Danny Meets a Gangster
The center of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town had been cleared of debris, and furnished with torn up couches and armchairs scavenged from the disintegrating buildings nearby. The remnants of broken-down machinery of long-forgotten function lined the periphery.
A tattoo-laden gang leader named Crack lounged against the back of one of the armchairs. Danny Hampton stood before him, desperately trying to stop his hands from shaking. Danny’s dog, Zonk, sat on the floor by his feet. A group of rough looking men sat talking and joking some distance away. Their talk and laughter echoed off the metal-clad walls.
“You want to rent a truck,” said Crack. The arrogant sneer on his burn-scarred face made Danny nervous. “What for?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Danny.
“You can’t tell me…” Crack shot a glance to the dark skinned man standing next to him. “Hear that, Mansur? He wants me to rent him a truck, but he can’t tell me what for.”
“That’s pretty funny,” laughed Mansur.
“You’re a real little tough guy, aren’t you?” Crack said to Danny. “You know, some of the boys over there would have a lot of fun with you.”
Danny glanced over at the group. One of them looked up, noticed him, pursed his lips and blew him a kiss. Danny shuddered.
“Let me guess…” Crack continued. “You don’t want to pay for this truck either.”
“I’d pay you when I sell what I want to haul,” said Danny, thinking how stupid it sounded as soon as it came out of his mouth.
Both Crack and Mansur fell into renewed spasms of laughter.
“Have you got any idea what it costs to rent something like that?” Crack said, still laughing. “Either you’re a lot richer than you look or you’re delusional.”
“I know how much it costs,” answered Danny. “I could pay after I deliver the cargo.”
Crack raised an eyebrow and straightened up slightly, “So what do you want to haul that’s so valuable?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Danny. “You’d just have to trust me…”
Crack’s sinewy right arm, hideously tattooed with coiling tentacles, shot out and grabbed Danny by the shirt collar. “Listen, you little fuck – I can get you anything you want – after you pay me the cash up front.”
“I don’t have any money,” Danny whispered.
“Too bad,” Crack said, releasing his hold and roughly shoving Danny away. “Maybe you should just fuck off then and quit wasting my time.”
Danny hesitated, petrified. He knew he should leave now, but instead blurted out, “I could cut you in on the profits.”
“What?” said Crack. “Ten percent of fuck all?”
“It would be a lot,” answered Danny, instantly regretting his choice of words. Crack leaned forward, suddenly interested, staring at him like he was trying to read his mind.
“Tell you what…” he finally said. “Normally I wouldn’t even consider a deal like that, but I like you, kid. You’ve got an honest face. Give me a minute. I’ll have to talk it over with my colleagues.”
Danny saw a suppressed smirk on Mansur’s face. Crack sauntered over and whispered something to one of the other men. In response, the man smiled and nodded his head.
Crack returned, saying, “Sorry, the guys aren’t convinced. I’m on your side, believe me, but we’ll have to do some negotiating. Have a seat.” He motioned with his tattooed right arm. Danny recoiled at the sight of it, but was afraid to say no. He sat down on one of the armchairs.
An hour later a pickle jar full of homemade hooch was still making the rounds. The men were all much older than Danny – some even had graying hair. Out of the corner of his eye he was sure he saw them nodding and snickering to each other. It was like they were all party to some joke that didn’t include him.
Zonk paced nervously around the room. On an almost imperceptible signal from Crack, one of the men jumped up and grabbed the dog by the collar. Zonk struggled to pull away and whined at being held by a stranger. Crack held out the jar and motioned for Danny to take another drink. Once again Danny was repulsed by the painted tentacles that squirmed with the movement of his outstretched arm.
Danny knew now that he should never have come here. He staggered to his feet. The crowd around him roared with laughter. He couldn’t see straight. Somehow he had to keep his head. If he could just put one foot in front of the other he could walk out of here and everything would be alright. He lost his balance and suddenly he was falling…
From somewhere behind him Crack’s voice echoed above the laughter, “Now, suppose you tell us exactly what you want to haul in the truck…”
The First Clues
On day two of Danny’s disappearance Richard took some more time off, and in the morning headed for Danny’s school. He made his way from the streetcar stop, pushing past a line of people that disappeared around the nearest street corner. Rounding the corner, he saw that they were the tail section of a breadline that, as usual, stretched all the way around the block. In the distance, at the head of the line, a pair of hands held out a bowl into which a uniformed official ladled food.
At the school he met with Ms. Kingsley, Danny’s counselor. He’d met her once or twice before when they’d talked about Danny’s problems in school. He remembered her as a confident career woman with meticulously coiffed hair and impeccable clothes. Today, she looked tired and disheveled, with loose strands of hair hanging over her eyes.
“Have a seat,” she gestured to a chair in front of her desk. “Excuse me, but I have to complete this form. Would you mind waiting a minute?”
“Sure,” said Richard, as he sat down. He glanced around the office. It was small and scented with the faint flowery odour of Ms. Kingsley’s perfume. Beside her desk stood a tall bookshelf lined with titles that included: Motivating the Young: A New Approach, and The Effects of Poverty on Social Development. Several posters adorned the walls. One showed a backyard garden with the caption: Food – Everyone’s Responsibility. In another a frightened youth faced a menacing gang of thugs. The caption read: School Sanctuary – Here When You Need It.
The largest, most striking poster hung on the wall directly above Ms. Kingsley’s head. Richard recognized it immediately, since it was plastered everywhere throughout his own College. It showed a stylized city of gleaming skyscrapers, the light from a rising sun glinting from their mirrored windows. The bold-print caption at the bottom read: First Annual Innovation Day – Man’s Triumph Over Nature.
Ms. Kingsley completed the form and dropped it decisively in her out-box.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said, turning to face him. “Good to see you Richard, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances. Any word about Danny?”
“It’s like he dropped off the face of the Earth,” Richard said. “I was hoping you’d have some idea where he might have gone.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can be much help. I’ve asked him in to see me several times – not for any infraction – just for a chat, and he always says everything’s fine, but won’t open up. He doesn’t say a word unless it’s to answer a direct question. Apart from that, he seems to be coping as well as could be expected – considering what he’s been through.”
“Did you know he was skipping school?”
Ms. Kingsley’s face flushed red. “Truancy is such a common occurrence,” she said. “I don’t generally hear about it unless it’s getting out of hand. After all, there are so few opportunities provided by education nowadays…”
“But they did tell you.”
She nodded. “Apparently he was skipping up to two or three days a week.”
“Two or three days a week! So why wasn’t I informed?”
“Informed?” she laughed. “You think I’ve got nothing better to do than spend the day calling everyone whose kid didn’t bother making it to class? Welcome to reality, Richard. Half the school skip class on a regular basis, often with the parents�
� blessing. A lot of parents would rather have their kids at home looking after the garden, or helping guard the house.”
Richard stared at the desktop, shaking his head.
“Is there anyone he hung out with?” he finally said. “Did he mention any friends here at school?”
“He never talked about anyone outside school. I know he spent time with one or two other students here. There’s one in particular, Matt Foster, that I’ve seen him with a few times. Danny’s become somewhat of a loner. He doesn’t associate much with other students.”
“Can I speak with Matt?”
She looked at her watch. “The next class break will be in fifteen minutes. I can arrange for him to talk to you.”
They walked toward the classrooms in silence and posted themselves outside shop class. A few minutes later the doors opened and students crowded into the hall. Ms. Kingsley called over a thin, dark haired boy with a bad complexion.
“Matt, this is Richard Hampton, Danny’s brother,” she said to the boy. “He’d like to speak to you for a few minutes.”
"But then I'd have to miss Math class," Matt sneered.
"I'll clear it with Mr. Davis," she said.
Matt grinned, “In that case, sure – whatever.”
Richard and Matt parked themselves at a table in a far corner of the school cafeteria.
“You know that Danny’s missing?” said Richard.
“First I’ve heard,” said Matt, slouching down in his chair.
“He disappeared two days ago. I’m trying to find him.”
“Good for you.”
Richard scowled at him. “I thought Danny was your friend. He might be lying injured somewhere. He might be dying…”
“Hey, don’t get on my case,” said Matt. “You’re the one that wanted this interview.”
“Don’t you want to help him?”
“It’s a tough world out there – you gotta look after yourself. Danny knows that. I’m surprised you don’t. Danny was right – you are a tight-ass.”
Richard ignored the remark. “I know he was skipping school. Where was he going?”
“Hey, I’m not the guy’s father…” Matt smirked and looked pointedly at him. “I don’t ask him where he goes every day. Everybody skips school. It’s no big deal. Danny was working an angle, like everybody else. I never asked him what, and he never asked me about mine.”
“Didn’t he tell you anything?”
Matt shrugged. “I know he was going to Surrey. I think he went there all the time.”
Richard’s gut tightened. “Why Surrey, for God’s sake? What could he possibly want there?”
“Sometimes he talked about ‘prospecting’. It sounded like he was looking for something.”
“And he never said what?”
“Nah, but he was all excited a couple of weeks ago. Said he’d found something big.”
“Big?”
“The exact word he used was ‘huge’ – he said he found something ‘huge’.”
“He didn’t say what it was?”
“Hey, don’t ask, don’t tell, man.” Matt ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “You know, this is getting kind of boring…”
“That’s it?” said Richard. “You’ve got nothing else to say to me?”
Matt scratched at the top of the table with his fingernail. Richard rose, pushed out his chair, and began to walk away.
“Thanks for all your help,” he said over his shoulder. “I can see Danny’s got a real friend in you.”
“Don’t go away mad,” Matt called after him. “Hey, he did say one other thing…”
Richard stopped and looked back, “What’s that?”
“He said when I heard what he found it would blow my mind.”
A Plunge into Cold Water
Danny stared up into the darkness and falling rain at the tiny pinpricks of light high above his head. The lights marked the extents of the massive bridge spans that towered above him and the others. The dim glow reflected in puddles dotting the deck over which they trudged, walking their motorbikes across a deeply-potholed section, headed for a rendezvous with Crack and the rest of the gang.
The group made their way toward the crest of the bridge, five or six surrounding him to block off any chance of escape. Zonk trotted behind, held on a leash by one of the men.
The drizzling rain had soaked Danny to the skin. He tried to concentrate, but he was still half wasted from the hooch. The beating they'd laid on him during the interrogation had rattled his brain, and the bruises that covered much of his body were starting to throb painfully.
Unexpectedly, Zonk started to tug at the leash with his teeth, like he was trying to tear it out of the handler’s grip. The man holding the leash responded by swatting him and pulling it tighter. Far from being subdued, Zonk jumped up and put his front paws on the handler’s chest. The handler pushed him back down and tried to kick him, but missed.
“For Christ’s sake, Swallow,” yelled the leader of the group, “get control of that fucking dog!”
Danny thought, what’s with Zonk? He’s never acted up like that before.
Zonk continued his antics, jumping up again on the handler, Swallow, and almost pushing him over.
“You fucking devil dog!” Swallow yelled. He backed up and pulled out a gun, ready to shoot the dog.
“What are you doing!” shouted the leader, rushing at Swallow, grabbing his gun and pistol-whipping him. “You stupid fuck!” he screamed. “Didn’t you hear what Crack said! You’re gonna ruin everything!”
Danny saw his chance. Everybody was focused on Zonk and the two fighting men. He staggered the few yards over to the bridge railing. Mercifully, the night was so black he couldn’t see the water below. He assumed he was going to die, but that no longer mattered. He slipped over the rail and was weightless. He heard a shot and a bullet whizzed by his head.
The last thing he heard before he hit the water was a voice frantically screaming: “Somebody catch that fucking dog!”
Zonk Comes Home
Richard had just gotten back from his meetings at the school when he heard a familiar scratching at the front door, and it was as if a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders. Danny had finally come home. But when he opened the door his chest tightened and his euphoria evaporated. Zonk stood on the stoop in front of him, but Danny was nowhere in sight.
Danny and Zonk were inseparable. Even if by some unimaginable set of circumstances Danny had tried to send Zonk away, Richard knew the dog would follow him if that were possible. The fact that Zonk was here without Danny could mean only one of two things – either Danny was somewhere it was impossible for Zonk to go, or…he didn’t want to consider the alternative. His hands trembled as he pried one of Danny’s school pictures from a frame on a bookshelf and left the house. There was no longer any doubt – Danny was in trouble.
Richard cringed as he burst through the doors of the Police station. The place looked like a disaster in progress. The reception area was jammed with a cross-section of humanity – from homeless, drunks, and hookers to sharply dressed businessmen and middle-class people like himself. A slow-moving line had formed in front of the reception desk, and Richard took his place its end. A filthy drunk lined up behind him; he was almost overcome by the stench of the man’s liquor-soaked breath.
As it had four years ago after the tragedy, Richard’s mind raced as he waited, walking through scenarios, weighing options, desperate to act but stunned and confused about where to begin. He was so preoccupied he hardly noticed the wait, and didn’t realize he was up until the uniformed officer at reception bellowed at him, “Next!”
He moved up to the desk.
“What’s your business,” said the officer.
“I’ve got an appointment with Detective Leung.”
The officer glanced over his left shoulder. “Fourth desk on the right.”
Richard headed for desk the officer had indicated. The man sitting behind it waved him over and motione
d for him to have a seat.
“Richard,” said Leung, wearing a harried expression that reminded him of Ms. Kingsley, the school counselor. “Good to see you again. Sorry, but there are no developments in your parents’ case.”
“I’m not here about that,” said Richard, taking a seat across from him.
Leung eyed him expectantly.
“My brother Danny’s missing, said Richard. “Here – I brought a recent picture.” He fished the photograph from his coat pocket and handed it to the detective.
Leung glanced at it. “How old is Danny now?”
“He’s seventeen,” said Richard. Leung let out a faint sigh as he typed something into the terminal and studied the result.
Richard explained the events surrounding Danny’s disappearance, including his trips to Surrey.
“Look,” Leung finally said, turning from the computer screen. “You had a fight with Danny, and my guess is that he’s gone off somewhere to punish you. It happens all the time.”
“Danny has a dog,” Richard said, realizing how foolish he probably sounded. “This morning the dog came home without him. It would never have willingly left Danny’s side. I know what it looks like – we’ve had our differences, but Danny would never run off like that.”
Leung’s face expressed infinite patience.
“Do you have any record of him?” Richard asked, embarrassed at not knowing the answer. “Has he been in trouble before? For drugs or gangs or anything?”
“That was the first thing I checked,” said Leung. “If he’d been brought in you would have been notified.”
“So what’s the next step?”
“The next step?”
“I assume you’ll be assigning somebody to the case?”
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