by Abbey, S. C.
A gypsy fortune teller? This is getting more and more absurd.
“How did Miller lose him?” said Frost.
“He was quite a distance away when Harvey Nolan made a sudden dash for the trees.” Darrow replied. “Miller couldn’t follow up fast enough without looking too obvious.”
He knew–
“You should have sent someone else other than Miller.” Frost commented. “Anyone could sense him from a mile away.”
“Sorry sir?” Inquired Darrow.
“Harvey Nolan knew–” Frost said as he searched for the circus in a search browser on his laptop. “He knew he’s been followed. He was trying to shake Miller loose.”
“But it can’t be, Miller was quite far away most of the time. He didn’t risk getting too close.” Darrow commented.
Detective Frost ignored Darrow’s comment. He reached out for his coffee mug in front of him and cursed when he took a sip from it. The coffee had turned cold. “Where’s Miller now?”
“He’s still searching the circus grounds, trying to locate Nolan.” Replied Darrow.
“Don’t bother.” Frost said as he abandoned his cup of Joe. “Get him to report back. We’re done for the day.”
“Sir?”
“His cover’s been blown. Get someone else to follow Harvey Nolan. Pick a better one this time or else I’ll make you do it yourself.” Threatened Frost.
“But sir–”
“Just do as I say.” Instructed the Detective.
“Okay boss–”
Chapter 19
HARVEY HAD NEVER done anything borderline illegal in his life but he was sure that this would easily constitute one. Would it be considered burglary if he didn’t take anything, he wondered as he kneeled behind the empty cage, not daring to make a move for the fear of alarming the men who had come through the flaps. He had hope the men would give up upon realizing that they could see no one in the tent. His wish did not come true.
The tiger continued to roar in its cage even though it could no longer see Harvey from where he was. It was as if he was warning the men about the intruder that had been in front of it just a few moments ago. Harvey wished in his heart that the feline creature would stop its menacing growls so that the men would not suspect any further.
The men who had come into the tent stopped in front of the tiger cage. The shorter one of the two turned to gaze at the kerosene lamp which Harvey had left on the coffee table. He then turned to look at the spot where it should have been at, nearer to the entrance of the tent.
“Someone was here.” The shorter man said to the shirtless man as he brought a finger to his teeth and picked at it. The tiger roared in consent. “Take that lamp.”
The shirtless man walked toward the sofa and brought the kerosene lamp to shorter man. The shorter man took the lamp and adjusted the knob at the side of it, the whole place instantly lid up with as much light as the dying wick could muster. Harvey could hear the sound of his own heart beating as he slid a little deeper into his hiding place, careful not to make a single sound.
Harvey thought about the theatrical outcome of his actions and wondered if he was taking it too far. He thought that he should just step out and admit that he was coincidentally at the wrong place after getting lost.
“Let’s find our little thief. I’m sure he’s still in the tent.” The shirtless man said as he eyed the span of the room. “I will break a finger like I did to the last one who tried to steal a painting.”
Fear and trepidation filled Harvey as he completely forget his plan of surrender. The men carried the kerosene lamp into the room through the hole in the wall next to the sofa. Sounds of shifting objects and fabrics traveled out from the room. Finally, the men emerged from the entrance of the room, the displease in their eyes evident. They marched across the living space into the room on the other side of the tent beside the bookshelves. The shorter man stuck his head into the room with the lamp brought inside it and stayed in that position for a minute. He came back out with a frown on his face.
“Nobody’s here.” Said the man said.
“Maybe’s just a squirrel.” Replied the taller man as he turned around to survey the room one more time. He then walked toward a wooden trunk in the corner of the room. The chest was secured by three iron pad locks which were not unlocked. The varnished surface of the reddish brown wood looked old and frazzled and the black tin sheathing were rusted in many places. The trunk looked big enough to hide a full grown man.
He eyed the shorter man. “Should we?”
The shorter man brought the lamp and joined the larger man by his side in front of the chest. He brought his hands to the latches of it and removed the three pad locks. The bigger man then swung open the chest.
“Just be careful.” The shorter man said as they heaved through the items in the chest. “Don’t mess it up.”
Obviously, they did not find any one hiding in the chest. The only other person in the room prayed that his unfortunate ordeal would end soon. He was close to being right. The two men closed the chest after they finished searching it. The tiger roared once again and their attention were brought to the two cages in the room. They approached the side empty cage in an attempt to search around the cages and Harvey could hear their steps as they came closer. He did not peek to see what was to come.
“Fire!” a voice shouted from the outside of the tent. “Help! The tent’s on fire!”
The two men turned their attention to the voice that was yelling on the outside and forgot about their task at hand. “Shit–” They abandoned the kerosene lamp on the side table as they ran out of the tent to see what was happening outside.
Harvey gave a long exhale and took in a deep breath. The rush of oxygen to his brain caused him to feel momentarily dizzy as flashes of light flickered in his eyes. He didn’t even realized he had been holding on his breath. He hadn’t had a full minute to recover and find his bearings when somebody grabbed him on the shoulder from the back and whispered loudly to him, “Follow me.”
He intuitively turned his head to the touch and saw a shadow slipped through the walls out of a slit at the back of the tent. Harvey did not stop to consider if whoever was helping him was trustworthy. He only knew he had to get out of the room before the two men decided to resume their search for him. The tiger affirmed his decision with a roar. He followed the shadow out of the tent.
Harvey breathed in the naturally cold air as he stepped out of the tent into the nightfall. The shadow whom he had followed had strangely disappeared into the darkness, leaving him standing alone in the cluster of tents and caravans. He angled his gaze above, the moon was full and bright tonight. He could see grey and white smoke rising from not far away in the direction of the other staff tents, the smoke clouded the sky as it threatened to cover the moon. Harvey trotted along the circumference of the tent he had just escaped and headed toward the direction of the campfire where some of the circus staff were trying to evacuate the people from the circus grounds. The Big Top show had been suspended, probably due to the fire, and throngs of people were seen leaving the huge tent. The muscular man and his shorter partner were also seen running about, trying to facilitate the mass departure. Harvey evaded any eye contact when they strolled past him, not that they would recognize him.
He conveniently joined in the crowd as they moved out.
Chapter 20
THE HUMBLE ROOM smelled of old books and unwashed curtains, the acrid air was heavy and thick. The consoling mild scent of incense coupled with overstored mothballs permeated her nose and her cheekbones tightened involuntarily. It reminded her of her childhood spent at late grandmother’s tiny house. Melancholic fond memories.
God bless her soul.
“You are back,” a rough but gentle voice croaked from the back of the room.
She smiled from the pleasant familiarity of the tone of that statement and advanced toward it. The floor was cluttered with old leather bound tomes of various sizes, decorated with strange symbols
and gold letterings of a language unknown to her. She often wondered the subjects they were in. Tip-toeing past the overflowing library, she reached a beautiful deep mahogany desk – a solid piece of tree trunk that has seen better days though the once apparent vanish still shines through the surface of the table. A single American Silver Dollar coin sat alone on the far side of it.
“I’m sorry to bother you, yet again – especially at this time of the night. I didn’t know what to think of it, I couldn’t sleep–” said the beautiful ethically Nubian girl, her emerald green eyes filled with wavering uncertainty yet with a deep fragile conviction.
“Please, sit down my child, don’t feel apologetic for any trouble caused, there is none,” The woman croaked, with a little more strength in her voice this time, “Let’s get you some tea.”
The screeching sound of a heavy chair disturbed the tranquil night – her heart jumped a little as she sat herself down on the bench in front of the desk. Amidst the careless crashing sounds of pots, a kettle could be heard being placed on the stove. The thumping sound of slow footsteps ascended as they approached. A matchstick scratched the side of a matchbox and the lidded candle illuminated the rest of the darkened room. Behind the heavy desk, an equally ancient looking woman sat in her almost too big wooden chair, its high back towering over her fragile frame. Her tired eyes gleamed with wisdom and jadedness, the wrinkles on her forehead and around her thin lips accentuated that it. The shadows from the flickering candle danced on her leathery wrinkled skin. She could have been seventy, or maybe a hundred and ten, it was hard to tell.
“Drink this, you will feel better. It is my secret blend of herbs and earl grey tea leaves, I always drink it whenever I have trouble sleeping, which is hardly these days. I sometimes wonder when would be the last time I fall asleep and never wake up again,” chuckled the kindly looking woman, her teeth or the lack of it came to full view.
“Thank you,” The dark-skinned woman replied as she grabbed the hot mug with both hands, sipping its contents, feeling relaxed immediately, though she knew it wasn’t the tea. The old lady always had that effect on her – like a kind-hearted grandmother and her lost grandchild, assuring her that there is almost more to look forward in life.
“Now tell me child, what brings you here tonight then. I am sure you didn’t just drive thirty minutes for a cup of tea, no matter how delicious it is. How can I help you?” asked the old woman.
“I had a dream – no a vision, it is getting clearer, compared to the previous ones we spoke about. I am sure it is a sign, a calling. Remember what we talked about? I was unsure the last time but now I think I am.” Affirmed the young woman, her eyes gleamed with a thin layer of tears, threatening to fall but never falling.
“Do not fear my child for what has yet to happen and do not linger too much in the past. The future lies ahead,” replied the old woman softly.
“I know. That is why I am here tonight. Because I know. And I am ready.
“As you wish my dear child. You know what to do. Release the shackles of your mind and see,” said the old woman as she picked up the silver dollar – which seemed to have grown in size in her small hands – and spun it on the desk.
Shia Jamison placed the half empty mug on the table and focused on the spinning coin, the old woman’s half singing voice guided her into her thoughts.
Her eyes clouded and then nothing.
Chapter 21
THE THREE AND a half foot shovel’s blade assaults the dry chalky dirt again, it only reaches halfway in. My heavy boot lands on the step of the blade, causing it to bury completely in the dirt, as I scoop a generous amount of it up and out of the hole I am standing in. I have already created a three by six foot large hole in the ground and am half a foot beneath it. The sweat from my brows licks the side of my face like an ice cream melting under the sun in a hot summer’s day. I stop every now and then to wipe it off my eyes. Imagine doing this in the summer. My muscles ache from the physically draining endeavor, but my mind is clear from its monotonousness.
I always do this alone. It is one of the few things I can do for the lives I so forcefully take from their unwilling owners, the final act of dignity I can provide them. No, don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret any of my actions or the morality of it. I merely acknowledge the consequences – they were just among the misfortunate whose fates had to cross my path. Besides, Kaul is needed elsewhere. It is crucial that he successfully achieves what I have set him up to do. I raise my foot and drive it down onto the step once more before I stand up straight to wipe my brow. I’m almost done.
I toss the shovel up onto ground level and use my hands to support my weight as I heave myself up and sit beside the shovel. I look down to the crater to make sure that I leave none of my possessions in it before quickly lifting myself off from the ground into a standing posture. My knees creaks from the sudden maneuver. I am really getting too old for this.
The body lies in a too big black plastic body bag. I unzip it to reveal a fair looking young woman, her eyes peacefully closed. She looks as if she is sleeping. A diamond earring dons her left ear lobe, a typical matching one missing from the right. I bring my lips down to her pasty white forehead and give her a peck. Goodbye sweetie.
Unzipping the entire bag, I fling the body into the hole in the ground, it is only about one foot deep and can barely contain the petite body. A hand was left out of the ledge of the crater as I begin to fill the hole with the dirt from it. When it is done, the only evidence that can be seen is a hand sticking out of the otherwise levelled path. I take out the package of cigarettes from my jean pocket and light one. My body relaxes at the onslaught of the nicotine. A heavy drop of water trails from my eyes. It is not a tear. I do not cry. I blink the sweat away.
My harem has a new addition. A black beauty. The voluptuousness of her body sets a certain part of me on fire. I sense the beast in me when I first saw her. The pretty ones, I always keep. I laugh. The animalistic tendencies of being human.
The azure sky signals the imminent rising of the sun. I pack my belongings and throw them at the back of my jeep before I drive out of the shallow woods into the road. I stop by a filling station and park by the road shoulder. One has to be careful. I pull down my baseball cap and head toward the facility. I settle by a payphone and drop a quarter into the coin slot.
“Hello, this is the NYSP, how may I help you?”
“Hi, the police? I like to make a report. I spotted a hand sticking out of the ground when I was hiking by Hamlock Falls.”
“Sir, may I have your–”
I cut the call. Recovering from my nervous act instantly, falling into my usual cold expression. I hurry back to his jeep unsuspiciously before carrying on with my journey back.
I reach my destination without any hiccups. Kaul’s already back, preparing breakfast. He seems to have noticed my arrival. He brings a plate of whatever he was cooking to the table where I sat.
“Has it been done?”
“Yes, as you instructed.” Replies the lean man. “Brilliant plan I must say.”
“Excellent.” I say as I fork my food and bring it to my mouth.
“Are you prepared for later?” I continue.
“Locked and loaded.”
“Cut them loose if you have to. There’s plenty more where they came from.” I find myself saying.
“I will not fail you.”
The food tastes horrible, but I am hungry. Not that I care much for little things like that. Food, is merely fuel for my body.
My harem. “And one more thing. Get Tom to bring Shia to me after we eat. The workout this morning has gotten me into the mood.”
Chapter 22
THE BREATHTAKING STONE estate of Burrwood Manor sits on a sprawling 25-acres of waterfront flora. It was located fifty-five minutes east of New York City in Cold Spring Harbor and was built in 1919, right after the First World War. The curved 100-yards driveway up to the gates of the mansion provided much privacy for its owner with beautifu
l wild Red Maple trees flanking the path, even at the gates, one could not see the mansion.
Harvey brought his vehicle to a swift stop in front of the gold-leaf gates towering over him. A large lion head center piece deterred spying eyes with its large open jaws, well, and the seven CCTV cameras pointing at the front gate. Harvey always felt like he was visiting Buckingham Palace whenever he came, not like he ever did – visit Buckingham Palace. An intercom entry system blinked red on the left side of the vehicle with a light green button on the right side of the speaker. A small little security post behind it provided shelter for a perpetually non-existent guard. Behind the closed peek window was a handwritten sign: Out for Lunch.
Harvey shifted his arm across his wound down window and pressed on the green button, a dialing sound started to play. It died with a clicking sound and a long pause later.
“Burrwood Manor, who is there?” Called out a voice in an impeccably posh British accent.
An unfamiliar voice. “This is Harvey Nolan speaking. I am looking for Dr. Bertram Moore.” Harvey said. “I am a friend of his.”
“Master Moore does not entertain unannounced visits, Mr. Nolan.” The British voice replied. “He is not expecting anyone else. May I know what the purpose of this visit is?”
“Nothing much. Just visiting the man who brought me up.” Harvey said, the irritation in his voice growing. “I used to live here you see.”
“Very well, Mr. Nolan.” The speaker replied. If he was surprised, it wasn’t shown in his voice. “Please hold for a minute.”
Two whole minutes passed.
Finally, a warm baritone replied in an equally posh British accent. “Harvey, my dear boy. The sun must have risen from the west today. I thought you have completely forgotten about me.”