Utopia: A Dark Thriller: Complete Edition

by Adam Steel

  Betts had been flattered and he had extended her notice. Mada had not been impressed the notice was so long. Neither was Aarif, although he hid it expertly. In the week since the Masquerade Ball things had gone to whole new level of torture. Aarif had replaced the engagement ring before the ball. The new one was even more incredible. The original was never mentioned again. She caught the meaning when he presented it to her. You can twist and turn all you like, but you can’t change anything.

  Her misery knew no depths. She had been glad that she was wearing a mask at the ball. It made it easier to hide her sadness. Mada had been behind her the whole evening ensuring that she had acted the part correctly. She had managed to force a smile for the cameras. Seeing Aarif with Mason Royale had put it all into perspective for her. She was just another business investment. Aarif’s false smiles and grand gestures could not hide the reason why he had come to Utopia. It wasn’t for her. She was just a means to end, some kind of publicity stunt. Buying your way into Utopia was frowned upon by most. Their marriage had made a convenient excuse to get him in cleanly. Of course he wanted heirs. That would be her main role. That, and to smile at the cameras and make Aarif look good, make him look respectable.

  She had been able to squeeze a bit more information from Mada about him in the last few weeks. The marriage had been arranged years ago between her father and Aarif’s father. It was orchestrated to join the two family businesses. In the years since Aya’s father had died, Aarif’s business empire had grown from being wealthy, to kingly, whereas their family assets had fallen steadily. Mada had used much of it getting them into Utopia and that was the main reason that Aya presumed the wedding plans were still in place. It was all some kind of deal, but the details remained shady and clouded to her. She did know it had nothing to do with her happiness or well-being, what-so-ever, and she was sure that how it was turning out was not her father’s wishes.

  Mason Katcher had invited Aarif. They had been in discussions for months; planning his visit to Utopia. Aarif had a lot of influence back in his own country and she wondered if it was all part of some ‘deal’ that the masons were working on abroad. Since Aarif's arrival he had gotten closer to Mason Royale at the expense of Katcher. She could see it irritated him no end. He’d all but scowled at the two of them at the ball. She felt like a pawn in a game of chess where the moves were planned far in advance.

  King moves to Queen.

  Queen takes Castle.

  King takes Pawn.

  Queen corners King.

  Checkmate.

  Aarif had something big going on with the masons. She was sure of it now but she just could not figure out where she fitted into it. The marriage was a front, but for what she could not see. She had become a celebrity overnight. All of her work colleagues had seen her on the Info-Com next to Aarif as he made his presentation to Mason Royale in Phoenix Palace. Not only did her suitor own a limo, and a bodyguard, he was a special guest of the masons. They had wanted all the details.

  Aniese had accosted her the very next day wanting all the info…on the event. The snotty receptionist had changed her tune completely. She now treated Aya like some visiting dignitary and fawned over her. Aya was stunned when Aniese gave her a short bow as she came into work. The receptionist was wearing her best clothes. She had quipped about how Aya simply MUST introduce her to that most charming man outside and how Aya MUST get her an invite to the wedding at Phoenix Palace. She had said how she had always thought Aya had a touch of class and how they were so alike. Aya had simply nodded and smiled falsely. It had taken her almost an hour to get across the station floor; while one curious work colleague after another, questioned and congratulated her. She could almost see the money signs spinning in their eyes. The barrage of comments came one after the other.

  “How could you keep this a secret? I’d have told everyone!”

  “Oh Aya you’re so lucky! You have your own prince!”

  “I suppose you’ll be leaving us soon then?”

  “Do you think you’ll have a leaving party? I’d LOVE to meet Aarif in person. He looks amazing!”

  “Who’s that bodyguard of his? Is he available?”

  She had smiled politely and agreed. “Yes. It’s wonderful. I feel so lucky.”

  Inside she felt anything but. The thick cloud of jealousy surrounded her as it drifted up from the women nattering at her. The pestering from her colleagues had slowly died down in the last week as they realised they were unlikely to get rich just by knowing her, all except Aniese. She still wore her best clothes every day and tried to corner Aya at every opportunity. That morning Aniese had been fawning over her again.

  “Good morning Aya, we’ve had reporters on the phone for you again,” she had said excitedly. Aya had nodded dismissively and Aniese had just continued. “A Ms. Winters from the Daily Informer and a Mr Zasz from Utopia’s Finest Magazine both want interviews. I’ve had to tell them that you’re still working through your notice and can’t do interviews in work time. Mr. Zasz was very persistent. He even wanted to know if Commander Betts was in this evening to interview him!”

  Aniese had continued, still trying to find an opening to get famous, or in on those interviews, while Aya had ignored her.

  Aya made her way down the steps and ducked into the waiting limo’ as Ajit opened the door for her. She sunk into the leather seat. He shut the door and entered from the other side, squeezing his considerable bulk in through the door. He assumed his sitting position, arms folded, looking straight ahead, as the driver started the engine and the car silently rolled out from the station. Ajit terrified Aya. He rarely spoke and when he did it was one or two words. He seemed cold, impenetrable. His big muscular hands were often hidden behind folded arms and his stare was cold. He was almost in-human, like a carefully constructed robot, ready and waiting to fulfil any order. She knew he was always watching her – ready to report back to Aarif if she did, or said, anything unusual. Privately she thought of Max in prison. She wasn’t even allowed to miss him: her eyes might give those thoughts away. She felt like crying, but she couldn’t do that either. Outside she became a shell, cold like Ajit.

  The limo rolled towards home. Aya thought of Jack. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since she had been to see him. She was beginning to think she never would again: that he had taken the ring and run off with it. She thought that the ring must have been worth thousands of credits: worth more than his filthy office was anyway.

  She felt bitter. She had put all of her trust in Max: that he had known what he had been doing when he had sent her to Jack. She didn’t understand what Jack could actually do about Max.

  His door sign implied that he had been a Detective Inspector. She had dropped his name around the station discreetly. It seemed he was a disgraced detective from the old Sector Seven station. It had been shut down six months ago, after an investigation by Commander Betts no less. Perhaps he knew people in the prison system, she mused. Perhaps he’d use part of the payoff from the ring as an incentive with those people to get Max out as part of his ‘expenses'. She hoped that was the case, but as the weeks wore on it seemed less and less likely. She had wanted to go see him again, but escape from Ajit was impossible. In the last five weeks she hadn’t been able to slip away once. She would have called Jack, except that he had not bothered to give her his number.

  A dark, gloomy depression had fallen over her life since Mada’s announcement about Aarif on her twenty first birthday. Her situation was so frustrating. If only Max had not been arrested, she might have been able to get away, she thought. She had never felt so powerless.

  The limo pulled in to her street where Mada would be waiting to receive her from Ajit again. It purred to a stop and she nodded to Ajit as she left without giving him the chance to open the door for her.

  ‘Thank you, Ajit,’ she said, as she climbed out.

  Ajit nodded slightly as the door closed behind her. She walked towards Mada’s apartment block fumbling for her house keys
when she noticed the strange car in the parking spaces of her mother’s apartment block. It was parked in Mada’s allotted space. Mada did not own a car, neither did she, so it usually sat empty. The car was out of place alongside of the neat rows of clean city electric cars that were parked in the other spaces. This one was filthy, banged up, and old. It was parked carelessly, right up to the neat flower boxes in front of the building. She had the idea that if it had been a living thing then it might have been possible to catch an infection from it. The hulking, great, grey motor looked like it might hump any object in front of it, if it had a mind to. One of the wing mirrors was hanging off, dangling on two pieces of flexible wire. It reminded her of a chicken her mother had tried (and failed) to kill once. The idea of the type of person who would drive a thing like that worried her. What were they doing here? She cupped her hand over her forehead and peered into the passenger window of the car. It was even more disgusting inside than out: a mobile ashtray. She noticed the copious amounts of discarded cigar butts and the realisation dawned on her. Oh. No...What’s he doing here? He must be inside...with my mother. The very thought of him in there with her mother made her feel panicked. She tried to control herself, aware that Ajit would be watching her from behind the black, tinted windows, of the limo. It gave her chills. She hated the way he could see her when she couldn’t see him. It unnerved her. She hurried up to the front door, fumbling to get her keys in the lock, and as she did so, she looked back at the registration plate on the car. It was personalised.

  It read: “Shit Happens”.

  She watched Ajit’s limo as it pulled silently out of the drive. It was heading back to Sector One and Aarif.

  ‘Mum?’ Aya called from the doorway.

  ‘In here girl,’ a voice replied from the front room. It sounded strained, suffocated almost.

  Aya came into the front room and there (sat like a giant slug) was Jack. He was sitting on the white, brocade sofa in her mother’s front room, or rather sprawling over most of it. His filthy coat was hanging over the arm of the sofa and his hat topped it off. Mada was perched on the edge of a matching chair, furthest away from him. There was a low coffee table between them. It had a pretty, white, lace, doily on the top and a box of ladies tissues. Underneath was a shelf on which were a collection of ladies’ classy magazines (for show) her mother never actually read any of them. His feet were half on and half off the Persian rug that Mada had brought with her from her old home. There was mud on one of his shoes and bits of it were crumbling off and getting ground into the floor. Mada had served him a cup of tea in a white porcelain cup and saucer that had little pink flowers on it. A matching empty plate full of crumbs was balancing precariously on his knee.

  Aya was speechless. She looked at her mother (who was putting on her best hostess face) although Aya could plainly see just behind it that Mada must have thought that Satan had dropped in for dinner.

  Oh my God, what’s he been telling her? Aya thought. In her mind’s eye she pictured Max and their late night liaisons.

  ‘Aya…dearest…Commander Betts is here to see you,’ her mother said, gesturing at Jack. ‘He has been telling me you have important business at work.’

  Aya looked at her astonished and then she looked at Jack. He was grinning and dropping ash from the cigar he was smoking onto her mother’s best Persian rug.

  Commander Betts?! Oh. No. What’s Jack been saying? He’s told her he works with me, Aya thought. Her mother was staring at the ash, which was dropping off the end of the cigar and forming a little heap on the beautiful rug. It caused a nervous twitch to develop in her face.

  ‘Commander Betts. Yes. What can I do for you sir?’ Aya replied in a dry voice.

  Jack brushed off some crumbs on his sleeve.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at home Aya, but we’ve had a situation at work and I need you back there right away,’ he said, putting the empty plate awkwardly on the lower shelf of the coffee table.

  It leaned on the top of the neat pile of ladies’ magazines.

  ‘What kind of situation sir?’ Aya answered, as professionally as possible.

  It was hard to keep a straight face through the charade. She hoped Mada was buying it. Jack didn’t look like a station commander. He would have struggled to match up with the commander of a refuse team.

  ‘Case file on the two docks killings,’ said Commander Jack. ‘It’s essential. You were the one who filed it. I need it right away. It can’t wait.’

  Mada shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘Commander Betts. You need to understand my daughter is a very important person. This really is most inconvenient. She needs her rest now and simply cannot…’ Aya’s mother argued, eyeing the plate on top of her magazines with a grimace.

  ‘I’m sorry madam,’ Jack cut in.

  ‘But Miss Kaleem is still employed by CURE and this matter simply cannot wait. Privilege doesn’t excuse someone from duties,’ Commander Jack stated.

  The lies flowed off his tongue expertly, deflecting and dismissing Mada. Aya would have been impressed if she hadn’t already mastered the art herself. Jack picked up the tea cup by its delicate handle, and held it clumsily between a finger and thumb. Some of the tea had spilled into the white saucer and it was draining down the side of the white cup. It was dripping onto the brocade of the sofa, as he gulped down the last of the drink. He stubbed his cigar out in the remains of the tea in the saucer and put the cup with the tea still dripping off the side onto the white lace doily. It absorbed the weak tea, spreading outwards. Mada had gone white and looked like she might faint. That’s it, got to get him out of here as fast as possible before mother has heart failure. Aya’s mind raced. Jack wanted her to take him to the station? That didn’t seem to make sense. Maybe it was just a ruse to get her out of the house where they could talk, she thought. Jack was so accomplished at lying she couldn’t tell if he was genuine about it or not. Perhaps he has news about Max. Perhaps he’s gotten him out.

  ‘It’s okay mother,’ she said, apologetically. ‘I know the file Commander Betts is talking about. It’s important and I’ve mislaid it. It’s my fault. I must go. It won’t take long,’ Aya offered.

  Mada looked unconvinced.

  ‘I’ll phone Ajit,’ she said, ‘He can take you down there and bring you back. I don’t want you travelling alone again.’

  Jack cut her off again, stopping her as she reached for the telephone.

  ‘I’m sorry madam. But we really can’t wait. I’ll take her and bring her back. She’ll be fine. Besides, it’s Sergeant Benson’s case. Do you know Max Benson?’ Jack said slyly.

  Aya’s heart skipped a beat as Jack tormented her.

  ‘This case is his priority and mine. He’s waiting for us and that file down at the station. You how much he thinks of you. He’d be upset if his favourite secretary was impeding his investigation,’ Jack said, directing the reply to her mother.

  Aya stopped, stunned as Jack grinned wolfishly at her.

  Her mother shot her an evil glare, ‘Who is Max?’ she sniped.

  Aya swallowed hard. I just don’t believe it, she thought.

  ‘He’s just a friend...another colleague at work.’

  This was going to turn bad fast. One more word from Jack could easily lead to dirty details of her affair with Max. Her mother might die.

  Aya surrendered.

  ‘Yes Sir. You’re right,’ she said, gritting her teeth, ‘There’s no time to lose. We’ll go right now.’

  Jack got up and brushed more ash and crumbs off his shirt. He picked his dirty coat and hat up from the arm of the sofa they had left a little brown mark. Mada was watching him in horror as he ground the rest of the dried dirt into her heirloom rug. Some of the little twists of cotton that bordered the rug, unwound under his shoes, like sweet pea vines being strangled to death.

  ‘Bye mum. I’ll be as fast as I can,’ offered Aya in an apologetic tone.

  ‘Thank you for the tea and biscuits Ma’am,’ Jack said, putting h
is hat on.

  Mada tried to smile, but it came out as a forced grin. Her eyes locked onto Aya’s and she guessed she would have some serious explaining to do later. Aya pictured exactly what her mother would do the very second they were out of the front door. She would be down on her hands and knees, worshipping the rug, cleaning every microscopic piece of dirt out of existence. The doily would have to go: forever. The magazines replaced and the cup and saucer disinfected. Aya imagined she would have the windows open for a week to get rid of the smoke and probably have the curtains down for cleaning. As for the sofa: that would have all the covers off and in the wash by the time she got back. She was glad she was going out of the door with Jack, but not about the reason why.

  Aya fought to contain her fury as Jack settled into the driver’s seat of his wreck of a car. He swung the passenger door open and brushed a pile of used cigar butts off the seat. They left a carpet of ash.

  ‘Well? Get in,’ he added, without bothering to further attend to the mess of a seat.

  ‘How could you do that?’ she stormed.

  ‘Careful. Don’t want to lose your temper now,’ Jack nodded towards the window of her house.

  Mada was peering out from behind the nets, watching them. Aya followed his gaze and then sighed, changing her expression to a sweet smile. She gave a little wave to her mother and got in the car putting on her best happy expression. Jack gave a small wave and started the engine, pulling the car out of the space and up the street. As soon as the apartment was out of sight Aya turned on him.

  ‘You pig!,’ she cried, ‘How could you come to my house like that and lie to my mother! You’ve ruined her stuff. I’ll never live it down! And mentioning Max? What am I supposed to say? When Aarif finds out he will go mad. Where the hell have you been all this time anyhow?’ she ranted.

  Jack ignored her and drove one handed, lighting another cigar. Aya’s budding tears were stifled by the huge clouds of smoke Jack puffed out. It was a miracle he could see the road through it. The Jack-mobile screeched around another corner heading for the station.