CHAPTER 6
Ethan Gord couldn't be sure how many days the rubbish had been scattered across the floor but, judging by the smell, it had to be more than a week. He weaved his way through a sea of the unwanted, screwing up his face in disgust, as he went down the narrow passageway, keeping as close as he could to the middle of the corridor, avoiding the grime on the windows, highlighted by the tenuous light of the street lamps outside. His eyes saw something move on the floor, and he prayed that it was nothing more than a draught stirring the filth.
Since leaving his son Wilfred's mansion he'd gone from one extreme to the other. Back there, he could have eaten off the floor, only to come to this giant latrine, where it seemed impossible that any human being could survive.
He turned a corner and stopped in front of a rotting door. A crack ran from high on the door and zigzagged through the ceiling. He covered his hand with his sweater sleeve before turning the door handle. The door was locked. He called a couple of times but no one answered. He kicked the door and it opened with a creak and came off its hinges. The wood was so rotten that even a child could have knocked it down.
He entered a flat that unfortunately mirrored the corridor outside. He continued through new dirt and rubbish, past a window half-covered by ripped and faded curtains. He walked as lightly as he could across the filthy carpet that covered the floor at the entrance and past several chairs that he would swear no one would ever sit in.
He wanted to go back to the mansion and abandon this horrible place. It turned his stomach just being here. But that was not a problem that concerned him too much, if it wasn't like this, he wouldn't be fifty years younger than his son.
He finally arrived in the living room, kicked the door open to avoid touching it, and found what he had come in search of.
"Ethan, it's you," a man in a wheelchair in the centre of the room exclaimed. The chair was made of dark wood and metal, its back higher than normal. Otis Cade was thin, of medium height with sparse brown hair. He had a permanently sad look in his eyes that Ethan had seen get worse in recent months. "If I'd known it was you, I would've come to the door. You've caught me by surprise. I was just about to go."
"What's all this shit here, Otis? I know you're short of time, but this is too much."
"You said it. Time," Otis agreed. "I've got very little, and my affairs are of the maximum importance, as you know only too well."
"I know," Ethan said. "I've seen Big Ben. The end's near."
"Then you'll understand that I have more important things to think about," Otis said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "You're the great champion. If you've seen Big Ben, tell me, what's your opinion?"
"I can't get involved and you know it," Ethan confessed. Despite only knowing each other for around four years, Otis and he were great friends. They were the type of people who could sum the other's situation up immediately. "If it was up to me–"
"I'm losing," Otis stopped Ethan. "It's not necessary to talk, it's obvious and there's no point denying the truth."
"I'm sorry," was all Ethan could say. The surroundings didn't exactly encourage enthusiasm.
Otis lifted himself out of the wheelchair and covered the distance between him and Ethan. He rested his hands on his shoulders and looked at him understandingly.
"It's all right, friend. I'll take care of this. I still haven't lost. You never know, maybe I can finish the Whites off and win," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry about your son. Cancer is a terrible thing. At least he's had a long life. Seventy years is a fair innings. How did you get him to accept the truth? I wouldn't be able to believe a man who's younger than me telling me he's my father."
"It wasn't easy. And even now I'm not sure he's accepted everything. But I don't blame him. It's something that I should never have revealed. Really, if he hadn't been sick I would never have done it. I was only trying to help him."
"How are you going to do it? Cancer is impossible…" Otis froze for an instant, his mouth open and his eyes narrowing slightly on understanding what his friend was thinking. "No. Don't do it. It's madness!"
"I can't let him die without doing anything. He's my son."
"I can't believe that you're even considering this. Not for a moment. Have you already done it? Have you told him everything?"
"No, you know I can't, but I've given him a clue. He'll get it."
"It's not one of your best ideas. He's your son, Ethan. It's not a problem for you. But I don't understand you putting him on the line."
"It'll be his decision if he does it. I'm just giving him the option."
"You're talking like Tedd and Todd," Otis advised him.
"They want to stop you. Don't pay any attention to them, Otis. Tedd and Todd are only trying to influence you."
"There's no choice. There's more than my life on the line. And I'm losing. If Tedd and Todd throw me a line, why wouldn't I take it?"
"Because they're putting something together. They don't do anything without a reason. Think it through, Otis."
"I've already done that and their idea is correct. It suits me. The final decision is mine and nobody else's. They're the rules. Besides, I still haven't used Earl Black. It's time to put that giant into the ring. I'm not going to let the Whites finish me off." Otis sounded scared. "You should understand that better than anyone else."
"I understand, but there are different ways of doing things. Maybe you shouldn't use Earl Black this time."
"It's easy for you to say," Otis said, his shoulders slumping, his voice now little more than a whisper. "There are those like you, or my rival, who got into this for a reasonably noble cause. That's not true in my case. I'm the same selfish bastard I've always been. And now I have to accept what they've given me because of that. Because, even though I know I deserve to lose, and face everything that comes my way afterwards, a pig like me always finds a way out. They know that as well as I do. Goodbye, my friend. I hope to see you again, even if it's only to say a final goodbye."
And with that Otis turned and stumbled away. When he got to the wheelchair he leaned an arm on the chair and looked back. "It's the same one you used. Isn't that right?" he asked, running his hand over one of the wheels.
"No, I used your opponent, Ashley's. You've still got time to find another way."
"It's too late," he said, sitting carefully down in the chair. "My fear drives me on. I've got to go. See you soon, old friend."
And, staring Ethan in the eyes, he slipped his right hand to a point on the chair and pulled a mechanism, and disappeared without a trace.
# # #
Smiling arrogantly, Jake placed the ball carefully on the penalty mark and threw a mocking smile at Earl Black, the other team's goalkeeper.
He was about to convert the penalty into a goal. He stepped back several paces from the ball, Earl Black watching him like a hawk. A fact that didn't bother the forward one bit because he reckoned Earl was overrated and he put the good defence record of Earl's team down to the midfielders, not big Earl guarding the posts.
"Show him you're the best, Jake," a teammate called out. "He's too big an elephant to move quick. Put a cannonball past him."
"Don't worry," Jake assured him, "this match is ours."
There were only five minutes left and neither team had scored. That made this kick crucial. It meant victory, as long as he could get the ball past Earl.
Jake was the leading goal scorer in the league and had no intention of tarnishing his reputation by missing a sitter like this. The only thing that the goalkeeper had in his favour was his size. He filled half the goal area. He looked more like a bodybuilder than a soccer player but his teammates wouldn't swap him for any other.
The tension was palpable, the crowd and the players watching Jake. He turned and steadied himself. The referee blew his whistle and Jake ran towards the ball. Earl waited motionless beneath the posts. Jake decided to go right. The gap seemed bigger there. Suddenly, something distracted him. Just as he was about to shift his ey
es from the goalkeeper to the ball, he could have sworn that Earl was wearing an elegant black suit. He must be wrong. It was just some weird sort of illusion. He was seeing things. The ball! Concentrate on the ball. And he went into the kick without realizing that he was about to score the easiest goal of his life.
He kicked it perfectly, just as he'd wanted, but the roar of the crowd was different than at other times. It was a roar of shock, not jubilation.
The huge goalkeeper had vanished into thin air. There was no trace of him; he had disappeared before the eyes of hundreds of spectators.
Jake approached the referee and requested him to update the scoreboard at once.
# # #
As if she was putting the finishing touches on a work of art, Carol finished painting her fleshy lips with her favourite carmine. She traced the line of her mouth and then studied herself in the mirror, pleased with the result.
A chubby woman of around fifty walked in and the noise of the bar outside invaded the ladies' toilet. Carol had decided to keep Aidan waiting a little longer. She wanted to be just right when she went back out.
She looked at her reflection again, combing her hair now, going over what she and the detective had just been talking about. He'd seemed angry with her at first, and if it hadn't been for Lance, she doubted the conversation would have lasted very long. She had Aidan pretty well worked out, knew he'd been through a lot and also that it had made him the angry man he was now. She had to get to him somehow. The age difference didn't mean anything to her.
The first time she saw him in court she'd been attracted to him straight away. And when the defence lawyer had tried to discredit him, she'd felt a pang of sympathy for Aidan. There was no way he could have done half the things that the lawyer had claimed that day. She was on his side when he looked like getting out of the witness box and sorting the pompous little bastard of a lawyer out. She'd liked seeing that flash of temper.
The flow of her recollections was interrupted suddenly when she discovered something black and enormous behind her reflection in the mirror. The other women in the toilet began to scream, bumping into each other in their haste to get through the door. The noise outside filled the bathroom again and for a second Carol was disorientated. She turned around to find out what had caused all the commotion and found herself face to face with the biggest man she'd ever seen. He wasn't as tall as Aidan, but he was a lot broader. His arms were twice the size of the detective's. He was wearing an elegant black suit that matched his hair and eyes. His neck was huge, which suggested the body of a weightlifter under the well-cut suit.
"Filthy pervert," the tubby woman screamed, belting him with her handbag.
"Calm down, lady," the stranger said, lifting his huge arm to shield himself from the flurry of blows.
"How did this gorilla get in here?" she demanded, echoing the thoughts of the others still there.
More women raced out of the toilet, crashing into a crowd that was building outside, while Carol tried to regain her composure, convinced that this huge man in black had simply materialized in front of her eyes. He hadn't entered through the door, or crawled out from behind a toilet door. He'd simply appeared.
Carol calmed down when she saw Aidan's face in the crowd, "Get out of the way," the detective roared, elbowing and kneeing his way through, until the owner barred his way, demanding to know who he was. "Police," he said, flashing his badge. Inside the toilet, the woman was still laying into the giant in black. "Enough of that," Aidan said, "And you, muscles. Stay right where you are."
"As you say," the woman said, calming down as Aidan led her out of the room.
"Are you all right?" he asked Carol, turning around, obviously concerned.
"I'm fine," she said, holding herself back from throwing her arms around him.
"Everyone else all right?" he asked the other four women, who were looking at Aidan and the man in black wondering who to fear most. One of them nodded.
He turned his attention to the intruder.
"Keep quiet until I get to you. That way we won't waste any time working this out." He turned back to the others. "OK, tell me what happened."
They all looked at Carol.
Five minutes later, after listening to all their different versions, Aidan didn't have the foggiest notion of what had happened. And the worst thing of all was that Carol couldn't help him either. Her version of the incident was the vaguest of the lot. The only thing he had clear was that the giant hadn't walked through the bar to get to the toilet. Nobody would've missed him in the bar. He decided to send the women outside, but Carol refused to leave.
"OK, your turn, weightlifter," he let the man in black know when the women had gone. The giant watched him carefully, without blinking. "Would you like to tell me how and why you're in the ladies'?"
"By mistake. I was looking for the men's."
"How come no one saw you come in?"
"I don't know," he said strangely, as if he genuinely didn't know. "Maybe they were concentrating on their make-up."
Carol objected. "That's a lie. You appeared out of nowhere."
"Um, you mustn't have heard me come in," he supposed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "That's why you were shocked."
"Nothing of the sort. You simply materialized right there, behind me," she indicated, pointing to a spot on the toilet floor.
"Very well," the giant said, his expression changing. "I just appeared out of nowhere."
"Careful what you say, smart arse," Aidan warned him. "This isn't the moment for wisecracks."
"What do you propose to do?" the man in black asked. "Hold me for materializing in a ladies' toilet?"
"I could make up a half a dozen infractions and invite you back to the cells for a few days if I want to. Can I see some ID."
The intruder remained quiet for a few seconds, as if he was testing Aidan's patience. Then he took a wallet out of his suit pocket.
Aidan snatched it and then dropped it on the floor when he read the name on the driving licence.
"Black. Earl Black. Is that your name?" he asked, his eyes wide open, his tone nervous. His muscles had tensed, involuntarily, as if he was expecting something to happen.
Carol was just as surprised as Aidan and imagined exactly what the detective was thinking.
Earl Black looked at them both strangely, the expression on his face showing that he had no idea why his name meant so much to them. He noticed that Aidan had tensed, and followed suit.
"Where did you get this suit from?" Aidan asked him.
"I bought it."
"Has it got anything to do with your name?"
"What, the colour…?"
"Do you know a William Black?" Aidan went on without waiting for an answer about the colour.
He had to ask that question whether it made any sense or not. What finding a man in the ladies' toilet had to do with another, the other side of the city without a head, was beyond him. But the whole day had been weird. He waited for Earl's answer, concentrating more on whether the big man was lying than the logic of his words.
"No, I don't know him."
"He's got your surname. He could be a relative."
"No way," Earl answered flatly.
"Why's that?"
"I don't have any family."
Aidan sighed, resigned now to not understanding anything. He looked for any connection in the new silence. There was something there that he couldn't put his finger on, doing the rounds in his head.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked Earl Black, grabbing him by the arm as he made for the door.
"I'm off. I don't propose to answer any more questions about someone I don't know. I told you, I lost my way. Nothing's happened. No laws have been broken. And I've already lost too much time," he said, opening the door and marching through the crowd outside.
Aidan took Carol by the waist and they followed through the aisle the big man had cut through the crowd.
It was dark outside, the air fresh. Better
than the stuffy confines of the bar they'd just left. Aidan lit a cigarette and they walked in silence to the car. Carol wanted to tell him that he shouldn't have let Earl Black go, but she knew there was nothing to hold him on.
Getting to Aidan's car, she doubted he could get it to start. But it purred sweetly enough when he turned the key and not long after that they pulled up in front of her house. She felt like a girl on her first date waiting for the first kiss.
But Aidan didn't oblige. He didn't even bother to stop the motor. He just lit another cigarette, the thought she had in her mind far from his.
"You sure you're all right?" he asked.
"Fine," she answered sharply, getting out.
"Carol," he called after her, "we'll visit James Black tomorrow. Ring me when you're free."
He didn't bother to say anything else. She was already too far away.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 7
Punctuality was one of the many differences between Aidan Zack and Lance Norwood. While Lance arrived on time every day, Aidan treated alarm clocks with disdain.
Faithful to his morning ritual, Lance draped his coat over the back of his chair, turned the computer on, and went to the coffee machine, where most of the other detectives assembled each morning to talk the previous day over. Football was on their minds this morning.
"He just disappeared," one of them told the rest. "Just when he was about to take the penalty."
"Did he kick the goal?"
"Are you nuts? There was no one there to stop the ball. The goalkeeper vanished in front of our eyes."
"So early and you're already talking shit," Lance informed them, cutting his way through to the machine.
"What I'm telling you is true," the sergeant went on.
"John, you've made up plenty of whoppers," Lance reminded him, coffee in hand. "Remember the two foreign medical students?"
The others laughed, forcing John on to the defensive.
The Big Ben mystery Page 7