by Matt Drabble
Jessica yawned and pinched the bridge of her nose rubbing vigorously; she could not remember the last time that she had felt so exhausted, Eddie was insatiable. They had been at it for hours, at least this time he must be finally spent.
“Jessie, Jessie” a soft voice whispered in her ear, no, not again she thought, he can’t be ready again, her wrist was killing her.
“Jessie” the voice persisted.
She lifted her weary hand to the wireless Xbox earpiece and un-muted it, “Eddie, I’m still here but a little tired sweetie”
“Just one more time, just once more” he pleaded
They had been playing Gears of Wars 3 for several hours now, streaming over the broadband bridge that linked players from around the world in a heartbeat. She’d had to purchase an Xbox system that afternoon and charmed an eager young assistant into ignoring his workplace duties to run her through the basics. She had been surprised to find that the gaming system was not beyond her technical capabilities. Even some of the test games that the assistant had run her through were fun and a little addictive. A little cleavage and a lot of flirting had gained her access to some of Eddie’s personal details including his gamer ID tag and favourite games, Gears being one of them. Her afternoon tutorial had left her with the ability to hook up her Xbox to her flat screen, create an avatar and an online presence, and then to locate Eddie online that morning. Since which, they had been pummelling an alien army during wave after wave of attacks in something called Horde mode. Eddie was a master of the game, for such a large bulky man she was astounded by his dexterity and skill. For the first couple of hours, she had felt a hindrance but at long last, she had found her niche using a sniper rifle from strategic cover. At first they had been constantly interrupted by a succession of other gamers, some were polite, some were aggressive, and many more appeared to be overly stimulated by the mere presence of a female in their midst. After a short while, Eddie had placed them both in a private chat area where they were not disturbed. Dealing with Eddie in a faceless environment, existing only as a voice in his head and in his world, had enabled her to deal with a more relaxed and confident man. In this world, Eddie was friendly and talkative, it took her a while to draw him out, but slowly and piece by piece his story came together. She felt annoyed at herself for dismissing him as having learning difficulties, because the more that they talked, the more that she realized that there was more to him than she had first thought. His speech patterns and use of language appeared to be mainly the result of his missing education rather than any major impairment. His confidence was low in the real world and he seemed to have conformed to others low expectations of him, rather than to grow and evolve. Once during their game play, he had suddenly piped up with, “Do you ever think Jessie that on Eastenders, because of the actors involved, in their world things like the Carry On films and Spandau Ballet never existed?”
The biggest reticence he seemed to have, had been about Abraham “Ghost” Kane, his answers on the man were always guarded and suspicious, and she’d had to delve deftly around the corners of Eddie’s friend. The intensity of the crammed in hours that they had spent together had been the equivalent of several weeks in the real world. She gave herself a self-indulgent mental pat on the back for the idea. The biggest thing that had she had found was that Eddie damn near idolised the man. She had poked deliberately and delicately at Ghost from time to time, hearing the bristling anytime that she offered anything remotely negative. Eddie spoke with pride and admiration of his friendship with Ghost; he spoke fairly fondly of Jimmy from time to time as well which had surprised her. She’d learnt very little of the specifics of Eddie’s work, he almost seemed embarrassed about what he did, and she filed this fact away for later use. She managed to pry several titbits from Eddie during their long hours together. She learnt that Ghost was unquestionably more than a mere employee, Eddie spoke about Jimmy and Ghost, Ghost and Jimmy. Every time that Jimmy said something, Ghost’s voice was right behind; Eddie appeared to sit on the inside of the organization, a silent oak tree in the corner. She knew the timeframe of Jimmy Eyes rise to the top, and Eddie had apparently been there from almost the very beginning. In the early days, it was just the three of them, as far as Eddie was concerned these had been the happiest days of his life. He had never known friends before, but back then he’d felt like he had a family. She knew that these feelings ran cavernously deep in Eddie, and those foundations would never be shaken. She also knew that she would never be able to appear to be undermining Ghost, or even Jimmy. Eddie would never betray either of them and would die before he would allow them to come to harm. If she wanted to pry enough information about Ghost for her book, then she would have to walk a tightrope of care. The prime nugget that she had mined today was that all was not well in the organization. Eddie had mentioned the Parkers at one brief point earlier in the morning. She knew that Richard and Bob Parker were a low level crew who were making noises in the underworld. They were said to be the new up and comers on the block, ruthless and violent, and in some corners they were considered to be the heir apparent. Eddie became stressed and nervous whenever she broached their subject, and she got the impression that Jimmy was becoming more and more agitated, and this was what was making Eddie the most nervous.
“Look Eddie, I’m going to have to call it a day, I’m beat” she said
“Awww, really?” Was Eddie’s disappointed response.
“Look is this channel really private?”
“Yes”
“Ok, grab a pen and let me give you my phone number in case you want to talk if work gets too heavy” she casually offered.
“Got one right here” he responded immediately.
She gave her mobile phone number and listened as he wrote it down repeating the numbers as he scribbled. She signed off and disconnected, standing and stretching, her spine cracked and her neck popped as she eased her discomfort. She picked up the note pad that had been lying next to her on the sofa; she knew that her one handed scrawling would take some deciphering, at first glance the only words that jumped out were, St Mary’s and Drake, it was a start.
Tim Rybeck had always dreamt of being a cop, from early childhood he had kicked down imaginary doors with his imaginary badge. His name had dictated a profession choice; “Rybeck” conjured images of storming detectives. His father was anything but a Rybeck, a small sombre man of little imagination and practicality stamped through his very core. He had been dismissive of Tim’s career choice and sought to dampen his dreams at every opportunity. Whilst Tim envisioned car chases and shootouts his father dismissed these fantasies speaking of pushing papers and filing forms, unfortunately for Tim, his father had proven annoyingly correct.
The academy had been filled with like minded cadets dreaming of excitement, and the class work had soon begun to weed out the weaker willed. Tim had persevered and soon began his probationary period breaking up drunken Friday nights in the Fresh Haven port area. The bars were dark and violent and the inhabitants worse. He could handle the constant bullying of his senior colleagues, he could handle the long late nights and the poor shifts, but it was the tedious repetitive boredom that got to him. He still persevered through this period, knowing that if he paid his due and worked through the bullshit, he could make detective and his world would change. Eventually the wheel turned, and he had gained his promotion. The disappointment this time was all encompassing for there was nowhere else to go from here. Instead of his world lighting up with stimulation, he was plunged further into desk bound tedium and his days were filled with the excruciating paper shuffle waltz. For a cerebral man of imagination, the real world of paper shuffles was mind-numbing beyond compare. Investigations did not consist of car chases and door kicking, only following up mundane leads, chasing credit card receipts and hours with his neck crooked and telephone balanced. It was inevitable he figured that his want for adventure had led him down the wrong path.
He’d met the girl in one of the port bars on a Saturday nigh
t, within two hours he was half in love, and all the way drunk, she was all smiles and salacious flirtations. She had beautiful golden curls that tumbled and breasts that strained at the leash; she had expert wandering hands and innocent freckles. He had spent half the night inside the bar and the following two weeks inside her. Tim did not consider himself a stupid man, but every time that he was able to take a breath and try to clear his head, she would have a hook on his mind and a hand in his pants. It started as it always does slowly, a parking ticket to be fixed, then a noisy neighbour to be leant on, then a car registered to be traced due to a small dent in her car and the perpetrator driving away. Almost without noticing he was doing favours without explanations, she did not introduce him to hard liquor and harder drugs as it would have rendered him useless, she became his addiction, and his will was gone.
He had only met Ghost when it was too late, Ghost came into his life as she smoothly exited the other way, it was only then did he think that his career was irreparable. The movies had him believing, that now that he was in too deep his life would be ruined, that once the criminals had their hooks in you then everything was soon destroyed. What he found in reality, was that his life actually became fun again, he was never asked to participate in crimes, and he was never asked to break the law. What he did was to provide information, he tipped Ghost off whenever the department was looking at his firm, and in return, he was given genuine tips on the competition that led to some significant raids and arrests. His stock in his division rose at a steady rate over the following years until he reached the rank of Detective Inspector. His tips were never given too close together, and he was given enough bad leads to avoid suspicion. He had met the boss, Jimmy Eyes and found the man to charming and charismatic. Ghost had introduced them and he had felt welcomed, they may be criminals, but the firm was run as a business. Although Jimmy sat upon the throne, he had always felt that Ghost was more than a mere right hand. To insulate everyone involved it was only Ghost that he dealt with. His bank account slowly swelled through careful long term investments arranged through the firm. Ghost, he had found was a master of the cautious and nothing was left to chance. There were no brown packages stuffed full of dirty cash, he had no secret bank accounts overseas. His income was all accounted for, and the tax was paid and the money clean. He had felt angry and stupid in equal measures at his seduction, but by now, he had grown content and comfortable.
The night was closing in, Rybeck was in his car, and now off duty, normally he would not go within a hundred miles of the Quebec bar but tonight was different. Ghost had contacted him earlier that afternoon; the man’s voice was strained and off key. He had never witnessed anything but total self control and possession from the man, and that tone of voice had worried him.
Ghost had given him an address and a basic crime scene description; there was a woman’s body at the location and obvious signs of foul play. Rybeck didn’t need to ask the circumstances as Ghost would not be calling him directly prior to the body’s extraction if he or the firm were involved. He parked a short distance away from the Quebec bar. Leaving his car only once, he was satisfied that there were no unmarked surveillance vehicles scheduled for this night and indeed that none were parked. He slipped into the rear car park that had been arranged to be left open. The rear private entrance door opened, the interior light was off so as to not illuminate him or the inhabitants, and he followed Eddie the monster, up to the private office.
Selina Gordon hefted herself up out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Remnants of gin and bad takeaway food lay heavily in her stomach. The room was large and salacious, the thick red carpet cushioned her bare and aching feet, and the walls were a blood red paint with a black on white statement paisley wallpaper behind the bed. The bedrooms aroma was laden with roses and musky perfume, expensive clothes lay strewn across the four poster bed and scattered on the floor. The luxurious white lace netting that framed the large portrait windows rustled in the breeze.
Selina poured herself a night-time breakfast gin and took it to the window. The tumbler was stained with yesterday’s lipstick, but she did not care. The familiar tug of common sense poked and prodded around the edges of her conscious mind. Anyone starting their day with alcohol drained from dirty glasses, had a problem. Her business was men, and after all these years she needed a kick start to get her going. It had been a long time since she had made her living on her back, nowadays she earned it in the manager’s office, and she was still not sure which was the easier life.
The brothel belonged to Jimmy Dent as did all the girls who worked here. Despite being management, Selina was under no illusions that she was listed under the fixtures and fittings. Back in the day she had been an exotic beauty, one that had captured hearts and wallets. Her business acumen had set her above the addicts and the desperate that passed through the industry. It had been Jimmy’s strange and quiet right hand that had promoted her, before her looks and begun to fail and gravity dragged her assets south. Ghost, never was a man more aptly named she had always thought, came and went silently, never taking any of the girls or even any of the men that were available. He never had his fingers in the till, was always polite and courteous and he seemed to know every inch of the brothel. He knew every girl that came in, and every one that started using. He would appear out of nowhere with an uncanny instinct for showing up just before there was trouble. Once, a few years back, one of the girls had a regular who happened to be a minor celebrity with a penchant for bondage. She’d had the not uncommon idea of selling the story. Ghost had shown up before the story ever got close to the page, before she knew it the girl was gone, no fuss, no screaming, no threats or warnings, just gone quietly in the night.
Selina cast her eyes downwards over an aging but still pert figure, her legs were long and smooth and still proudly toned, her stomach was flat, and her breasts had not yet succumbed to age. Her face was still manageable with careful makeup; the worry lines were visible and growing through tiredness and alcohol. She had always managed to avoid the dreaded effects of smoking, and her only vice was the gin, although that was an army on the march.
She glanced down at her slender gold watch, 9.10pm, the doors opened at 10pm, and the punters would begin their furtive procession. This establishment dealt strictly with invitations only, the clientele were of the upmarket and discreet variety. They were men of money and authority, used to getting exactly what they wanted. It was her job to make sure that they received just that, all tastes were catered for, and all perversions could be purchased.
She drained the glass and shuddered with the sudden explosion of gin as it hit her system, time to get steeled and glamorous she thought with a sigh. The nights seemed to get longer, and the days between shorter, her retirement was rapidly approaching. She had a nice little nest egg set aside, and it was getting close to hatching. She had approached Ghost many years ago, wanting access to the investment side of the company. She had been worried that he would view her request with scorn and derision, but to her surprise he had been helpful and supportive. She had funnelled her earnings into the fund, she had taken every penny that she could spare and on some occasions, more than she could afford. Her dream was to purchase a small cottage on the Californian coast, somewhere warm all year round and with a view of the ocean. She was going to get a black Labrador for company and spend her days under the hot sun with her toes dipping in the cool waters, next year she would have enough to buy her new home and life.
She switched on the bathroom light, the energy saving bulbs took their time to brighten, and she enjoyed her reflection more under the dim glow before the full glare illuminated every flaw. She ran the shower water and waited for it to warm, her mind locking away retirement thoughts as they were an unwanted distraction during her evening activities.
The brothel had been a strange place of late, and perhaps she was not getting out soon enough. The girls seemed more distracted than usual, their behaviour erratic, running the gauntlet between lethargy and m
anic. She had always tried to run a clean shop as drugs were a constant infringement, as many of the girls needed a crutch to manage the crotch, and lately some of the girls were showing classic signs. They were never the most active during daylight hours, but some of them were becoming positively reclusive. She was going to have to get Ghost in to run some blood tests.
She stared deeply into the mirror assessing her career damage as she did every night before starting work. A movement made her turn in alarm, Talia stood behind her radiant and beautiful, the woman was twenty, and new to the brothel, tall and striking, with pale features and cheekbones that were razor sharp.
“Talia, you scared me” Selina spluttered nervously.
Talia stood impassive, her eyes sparkled, and a beautiful black evening gown clung lovingly to her tall lean figure. The scooped low neckline accentuated her small perfect breasts and her lips were full and dark.
“What are you doing here?” Selina tried for an angry authoritative tone, but her words tumbled out slowly and fell well short of their target. Her will felt sapped, and she was unable to move as Talia reached out with a slender manicured hand and stroked her face softly. She summoned up the last of her courage and turned away from the hypnotic stare. Talia brushed the hair from her neck, and she shuddered as the warmth spread downwards and tingled between her legs, moistening as it went.
“Don’t” Selina whispered softly as Talia’s hands moved over her shoulders and began to expertly caress her breasts through the thin nightdress that she wore. There was a sudden explosion of pain in her neck that was replaced by a feeling of drowning in warm waters beneath a beating hot sun. As she drifted away, she looked up into the bathroom mirror and realized that she could not see Talia, only her own fading reflection.