. He could see a naivety to his brother that he was partially at fault for.

  ‘You need to listen to me right now. That kind of stuff, this kind of retribution is what cost me everything. My fiancé, my child.’ John warned causing Indy to slam his water bottle down.

  ‘No what cost you Grace and George was you leaving them. You running away and leaving them behind, leaving us all behind. It’s like you always said John, cause and effect. If you know something and you’re not telling me. Now would be a good time.’ Indy stated as John, in turn, stood silent.

  Indy, tired of his brother’s contradictory and ambiguous lectures headed for the bathroom.

  ‘You said that wasn’t you. What did you mean?’ John asked. Indy stepped back towards his brother and the bar. Sliding the mask along the bar-top so that it rested below John, staring up towards him with its fixed scowl. A troubling visual metaphor.

  ‘Is that what we are doing now, excusing ourselves on account of duality?’

  ‘Well, I am bipolar.’ Indy replied, exiting the room. John looked back at the mask defeated, as Red continued to sweat with his hammer in hand.

  John held the mask in his hands and considered the turbulent times to come. A pending chaos, he had now decided was nearing. Isaac Kane, as he had said to Indy before, was the icing on top of a world the defiant young man had no knowledge of.

  If Indy was determined to walk this path, to disrupt this kingdom. He would need all the help he could get.

  ‘Red. I need a favour.’ John asked hesitantly.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Like a phoenix from the ashes, Kingsland had proclaimed itself re-born. Spring’s sudden arrival saw flowers blossom and kids riding their Christmas-gifted bikes. Even the ever-busy commuters for once in their lives, smiled as they passed one another. Winter’s numbing hold over Kingsland had subsided. And Isaac Kane, whose brand was synonymous with the city’s lexicon, had somehow been wiped from the newscast’s agenda. Indy was having a good day.

  He strolled along one of the city’s many parks. A purpose in his steps as Eva, finally forgiven him for his laxity, walked alongside him. With Kane supposedly evaporated from out of the city. Indy had devoted almost all his time to her, minus a few stalks for the Worthing Killer. Whose activities had also appeared to have closed for the season.

  ‘You’re kidding, right? Explain yourself.’ Eva asked.

  ‘No. I’m serious. The reason the taste of artificial banana flavouring doesn’t taste like real bananas. Is because it’s based on a type of banana that was wiped out by a plague in the fifties.’ Indy explained.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m calling bullshit on that one.’

  ‘Look it up.’

  ‘I will.’ she said adamantly, keen to check any and all facts delivered to her during his stories. ‘I enjoyed lunch, that little Italian place is great. I love that kind of food, ever since I went to Bologna.’

  ‘When did you go to Bologna?’

  ‘A few years ago, you know I’m a massive foodie, and that place is like Mecca.’ she explained.

  ‘Maybe we’ll go.’ Indy replied. Hoping to shift the discussion into something hopeful, but she wasn’t going to let him have it all too easy.

  ‘Yeah, we’ll see. You’ve still got some hoops to jump through Indy Vinyar’ she insisted as he appeared to pause. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’ he replied before continuing down the sun-drenched pavement, not wanting to pull focus. Eva looked onward to see an impervious Frank in the distance. Climbing into the passenger seat of a car as luxurious as the ones found in Kane’s garage.

  ‘Wait, is that Frank?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Indy replied.

  ‘What’s wrong? Are you guys not speaking?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really, I’ve been out of sorts as you well know over Christmas. He’s been working hard on new projects since Que Pasa. I’m not entirely sure what.’ Indy mumbled, referring to the apparent affluence of Frank’s actions.

  ‘Why don’t you drop him a text?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybe.’ he said, watching her come to a full stop, staring at him with open eyes. ‘Now?’ he asked, confused by her expression.

  ‘Yeah, if you guys don’t stand next to each other at least once a month, I may struggle to differentiate you. That could be trouble.’

  ‘Well played.’ He mumbled, sending Frank, who was now halfway down the road, an invite for coffee.

  To Indy’ surprise, his phone immediately vibrated with an enthusiastic response. ‘Frank wants to meet tomorrow morning.’

  ‘See. I’m the mender of bridges, me.’ Eva enthused.

  ‘You are indeed. All bridges mended.’

  ‘Not so fast Vinyar, not all. You still have some serious grovelling to do.’ She insisted, with a mischievous grin on her face.

  ✽

  Detective Mann leant back against her desk, studying a wall of faces. Her fingers tapped the wooden surface in a continuous and rhythmic loop. Amongst several mugshots of well-known rapists and murderers, John’s face featured prominently. Mann studied his serious expression with a dubious stare. A contempt growing inside her.

  A school friend of Nico Kane. She transferred to the detective squad on the revelation of his brutal murder.

  Marler walked in, brushing the glass door away with several boxes of Chinese food. Forever tired, he dropped the Chinese onto his desk and yawned heavy.

  ‘Still gazing at the wall, I see.’

  ‘It calms me.’ Mann replied.

  ‘That’s unnerving to hear, a collage of rapists and murderers calms you. I see you’ve put Vinyar’s picture up... again.’

  ‘He’s still not absolved.’ Mann reminded.

  ‘Other than the timing of his arrival to Kingsland coinciding with the killings. He continues to be not much more than your rather persistent hobby.’

  The pair watched on as several suited men walked into a nearby conference room. Serious in their mission and arrival. A reflection of how high tensions were running in the department.

  ‘What’s going on in there?’ Mann wondered.

  ‘Their bubbles have popped over the Kane debacle. I imagine their retirement funds have taken a hit.’

  ‘How do you know he’s gone?’

  ‘Oh, he’s gone. Probably sunbathing in Portugal, being fed soup through a straw. When someone spray paints your naked body for the world to see. Not to mention clamps a thousand volts to your piggies, you tend to call it a day.’ Marler explained. ‘That vigilante played a gem of a move, he didn’t kill the man, but he did the next best thing. Now, I’m just waiting for it.’

  ‘Waiting for what?’

  ‘What always arrives after the calm. The storm. The city’s almost at peace. Something it’s not very good at being. I would enjoy life if I didn’t know so better.’ Marler moaned as his phone began to ring. He threw a small container of chow mein Mann’s way as he reached for the phone. In a testament to the long hours, Mann ravaged through the container, using the chopsticks as if they were knitting needles.

  Marler dropped the phone and grabbed his coat heading for the door.

  ‘Come on. Lab results are in. They’ve got a match from the twenty or so samples we sent them.’ He announced exiting. Mann with an un-lady-like amount of noodles hanging from her gob looked at his exit. The chow mein sauce drooping from her lips.

  ‘Oh, come on’ she mumbled with a
mouthful.

  ✽

  The next night. With the promise of debauchery, a young Kingland male gladly escorted a female home from a night out.

  The surroundings grew in silence as they reached the suburbs. Only the lady’s stumbling stilettos produced a sound.

  ‘You didn’t need to chaperone me.’ she said.

  ‘It’s my pleasure.’ The man suggested, keen for an invite in, as they took each other’s hands. The picture was one of romance and serenity. The woman for all her tipsiness trusted her companion. And the perfect date night was coming to a rather teasing conclusion.

  Reaching her front door, the pair in the early stages of a relationship smiled at one another. Careless to the fact that they were being watched. Stalked by a demon, high up in the darkness. It had followed them all the way from the inner-city, camouflaged by the night sky. Only someone who was actively looking upward for Hades would have spotted him.

  ‘Can I come in?’ The young bachelor asked.

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve got work really early tomorrow.’ she explained, excusing herself as she made her way up the steps to her front door. ‘I’ll text you tomorrow.’ she said, realising her companion stood frustrated at the birth of the steps. ‘Thank you, Aaron.’ She signed off, entering the house, shutting the door behind her. Aaron now alone, stood in place frustrated.

  ‘Yeah that’s it, go for the door.’ Hades narrated to himself from high atop the houses opposite, hoping the Casanova to be his target.

  A dejected Aaron instead kicked a pebble off the curb in frustration and made his way back from which he came.

  Hades sighed and looked down. Now alone in the calm and peaceful suburb. He stood slightly redundant, the closest and only thing the street had to a criminal.

  All those alleys walked, and buildings summited for all those nights for all those many weeks. Indy was almost nocturnal now, waking up around eleven each morning.

  ✽

  Indy tired and fed up arrived home.