Fangsters

by Matt Drabble

  She had some savings, and when they had dwindled dangerously low, she had approached her parents for financial aid. Her father had listened carefully and objectively. He’d raised intelligent questions and poked holes through some of her plans, but after sleeping on it, he had agreed to help finance her. After three years of battering against a seemingly solid brick wall devoid of information, and living as frugally as possible, she was beginning to see the very first spindling cracks in the wall. According to pretty much every official document Abraham Kane barely even existed. He owned no property, ran no businesses, and had no existing family. His name was not attached to any part of the Jimmy Dent empire, he paid no taxes, claimed no benefits, and he was indeed a ghost.

  The door at the bar’s rear opened again, she had witnessed the comings and goings through this door many times, and it took only a short while to ascertain the bar’s official employees. Jimmy obviously owned the place, there were several bar staff that came and went, a manager named Jacobs and a bouncer come security guard named Eddie Crane. She grabbed for the Canon Eos 7d digital camera lying within easy reach on the passenger seat of the inconspicuous rental. The giant guard Eddie stepped out into the evening air to allow Ghost to pass again, and she snapped a few shots of the two of them briefly talking. In the three years that she had been stalking him, she had never witnessed a girlfriend, a lover, a relative or seen him express any sort of warmth to another human being. As the two men walked outside, the giant bear stumbled and fell, for such a big man it was a long way down. Ghost leant over to help him up; this was the first time that she saw him with the giant outside of the bar. For just the briefest moment, she thought that she saw a fraction of humanity pass from Ghost bordering on compassion. It was so brief that the camera did not catch it; his granite face seemed to melt for just a split second. A look of almost concern passed through his eyes like a lightening flash in a black storm, she clenched her fist, “Gotcha”, she whispered.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  December 1994

  The dark water filled his lungs as he sank, the light above faded from his outstretched hands as the murky depths took hold and pulled him down. His struggles were dying with him, and his eyes closed so that he could surrender to his fate. His wounds that had seemed so monstrous, and the pain that had been all consuming, were now slowly diminishing. Only his hate lived on, the hate was the last vestige of his life and all that he would leave as his legacy.

  Suddenly he was being pulled up, his body and mind resisted, let me die, he thought as he embraced the black nothingness beyond. Yet the hate was strong, it fought against his vanishing, it fought against his weakness, it was his will, and it was strong. Suddenly the light pricked at his eyes as he exploded out of the depths. A powerful hand dragged him from the water; the heavy chains that were wrapped around his legs were no obstacle for his saviour. A rough fist pounded on his chest, and his mouth was raped by filthy breath that threatened to gag him. A weighty and rhythmic compression on his chest was forcing the water from his lungs, and rancid air was forcing its way into his lungs. The breath burst forth from him and he coughed and spluttered, vomiting out the foul black water. A fist pounded on his back painfully, and suddenly his body’s wounds awakened and screamed louder than before.

  “Dead no good, dead no good, dead kills” a rasping voice floated over him.

  He looked up into the eyes of his rescuer, he tried to speak but found that he had no voice. The figure leaning over him appeared to be a man, but it was hard to tell in the dark and it was dressed in many ill fitting and mismatching layers. As his vision slowly cleared, he could see that it was indeed a man. A soiled woolly thick hat topped a face fully covered in yellow stained white whiskers; white hair tumbled loosely uncut and unkempt. “Hungry, hungry” the man rocked on his knees as he spoke

  “My wallets shot, but my watch could still buy you a few meals friend” the half drowned man managed “But first I need to you call me an ambulance, but no police” he stressed reaching forward and grabbing for the tramps icy cold hand. He fell back down to the cold, muddy sludge; he looked up at the clear bright moon and felt the hate try to take him again. His wounds would heal given time; he would leave the city and leave this life. If they thought he was dead, so much the better, hate was a young man’s game.

  Abruptly the tramps face loomed over him blocking the nights light, his face suddenly no longer belonged to a man at all. His mouth widened and as he leant forward his teeth were sharp and ravenous.

  Bennett Drake died a second time that night with hate in his heart, only this time, the hate would last an eternity.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  April 2012

  Eddie Crane was bouncing, he skipped walked along the pavement, and the pleasant sunny day matched his mood. He desperately tried to slow his footsteps, as he had always instinctively known that he was not the most gracious creature in the world.

  The normal battleship gray surroundings seemed less oppressive this morning, the small apartment that he occupied over the Quebec was quickly receding into the distance as he made his way from his neighbourhood towards the city centre. It was a long walk, longer still when you were as impatient as Eddie was this morning, but he had learned that the seating on public transport was woefully inadequate. His enormous bulk sweated under the huge leather tent of a coat. He unwaveringly wore the coat on a daily basis regardless of the weather or the temperature; the coat had simply been a gift from his friend. Ghost had given it to him one Christmas six years ago, he had unwrapped the large box brightly covered in Toy Story wrapping paper. He had been unwilling at first to tear the beautiful paper, but Jimmy had grown impatient and begun shouting, Jimmy shouted a lot. He had finally drawn the coat out with a hushed reverence; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. As a rule, his clothes were a mishmash of styles and colours bought for their fitting ability rather than their style. A man of his size, he had soon learned, could never be choosy when it came to wardrobe choices. His sheer size and bulk had made high street shopping impossible and somewhat embarrassing.

  He had been born to a single woman; Ghost had refused him to refer to her as his mother. He’d been spawned in an alleyway whilst his crack addled vessel performed addiction induced blowjobs for the dock workers. She had been working away on her scabbed knees when labour took, and he was plopped onto the wet concrete while the queue waited, waiting fascinated by the National Geographic documentary unfolded before them. At some point, one of the Polish workers with a smattering of English and a smattering of humanity thought to call an ambulance.

  Eddie wasn’t so much a baby as a rhinoceros; he came out of the womb big and just kept growing. His infant days were ones of neglect and abuse, and feedings were rare and inadequate. Darla had wanted to return to work as soon as possible, but the birthing had been more of a breaching. Her drug intake had dramatically declined along in relation to her income and thus her appearance suffered accordingly. Soon the nights were never dark enough and the shadows never long enough to entice even the most desperate of clients. As usual, shit runs downhill, and Eddie took the brunt of her despair. It wasn’t long before she could only afford the worst the street had to offer, drugs cut so many times that they barely raised a buzz louder than aspirin. She had finally drunk herself into a deep stupor on vodka. She’d combined this with some prescription painkillers that she had traded with a local GP for an evening of depravity that would have shocked his lovely wife and community. She had been discovered dead in the bath by an angry landlord breaking the door down to evict her over unpaid rent. As fortune would have it, he was in time to save the large infant that was cradled in her arms. However, the baby had suffered minor brain damage from the submersion in the bath water. After that Eddie became a statistic lost in a crippled system, different foster homes became a blur along with the faces that flashed by his slow eyes with varying degrees of kindness and cruelty. Eddie knew that he was slow but not stupid, and people often assumed that his shuffli
ng bulk belied a lack of intelligence. His mind worked a little slower than most, sometimes he would need a little uninterrupted silence to connect the dots, but he always found that he could, given enough space.

  Growing up in the Fresh Haven area of Eagleport meant that there was always an abundance of wolves on the prowl, noses caught the whiff of weakness on the wind, and packs circled their prey intuitively. After years of living in his own head, Eddie existed without guidance or confidence. He sought to minimize his size and power rather than embrace it, and at fifteen he was already twice the size of many of his tormentors, but lacked the inclination to fire back. It was only when Ghost found him that he was unleashed, the older boy had taken him under his wing and shown him the kindness and compassion that he had never known. Ghost had also introduced him to Jimmy, Jimmy was always teasing him, but somehow it felt different to the cruelness of the taunts direction at him from the other neighbourhood children. Ghost had shown him how to unlock his power; Ghost had shown him that he was a warrior born of stone and fire. Created to protect the Gods from the heathens, to shield the righteous and smite their enemies. Eddie had always liked these words, shield and smite, and they became his motto. He would shield his friends and smite their enemies, when he had found Ghost being attacked he had unleashed his fury and protected his friend by striking down his foe. Afterwards, Ghost had known what to do with the body and protected them both.

  His brow furrowed with the dark thoughts of that evening as he walked. His pace slowed as his brain processed and projected the memories, seemingly unable to handle the process at the same time as walking with enthusiasm. Several daytime walkers moved out of his way as he commanded the pavement space as his own. The giant sent a youth spinning as the young man walked and talked carelessly on a mobile. The youth looked up angrily at his assailant, only to quickly scramble backwards on his backside and out of the giant’s path.

  Eddie found his happy thoughts again slowly, as his face cleared and returned to the present. This morning he remembered, he was happy, his pace quickened, and a smile resurfaced. This morning was a good one and some two excruciating miles away lay his church. A bright neon decorated edifice that held shelves of wonder and delight, and below the counter would lay a package with his name on it. He would run his fingers over the pen indents that spelt Eddie Crane, the one word that he could both read and write. Inside that glorious package sat a possibility of adventure and excitement where even his clumsy paws could change the world. The video game Kinect Star Wars was released today, and his copy had been pre-ordered several months ago. Eddie was maybe a little slow, but he was well aware of his limitations here in the real world. Inside the confines of the virtual world, he could fly, he could soar far above his clumsy bulk, he could be elegant, and he could feel beautiful. It was to this world that he retreated to when the real one became too much. After nights of hoisting abusive drunks into the alley, and days of facing Jimmy’s increasingly erratic behaviour, his video game world was the solace to which he retreated to. His nightly duties were not too bad, drunks imbued with alcohol courage tended to scream insults about his size and intelligence. His daytime activities however, were another story, Jimmy and Ghost mainly took him along for protection and intimidation. Sometimes though, merely looking menacing wasn’t enough for Jimmy. On the occasions that physicality was required, he would look to Ghost for confirmation for whatever Jimmy screamed at him to do. If Ghost Okayed it, then he would send his thoughts away for a while. The blood and the pain became another video game, graphical graphics, and sound effects, none of it real, until he needed to clean himself up.

  He approached the Game shop and swayed from foot to foot as he waited for the closed sign to transform to open. Several teenagers were also milling around, and none were traditionally queuing. Most appeared like Eddie, to be waiting in singles, some barely raised their eye level above ground level, fearing to make contact. These were the gamers, a solitary breed in the real world, but across oceans and time zones, they hid behind their anonymous gamer tags. They spoke fearlessly without faces over wireless microphones, articulate and witty cyber space inhabitants.

  There was suddenly movement behind the shuttered windows, and shadows danced amongst the LED lighting displays. Eddie knew all of the staff faces, committed to memory as these were the purveyors of his pleasure. A sparkle of female blonde hair flashed through the lit doorway of the back office as the door swept open and then swung shut. Eddie’s brain processed the hair, his face went blank, and granite as the gears moved slowly. He ticked off the employees one by one, of the six staff members four were male and of the two women neither one had blond hair. As usual when a matter was unresolved, his mind rolled around the problem before releasing it, freeing the space, and avoiding the clutter.

  The door opened with a soft jingle, and the swell surged forward, Eddie smiled to himself and let the hoard surge, confident that his re-ordered copy was securely located beneath the counter. Once inside, he joined the shuffling queue until he reached the service counter. The man behind his till was Tim as denoted by the cheerful name badge. Tim was newer than the other staff that Eddie knew, he was in his early twenties with facial piercings, and coloured spiked hair that conformed to the unconformities. Although the young man was conventionally tall at over six feet and brawny with a gym build, Eddie towered over him.

  “Eddie Crane” Eddie’s shy low voice rumbled.

  Tim for some reason didn’t even look under the counter, “Nothing here under that name” he stammered.

  Eddie paused whilst he processed, “Eddie Crane” he tried again unable to comprehend the structure break in the program.

  “S-S-S-S-Sorry pal” the man managed through a sweating brow.

  Eddie walked slowly back out of the shop in a daze, this was not right or correct, but he could not quite grasp why he was not holding his new game and returning home.

  The Game shop was part of a pedestrianised corridor of outlets alongside a narrow river; there were a collection of clothing shops, a café, and a national coffee house franchise. Running along the length of the railings that overlooked the river were several new looking hardwood benches. They were seating structures designed for weary shoppers pausing between excursions. Eddie sat down heavily and scratched his bearded chin, a subconscious gesture he often employed when thinking.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing” a woman’s light lilt interrupted him.

  He looked up to see a pretty blonde’s kind and warm face looking up at him even though he was seated and she was standing.

  “I have an extra copy, I picked this up for my son, but his father had already ordered one for him” she smiled. “A frequent complication in the world of divorce”

  Eddie looked down and took the outreached cellophane case with a bewildered gaze. “Thank you” he mumbled. The woman was delicate and pretty. “My names Eddie” he said remembering Ghost’s instructions on politeness.

  “Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Jessica”

  CHAPTER NINE

  July 1993

  Ghost cracked his neck and popped his spine, the office leather recliner was exquisitely comfortable, but did have its limits. He had been reviewing the figures on the flickering computer screen for several hours now, as the heavy thumping bass of the bar below tickled at his feet. Jimmy was down there holding court again no doubt, a mass celebration was underway. The score that they had pulled down today was large enough, that stopping Jimmy from partying was going to be impossible.

  It had been their first bank job, and Ghost had put eight months into the planning. They’d had the manager and two tellers on the inside, both had been taken as hostages, and both loose ends tied up as the bodies were dumped. The vans were burned and sunk; everyone’s alibis were set in stone and the money safely hidden where only Ghost knew the location. Ghost went over the screen one last time before deleting the electronic records of his plans. As far as he could tell every angle had been covered, every weakness taken care
of, and every loose end severed. He hit delete on the keyboard and sat back with a tinge of regret, usually he enjoyed the planning of everything in great detail. He kept immaculate records on everything that was legal, but he knew that records could always be used against you. One of his biggest strengths, he had always thought, was knowing about all of his weaknesses. He had read stories of many criminals undone by their criminal record keeping.

  The bar down stairs was jumping as usual, they had bought the place initially as a front, but Ghost could not help running the business with his usual precision and expertise. It had now gotten to the point where it was more profitable than some of their criminal activities.

  The basis of the protection business plan that they presented to the local traders only a year ago was simple, they were tougher, and they’d be cheaper. It was Jimmy’s face that would front them, Ghost accepted the basic principle that their organization must have only one leader, and Jimmy was it. The day in the coffee house when a young boy had instinctively been drawn to Jimmy, had made the choice clear. When they spoke, they spoke through Jimmy’s voice. The first thing that they had needed was a base of operations, an anonymous, faceless front from which to begin. The Quebec Bar had been perfect, the business was already failing, and the bank held overdue loans and two mortgages on the place. The owner was slowly drinking himself to death in a race to beat the banks deadlines. Convincing Jimmy to place all of the ill gotten gains into buying the bar outright had not been easy, but Ghost was finding all of Jimmy’s buttons through a careful plan of trial and error. He never wasted his advantage over anything trivial; Jimmy got his way day to day, a movie choice here, a restaurant there. As always Ghost kept copious notes securely hidden in his private files, fortunately Jimmy never had an interest in the paperwork. Their crew now consisted of themselves and Eddie as an inner circle. There were also now five other associates that Ghost had carefully selected from other gangs in the district. Ghost’s recruitment drive was simple; he looked for criminal members, using the same job staffing techniques that any major company used. His bible was an American handbook called “Selection Perfection” it was a book that spoke in volumes about recruitment. The handbook covered checks, selection, analysis, interviewing, short listing, and induction. He always scouted the competition throughout the city carefully and discreetly, looking for worthy adversaries that he could fold into their organization. His filing cabinet was chocked full of personnel files along with tactful photos, he was constantly on the lookout for the justifiably underappreciated. Many criminals in the market would feel under paid, but many were wearing suits of overinflated egos. Ghost only ever gave careful consideration to the clean and sober, the young, and the hungry but never the overly ambitious. It was a careful line to walk, their business wasn’t known for its team spirit, and he was wary of not having to constantly watch for blindside attacks. Their new young crew began slowly and deliberately, always under the radar, Ghost’s biggest problem in the early days had been keeping Jimmy’s impatience under control. Jimmy’s plan was always to plunge headfirst and bullet first into every confrontation, but to their employees a united front had to be presented at all times. Ghost made sure that he would never argue or contradict Jimmy in front of anyone, even Eddie. It was only behind closed doors in private that he would have to at times manipulate, and at times bully Jimmy onto the right path. They pulled small but profitable heists to begin with, Ghost always made sure that no one was ever injured unnecessarily. No excessive force was ever employed, and the inside men were normally heavily compensated. Ghost treated everyone with a respect that was sorely lacking from the other crews. They would knock off deliveries from couriers cutting in the drivers, and high stake card games tipped off by the kids handling refreshments. Jimmy’s impatience soon faded, as time passed and they were being brought the best deals in the area. Ghost’s initial research had shown him that the industry was tired of the violent and unfair tactics of their rivals. Only when they were big enough to be in danger of being noticed by the competition, did they begin their aggressive expansion, this was Jimmy’s time to shine. Whilst Ghost was the brain that charmed their way into the business and gained their foothold, Jimmy was the iron fist that took and kept the spoils. Whilst the movies had shown the American Mafia were criminal organizations run with military precision, the reality here, was that most were squabbling gangs of overgrown children fighting over the same few toys. Ghost knew that they were largely held together by a domineering figure at the head. The biggest and the baddest sat atop the tree cultivating resentment, and hatred beneath, cut the head from the snake and they all fell.