Showing posts with label Heliopolis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heliopolis. Show all posts

Thursday, September 22, 2011

16419--Similarities to Persons Living or Dead (Ch. 1)

Happy Thursday. To help keep my own feet to the fire, I'm using Thursday as my public accountability day. That means, posting a bit of coherently creative output for you to read and feedback on every week. If I perform according to my own intent, what I put here will be available as a whole elsewhere at the same time or shortly after appearing here.

Similarities to Persons Living or Dead is currently available as a part of The Official Private Eye Handbook, first book in the CITY OF MAGICK series.  Please, feel free to take a look here, though, and at subsequent chapters. Let me know how you feel about it.  For those of you finding your way here relatively late, no problem. The start of the story is just a click away.
 
 
SIMILARITIES TO PERSONS LIVING OR DEAD

Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night. In a rare stroke of luck, I didn’t have to be out in it. For the past couple of hours, I’d been engaged in one of the mainstays of detective work: the stakeout. I supposed that if I were inclined toward some of the magical proclivities that were so popular in The City, I could’ve watched stuff from home or even hired some hotshot to watch stuff for me. I was too stubborn and hands-on for any of that, though, so I had myself positioned behind a set of tripod-mounted, night-vision binoculars. And so I waited…and waited.

I was trying to get evidence against a waste of DNA known as Stark White. I had been led to believe that he was the man who’d put an enchanted bullet through the beautiful bosom of the late Whitney Gregg. With only a corpse and the remains of the slug, I knew I could count on the local cops to do precious little to close her case. To make things more difficult, whoever White was working for was some high roller who had enough juice to keep him protected from at least moderate legal entanglements. If I could start making things more complicated for him, though, I felt confident that I could separate him from that support and, ultimately, his freedom. I still wasn’t sure that tying him to Whitney’s murder weapon would be enough to bring him down, though that was certainly the crime I wanted him brought to justice on. I was motivated enough to find out about his other criminal activities and interfere with those. I would either gather more evidence against him or destroy his value to his employer. I was determined to find a way to nail the bastard.

My latest information indicated that the nightclub Corona was worth watching through the storm because White was supposed to stop by to inspect a new shipment of “product”. No one had been able to give me a solid answer about what the “product” was, but whenever people started referring to items in generic terms and refusing to talk in detail it was usually because whatever they were doing was too wrong to talk about openly. Strangely, even though they knew inside that it was something they couldn’t talk about, it didn’t stop them from doing whatever dirty deeds they were doing. Some people tried to use money and power to patch damaged consciences like bits of tissue paper on shaving cuts, but that only worked until the realization hit that they‘d been trying to stop hemorrhages instead.

One other lucky break I had received was having a friend whose apartment had a perfect view for overlooking the club. From the angle we had, I was able to see the entire rear of the building and its loading dock, the side of the building with the only vehicle access to the rear and even a bit of the street that ran past the front of the club.

“All quiet?” my host asked.

“Welcome back. Yeah, all quiet so far,” I told him. Sun Tzu (yeah, that Sun Tzu) was silent in his silk PJs, even as he switched from his floating meditation to gliding around the room practicing the breathing and graceful movements of his martial art. “You getting another one of those feelings? Should I be expecting something soon?”

“Soon, yes,” the old man said.

“You should try some ribs,” I told him. “They’re really good tonight.”

“Soon,” he assured me.

I called him an old man and, sure, any calendar would say he was. There was no arguing that. He just didn’t show it. Whatever mojo he had working for him must’ve been good because I never saw more than three gray hairs on his head. He really didn’t look much older than I did. I expected that would only last till I clocked a few more years, since I was also pretty sure he looked the same as he had the day I met him.

“I should commend you,” Sun Tzu said, walking toward me across the candlelit room, “for exercising the wisdom to take the time to get to know your opponent, rather than allow your passions to lead you into rash action.”

“I‘ve been trying to conserve bullets,” I said. “I wish I could say it's been paying off. I’ve been having a hard time getting any info on the organization he‘s gotten into bed with. I’m trying to stay optimistic that if I can get past the security at Heliopolis and into his suite, I’ll be able to get something solid. His ex said he’s got ambition and a Jones for magic items, so…”

“Is he a user?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” I said. “He’s just a punk trying to shortcut to the top.”

“So, a collector, meaning he’s likely unaware that you’re stepping on his shadow as yet.”

“Yeah, I’m trying not to spook him,” I confirmed. “I’m going to keep the element of surprise as long as I can.”

“Eyes sharp,” Sun Tzu said.

“Ah, another van,” I said, watching a white cargo van turn from the street to drive along the side of the club. “Fifth one tonight.”

“No logos.”

“Yeah, just plain white,” I said, looking at the driver through the binoculars. “That’s a big guy…looks a little rough.”

“Troll?”

“Not that rough.”

“Ogre maybe?” Sun Tzu asked as the van stopped with its rear doors near the loading dock.

The large driver emerged from the van and lumbered to the back of the van. As he opened the van’s rear doors, someone opened a door from inside the club. A smaller, even rougher looking man stepped out onto the loading dock, into the light of a single overhead bulb, and signaled to the larger man who waited by the van in the rain.

“Loading or unloading?” Sun Tzu asked.

“Neither yet,” I answered. “They just told the big guy to stand in the rain. How did this guy even fit in the van? He‘s huge. His mom‘s probably still recovering from the birth.”

“Giant in the family, perhaps.”

“Probably,” I mumbled. “Glad I don‘t have to feed and clothe him.”

“Gold limo,” Sun Tzu announced, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Showtime,” I said, adjusting the binoculars.

The long car stopped with its headlights near the van’s, forming an odd-looking “L” near the dock’s staircase. The dark-suited chauffeur hurried out of the limousine and opened a large, gold-colored umbrella as he ran around the rear of the car, then to the right side. Opening the passenger door, another lean, dark-suited man stepped out of the car to join his driver under the huge umbrella. The boss man was almost a head taller than his driver, making the smaller man work a bit to keep the bigger one dry as he escorted him to the shelter of the loading dock. With the umbrella pulled away, the man who had to be Stark White stood tall under the light that shone down on the dock. In a white suit, shoes and gloves, he fussed over his lapels and his hair, preening like a kid on his first date. Obviously, a strawberry blonde pretty boy with expensive tastes. The club’s rear door opened again and White smiled an evil smile that a demon would envy.

The guy who’d poked his head out before emerged again, this time with a willowy blonde in a clingy party dress in-tow behind him. He had her by the elbow and it looked like they were doing a dance that involved her trying to stop and collapse while he kept her upright and walking. I noticed he wore the same twisted smile as White. The girl had no expression at all, but as her head flopped from one direction to another I did notice that she had pointy ears. White reached out and grabbed her by the face, then ran his other hand down her torso to her hips. He looked at her intently all the while, then lifted his head to look at the man who had brought her outside and gestured toward the van. The minion yanked on the girl’s arm, pulling her to the edge of the dock where the plus-size man in the rain took her in his huge hands and lowered the young woman into the van. The guy from inside the club ran back inside and in a few seconds came back with another girl and the cycle started again. Every time I started to forget how depraved people could be, I ended up getting smacked in the face with another reminder. My bad.

“What do you think?” Sun Tzu asked.

“Looks like Elf trafficking to me,” I said. “Really pretty girls, dressed to party, different colors, different heights, even some of the little ones, a couple may be Vanir…all really pretty, some of ‘em even glowy…”

“Shipping for a variety of tastes?”

“Well, if they’re only taking elfin, there’s not too much difference there, even if the Vanir aren’t mistakes. They’ve really got a pretty narrow target group.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Well, they could be spell components,” I speculated, “which isn’t really much better than other options. Whatever’s going on, they’ve got their hands bound and they look drugged.”

“Partying hard with the green fairy?” Sun Tzu asked.

“Fits with what I heard about White: he’s not working for anyone good. It may tip my hand early, but I’m sure not going to stand and watch. I’m going to crash this slumber party. You want a piece of the action?” I asked as I put my private eye hat (standard issue) firmly atop my head and slid back into my private eye trench coat (standard issue).

“Not our usual festivities, but I’m all warmed up,” Sun Tzu said, a short wooden staff flying from the wall and into his waiting right hand. “I may as well use it. Let’s rumble.”

As we ran off through the door and started racing down the many flights of stairs in Sun’s building, I caught myself thinking about how much faster a zip line would’ve gotten us to where we were going. Even taking them two stairs at a time, coming downstairs from the fourth floor took longer than I wanted. Worse still, the nearest door to the outside, put us on the sidewalk that ran past the front of the nightclub. We were just starting to sprint down the alley to get to the rear of the club when White’s limo splashed past us. I was pissed, but we kept running. I tried to stay focused on stopping the kidnappings.

The van driving goon was still talking to the club goon, probably about something stupid. Sun Tzu circled around the van to come at the big one from behind while I charged up the stairs and onto the loading dock. I think the big goon saw me just as I reached his little buddy. That was great, since it didn’t give him a chance to interfere as I spun ugly my way so he could hear me play some chin music for him. My punch knocked him off the dock, sending him head first into the rear doors of the cargo van. I watched him collapse, then noticed that Sun Tzu already had the big goon on his knees.

“You haven’t lost your touch, old man,” I said.

“You flatter me, my friend.”

“Says you,” I replied. “I’m the only one breathing hard. Can Kong still talk?”

“I believe he can be persuaded,” Sun Tzu said, poking the beaten goon with his wooden stick. “What say you, villain?”

Ow!” he snapped.

“What’re you clowns doing with the girls?” I asked him angrily.

“I-I don’t know,” he said, wiping water and hair from his forehead with one of his meaty hands. “I just drive the van.”

“To where?” I pressed. “Where were you taking them? To the hotel?”

He nodded, saying, “Yeah, to Heliopolis…for M-M-Mr. T-T-T…Ch-Ch-Cherr…” Suddenly, his efforts to fight through his stammer turned to grunting and choking. The big man grabbed at his throat and then collapsed.

Sun Tzu and I stood in stunned silence for a moment, the unrelenting sounds of falling rain around us and driving bass beats from within the club. Sun Tzu finally crouched and put a hand to the fallen man’s unmoving chest to confirm his condition.

“No pulse,” Sun Tzu said solemnly. “Fatality.”

“I’m not a fan of coincidence,” I said. “Looks like White’s got a magic boss who likes his anonymity.”

“Agreed,” Sun Tzu said.

“Let’s get the girls cut loose so we can get out of the rain,” I said.

I went back to the stairs and back into the rain to help as my friend opened the back of the van. We found fourteen confused and frightened elfin women inside, bound and gagged. We helped each of them out of the van and freed their hands. I let Sun lead them back inside to see if they could find any of their personal items while I followed the pack from the rear. As I stepped inside the back door of the club, I noticed a smiling blonde standing nearby in dim light.

“Nice work,” she said. “You just kept that bachelorette party from escalating past ‘weird’ and on to ‘tragic’.”

“One does what one can,” I said. “You part of it?”

“Nope.”

“I should catch up with my friend,” I said. “I’m his wingman and--”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” the blonde assured me.

“I know you?”

“Not yet,” she smiled.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

16377--In Warm Blood (Ch. 9)

Happy Thursday. To help keep my own feet to the fire, I'm using Thursday as my public accountability day. That means, posting a bit of coherently creative output for you to read and feedback on every week. If I perform according to my own intent, what I put here will be available as a whole elsewhere at the same time or shortly after appearing here.

In Warm Blood is currently available as a part of The Official Private Eye Handbook, first book in the CITY OF MAGICK series.  Please, feel free to take a look here, though, and at subsequent chapters. Let me know how you feel about it.  For those of you finding your way here relatively late, no problem. The start of the story is just a click away.

IN WARM BLOOD
Chapter 9


Down on the south side, the security on the front door of The Griffin was diligent and made the entry line long and slow. Rather than bother with the mass of lemmings that dragged themselves out to drink and dance the night away, we entered through the stage door at the rear of the building. Blending in with some of the people going in the back was simple. Once we mixed in, acting like we belonged backstage got us to where we needed to be. We had to push through lots of people that seemed to be oblivious to getting in anyone else’s way. There were young and old, pretty and tough-looking, colorful and grungy, which I think were the ones responsible for the stronger smells, but we did get there: the dressing room of a band called “Once Upon a Time.” “OUT is in” their fans liked to chant.

Homer got to the door first and chose to knock then enter, rather than kick the door in or let me kick the door in. Once again, my teachings went unlearned. It saddened me a little and I sighed as Overknight and I followed him in. We walked into an odd mix of new smells. Looking around, I could see it was the smoke from different incenses and cigarettes that made my nostrils sting, but it seemed to counter the smells from outside the room.

There were a couple of assistants, working on whatever their tasks were, while the other two guys and three girls seemed to be more relaxed as they looked at themselves in mirrors or checked their guitars or tapped drumsticks or talked about their upcoming show. I couldn’t tell who was ready to go onstage and who wasn’t. Obviously, the three of us stood out from them as much as they looked different from us. After all, they were supposed to be “The Realm’s Most Dangerous Band” according to all their posters.

“Hey, who called for an order of cops?” the guy with the drumsticks asked as I shut the door behind us.

“I ordered Chinese, man,” one of the guitarists said.

“Good evening,” Homer said, flashing his badge. “We just have a few questions that should only take a few minutes and we can get out of your way again.”

“Be quick, man. We’re on in fifteen.”

“Fifteen? That’s barely enough time to finish these off,” one of the guitar players proclaimed, holding up a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Grab some glasses, officers. Help us out.”

“It wasn’t me, chief. I got an alibi.”

“She said she was seventeen, I swear!” another guitarist said, letting the first refill his glass.

Funny bunch. “Robin Diana Wilson,” I said with a little more volume and authority.

“Oooooh,” a few of them chanted.

“Sounds like trouble for the girl wonder,” one of the band’s girls taunted the one beside her.

“I guess that would make you her,” I said to the brunette sitting in the barber chair with her back to the mirror.

“No need for all that,” she said, downing the rest of her drink and handing the glass to her hair stylist. “You don’t look nuthin’ like my daddy. He was th’only one in the habit of usin’ all three, and then only when he was riled.”

“But it is your name,” Homer confirmed.

“Robin Elektra now,” she said.

“They must not be fans, Robin.”

“You came into The City on a work visa as a musician, what, five years ago?” Homer continued to probe.

“Yeah, from north Texas,” she responded. “What of it? You came here to take surveys at the mall and look at you now: asking big boy questions. Your parents must be so proud.”

“Alright, look,” I stepped in, “we don’t have five years for Homer to catch up to current events and get to the point of this.”

“Awww and I was just starting to have fun,” Elektra said, pushing out her full lower lip in a mock pout as she finished.

“I’m sure you were,” I said, “that’s rock and roll, but one of my ass pains is that I need to find Stark White. One of yours is me until you get me heading in the right direction.”

She laughed and said, “I agree, he is an ass pain. He must’ve stolen something really pricey this time. Let me guess: something rare and magical.”

“Yeah, a woman’s life,” I said, shoving Whitney‘s amethyst pendant into her hand. “He ambushed her with a sniper rifle and a magic bullet and shot her down in the street.”

“Holy shit,” Elektra whispered as the room got even quieter. She stared down at the Monarch’s Hope, sparkling in her supple hands. “I..I guess he’s finally lost it. He’s been a selfish piece of crap for years…but I never thought…I never thought he’d go that far.” Elektra was getting more agitated, sitting there shaking her head in disbelief as she stared into the purple light. Her deep red lips trembled. “Hell, I even thought he might straighten out and become a decent guy one day, but…”

“It looks like this is news has become upsetting for you,“ I said. I had learned that sometimes it could be helpful in an interrogation to act sympathetic. “It’d probably help you feel better if you just start spewing info…and then we can bounce and you can go do your little show.”

“Hang on,” she said, holding out a hand to one of the young men on the far side of the large dressing room. “Covenant, can you hit me with the Divinity?”

“Sure, Rob,” he said, opening his hand to let an oddly shaped liquor bottle levitate across the room to her.

“Divinity?” Homer asked. “Draught of the Divinity--”

“Turn your head, stiff,” Elektra said firmly, “or wait outside. You want my help or not?”

“Let this one go, Homer, OK?” Overknight asked her grumbling partner. “Murder investigation. We‘re prioritizing.”

“I-I knew he…was getting worse…,” she said, taking a swig of the blue intoxicant with one hand and wiping hot tears from her cheek with the other. “Back when he first showed up around dad’s saloon, he just seemed like another guy that wanted to make a buck and get into my pants.”

“And you fell in love and--”

“Y’know, I never did,” Elektra told us. “Dad and I loved music. It’s got a magic all its own. It touches hearts and souls,“ she said, crying some more as she handed the Monarch’s Hope back to me. “Dad tried to explain that to him, but the fool could never feel that. Still, he got obsessed with the idea of chasing down magic and using it to make his life better. He took off to squeeze whatever he could out of the world. After dad died, it was just me. I finally let the saloon go and let my love for music bring me here. Lucky me, the last guy I ever wanted to see again had already beat me here.”

One of her friends handed her a tissue.

“Last time he got pinched, though, he called you,” Homer said. “He called a lot. What’s he to you?”

“He’s no friend of mine,” Elektra said firmly.

“Obviously,” Overknight said, “they used to date.”

“Hey, she’s good,” Elektra said. “It was only two dates, oh, no…one. He dropped in on me while I was at lunch once, ate half my food and said he owed me dinner, so we went out once. You guys should let her talk more. She‘s sharp.”

“We have to pay her by the word,” I said. “Keep going.”

“Yeah, well, my would-be boyfriend’s real name is Matt Stark and he called me way too much,” Elektra confirmed. “Fortunately, I realized years ago that he was a greedy SOB with

zero soul. All he ever cared about people was what he could get out of them for himself. I never knew him as more than a conniving weasel. He’d lie and steal to get whatever caught his eye, but if he’s started killing people…wow…Anyway, I finally went downtown to tell them to put him someplace with no phones…or lights. That’s when I found out about the new name and the newfound ambition. He cooled his heels for a while, but he did a favor for somebody connected while he was in, so--”

“He exploited it to become a bigger bad guy when he got out,” I said. “He probably started working for one of the rising bosses. He‘s definitely fast-tracked way beyond petty theft.”

“Yeah, the next time I saw him,” Elektra said, “he’d ditched the Harley, the boots, the denim and had started doing dirtier deeds to build bigger piles of money. He was trying to show-off with a gold limo, cash, shinies and a suit worth more than his narrow ass. He still turned my stomach, though, so I took that as a strong sign to send him on his way again.”

“Any idea where he went when you sent him off?” I asked.

“Or maybe he mentioned whose organization he’d joined?” Homer asked.

“No on the who,” Elektra said. “As for where, he bragged about a great view. He offered a phone number…He offered a lot of things, but I didn‘t want anything more to do with him. He was still obsessed with magic. He still wanted my dad‘s old harmonica,” she said, holding up a polished brass and chrome harmonica, “but neither of us would ever let him have it.”

“I see,” I said.

“Brick, doesn’t Heliopolis use gold limos?” Overknight asked me.

“Heliopolis…Yeah,” I said, “that’d fit. It’s one of the tallest luxury hotel casinos in town. That‘d account for the great view worth bragging about.”

“A crooked casino with housing for organized criminals,” Homer said.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” I told him. “I’m sure you’d have lost money in an honest casino, too, Homey.”

“Hey, I’ve got a system!” Homer protested.

“Anyway, that sounds like a good place to look for him next. Thanks for the time and the help. Have a good show.”

“You want to show your gratitude?” Elektra asked, her voice turning grim. “Find a way to put that dog down before he hurts anyone else and we‘ll call it even.”

“I promise you, White’s high on my priority list,” I said. “His time’s been running out since he put a hole in somebody close to me.”

“Oh,” Elektra said softly, sympathy in her eyes, “I’m sorry I hadn‘t realized. The girl he shot…you two were close?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “She was standing right next to me. Now, come on, you two. We’ve got a busy night ahead.”