by Barry Reese
THE JUDGMENT OF THE SHADOW COURT
An Adventure of The Dark Gentleman!
by Barry Reese
Published by Pro Se Press
Part of the SINGLE SHOTS SIGNATURE line
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.
Copyright © 2015 Barry Reese
All rights reserved.
Hi, there.
Sorry to introduce myself under these circumstances but it couldn't be helped.
You try and avoid the flying bullets and I'll do the same. Sound fair?
That's me, by the way - the guy in the top hat, domino mask, opera cape and full coat and tails. I'm currently jumping from rooftop to rooftop, desperately wishing I’d spent less time in school on my grades and a little more time on the track and field team.
My real name’s Michael Groseclose and I’m the son of Theodore Groseclose, the publisher of The Sovereign Gazette. My father’s not a bad man but he’s like so many others in this city, willing to turn a blind eye to the corruption around him. I refuse to do that, going so far as to drop out of college so that I can take to the streets and fight for what I believe is right.
Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?
Not too long ago, my father and I had one of our many arguments and I said a few words to him that I don’t think either of us will ever forget. They sum up who I am and what I do, though he has no idea about my connection to The Dark Gentleman.
Bet you’re wondering what it was that I said, aren’t you? Well, I think we have time for a recap, if we make it quick:
“You sit in your office and you print your stories but what do you really know about life in this city? Have you walked its streets? Have you seen all the joy and happiness sucked out of its people because they can’t believe in the system anymore? Do you know that there are dozens of mobs out there, all vying for power? And that the men in charge turn a blind eye to it because they’re too scared or too crooked to do what’s right? Oh, but you would know about that last part, wouldn’t you? You’re the one keeping it quiet that good people are being out on the street so your buddies can build their high-rises.”
Harsh, huh? Believe me, he deserved to hear it.
I don’t think he was always like he is now. In the early days, he was a crusading journalist and with his best friend, Igby Kern, he was out to change the world.
Kern went into law eventually becoming one of the few judges that this town could trust. But like everyone, he grew old and retired, leaving behind a cesspool of scum in his wake. My father saw all of this and came to the conclusion that one man, no matter how well intentioned, could never alter the fundamental nature of our city.
I disagree.
Anyway, let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we?
The two guys chasing me are agents of something called The Shadow Court. It's a clandestine vigilante group that captures men who have escaped the law... Said men are then put on mock trial and executed for their crimes.
Given the turnkey nature of the Sovereign City legal system, such a scheme has its appeal, I know. But it IS illegal, especially when some of the Court's punishments are meted out to people that I think may actually be what they claim to be: you know, innocent.
So... You've got to be wondering how I came to be in this position, with my neck on the line.
Be patient, my friends. All will be explained as we backtrack a bit and explore the adventure my erstwhile chronicler has dubbed:
The Judgment of the Shadow Court
by Barry Reese
The Dark Gentleman.
Of all Sovereign’s heroes, this was undoubtedly the most well-dressed. He wore a white shirt covered by a gray vest, black tie and ebony jacket. Over all of this was slung a dark opera-style cape that was clasped about his neck. With black slacks and shoes, as well as leather gloves and accompanying top hat, The Dark Gentleman looked like he had stopped off on his way to a fancy ball.
It was only the presence of the automatic in his right hand and the large domino-style mask that he wore that gave one pause.
Molly Wegman found that her eyes kept straying from the masked man's handsome face to that deadly weapon that was clutched in his right hand.
Twenty-four years old, with shoulder length auburn hair and sparkling brown eyes, Molly had never had any trouble turning heads. This had led to a successful career as a cigarette girl at Smithy's Tavern, a delightfully perverse little club located on the Sovereign City docks. It was a thrilling location for a young woman who found danger to be a turn-on of the highest order.
Molly clutched her cigarette tray tightly and stared at The Dark Gentleman. She had stepped outside on her break, planning to set her tray down on the curb while she massaged her aching feet. This hope had proven fruitless, however, as she'd come face-to-face with the masked gunman.
She wasn't sure whether to scream or laugh.
"Don't make a sound," The Gentleman said with a smile. It was the kind of roguish grin that made grown women weak in the knees. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"What are you doing here?" she asked, using the same whispered tones that he had. She glanced back at the nightclub. Jazz music drifted out, loud in the still of the night.
"Big Maxie and the boys are inside, aren't they?"
"Yes." Molly gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of them. Maxie was a police officer but he was as crooked as they came. He and his cronies liked throwing their sizable weight around and Molly had the pinched and bruised backside to prove it.
The masked man stepped close to her and she smelled his cologne - it was expensive and very masculine. She liked it. "What table is he sitting at? Can you describe where he is?"
“Of course I can. He’s near the kitchen. It’s dark there and he always grabs that table if it’s available.”
“Good to know.” The Dark Gentleman reached out and took her elbow. “Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to get you out of those clothes.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “Wow, buster, you really work fast!”
Without another moment’s hesitation, Molly began to slip out of her garments.
***
Maxie took another bite of the fish that was piled high on his plate. His chin was shiny with grease and when he talked, his compatriots could see remnants of his food trapped between his yellowed teeth. All in all, Maxie was not an attractive man - he tended to skip showers for days on end and his nose had been improperly set after a bar brawl a couple of years before, leaving it with an unsightly bulge in the middle. “I’m telling youse guys that we need to keep on our toes. The Judge and his Court are going to come down hard on us eventually - you just watch!”
One of his minions, a skinny guy named Manny, shifted uneasily. “But why, boss? We done everything just like they said. When a mug gets out of jail, we either drive him straight to the Shadow Court or we give the Court all the info they need to pluck him up off the streets later on!”
Maxie grunted. “Yeah and why are they doing these things, huh? ‘Cause they want to punish people that they think are the bad guys - and who do you think we are? Angels?”
“We ain’t bad guys,”
Manny complained. “We just need more cash than what the chief can pay us! Nothing wrong with that. My dad was a cop in Sovereign and he said it was the same way back then. Way of the world.”
Maxie shook his head and snatched up a napkin, wiping his fingers. He was only dimly aware of the cigarette girl wandering by and dropping off a fresh pack of his favorite smokes. “You’re a moron, Manny. They’re using us. As soon as we ain’t something they think they need no more, we’re going to be the ones with the noose around our necks. Unless we do somethin’ first.” He reached out for the cigarettes and his eyes widened. A small note had been tied around the pack and he could make out the lipstick impression of a pair of lips on the paper. He glanced around and caught the shapely backside of the cigarette girl as she vanished around the corner. Her legs were a little more muscular than he usually liked but they weren’t half bad - besides, Maxie had never been particularly choosy.
He read over the note, which asked him to meet her outside so they could get to know one another and he grinned. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, boys. I got a fan club I have to take care of.”
***
Maxie stepped outside and he immediately spotted the cigarette girl in the shadows. He could only make out her legs, which were slowly rubbing together as she leaned back against the exterior of the club. “Hi, darlin’,” he said, moving towards her. “I understand you wanted to talk to me.”
“Talking wasn’t what I had in mind,” came the husky reply. Maxie’s grin became all the wider. “I like the way you think, doll.” He moved into the gloom and reached out to take her by the waist but a quick knee to the groin followed by a karate chop to his neck sent the big man sprawling to the ground.
“Sorry to disappoint you but upon further consideration, you’re not really my type.”
Maxie groaned and looked up as his attacker moved into the light. Though the figure was dressed in a woman’s clothes and a curly blonde wig sat atop the person’s head, it was obvious upon close inspection that this was not a female at all - but rather a man skilled in makeup and disguise.
The Dark Gentleman knelt at Maxie’s side and yanked his head back. “You’ve been working for The Shadow Court, haven’t you?”
Maxie sneered. “I can see up your skirt. Not very ladylike.”
“I’m no lady so it’s okay.” The Dark Gentleman slammed Maxie’s skull against the ground, drawing a trickle of blood on the man’s forehead. “Where do you drop off their victims? I need an address - and any names of the go-betweens you talk to.”
Maxie paused and then relaxed. It occurred to him that this might not be a bad turn of events at all - whoever this cross dresser was, maybe they could take down The Judge and then Maxie would be free and clear. “Sure, sure,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you everything - just close your legs, okay?”
***
“I don’t like it. It might be a trap.”
Sorry to break up the riveting narrative, dear reader, but at this point I feel compelled to introduce the worrywart that compiles my exploits and sends them out for the masses to enjoy. His name is William “Winkie” Smalls and his nickname comes from the unfortunate fact that he has a nervous twitch that causes his left eye to “wink” when he’s uncomfortable… which is darn near all the time. We met back at college – which I dropped out of while he successfully got a degree. Unfortunately, said diploma didn’t help Winkie find work and he ended up on my payroll, playing ghost writer for me. I want to inspire people… and one way of doing that is by self-publishing little articles about my adventures. These are then scattered about the city by agents – well, more like homeless and unfortunates who need a few bucks but why quibble?
Anyway, I appreciated the concern and said so. I added, “I can’t let that stop me, though. Something’s got to be done about the Judge and his gang.”
“We can’t have vigilantes running around, can we?” Winkie added under his breath.
“There’s a big difference between them and me,” I pointed out. “I don’t kill, for one thing. I trust in the judicial system to do its job… even if it requires me giving it a swift kick in the pants from time to time.”
“And coming up with a case so air-tight that not even the crooks in power can get their buddies off with a light sentence,” Winkie said.
“True.” I looked at myself in the mirror, having changed into a fresh suit and tie. I had to admit to thinking that I looked pretty good – and that made me wonder if I’d have time to stop by and visit Pearl before my date with danger.
Pearl Watkins is my current romantic pursuit but you won’t find her mentioned in any of Winkie’s stories. I don’t want to turn our relationship into some pulp magazine-style, breathlessly described sexual scenario because it’s anything but. She’s a chaste girl with a figure that makes her virtue all the more admirable… she’s never had a shortage of suitors, believe me.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to call in some back-up on this one?” Winkie asked.
I shot him a look of reproach. “I’ve run into Lazarus Gray and even The Peregrine,” I replied, “And to be honest, I think they’d just get in my way.”
“Because you’re so much better than them?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that our techniques aren’t the same. Besides, Gray works with an entire team of agents – if I called him in, I’d be nothing more than another flunky for him to order around.”
Winkie grunted.
“What?” I asked.
“I thought it was about justice… not about who gets to be the one in charge.”
“You wound me, old chap,” I said, trying to keep my voice light but failing. I did want to do the right thing for the city at large… but I’d be a damned liar if I didn’t say that the action and excitement were like a drug once you got going. I didn’t want to share the glory, true enough… but I also liked to think that I didn’t want to share the danger. Putting my own life on the line was one thing but if somebody got killed while helping me? I’d feel guilty for the rest of my days.
I try to keep these kind of morose musings to myself, lest Winkie incorporate them into the ongoing narrative. I don’t want the general public to think of me as anything less than a devil-may-care hero… an inspiration in dark times. My doubts would only muddy the waters in that regard.
What you’re seeing here, by the way, isn’t quite what Winkie presents to the public. He writes it all up two ways, you see – one that I get to enjoy in private because I’ll admit to getting a charge out of seeing my adventures written up in an exciting fashion. And then there’s the version that goes out to the masses, cleaned up to protect the innocent… You know, people like me.
Anyway, I think it’s time to return to Winkie’s slightly more enthusiastic prose, don’t you?
***
“I don’t understand why you play these games, Michael.”
“You like them, though?”
Pearlie laughed and it was a tinkling kind of sound that brought a smile to Michael’s face. He was crouched on the limb of a stout tree just outside Pearlie’s bedroom window. The thick shadows made it impossible for her to see anything more than his silhouette and Michael enjoyed the fact that he could see her perfectly while she was unable to recognize the fact that he wore a mask.
He had paid her numerous visits in this manner, scaling the tree and speaking to her in whispered tones. Her father, a widower, was downstairs and though he liked Michael well enough, he would have been quite sternly opposed to his daughter receiving male visitors at this hour of the night.
“So why aren’t you in bed?” she teased, knowing that his sleeping habits were quite peculiar.
“Thoughts of you kept me awake.”
“Talk like that might make a girl think the wrong thing, Mr. Groseclose.”
“Oh, I’m not sure those thoughts would be the wrong thing…”
“You’re a real caution, aren’t you?” she laughed.
Impulsively, Michael m
oved closer and lowered his voice. She had to lean her head out of the window to hear him, bringing her dangerously close to being able to see his masked features. “Pearlie, someday I want to marry you.”
The lovely young woman blushed prettily and paused before responding. “Are you proposing?”
“No… not yet. There are things about me that I haven’t told you yet and I don’t want to get married unless I’m not hiding anything.”
“Then why don’t you just tell me? It can’t be that bad, can it? It’s not about another girl, is it?” she asked nervously.
“No! Believe me, there’s no woman in Sovereign that holds a candle to you.”
“Then what is it?” she asked, her voice flush with pleasure at his words.
“You know that I haven’t always approved of the way my father’s run his business. He’s too willing to let the corrupt nature of this city continue along its way. I’ve been doing some things behind his back to try and make sure that changes take place. If he found out about what I was doing, he might disown me.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t! Besides, what could you be doing that would upset him so?”
Michael laughed softly and moved away. “Someday I’ll tell you… and hopefully you’ll be proud of me. But you might just think I was a royal idiot.”
“I doubt that,” she replied, knowing that he was already dropping from the tree to the soft grass below. “I love you,” she added, hoping that he knew it even if he couldn’t hear it.
***
The address that The Dark Gentleman had been given was in one of the seedier parts of town. In fact, it was an area that seldom saw any aspects of law enforcement… because the cops weren’t in a hurry to go wandering through these particular streets if they didn’t have to.
Morrison’s Alley was the name given to a four-block area of Sovereign City, home to the lowest of the low in terms of economic status. The buildings were almost all one-story affairs, built out of the cheapest materials available.
The Dark Gentleman found a particularly shadowy alleyway in which to hide. It took nearly two hours before he spotted what he wanted to see: the arrival of a black sedan at 145 Morrison. Two men got out of the front and one of them yanked open the backseat passenger side door, yanking out a disheveled-looking fellow that The Dark Gentleman recognized immediately: James “Jimmy” McIntosh, a peddler of smut that had managed to avoid obscenity charges the year prior. The Dark Gentleman had seen several of the pictures that had been entered as evidence and his stomach still recoiled at some of the things he’d seen. His guilt had been obvious but he’d gotten off with nothing more than a warning, thanks to a few well-placed bribes.
