The captain, possessing a sharp set of eyes himself, was the first to notice the fatigue in the detectives' postures, and as such, they were beckoned into his office. Word had travelled quickly about his employees' actions the previous day, though he wanted nothing more than for the detectives to lead themselves into his trap so that he could reprimand them for their actions.
“I'm assuming that you were investigating a lead last night rather than partying at some club?” Asked the captain hopefully, sweeping his greying mane backwards as he waited for an explanation.
“Yep.” Nodded Mike confidently, “How's this for a night out; We saved you a hell of a lot of time cleaning up a big mess later.” He nodded towards Andy, whom in turn reached into his blazer pocket for a folded piece of paper that contained the details of the planned robbery on the jewellery store.
The eldest man of the three took the paper, unfolding it carefully before placing it upon his desk.
“This is all very well,” He spoke in an almost scolding voice, “But how does this help you with the murder case that you're supposed to be sat on?”
“We're... Not sure sir,” Admitted Andy, “But they're linked somehow. We know that for sure.”
“Fine. But I expect progress. You better than anyone should know that the first few days of any case are the most vital, and instead you're here foiling future robberies and causing chaos in some damn freak show. And yes, I did hear about that.”
Mike smirked, hiding his expression by pretending to itch his upper lip. Truth be told, he was rather proud of his cunning stunt the previous day, even more so now that it had stirred enough trouble that the Chinese whispers had somehow passed along to his boss. The captain, though, seemed dead set on ruining Mike's mood, dumping an array of tasks upon him.
“Since you've got some new friends,” He spoke, “Why don't you do a little background check on your little friends and see if anything comes up?”
Andy, truth be told, was thankful for the chance to mope about in the office for the day in no small part due to his lack of sleep the previous night. And so, himself and Mike dropped themselves behind the screen of a computer terminal, their bloodshot eyes struggling to adjust to the flickering display as Mike released a contagious yawn, his body expanding into the area around him as he stretched loosely. It seemed as if the computer network was running as slow as ever, the detectives being forced to wait for several minutes after they had painstakingly needed several attempts to key in their search quotas.
In fact, in the time that it had taken for the search results to come through, Andy had uncharacteristically nodded off. He required a nudge in the ribs from his colleague to get back on the task, and as a profile juddered onto the screen word by word, the two of them were in for a shock; Their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman did in fact reside in the states, and must have flown home occasionally for the events such as the previous day's comic-con. Andy's mind rung back to what the other vigilantes were discussing about the crew originating in the states; perhaps Mr. Lawson had somehow tricked the vigilantes into helping he and his team of crooks break into the jewellery store. It was time to pay him a visit. He owned a home in the city; perhaps he could be found there. At least, it was the detectives' best bet.
Draping his jacket over his shoulder, Andy yawned once more before following his colleague to the parking lot. Mike stood strictly by the side of the squad car, his arms outstretched.
“I don't think you're gonna drive like that.” He spoke firmly, his colleague responding with a brief nod and very little in the way of argument – nothing more than a discontent grunt – as he handed Mike the key fob.
“Wow.” Mike continued to mutter under his breath, “He must be knackered if he trusts me with the car keys.”
With three times the power of his regular run-around at the tip of his toes, Mike gleefully kicked the engine of the BMW sedan into life, admittedly a little disappointed that today's route would not allow him to put the vehicle's V6 engine to good use. Instead, he found himself sitting at traffic-light after traffic-light, gesturing at other drivers in frustration as Andy leaned against the door column with his eyes restfully shut.
They eventually found themselves at a row of terraced Victorian houses in the northern region of London, allowing the car to mount the curb before they exited the vehicle. The home in question was the thirteenth along on the right-hand side of the estate and had a few concrete steps at the foot of the front door. As they grew closer, signs of a forced entry had become apparent. The doorknob had been violently battered, and the lock smashed in, allowing Andy to nudge the door inwards with his shoulder. All at once, the older detective seemed to reach full alertness, his eyes widening, and his hairs standing on end. Some nasty people had been here... A cruel aurora lingered in the air, much like an angered spirit that turned the man's blood cold as he carefully reached into his pocket for his radio, releasing a short broadcast for backup before he made his way deeper into the house.
The ground floor seemed like any regular house would; The TV was blaring, and a slight breeze filtered through an opened upper window, sending ripples through the lilac curtains that rested suspended from a wooden rail. On the face of it, nothing had been disturbed. Obviously, whomever had entered the property did not come here to search for something; they had come here for a serving of cold-blooded violence, or worse yet, murder or abduction.
“Andy, come up here!” Called Mike from the upper floor. “Chris was never our guy.”
Andy followed the source of Mike's voice to the master bedroom at the end of the landing hall on the upper floor. The curtains had been drawn, and the room had been plunged into darkness, though Mike pulled them aside to allow light into the room. On the floor was their Spiderman, albeit not in costume. In casual attire, Chris lay flopped on the floor, a pool of fresh – probably even still warm – crimson blood. There was so much of the liquid that it even took the detectives several moments to locate the source.
“Well... Would you have a look at that,” Muttered Andy seriously as he rolled the body over. Much like the first pair of victims they had found, Chris had a seeping wound below his chin. The murders were related. Andy's predatory instinct kicked in, though Mike, without missing a beat, pulled him back by the collar before he could make any attempt to chase down the suspect.
“You don't want to mess with these guys,” Mike spoke, shaking his head, “On any other day, I'd have let you go for a jog.”
“Mike, this body is fresh. Less than an hour hold, maybe. I can catch these guys.”
“No. Even if you did, they're too good – they haven't left enough evidence to hold them up in court. It'll be just like the last crime scene. We'll only be able to hold them in the lock-up for forty-eight hours, you of all people know that.”
Andy sighed begrudgingly, knowing that his colleague was correct. They needed to approach this one with caution and cunning.
Chapter Five
“A big guy like Chris...” Began Mike, “Only someone truly talented in the martial arts could take down a guy his size. Either that, or another extremely big guy. But geez, if this colossus of a guy got taken down, how big would the other brute have had to been?”
“Yes,” Responded Andy, “I'm gonna put my money down on the martial arts angle. We need to pay a visit to our guys again.”
Luckily for the detectives, they had been invited back to discuss more details of the plan that very evening, though they had to tread carefully with the chief already biting at their ankles.
Even more fortunately, perhaps, was the fact that tonight's meeting had Mike and Andy dressing in attire that was slightly more suitable for walking around Soho in than the costumes that they had been forced to wear the previous night. With very little left to do during the day, they kept their boss happy by taking part in various petty chores around the office to wind down their time. That said, they did not want to make the chief suspicious, so they did allow themselves the odd hour – or two – to
wind back and have a general catch-up over a cup of coffee. It was a dull, long winded day for the duo, though as they clocked out of the office for the evening, it was finally time to part-take in a slice of the action, unbeknown to the captain, whom they had managed to safeguard their plan from throughout the evening.
So, in the golden, smog-polluted sunset in the midst of the London Rush-hour, the two detectives found themselves right back at it again; strolling through between the graffitied walls of Soho's backstreets. They eventually came to a small burger joint – much to Mike's delight – where they had agreed to meet the rest of their team. They sat themselves in a small, grease-stained booth and glanced at the menu, albeit one of the two detectives a little more enthusiastically than the other. With his tastes, more fine-tuned to the more exotic delicacies that life had to offer, Andy turned his nose up at the menu but continued to browse until the tattooed man and his accomplice entered the bar.
“Chin up,” Whispered Andy, using the cover of the menu to shield his mouth as he spoke, “Let's play hard to get and see if we can get anything out of them that way.”
Mike did not respond, other than with a slight flicker of his eye, though Andy knew very well that his partner had understood his directions.
As the men sat down, the feint odour of alcohol lifted from one of the men's breath, leaving Andy his way in.
“Jesus Christ,” He spoke with a gruff tone, “Have you been drinking!? What kind of whack job drinks before discussing something of this magnitude?”
One of the men started laughing jokingly, as if Andy had dropped a humorous punchline, though the detective himself approached a rather stern frown.
“Is this funny to you?” He continued, “Because I take this very seriously; getting these guys off the street.”
“Very well,” Responded the men, dulling their amusement in an attempt to satisfy the newest vigilante pair at the table. “Well, what would you like to know?”
“Well... My first question is; what kind of defence does your crew work with? Do you stick with karate and that, or do you... y'know, take the more direct approach and carry a little protection?”
“Humph,” Spoke the scarred man, “Martial arts? They're for pansies. Do you think I got this scar chopping a plank of wood in two? No, I got it in a damn knife fight.”
“Right...” Spoke Mike, following Andy's lead, “So a knife in my sock it is. Now, it's all very well knowing your plans, but I want names – It's all very well telling me how to punch someone, you know, but I want to know who I'm punching, and whether they're capable of throwing any right hooks back my way.”
“Fair enough. I'll tell what you need to know; The two main boys are Park, and Sung, Young. They run the gang, the rest of their squad changes from time to time, depending on who has managed to piss them off that week, if you catch my meaning.”
Mike nodded with interest as he listened to the man speak, his mind subconsciously making mental notes of every piece of information that he was fed. Mike was satisfied that he had all the information that he would need from the gang, and nodded farewell to conclude the meeting – but not before he had slipped away from Andy's attention for a few moments to order himself yet another juicy burger.
“You wanna watch yourself on those, mate,” Warned Andy as they made their way out into the street, “I'm sure we'll have plenty of jogging through London to do when we crack this case.”
“And?” Responded Mike defensively, wiping the remainder of the juices from his chin, “I'll burn off the calories when we do!”
They had finished their task of extracting information with almost disappointing ease, and with the last flicker of sunlight still in the sky, the meeting had finished much earlier than expected. But still; they now knew that this group of men were not the murderers – They very much doubted that either of them could have taken down Chris using brute force alone, and they seemed to be talking honestly when dismissing the idea of using martial arts, even going as far as condemning it as “Chinese bollocks that only works in the films.”
They also had a pair of very interesting names; Asian in origin, though the men had apparently been brought up native to the states. Perhaps their heritage would have tempted these two men to learn the arts, however – which would make them the prime suspects in this case. Perhaps they had been tipped off about the group, as well as Chris' relationship with the two vigilante men. Which meant that Andy and Mike would have to move quickly – if they dallied about for too long, then their cover would be blown and these fugitives would learn of their identities.
It was time to head back to base and extract information from the city's underworld – all via Jason, the on-shift computer expert – whom had a knack of digging up hard to find information through a series of – as he called them - “Questionable, yet entirely ethical” methods. The two detectives found themselves sitting behind his desk as he drew out his own personal laptop; which shone like a knight in shining armour amongst a sea of blackened rocks in the computer suite. They watched on as his fingers hurried into a frantic blur, the air around them booming with repetitive clicks of the keyboard. Yet despite Jason's hurricane-like speed, his eyes remained set upon the screen, calm, composed, and as steady as any other time.
After several moments, he kicked his tan leather loafers over the desk and thumped his fist against the printer to prompt it to whirr for several moments before eventually spluttering out a double paged document; an encoded correspondence less than twenty-four hours ago, regarding an unlicensed martial art fighting club in a warehouse beside a few of the city's notoriously rough dockyards. As Andy scrolled through the pages, Mike watched on, seeing his colleague’s eyes alight with the burning passion of what would undoubtedly be a dazzling idea.
“Hey Mike,” The older of the two whispered enthusiastically, “You up for rounding up a couple of folk? I need you to get them out of my way. I'm going to take their places at this... little gym. See, this gym looks like it's been set up recently – the guys from America also got here recently. You get my drift?”
“So, you're going out there just on a whim? These guys could kill you, I'm not sure it's a plan I approve of.”
“No... not just a whim. Look, the underground world is full of guys who know another guy. Even if they're not a t this place, somebody will know something – even if they only know where I can get myself a nice bamboo cane with a big sword inside it. That's not the kind of thing you can sneak through customs.”
“Granted,” Nodded Mike, “But I want you to have backup on-call. And you know me Andy, I don't like backup unless I think that shit's really gonna go up the walls.”
Andy nodded, making sure he was at ease with his decision before he flipped his phone up towards his cheekbone. On speed-dial was the number of his older brother – Andy had in fact graduated a martial arts academy with him as teenagers, and the two of them had finished their class as the most fearsome duo in the group. He hoped that his brother would accompany him to the unlicensed fighting club – together, they stood a chance at earning the respect of the people that had set up the makeshift club. At least, enough to get them to give out some information, anyway. It was a brief phone-call, but as a corporate banker, Andy's brother – Ted – lead a rather uneventful life in dire need of some form of enlightenment. In fact, he too wished that he could have joined the police force, though pastures that seemed greener and more lucrative at the time had dragged him towards a career path a lot more financially beneficial than that of his younger brother.
Still, it was an opportunity that Ted was delighted for; a little adrenaline rush to liven up his daily life. In fact, it turned out that the office was closed for refurbishment for the following week, so the diary was free for him and Andy to rock up at the docks. Meanwhile, Mike was put on the case of the two men whose identities Andy and Ted would assume, ensuring that they would not be able to turn up at the warehouse location before the detective and his sibling could.
As the sun
sparked the sky at the very next sunrise, Andy and Ted arrived at the docks, an army of highly equipped policemen waiting below the ground in the tube station below them. They had been instructed to invade the property should the two men not return within the half-hour. Although the sun flared upon the dazzling cloudless canvas of the heavens, the waters of the Thames were murky enough that its rays were not reflecting upon its rippling surface. The musty smell of the rusted machinery mixed with the muddy banks and oil filled the air as the heart-beats of the men clattered against their rib-cages. This would not be a simple test; it would be a matter of life and death, if the stories of these such places rang true; the principles of honour and respect largely practised in the stereotypical martial arts gyms were not valued here.
As they strode into the warehouse, that became more apparent than ever – the more traditional fighting mats were replaced by uneven concrete slabs for flooring, and a younger, more frightened looking man frantically swept away what appeared to be a pool of blood from the last fight. Upon arrival, Andy and Ted were patted down by a man in his mid twenties, with sharp, fiery facial features that made him look fierce enough before they had even been pitted against each other.
“You are here to learn?” Growled the man menacingly.
“Yes – we're -”
“I don't care about names. This isn't a social meeting. You will fight with Zeke over there,” He spoke nodding towards a hooded man lurking beneath a dangling metal beam to the far side of the building.
Fatal Reunion: A Very Unorthodox Murder Mystery Page 4