#1. You are standing in a clearing.
You are standing in a clearing.
I say clearing, it hasn't been cleaned nor clear for years. There are empty soup cans, coke cans, french moulin rouge dancers and south american birds, six letters, begins with T, lying strewn around, and berlinner sized newspapers flit around in the light southwesterly breeze, which also carries with it the heady odour of cat piss.
You can hear a radio playing what some would call music, and somewhere a TV has been left on casting the blueish glow of night time programming on the building opposite.
You stand facing a wheely bin infront of a poster for a "gentlemans' entertainment venue", peeling at the edges, and showcasing a girl who probably never was, nor never shall be an exotic dancer, but you purr at the thought of it anyway.
The clearing has exits running N,S,W and one of those american fire exit ladders which you only see in films, and you feel looks strangely out of place here, but oddly compelling. You pad down your pockets, and can feel your wallet, a mobile phone, some keys and a package of which you're not sure of its contents.
The only thing you can remember about arriving here is the phrase "A SIXTH TEEPEE, NORM!", which you immediatly recognise as an anagram - but frankly can't be bothered to solve.
You stand awaiting your mind's next suggestion to act upon.
#2. The Pink Kitten.
After less than a few moments passing, you take another cursary glance at the poster. Something arouses within you. Not within your pants, but something a little deeper - almost like a memory being evoked from the dark but as yet unavailable recesses of your mind.
You walk over to the poster and take a closer look. "Pink Kittens".
Hmm.. you think.. it is ringing a bell, but nothing so loud that you'd remember any of the kittens themselves.
You look at the girl on the poster. If anyone were watching, a dirt stained vagrant standing infront of a lifesize picture of a half naked girl, they'd probably think nothing of it - Pink Kittens was one of the city's most popular clubs, so the poster says, and the girl is certainly high class, not the sort of lady you'd have the chance to meet in your current state, and probably not the sort of girl who'd grace such an establishment either, but it worked for the advertisers, and it works for you.
You scan the rest of the detail of the poster. A phone number, an address and the name of the company who owned the Pink Kitten. Not sure whether the Kittens mean anything to you yet, you pull out your mobile to keep the number for later, but as you fumble around in your coat pocket to reach at the phone and pull it out, the other package falls out and lands with a squelch on the pavement beside you, and unrolls a little. As you stoop down to pick up the package, a noise startles you from behind, the rumble of a car engine revving at the end of the alley leading to the clearing from the North. You look up from your hunched position, and see the headlights flicker on, illuminating your surroundings clearly, but half blinding you in the process. You grasp at the package, and consider your options.
The clearing has exits N,S,W, and the fire escape leading upwards. You are carrying the mobile phone, wallet and unknown package. You're desperatly trying to remember the details you saw on the poster, whilst waiting for your mind to suggest the next move.
#3. A fall from grace.
The lights' vehicle continue to bear down on you and as the source of the light starts drawing nearer and nearer, your gut tells you you're in danger. Grasping the package, you stumble over your own feet and fall fowards, your heart skipping a beat and you pull yourself back up and scramble towards the fire escape ladder.
Its a few feet above your head and and you jump up and reach for the bottom rung, a cat startles from the approaching car and runs across in front of you. You jump up again and grab the ladder, your weight pulling it down as you try and climb up, as if you're moving nowhere.
The ladder moves faster downwards than you do up, and you crash on the floor landing on your knees. The jarring crunch of your bones into the tarmac shakes you through, but you're running on adrenaline, and the potentially rational fear of the car still rolling towards your escape route propels you up the wrought iron steps.
Hand over hand over hand over hand, your legs don't seem to be able to keep pace with how fast you're scrabbling upwards, but your mind doesn't seem to care, and you pull yourself upwards. You've no doubt that whoever is driving the car saw you dive for the fire escape, but thinking clearly isn't something you're trying to do right now, and you just know deep within you that up is the only way on.
Hand over hand over hand over air... you hesitate, usually the cold feel of the ladder's rung would be pressing into your palm as you climbed, but you realise you've swiped and grabbed hold of nothing - toppling forwards in the process. Bending double over the ladder you inadvertantly kick with your feet as they are still carrying up and onwards, but it has the effect of simply propelling you forwards through the gap were the rung should have been and you fall further forwards until your centre of gravity is past the point of no return, leaving gravity itself to pull you back down to the road below. You don't have a moment's thought to realise you're dropping before hitting a sack of bin bags filled with food and household waste which burst underneath your weight, but don't provide enough padding to completely break your fall, and you wheeze as the wind is knocked out of you.
You lie staring face upwards, wedged between the wall and the wheely bin, half covered in rubbish, half unconscious. You're just aware enough to sense the car pulling up beside you, two men get out and start to climb the ladder.
"They're climbing the ladder. Christ, they're climbing the ladder, they can't have seen me fall" your mind screams, but your body isn't in any state to respond. You lie perfectly still, unable to do little else.
You are lying behind a wheelie bin, under cover of darkness. Two men are directly above you looking around. A car sits with its engine running next to you. Whilst you wait for your body to come back to use, your mind starts to plot the next step.
#4. The Great Escape.
Just a matter of feet above, you can hear the sound of the two men rattling up the fire escape, managing to traverse the missing rule which caused your quite literal downfall, and searching in vain for you. Turning your head, you look up and squint in the darkness to try and make out their movements, but all you can really take in is your malodourous bedding of burst refuse bags.
Suddenly, a scream rings out - someone in the building no doubt shocked at seeing two burlies clambering around outside her window. Screaming and screaming, the lady keeps crying out as if the men were horrific fantasy creatures intent on eating her kidneys in a 80s sci-fi TV movie, but then strange "thwup" and the scream stops.
The lack of screaming brings you a little closer to lucidity, in time to hear another two "thwups". You've seen enough films to recognise the sound as a silenced gun of some sort, and usually a scream which ends in a "thwup" means the girl isn't going to ever scream again. The blood drains from your face. If this was the Wild West, he'd have three bullets left in there, but frankly you haven't a clue which side of the compass you're on, and have an inkling that modern magazines probably carry a few more than six.
Staying here waiting for two men who use somewhat heavy handed tactics to stop someone simply making a loud noise doesn't seem the most pleasant of options, so you start to pull yourself up and crawl towards the car. There's a chance that you can get in, and pull away before the men notice.
Pulling yourself through the garbage, you inch closer the car as quietly as possible, and see the door open, the car left humming. Suddenly footsteps on the metal above signify movement of your gun weilding friends, and you throw caution to the wind and throw yourself into the driver's seat.
You are in a car facing South. The engine is running. Two gunmen are on the fire escape above you, standing near a dead woman. You are carrying the mobile phone, wallet and a package of unknown content. You momentarily pause to consider your next action.
#5. The Long Drive.
You slam your foot on the accelerator before even closing the door, which swings shut as the forward motion pushes you back into the seat. A deafening crack behind you sounds as the rear window explodes from a bullet passing through the glass and planting itself into the rear seat behind you.
Flicking your head around involuntarily, you see the shattered glass strewn over the parcel shelf, leather seats and the dead man, tightly seat belted in. You turn back around and it isn't for a moment that you realise what you've seen, and check in your rear view mirror to confirm your fears.
"Oh crap" you mutter as you pull the car screeching out of the alley way on to a busier road, cutting through the traffic, dodging people crossing the road disregarding traffic lights. Not that you're upholding the safest mode of driving, but when a recently deceased is sitting just centimetres behind you and the goons, who no doubt put him in that state, just minutes behind you - road manners are not item number one on the menu.
You keep speeding forward not really sure where to go or what to do next, but you realise the first step is to get as far away from the trigger happy twins before you become the next bullet point on their list, figuratively and literally. However, swerving a stolen car with a smashed rear windscreen at these speeds is like neon to the police, and it won't be long until you're in their hands. Things are starting to get crazy, and you know that you're involved in some thing way over your head, but just don't have a clue as to what.
You're in a car driving south towards the city limits through busy streets. You have a dead body in the rear seat, and are conspicious. You have are carrying a wallet, mobile phone, mysterious package, and covered in stinking food waste. What do you do next?
#6. A change is as good as a holiday.
You decide to slow the pace a little. If you're going to get picked up by police it will be due to erratic driving alerting the police to your presence, so you drop back into lane and chill out on your Duke brothers driving style.
It gives you a little time to think, sitting in traffic. You realise that this car will probably soon be the target of a hunt, and decide it is best to ditch it. After driving for some 15 minutes, you come across a quieter section of the city, and roll into an alleyway, not too dissimilar to where all the trouble started, and pull over. You turn the ignition off, and sit staring forwards into the darkness for a little while - just trying to calm yourself.
Reaching into your pocket you pull out the package which you haven't yet had a chance to check, and slowly unravel the paper wadding. Your stomach clenches and you reveal yet another piece of the nightmare which is unfolding at each step you take. A finger, bloody at one end where severed from its owner, and pointing directly at your torso, almost accusatory in its position. The blood drains from your face, but relative to this evening's events so far, this is simply another in a long chain of questions raised.
You sigh, but as you inhale, you catch the putrid whiff of your clothing. If you're ever going to get to the bottom of this, you need to look half decent. A morbid thought passes through your mind, and you turn around to the cadaver behind you.
Moments pass and before you realise what you've done, the body is dressed in your dishevelled rags, and you're suited and booted.
You're standing in an alleyway beside a car with a body dressed in your old clothing. You are carrying your wallet, a severed finger and your mobile phone
#7. A point in the right direction
You walk away from the car and body. It'll get found soon enough, and you don't want to be around when it does. Reaching once more into your pocket, you pull out the mobile phone and stare at it for a moment. First things first, store the number of the Pink Kitten. Any more dead bodies, severed fingers and gunshots, and you're unlikely to remember the number. You enter the digits and enter the name, hit 'Save Entry', but the phone responds "Overwrite 'Lena'?". There must already be an entry for that same number, but who is Lena?
You keep on walking and stumble across a bar. A stiff drink would make things feel somewhat better right now, so you go into the place and order a whisky. Sitting against the bar, you pull out the phone once more and start flicking through the phonebook, which is mostly empty but for a few numbers:
Al's
Flat
Greg
Horses
Lena
Sat9pm
TomKaty
Voicemail
You knock back the whisky and order another.
You are sitting in a smoky bar. You have a whisky and mobile phone infront of you. You have a severed finger and wallet in your pocket.
#8. Talking to yourself
You suddenly realise you've not yet worked out who you are. Sure, you know the basics - you're male, about the same height and build as dead guys in the back of a car, and currently on the run, but as far as name, age, parents, marital status - you're about as clued up as a 15 year old who thinks they have life experience.
"Hey, barkeep" you shout
The bartender just looks at you with a look which suggests barkeep wasn't an amusing and friendly term.
"Have you got a payphone in here?"
The bartender looks down at your hands, as you hold your mobile in your hand, and back up to your face, puzzled.
"Through the back next to the toilets" he throws back.
You wander over to the phone, pick up the receiver, go through your mobile menus until you reach 'My Numbers' where the mobile number is listed, and dial it in to the payphone. After a few short clicks, the mobile in your hand starts to vibrate, and you hit hangup. On the payphone, you are taken to your voicemail.
"I'm not here, you know what the beep is for" you hear yourself say.
"Dammit!"
You slam the receiver down, and wonder what to do next. Maybe the voicemail has a clue.
Holding down the number 1 key, it connects and begins to play your messages.
"You have 2 saved messages...
Message 1, sent yesterday at 2.32pm
'....crackle......not sure where you are......crackle.... can't find... bzzt.. might have more luck at.. ...bzzt... safety deposit box.... fssst... one two oh four oh.... the full amount... crackle... else lena ... crackle... Fold's Bank.. crackle.. breaking up'
end of message 1.
Message 2, sent yesterday at 7.49pm
'CLICK'
end of message 2.
end of your messages."
You hang up.
#9. I just called to say...
In your phone, on the voicemail, and quite possibly on that poster, "Lena" is rapidly becoming a name used with regular occurance. Maybe she'll be able to help you piece together who you are, and what you're doing with a severed finger in your pocket.
Still in the back next to the phone, you load up the mobile phone's address book, scroll to Lena's number, and hit dial. It rings a few times before being picked up. Heavy dance music is playing in the background on the other end and you struggle to make out what the callee is saying.
"Hi, yeah.. is Lena there?"
"*thud thud thud* what?!"
"I said is Lena there, this is the Pink Kitten right?
"*thud thud thud* yeah.. Pink Kitten.. Lena? oh sure.. no, she's not here.. she didn't turn up last night, and she ain't here now.."
"Oh okay - do you know where I can get hold of her?"
"*thud thud thud* no man, i don't, but if i did - she'd regret it, the bitch let me down last night.. i've got customers who pay to see her every night, and she just skips turning up to work? That ain't good for business man.. she says she's gonna be here at 8, and then nada. Hey.. who is this anyway.. what you wanting to know all about my girls for, heh?"
"Just a friend, just calling to..."
"*thud thud thud* Lena don't got no friends, who the fuck is this? You that creep who's been hanging round here? Listen man, if I see you once more you freak, you aint' going to have the equipment to mess with yourself just thinking about my girls, yet alone anyone near them.. you hear me man?"
and the helpful customer support representative of the Pink Kitten slams down the phone.
Walking back to your whisky, you sit down and take a swig. A television over the bar starts to play the Friday nightime news, and a drunk falls off his chair in the corner of the room.
You're sitting in a bar, where you have a half drunk whisky, a wallet, mobile phone and severed finger.
#10. A place to think
You drink the dregs of the whisky from the tumbler, and walk back to the toilets. You need some space to think and whilst a bar on a late late Friday night is great for those who need to drown some problems, your's need greater clarity of thought.
You wander into a stall, close the door, sit down on the toilet with the seat lid lowered, and pull out the finger from your pocket. You slowly peel it from its now somewhat coagulated paper wrapping, and whilst taking a deep breath, lift up the finger.
It's slender, and whilst hacked like ground meat at one end, still has an air of something attractive to it. The nail is chipped, but painted. You catch a whiff of the flesh which has started to smell. You've no idea if its too late to put it on ice, in the hope that if you find the girl which this came from, its could be quite literally re-united with its former owner, but plan to do so anyway.
Turning the finger around in your hand, you catch some writing on the underside. Shocked, you move in closer to see what the glyphs say. Simple numbers. A phone number: 09997 108 108. You swallow. This is a ransom note. Suddenly things start falling into place. The voicemail about Lena with something about money, Lena not turning up for work, someone hanging around her work... Okay, maybe you're jumping to conclusions, but someone somewhere has a digit missing, and you need to find out why.
You are sitting in a bar toilet stall, holding a severed finger with a phonenumber on it. You have a wallet and mobile phone in your pocket. You ponder your next step
#11. Deja Vu
You walk back to the bar for a third time, sit down and order another drink.
"You sure you want another one?" asks the barman, "they're just going straight through you, drink, bathroom, drink, bathroom.. you got a hole in you or something?"
"Something like that. Just give me another whisky, lots of ice" you say and the barman pours you the drink muttering to himself.
You pull out the mobile phone and call the number, the area code seems strange, almost like a premium number. After a few rings an automated voice answers.
"Thankyou for using Automated Voice Services. Please hold, we are putting you through to your selected voicemail box." the computer generated lady says. You hold.
After a matter of moments, the silence ends, and you listen to the message.
"I'm not normally one for clichés, but we have your daughter and I'm sure you can work out what comes next. £2.5 million in non marked, unsequential used notes, deposited at Fold's Bank. I hope you enjoyed the little digit of sentimentality we sent you. Don't fuck around. There are nine left, and then we start on the rest of her. We'll call again with more instructions. Saturday night, 9pm."
Suddenly you feel pale and the blood once again drains from your face. You look up at the barman and nothing can stop what is about to happen next, as you vomit all over the bar. As the barman is swearing and shouting at you, walking around to throw you out of the place, the message is running around and around in your head....
...it was your voice on the voicemail message giving the ransom demand.
You have been thrown out of a bar, and are lying on the pavement. You have your mobile and wallet, but dropped the severed finger as you were carried out by the barman. It is starting to rain.
#12. Taking a step back.
You pick yourself up from the pavement, still feeling queezy from vomiting. You've managed to leave the finger on the bar when you got dragged out of the bar, and if you don't get it back soon, the barman, already a big fan of yours for redecorating his establishment, will pick it up, call the police, and they'll be on your tail.
Its already too confusing to understand why you're holding someone's digital ransom note, yet alone to have to explain it to the police. You take a deep breath, and sneak back into the bar.
You can see across the room, the paper package still half wrapped on the bar next to a pile of the contents of, until recently, your stomach. The barman, standing in a corner reaching for a mop, muttering to himself. You pick up an empty bottle of beer from the table next to you and throw it at the opposite corner of the bar, smashing into the wall. The barman immediatly looks up at the noise, and walks over to the other side of the room. You nip to the bar, grab the package, and run back out.
Panting heavily, you're back in the same position you were hours ago, mysterious package, with its contents now known to you, but still a mystery. You pull out your wallet and check for cash, enough for a cab trip. Fold's bank is probably a missing piece of the puzzle. Someone is putting something there, and possibly related to the supposed kidnapping.
Some minutes later you arrive outside the bank.
"Sir, can I help you?" the doorman asks
"I'm here to get to a safety deposit. Number 12040"
"Of course, and the passphrase is..."
You hesitate.
#13. Unlucky for you.
You respond to the doorman, "Horses".
"Okay, let me just check that against the computer. You know we have to change it each time you come down here, so we have to look at the database. One moment".
The doorman disappears into the building and you stand around waiting for a matter of seconds before he returns, holding a printout.
"Okay that seems to be okay Mr... oh damn it, the printer is on the blink again. Sorry sir, anyway, you're good to go. You know where you're going?"
You nod your head, to say anything else may give it away, and he opens a door which you walk through, and meet a second man who ushers you through to a series of corridors and doorways. The feeling that a massive superstructure lies infront of you starts a chill to run through your body, but somewhere in there, is a box with some answers.
You follow the signs for some ten minutes until you reach a wall with about two hundred safety deposit boxes, each numbered. 12038, 12039, 12040 - your box. With a security keypad.
"Gah!" you sigh, every step forward is another hurdle, almost like someone is playing a game with your life. You rub your temples and think for a moment.
#14. A box of tricks
You stare at the keypad, a series of digits and a plain small lit square.
You chuckle as you realise how simple this might be, and press your finger against the panel, and the soft glow increases in its intensity. Fingerprint scanner. Easy.
As you're smiling smugly, the square turns red, suggesting an incorrect scan. You try again, but still the square turns red. Three strikes and you're out, you imagine. Try a final time, and as cliched as you like, an alarm bell starts to ring down the corridor alerting them to your failure in accessing the safety deposit box.
Thinking quickly, as seems to be your forte recently, you pull out the finger from your pocket, unwrap it and stick it to the panel. The glow intensifies once more and then turns green, silencing the alarm bells, but not early enough to stop a couple of men running towards you. You quickly stuff the finger back in your pocket.
"Is there a problem here sir?" one of the guards asks
"Sorry, my finger.. I er... wasn't concentrating" you respond
"Okay, if you need some training with regards to use of your fingers sir, we'll be happy to oblige" the other guard smirks.
"Yeah. Thanks." and the two wander off in the direction the came from, leaving you alone with the open box.
You pull the door open further, to reveal its contents.
A manilla envelope
A CD
You pull out the envelope and open it up. Inside, it contains a number of photographs, a map, a slip of paper with some digits and letters on it, a newspaper clipping, and a mobile phone SIM card.
You put the items all back into the envelope, along with the CD, and close the box.
#15. Treasure Hunt
You leave the bank, carrying the envelope and its contents, and try to hail another cab as the doorman nods to you on your way out. Its started to rain, and cabs ready to hire are few and far between, but eventually one pulls up infront of you and you climb in.
"Where to?"
You pause and realise you're not actually sure where you need to go next. You think about the contents of the envelope.
"I need an audio store, you know, some place that sells hi-fi equipment"
"Okay, there's a shopping centre about five minutes.. you'll probably find something in there"
"Sure"
and the cab leaves the bank. The traffic is pretty heavy, and whilst making your way to the shopping district, you pull the envelope back open again and leaf through its contents.
The photos show a selection of things. A storefront, a dock warehouse, a woman tied up in a chair and the final image shows two well dressed men drinking coffee outside a cafe.
The map has a location circled in red marker pen ink.
The slip of paper has A66C74 written on it in the same red ink.
The newspaper cutting is an article on the topic of a judge discussing some case he'd been working on.
You reach the shopping complex and stuff the items back into the envelope. As you get out of the cab, your phone rings, with "Greg" flashing on the screen. You hesitate, not knowing who Greg is, you're naturally cautious.
#16. Aural Stimulation
A phonecall is a little too much to handle right now, so you leave it ringing and put it back in your pocket. If Greg wants to leave a message, you'll deal with it later, bigger fish are waiting to be gutted, filleted and fried, and you're still not sure if you're a guppy or Captain Birdseye.
You wander into the shopping centre, and find a store locator map, hunt down the list, and find a hifi shop on the 2nd floor. Being in a place where piped musak hangs in the air, and fake plastic plants adorn every walkway seems almost too surreal after the past few hours. Its only still early in the morning, so few people are around, and some of the shops are still closed, but as your rise in the lift two floors up, you can see the audio store and its shutters rolling open, a few young looking staff mingling around the lot.
You go into the store and find a particularly stupid looking zitted employee for help.
"Hi there, i'm looking to try out some headphones"
"Sure, any particular ones in mind?" the boy squeeks, no doubt trying to stabilise his voice pitch shifting from high to low brought on by his hormonally inbalanced state.
"Er.. Yeah, those?" and you point at a large set of headphones hanging on the wall.
The kid grabs the pair and walks you over to an amp set up in one corner of the store.
"I've um.. got my own CD to check it out with.. I'm in a band, and well, they're for that.. so I want to know how it sounds" you say
"Sure" the boy trembles, and takes the CD from you, puts it in a deck, presses a few buttons and hands you the headphones.
You start to hear your own voice:
"You've got the first bit right, now leave the money here, and go to the location circled on the map. Take the SIM card, and put it in a phone. At midnight, call the number in the addressbook, not a minute before. We'll give you the next set of instructions then."
You pass the headphones back to the youth, and take your CD. The next move is down to you
#17. In the rain
Leaving the store, you decide to get to the location on the map, to start trying to resolve this mystery. You walk out of the shopping centre, and walk to the main road to hail a cab. It's still raining, and bitterly cold, and as a cab pulls up to take you on to the address, you feel a hand on your shoulder.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
You spin around, to be confronted with a man, not too dissimilar from you in age, but has obviously been out in the rain for some time.
"Eh?"
"I said, what the fuck are you doing? Why the hell are you taking the stuff from the bank?? Christ man, you're not getting nervous on me are?"
"I er..."
"Fuck, this whole thing needs to be smooth, I need to rely on you man, I can't have this going wrong... Why the hell are you messing with the plan? They've got the finger right? You've done that part right?"
"The finger, I er.. no, its.. I've got the finger"
"Oh WHAT THE FUCK!! Shit man.. its almost 10am, and you've not even sent the FUCKING RANSOM NOTE!? Give me that shit here", and he rummages in your pocket pulling out the finger.
"Shit, this fucking stinks.. man, I can't believe you. Look, give me the paperwork, I'll get it back to the bank, and I'll get the finger to our girl's daddy.. You just get your ass back on track, and wait for the phonecall, that's all you need to do.. And be careful yeah? They've already taken out Mickey C, but I need you to take that phonecall, you know i can't do it.. they know my voice, and where would that leave us? Huh?"
The guy punches you in the arm and smiles.
"Come on man, its all good.. this'll all be sorted by midnight, and next time, answer my call yeah?"
He takes the envelope and CD from you, and crosses the road, disappearing into the rain. You stand, dumbfounded, pondering your next move.
#18. A short chase
You run after the guy dodging through traffic as you try to make out which direction he ran in. Currently Greg, if that is Greg, is the only one with any real information as to who you are, and what plot you're entangled with.
He's fast, and you lose him in a crowd of people.
"Damn it!" you shout, and stand dripping wet, breathing heavily.
You look around and find a coffee shop to regroup in.
You're sitting at the counter, with a cup of black steaming liquid. The past few hours have flown by, but you're not really any further with understanding your situation. You take a moment to go back over what has happened.
It is safe to assume that Lena has been kidnapped, held to ransom using an sick if not obvious ransom note, but it hasn't been delivered to her father or whoever is going to be paying the bill - that was your job, and you failed. At some point there is going to be a large amount of cash deposited in that bank vault security box, and then they'll start following the same clues you're chasing to find Lena. What you haven't got a clue about, though, is why Greg can't do this on his own. Later today, you'll be receiving a phonecall, but what you have to say is still a mystery. In any case, kidnapping is not your forte.
You're sitting in a coffee shop. You are wearing a damp suit, with your wallet and mobile phone.
#19. Another brew
You start to shiver from the soaked clothes, so drink a long drink from your coffee, the liquid warming you from inside, and giving you a slight kick from the caffeine. You feel like you're running out of options, and the coffee shop is simply a dead end until midnight, which is some 14 hours away.
You pull out your mobile phone, and start to flick through the address book once more.
Al's
Flat
Greg
Horses
Lena
Sat9pm
TomKaty
Voicemail
You call 'Flat', perhaps a message on the answerphone might have your name.
"I'm not here, you know what the beep is for". You sniff at your lack of originality, and don't bother to leave a message.
You ponder calling Greg, but he's not massively happy with you, and you want to investigate this on your own for a while. Greg isn't the sort of person you thought you'd usually want to be around.
Horses, the password to the bank, you check the number. Just a zero.
Lena, the Pink Kitten club's number. Not much luck there, but perhaps a visit might start answering some more questions, despite the threat you've already received.
Sat9pm, the time the potential ransom payers will be calling for more information of where to put their cash.
TomKaty, you have no idea. You press call, and it rings
"Mason! Christ baby, where have you been?" a woman's voice. You presume Katy.
"Katy?" you ask, tentatively
"Of course, where are you?" Katy asks
"In a coffee shop, near the Manley Shopping Centre.. could you pick me up? I need to talk to someone"
"Sure, I know the place. Give me twenty minutes", and she rings off.
Half an hour passes, and the door to coffee shop opens, in walks a girl, late twenties, jet black hair in a black rainmac. She sees you sitting at the counter and runs over, throwing her arms around you.
You take a deep breath. You have no idea who Katy is, but she knows you. Hopefully she'll be able to answer some questions, just what to tell her, and what to ask? Choose wisely. You still don't know if you can trust her.
#20. A warming thought
You're sitting in Katy's front room in front of the gas fire, in your boxers and t-shirt, your clothes are on a drying rack beside you. Katy is in the kitchen making you another drink, despite your assurances that you don't need one.
You stand up and walk over to the window, where a number of photoframes are sitting. You see photos of Katy, sometimes with a group of girls, other times with a man, you presume 'Tom', just as you finish peeking around, you catch an image of you, Katy and another girl standing at a funfair. You lean in closer, and look at the trio. You mind rips you back to the photo of the girl tied up and gagged from the envelope in the safety deposit box. Katy walks into the room.
"Heh, you remember that trip? Great weekend.. must have been two, three years ago" Katy says, passing you a cup of coffee.
"No, I don't" you say
"What's that?"
"I don't remember the trip, I don't remember you, that's the thing.. I don't remember anything" you explain, and sit down sipping at the coffee.
"Hehe, okay.. where's the punchline?" Katy asks.
"Look, I'm sorry, I don't know you, I don't know who that other girl is, I don't even know who I am. Your number was just in the phone, and I rang it.. I need some answers from someone"
"You're scaring me Mason, what on earth is wrong??" She edges backwards a little.
"I'm caught up in something I don't understand, and I want out, but I get the feeling I need to resolve some things first of all. Who is this in the photo?", you point at the third person.
Katy laughs nervously
"Lena, its Lena. How don't you know Lena? You've only been in love with her for as long as I can remember"
You look down at the photo, fingering the edges of the frame. That feeling of recollection, but no real hard idea of why, starts nagging at you once more. You try desperately to remember her, who she is to you, why she's sitting somewhere bound and gagged, but nothing comes to the surface. You swallow.
"Okay. Lets start from the top. I want to know three things..."
What three things should you ask?
#21. twentyone questions
You take a deep breath.
"First, How do you, me, Tom and Lena know each other?"
Katy just stares at you, and her eyes start to moisten.
"What's happened Mason? Oh my god, what happened?"
"I don't know goddamit, if I knew that, perhaps I could start working out what the hell is going on here, I've only just learnt my name for chrissakes" you storm out of the front room into the kitchen. The kettle is still steaming from making drinks.
You walk over to the fridge and rest your head against it. It hums gently, almost comforting, but not enough to appease your frustration.
"Gah!" you kick the fridge and a couple of items attached to the door with magnets fall off. You bend down to pick them up. Another photo of you and Katy. You're holding it in our hand as Katy walks into the kitchen. You turn your head to face her whilst still crouching over the fallen items.
"Who am i?"
"You're my brother, Mason. I'm your sister, Tom is my husband. And Lena is Tom's brother's girlfriend, and you've been in love with Lena from the day you met her." Katy sobs, and slumps onto a stool.
"Oh, god.. Katy i'm sorry. I just don't know you."
"Who did this to you Mason, who? Where have you been?"
"I don't know, but Lena is in trouble, and I know I need to get to the bottom of this before midnight."
"Lena's in trouble? What sort of trouble?"
You explain the past hours that you've been through, from the moment you first remember in the alleyway, to the contents of the security deposit box at the bank.
"So, what did the map say? Where are they holding her? Who the hell are 'they'?" Katy asks, hurridly.
"Exactly! Was there anyone who would want to hurt Lena?"
"No, of course not... I mean.. I suppose anyone pissed off with her dad might want to get at her to get to him.. but ..."
"Her dad?"
"Yeah, big time lawyer, criminal connections they say.. you know, gets paid off for securing a 'not guilty'verdict" Katy explains.
"What about me? Anyone who'd want me out of the way?"
"You? God knows, you never tell me whats going on.. and by the sounds of it, plenty of people"
"Thanks" you say, half sarcastically, half geniuine.
#22. Family Ties
"We should call Greg" Katy suggests
"Greg? I didn't mention a Greg" you defend the last part of the story which you didn't tell
"Tom's brother."
Oh Christ. If her very own boyfriend is wrapped up in this, Lena doesn't have a chance.
"Katy, i think there is something you need to know"
You tell the final chapter of the story, where Greg met you outside the shopping centre and took the details from you. Her jaw drops, and she starts to shake.
"Greg knew you were in love with Lena, why the hell has he got you caught up in this?" Katy sobs once more.
"I don't know.. but i need to start following the clues. Maybe I can find Lena before Greg finishes what he has planned. If he's removed a finger, I don't think he's too concerned about the rest of her"
You think back to the contents of the safety deposit box. You clearly remember the map reference, and the photos. You have a wallet, mobile phone, and now dry clothes. You are standing with Katy in her kitchen.
#23. XY
You decide to check out the map reference. At the moment, you're one step ahead of the game. The ransom note has probably only just been delivered, if at all, and they'll be on their way to find the first set of clues in the bank vault. If you or Greg has been leaving a trail of clues, the map reference will be the next step in finding Lena.
Katy passes you a city map, and you find the location on the map which was circled.
"The harbour area" Katy says, "take my car", and she passes you the keys.
Within half an hour or so, you're near the docks. Whilst you know the rough area the map pointed too, you just don't know which building you need to be looking at. If only you had the SIM card from the bank still. There are bound to be further instructions... but then again, they were only going to call you anyway. You think back and work out how on earth you'll work out which warehouse to go to. Time is ticking away.
You walk over to a pontoon, which has a map of some of the dock area.
Thinking back to the reference on the slip of paper with the map, your mind starts to work out which warehouse you need to find.
#24. Security
You trace your finger across the map, the first part of the grid reference points to a warehouse "atlantis". The second part, perhaps a container or room within the warehouse. The whole area hadn't been a live dock or shipping port for a long time now, but converted into self-storage warehouse units, the sort of place you could rent for a week, a month, a lifetime - and put anything you wanted hiding away. Most poeple would probably only use this place for old sofas, boxes from college, aged tape collections, but you think something more sinister is likely to occur when you reach the end of this trail of clues.
You wander over to the blocks you identified on the map. It's already quite busy, people in heavily laden cars driving up to each unit's reception, signing up to long and short term deals, being shown the security in place, and generally shifting their crap from one location to another.
Atlantis warehouse looks the same as all the other warehouse frontages, but you recognise it from the photos in the security deposit box. A small shop front next to the warehouse reception, serving coffee, cold drinks and snacks has a few people sitting sipping at drinks whilst they wait for their partners or friends to complete off loading. you walk into the reception area - piped music plays whilst you stand at the desk, waiting for someone to come and answer your enquiry. Behind the desk is a bank of CCTV monitors, steadily switching from shot to shot of the interior of the warehouse, showing black and white images of corridors and rows and rows of shuttered doorways into containers. You can see numbers on the front of most container doors, and quite obvious heavy padlocks to keep you out.
You look down at the desk behind the counter, and see another bank of lights and buttons, as well as a bunch of keys and a swipe card. You wonder if that, quite literally, could be the key to getting inside, as you sure as hell don't currently have any other way in. The desk clerk walks back to the reception area, more a security guard than receptionist, carrying a pistol on his belt. He looks like the sort of guy who probably couldn't hack it in the army or police, so turned to a small security firm to get his authority fix.
"Can I help you sir?" he asks, and you wonder what to do next.
#25. Gentle Persuasion
"Hey..." you look down at the guard's badge "..Doug, how've you been?"
Doug, the guard, looks at you inquisitively.
"Fine, and you?"
"I'm good thanks.. how's the family?" you ham up your charm.
"Have we... err.. do I know you?" the guard isn't giving anything away
"Sure sure.. its me ... Steve... we, met at the garden party last year. Man, we all got so drunk.. great time though" you keep your eyes locked on his.. hoping he'll fall for the act.
"Riiight... what can I do to help you anyway... Steve?"
Simply not working, so you try another tactic.
"Well, its like this.. I dumped a whole load of.. well, my housemate, dumped a whole load of.." you're broken off mid sentence by an explosion outside.
"What the.." Doug rushes around the counter and to the door of reception, his adrenaline kicking in for some action. You see your opportunity, and grab a heavy padlock from a wall display, run over to Doug pressed up against the window, and bring the weight down upon his head. He slumps immediatly to the floor with a grunt. You peer out to make sure no-one has seen you, and drag his limp, but amazingly heavy mass behind the counter. You grab the keys and swipe card from behind the counter and pocket them. You look down at Doug. He's out cold, but you don't know how long for, so grab his pistol and stuff it behind your belt.
You take a deep breath and move towards the door behind the counter, leading to the warehouse space. Each of the keys has a letter associated to it, presumably a skeleton key to each of the containers in that block. It takes you another five minutes to reach the container denoted by the second group of the code on the paper. You pull out the skeleton key and unlock the padlock, push up the shutter and walk into the container space. It is still dark in there, but you can make out a bunch of boxes, some racks and general mess. You hunt around for the light switch, but as you are looking for it, you hear footsteps moving quickly towards you. You dive to the shutter and noisily pull it closed, then climb behind some of the boxes. You are hidden in darkness, and try to steady your breathing, but your heart skips a beat when the shutter is pulled open once more, and a figure enters the container.
You're hidden in darkness, but you have clear sight of the back of the intruder. You put your hand on the pistol, and consider your next move.
#26. Intruder alert
You decide to play it cool, and so you remain frozen in position. Your heart is racing. Trying to slow your breathing in order to try to calm yourself down, you keep the gun pointed at the intruder, hoping you can remain unseen in the shadows.
Your brain is rapidly trying to think of possible scenarios. You decide that, until you can figure out who they are, you'll stay hidden. If they find you, perhaps you could play dead, but no sense in drawing any more attention to yourself just yet.
While you're thinking, the intruder has opened a box near the front of the container. The container's light is still switched off, so all you can see of the intruder is a silhouette. Whoever it is, they're wearing a motorcycle helmet, so it's impossible to recognise them. While they're leaning over into the box, you can only see their head, which makes identification impossible for the time being.
You struggle to think who it could be. The fact that they're looking for something in one of the boxes, and not searching for you, suggests that it's someone who has a key to this container.
They close the box they've been looking through and open the one next to it. "Aha!" you hear them say. At that, your eyes widen. That was a woman's voice! You stifle a cry of surprise and stare at her, agog. Is it Katy? Was she playing dumb? Is she really in on this?
She stands up, arching her back, and suddenly you can't believe you didn't realise she was a woman sooner. She takes off her gloves, and undoes her helmet. As she takes it off, brown hair cascades down her back, like a shampoo commercial. Cursing your stupidity, you squint at her silhouette. It's not Katy: her hair was shorter. Who on earth is it?
You really need to think faster, because while you're pondering, she's taken a briefcase out of the box and is walking out of the container, holding it and her helmet in one hand. As she reaches the entrance, she turns around and reaches up to slide the shutter down. Her face is suddenly illuminated by the light outside.
In the fraction of a second before the shutter closes, you realise you've seen her before. She was in that photo at Katy's house. She's Lena.
You struggle to your feet and leap towards the shutter. In the darkness, and in your excited state, you fumble for the opening mechanism. Finally you find it, and step out of the container, closing the shutter behind you.
You can see Lena about 50 yards away, astride a motorcycle, putting her helmet on. What are you going to do now?
#27. Personal effects
You consider chasing after Lena, but she's already moving off. Besides, you're not likely to catch her, either on foot or in Katy's car. You watch her go, while this latest development sinks in.
Turning around, you fumble through Doug's keys again, finding the right one for the container after a few tries. You flip the light switch, and a fluorescent light flickers into life overhead, revealing the contents of the container. It is full to brimming.
There are about twenty cardboard boxes, two of which have been opened. Against the left wall is a large mattress and a bed frame that's been disassembled. In front of that is an old upright piano. There's a washing machine and a refrigerator, with its door ajar, against the other wall. More furniture is piled up at the back of the container.
You open the first box Lena looked at. It contains saucepans, a frying pan, some plates and bowls wrapped in tissue paper, a canteen of cutlery, and various other kitchen utensils. This is all basically the contents of someone's house or apartment. But whose?
You examine the box Lena took the briefcase from. There's a fat sheaf of opened envelopes bound together with a thick rubber band. You pick them up. They're all addressed to Miss L. Haynes. There are some bills, but mostly they're personal letters. Judging by the postmarks, there's a couple of years' worth of correspondence here.
Looking into the box, you can see a similar sheaf which, on closer inspection, seems to be the previous two years' worth of letters. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps some of these letters are from you. Katy told you that you've been in love with Lena for years, but you don't yet know how Lena feels about you.
The box also contains a few books, mostly paperback fiction, as well as a lot of stationery, a pencil case, and some file folders. You pick one of these up. It contains bank statements. You feel a momentary pang of guilt for invading Lena's privacy like this, but you can't help noticing two five-figure numbers on the first page. It looks like Lena has been paying someone a large amount of money recently.
You're standing in a container in a warehouse at the docks. You have the gun, Katy's car keys and your mobile phone. Your mind starts to work out your next course of action.
#28. Asking around
You open the folder of bank statements for a closer look. The account is with Fold's Bank and is solely in Lena's name. The most recent statement is from last month. Those two big amounts were both cash withdrawals: $14,159 and $26,535, a week apart. The previous page shows two more, of $8,979 and $32,384, in preceding weeks. There are also several cash deposits, which seem to add up to roughly the same amount, if your mental arithmetic is anything to go by.
It looks like Lena had to pay someone a large amount of cash, and someone else was giving her cash to help her do so. Was she being blackmailed?
You start to search through the box for a pen and paper, but you realise you might as well take the two sheets from the bank statement. They've got all the information you need, including what was Lena's home address: 89 Gala Avenue. You fold the sheets into the inside pocket of your jacket.
Taking one last look around the container -- what other secrets might it conceal? -- you close the shutter, stuff the gun into your belt and head back to Katy's car. You take a circuitous route, avoiding the security desk. It might be simpler not to have to explain yourself to Doug.
Sitting in the car, you consider your next move. Where should you go? Who can you trust? You'll hear from Lena's father soon enough, when he calls at midnight. You still have a few hours to decide whether to tell him what you know, so you decide not to contact him yet. You should probably gather some more evidence first.
You think back over everything that's happened since you came to in that alley. Is there a clue you've missed? You remember the woman from the Pink Kitten mentioning "that creep who's been hanging round here". That might have something to do with Lena's cash problems. Perhaps someone there would know more.
On the way to the Pink Kitten, you devise a plan to get a private dance from one of the girls there, whom you can then ask about Lena and "that creep". It might not be the best plan ever, but you're almost beyond caring. If it doesn't work, at least you'll have had a drink and seen a bit of skin.
Having left the gun in the glove compartment, you make your way inside the club, past two hefty bouncers who eye you suspiciously. A scantily-clad young woman escorts you to a table near the bar. "Can I get you a drink, sir?" she asks cheerily.
"Whisky please," you say, and cast your gaze around the room as she glides away. There are about forty small tables like yours, only about a third of which are occupied, with several women moving between them. A blonde is performing a pole dance on a stage on the far side of the room. She's striking a pose that almost brings tears to your eyes.
All of a sudden, you notice that her left hand, with which she's gripping the pole, has only four fingers.
#29. Intimate Stranger
You sit down beside the stage, closer to the blonde who's not quite all there. You make eye contact a few times before she moves towards your side of the platform, continuing her, at times acrobatic, but mostly overtly erotic dance - but what the hell else would you expect. You're in a club called the Pink Kitten, and there can be no ambiguity as to what mostly happens in here. Women free themselves of their clothes, whilst men free themselves of their cash, generally to the aforementioned women. Infalliable system.
The girl is ravishingly attractive. Dirty blonde hair and huge blue eyes which sparkle under the harsh spotlights, which are designed to highlight the rest of her talents, which, as the dance progresses, are becoming more obvious by each minute.
You smile at her, and she returns the favour, holding your gaze whilst she gyrates around the stage and its shiny scaffold. The music and dances comes to an anticlimatic end, and punters around the club clap half-heartedly. She gives you a wink, picks up her discarded robes, and wanders off stage into the back of the club. You suddenly realise that you've been holding your breath, and let the air out of your lungs in a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, she's quite something isn't she?" says a guy in a business suit and tie. You look over at him, top button undone, a suitcase on wheels next to his table. "Two dances from her already tonight, and I ain't done yet. Oh yeah.. She's a hot one." he licks his lips, and you turn away from him in disgust.
He picks up his drink and sits beside you, uninvited.
"You from out of town too?" he asks you.
"What?"
"I said, are you from out of town? I'm just here on business, every couple of weeks it seems nowadays, but always time to pop in on my way back. Gives the old boy a little boost before going back to the wife and kids, you know what I'm saying?"
"No, I'm sorry, I have no idea. I'm just trying to have a quiet drink." you try and end the conversation before it goes somewhere.
"Sure sure.. I know the score. Everyone here's the same.. we all just want a quiet drink, nothing more. We all come here for the quality of the drink, right?" and he winks at you.
"Look, I just need some time on my own right now, so if you don't mind, this conversation is over."
"Fine, fuck you buddy. I'm just trying to make polite.. jeez" and he finally walks over to the bar, no doubt to get another of what he just knocked back on the way.
"Want a dance?" you hear a breathy question from behind you, and flip around. Whilst you were watching the jilted business man wander away, the girl from the stage has found her place at your side. As you're sat and she's standing, you find yourself rather embarrasingly for you staring directly at her breasts, and quickly lookup to her face. She giggles.
"You like those? Come on, have a dance" you find it hard to speak and simply nod and stand up, to go find a dance floor somewhere, at which she giggles again. "Not that sort of dance", and she pushes you back into your chair. Within seconds, she's leaning over you wafting her heavily perfumed hair in your face, and wiggling inbetween your legs. You swallow a nervous breath, but soon relax as she peels off layer after layer in front of you, whilst moving to the pacy rhythm of the music in the club.
Three and a half minutes later, she stands away from you, fully naked and smiles. You don't really remember the last few moments, mostly a blur, but as far as memory loss goes, upon which you're becoming quite an expert, this is the good kind. She puts back on her clothes not looking you in the eye, and wanders off. "Maybe another dance later?" she says, without looking over her shoulder, and crosses the bar towards a velvet curtain. You follow her with your eyes, your breathing starting to shallow a little. She never looks back until just before disappearing behind the curtain, when she turns around and beckons at you with her finger.
Do you go behind the curtain and find out what more she has to offer, or do something else? You ponder your next move.
#30. Behind the velvet.
"I thought you wanted to be alone!" the guy from the bar shouts, still being obnoxious.
You glare at him and walk towards the back of the club. He follows you with his eyes, but you slip between the curtains before he has a chance to say anything.
You suddenly feel an almighty sting across your face, you blink in the darkness and see the girl standing infront of you, after giving you a flat handed slap. Four fingers or not, she can hit.
"What the -" but you're silenced as she moves in and starts kissing you deeply on the lips. You resist at first, but within seconds you feel at home, as if you've been kissing this girl your entire life. She pulls away from you.
"Where the hell have you been?!" she asks. A sense of deja-vu washes over you, and whilst you don't feel like covering the same ground as you did with Katy, you feel as if you owe this girl something, if not a finger.
What should you explain to her, what should you ask?
#31. Attacked
"Sorry baby, things have just been a bit crazy for me over the last couple of days, I haven't really been myself. What's been going on?" you ask the girl, not even sure of her name yet. Strippers tend not to wear name badges, being a distinct lack of material to pin anything to.
"You tell me!" she starts sobbing. You're starting to feel you have this effect on girls. "I get attacked a month ago, and you dissapear the next day.. who was a I meant to turn to? Where the hell did you go?"
"Who attacked you?"
"If i knew, maybe the police would be able to do something, but the bastards aren't even looking for anyone. They reckon it was just a violent, horrible mugging or something. But you tell me, how many muggings take a fucking finger? Christ Mason, why didn't you even call??"
"The truth is, I got attacked too. I'm not sure how or why yet, but I don't remember the last month."
You suddenly feel you've given away a little too much, and regret admitting it.
"Cut the crap Mason, oh whatever, you're back now" and she starts kissing you again. It doesn't seem like she swallowed the truth, but nor does she seem too concerned over it. For a girl who had a finger cut off just a month ago, she seems strangely calm. Maybe in shock still.
You take a breather from being connected face to face.
"You're back at work now though?"
"Well, someone has to pay the rent, not that I can see it paying for much longer if they close down the club." she explains.
"Close down the club?"
"Yeah, rumours are Mr. Bendini is being pressured to sell, move on to another joint I guess"
Things start ticking over in your mind.
#32. A Little Fumble
"Let's get out of here, can we go to your place?" the girl says.
"Yes!" you say a little too quickly. If you can get to your pad, there is bound to be a plethora of clues as to who you are, and start to finally solve this mystery.
"Okay, give me five minutes to get changed"
She wanders off out of the curtain, and you start mentally twiddling your thumbs, looking around the room you're standing in. There's no doubt what it is usually used for during most hours, and your stomach sets on edge a little.
The girl comes back quicker than you'd have expected, and dressed in far more unrevealing clothing, simple jeans and a t-shirt, knee high boots with some serious heels, a light jacket, and little handbag.
"We'll go out the back way, oh.. hold on, I need to let one of the girls know I'm gone. They're being more careful these days, what with me getting attacked, Lena disappearing." she nips out again, leaving her bag on the side. You immediatly pick it up and try to find some ID. The least you can do is know her name. You find her driving license. Zoe Haynes. You stuff the purse back as Zoe comes back in. You pass her the bag, and she smiles at you.
"Thanks, lets grab a cab" and you wander out of the club to hail a car, although you're not sure where to ask to go.
#33. Another fall from grace
You leave the club, and there is fortunatly already a cab with its For Hire light on, waiting outside. You both climb in the back. Before you get a chance to say, Zoe leans forward to the driver and speaks.
"Kings Avenue please"
Prestigious sounding address. Probably a hole though. You spend the start of the journey looking out the window as Zoe is snuggled up sat next to you, saying nothing. You speed through the streets, traffic being quite quiet, until Zoe looks around.
"That's strange."
"What?" you ask
"We're going north, its not the right way"
Zoe leans forward again, and speaks to the driver.
"Hey, Kings Avenue, down in Ellesmere, you're driving north?"
The driver says nothing.
"Hey, are you listening?" Zoe says again. Your heart rate starts to pick up a little, you scrutinise the face of the driver in the mirror. You recognise him from the club, the business man who sat at your table.
"What the..." you start to speak, but the driver pulls a gun from the glove compartment, and rests it on his lap.
"Just be quiet, and we'll have this all sorted out in no time" he says calmly.
Zoe turns to you, her face whitened with fear. You think quickly. You still have the pistol in the back of your belt, but any movement to grab it may alert the driver, and his hand is ready to pull the trigger. The car bumps across a pothole in the road, and you look out of the window. You're crossing the river to get to leave town. Much longer, and you'll be out of reach of anyone useful. You gently nudge Zoe. She looks at your with glassy tearful eyes, and you motion with your head out of the car. Her eyes widen, but without a second though, you kick open the rear door. The wind rushes in, and the driver swerves on the road a little as he realises what is happening, but you've already jumped and hit the road, hard, shoulder first and roll into the gutter. A searing pain in your shoulder makes you cry out, as you see the car screeching to a halt, and Zoe a few yards in front of you. You pick yourself up and run towards her, helping her up from the roadside. The car starts reversing with smoking tires, and you grab Zoe and run towards the edge of the bridge. Looking down you see the fast flowing river and take a deep breath.
"Come on" you say to Zoe, and she nods silently, tears streaking down her face, and you both leap over the barrier.
The wind rushes past your head, screaming in your ears, and everything starts to slow down. The sound stops and you feel like you're just hanging in mid air, not falling at all. Suddenly, blackness.
#34. Washed up
You come to, washed up against a muddy bank, probably miles down stream. Zoe is nowhere to be seen, and your shoulder aches. You try and move it, and the pain just increases, it probably came out of its socket.
You pull yourself up the bank and cough up some water. It's a miracle that you didn't drown, but someone is on your side up there. You pick yourself up, and suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, and the resulting pain floors you once more. You scream out.
"Oh my god.. sorry Mason.. I .. I.."
It's Zoe, waterlogged and still teary eyed.
"Zoe, are you okay?"
"I'm okay. Wet, terrified, but okay. I think we lost the guy. He fired at us a few times, but once we were swept away, I don't think he could see us anymore"
"Who was he?"
"I've no idea." Zoe trembled.
You pick yourself up once more, Zoe grabs your arm to help, but you just grimace with the pain.
"I think we should still get back to the apartment, just choose our drivers more wisely" you say
"Won't they be waiting for us there?"
"Maybe, but I need to find out who I am" Zoe looks at you inquisitively
"..who I am up against" you finish your sentence quickly.
Clambering up the bank, you manage to hail a cab fairly quickly, checking the driver for any familiar or goon like traits before climbing in.
"Kings Avenue, again please"
The cab driver grunts, and for the second time today, you're on your way home.
#35. Home bound.
The taxi pulls up outside an apartment block on Kings Avenue. Not exactly fit for a monarch, but not so bad either.
You pay the cab driver in wet banknotes, and apologise profusely for getting his car damp. He says something at you in Russian, you presume it is not a pleasantry.
Whilst you're forking out your cash, Zoe has already walked up to the front door and unlocked it. This girl has your apartment keys? You follow Zoe, up two flights of stairs, and reach, what you presume is your apartment. You can tell by the fact the door has been kicked open, splinters of wood lie around on the floor, and the door now rests ajar.
Someone is watching you from further down the corridor, but as you turn to speak to them, they slam their door closed, just a neighbour wondering how you've become the centre of attention, a question you've been asking yourself also.
You stand outside the door, do you go in or not?
#36. The postman always rings...
You decide to give any potential assailants a heads up you're coming in. You grab your mobile phone, and slide it into the apartment.
"Give me your phone" you whisper to Zoe, and she reaches into her bag. You take her phone from her, and find yourself in the addressbook.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling me" and you hit dial. The mobile in the apartment stays silent, but the landline rings. Just as effective you presume, but don't hear anything stirring inside. You nudge the door open, and hang up the phone.
The apartment has been ransacked, draws pulled out and emptied, pictures pulled off the walls and slashed, generally, its a mess.
You sigh, not really feeling any association to the place, but seeing quite clearly that your place has been trashed. Kneeling beside a broken coffee table, you pick up a photo frame. It contains a photo of you and Zoe.
You need to find some piece of information which tells you who you are, and why you're still no clearer on what's happening. Hunting around for a letter of some sort, you start rummaging through things on the floor, when you hear a noise behind you.
You spin around, pulling the gun from your trousers and pointing it, finger on the trigger.
Zoe screams. It was just her stepping on some broken glass. You're too jittery and need to calm down. You go the kitchen and open the fridge for a drink. It seems like the only item in the flat that was destroyed. You find a bottle of water, and open the freezer for ice.
Instead of frozen pizzas and peas, though, you find a black bin liner. You pull it open, and take a sharp intake of breath when you find bundles of money, rolled up with elastic bands.
#37. Frozen Takeaway
You can't come to any other conclusion, you've been blackmailing Lena.
It doesn't make any real sense, if you've been in love with her for as long as you've known her, as Katy explained, why would you want to extorte this much money from her?
In any case, there is enough cash in that bag to start a new life somewhere a long way away from anyone here, and at the moment, you're a clean slate, and no real ties.
You pull the bag closed, and close the freezer door. You turn around, and face Zoe standing in front of you with a gun pointed directly at your head.
"Well, it looks like the freezer was the one place we didn't look. You don't think you could really mess with my family, with our ties do you?" Zoe shakes a little. Zoe Haynes. Lena.. Haynes.
Crap, how did you miss that?
"Give me my money"
You slowly walk forward and begin to pass the money to Zoe, when a phone rings from the front room. It's midnight!
Zoe turns around and you leap at her. Knocking her gun to the ground, you wrestle with her to the floor, being small, it doesn't take much to subdue her. Pulling off your belt you tie it around her wrists, and pull your own gun on her.
"Don't fucking move", and you back into the front room facing Zoe.
You pick up the phone in the other hand and answer.
"Hello"
"We've received your instructions, what do you want from us?"
"The plan has changed." you say.
"What the.. listen you fuck.. where the hell is my daughter??"
"Which one?"
"Why you.. who the ..."
"Call me in one hour" and you hang up, and turn the phone off.
"Sounds like your daddy doesn't even know Lena is just as bent as who ever is pulling off this stunt." you say to Zoe as you walk back into the room with her slumped against a table.
"What?" she spits
"Lena is the one who arranged this kidnapping.. with the help of your finger"
Zoe's eyes open wider, and she tries to speak
"As far as blackmail is concerned.. that.. I don't know yet."
#38. Family Reunion?
You sit down - just moments have passed, but it seems like weeks in your head.
Zoe is sobbing in the corner of the room, physically and emotionally bruised, but otherwise fine. Your head is messed up. You still have no idea of who you are, and hunt around the room for some remnant to remind you of yourself.
You hunt around in drawers. Just bills with no first name, the odd letter, again with no first name, until you stumble across a photo of a few children at a fairground. Two girls and a little boy, with their dad. The boy is holding a balloon. The little boy with a balloon. You shiver.
You stare at the father, and recognise him from the photo in the envelope and the cuttings about the judge.
"Who is this?" you say to Zoe, and hold the photo infront of her face. She jerks, holding back another tearful outburst.
"That's me and zoe, our dad and our brother".
"Your brother? Who's your brother? Where he is now?"
"Yes, he died when we were kids - it was a car accident"
You stare at Zoe, at the photo again, and back at Zoe.
"Zoe, this is me. This is me as a child"
Zoe's face lifts up and looks at yours, her eyes soaked with tears and streaking with makeup.
"What?"
Somehow, this photo has started a chain of memories arriving in your mind. Staring at the photo, you realise you're looking at yourself, that unmistakable ability to look yourself in the eyes and recognise your own face, no matter its age.
You drop the photo. Everything is moving too fast. After days on not knowing who you are, and wanting to work it out, the moment things start to drop into place, you wish you didn't know.
"But.." Zoe whimpers, "you died."
You pick yourself up, when you hear a noise at the door way. You swing around and point the gun at the figure standing in the doorway.
Its Katy, also pointing a gun. At you.
"Katy.. what are you ..?" you ask, but she interupts you before you have a chance to form the question.
"Shut up Mason - believe me, you haven't a clue what is going on here"
#39. A shot in the dark
"I think I'm starting to work it out. You're not my sister at all, are you?" you ask Katy.
"No, of course not. You were forced upon us, some stinking orphan dropped into my parent's lap when they didn't have a penny to look after us, yet alone you as well." Katy explains.
"And you've never forgiven me for that?"
"You? I don't give a shit about you Mason. My parents loved you like their own, put every last effort into making sure you had a good upbringing, and ruined us financially."
"But when you found out that my real father was someone who had plenty of money, you felt the odds needed to be levelled out?" you ask.
"Something like that." Katy seemed disinterested, her eyes keep flitting to the door.
"And my feelings for Lena... brotherly love?"
"Wonderful wonderful Mason, so touching isn't it, now give me my money, and we'll all walk away from this without holes." Katy waves her gun at you.
You step towards the cash, which is starting to thaw, and leave water on the floor.
"Slowly! We don't want any bullets flying in the wrong direction now... Just pass me the bag..."
"Just one thing.." You ask, before stooping to grab the damp money. "I understand your anger, but why Lena? How is she mixed up here? Why the hell have I been blackmailing her?"
"You fucking idiot, you haven't been blackmailing her, its been me all along. She doesn't want a brother just as much as I don't want you as a brother, you're a lost cause Mason. She realised that if her Father finds out that you're still around, it would ruin him, and her credit cards. Sure she dances at night, but at day, she's just a rebellious little rich girl living of Daddy."
"He doesn't even know?"
"No, you're still an orphan Mason, and I'm running out of patience, just step away from the money, if you want something done.." Katy walks forward and pushes you out of the way. She stoops to grab the money, keeping her gun trained on you, but in an instant her head whips back and she's facing away, slipped on the watery floor.
You dive in and grab the gun, but she fights back and you both wrestle for what seems like a lifetime.
CRACK
A shot rings out, and everything stands still. You feel like you're sitting outside of your body. You look around the room - Zoe wide eyed in the corner of the room trying to get cover, Katy's contorted face grappling for the weapon, you beneath her, open mouthed, and another figure in the doorway, standing with a smoking gun.
Katy falls to the floor breathlessly, Zoe screams and your head falls backwards, hitting the ground. Your eyes close and everything once again goes black.
#40. End of the road.
You wake up in the back of a car.
It is moving, and your head is fuzzy. You look down to your waist, and see you have a bandage around your trunk, blood staining part of it.
You pull yourself up and look out of the window to try and work out where you are.
"Morning."
"I'll take your word for it" you quip, but pain from your wound makes it hard to speak.
"I'm sorry you had to go through this, we tried to sort it out without you getting involved, but in the end, you were the most sensible bait."
"Bait? Who..."
The driver turns around and you instantly recognise him from the Pink Kitten, the obnoxious business man who tried to spark up a conversation with you.
"I work for Judge Haynes. Lets just say, I look after his personal interests"
"I.."
"You, don't exist Mr Mason. You haven't done for many years, and we want to keep it that way. Things started to get complicated recently, and we needed to clear that up, but we're back on track now, and you need to not exist once again".
"I.. you're going to.. to kill me?"
"No no" the driver chuckles, "you're already dead, and as long as you stay dead, we're happy to keep thinking you're dead. You get?"
"Um. I think so."
"Good. I'm taking you somewhere you'll happily be dead for as long as you need to be. Being dead isn't cheap, so there's enough cash to get to going for a while in the trunk of the car."
"I.. just wait.. I'm meant to just up and disappear?"
"Mr Mason, you already don't know who you are, and other than a recent misjudged family reunion, you still don't really know who you are. So what's the problem?"
"I know enough."
The car pulls to a halt on the side of the road, and the driver leans over his seat to face you.
"No Mr Mason, you do not. You don't remember anything that has happened over the past week. You don't want to remember, and you're not going to try. You're going to start a new life with a clean slate."
His calm way of speaking suggests he isn't a man to complain to. He turns back to face forward and pulls back on to the road.
"Do you know anything of Buddhism Mr Mason?"
"What?"
"It is a common misconception, Mr Mason, that Buddhists believe in reincarnation as in an immortal soul, and transmigration of that soul. When I die, I will not become a dog or horse. However, Mr Mason, now that you have died, you are being given the chance to choose whether you believe in transmigration of the soul in to another life. Choose wisely Mr Mason. If you choose to be a dog, you can be a dog. If you choose to be a Man, you can be a Man, but if you choose to chase your previous life, Mr Mason, that's the end of your path - and I don't want bad Karma on my hands. When I say bad Karma, I mean your blood."
You swallow, and car pulls over once more, next to another car.
"This is your car now. Goodbye Mr Mason."
and the driver gets out of the car, and into another parked next to you.
The other car drives off in a cloud of dirt, and you step out of the car.
You are standing at a crossroads, but you've had enough decisions made for you by now.
You climb back into the car, and rest.
