by Jack Hammond
“The images Mr Ruben has is something that must be assessed.”
“Quickly!” Max blurted out. “Sorry!” he added. “It is just that time is a factor here, he needs to contact Edward soon.”
Silence once again returned to the creature, as if it was deep in thought, yet somehow vacant it was difficult to explain. He realised the moment the Associates got a lead on the boy it wouldn’t be long before they were breathing down his neck. After Martin’s demise, they wouldn’t play around. Max would be eliminated on sight, with Sarah Mather involved; a different level of agent was now on the case.
“Contact Mr Ruben, tell him his family, his child are no longer under threat.”
Max was right, he was a father. “I will need to prove it to him.”
“I will send people to them, to protect them.” It rasped, seemingly unhappy with having to compromise with lower beings.
“I will tell him, what of Edward?”
Silence again, it was making Max nervous. Something was wrong. This all felt forced, improvised, as if the expanse was unsure what to do next.
“Should I explain Edward will stop the pictures being given over?”
“Yes.” It replied simply.
“Very well, it will be done.” Max said closing his eyes he vanished.
Paul glared at the number on his screen. It was a colleague of his; he had been attached to the task force trying to find the missing boy. Paul knew he had to make the call; it had been almost forty five minutes since he had spoken to his contact. He wondered what his son would grow up thinking of his dad, the disgraced cop who helped steal children. The fact he knew nothing about it until this moment didn’t matter. Paul Ruben’s name would only be linked with contempt, hate and anger.
The mobile buzzed in his hand, sliding his thumb across the screen his contact spoke.
“I have your assurances.” He said, he seemed out of breath.
“What are they?”
“Your son and family are off the table,” Max told him.
“How do I know that?” Paul asked, it was not as if he could check it on-line like a bank statement.
“You have my word.” Max said.
“Means nothing.”
“This isn’t exactly a situation where we can draw up documentation. Your family will be protected, that’s how it works.”
Paul screwed up his face in anguish. “Okay, say that’s true. What about the pictures. The minute I don’t hand them over I’m blown. I’ll be killed.”
“You have to give them over.” Max informed him.
“I can’t, I just can’t.”
“The man you’re giving them to, is one of ours, he'll make sure they will come to no harm. He'll also protect your cover.”
“This is too much.” He was overwhelmed. Paul couldn’t be sure what to do or think, he felt like he was sinking into a cess pit, gasping hopelessly for air.
“I promise you.” Max said, knowing full well he had no authority or power. “You, your family and the boys will be safe.”
The noise from the food court was deafening, kids squealing as their parents tried to hold conversations while eating. There was a time when having a meal was less to do with food and more the company. It was about enjoying a conversation, revelling in each other’s stories, anecdotes or even woes. A trouble shared, that’s what they say isn’t it? But now it had been reduced to shovelling expensive, sugary, calorie laced, hydrogenated fats into an orifice. Only breaking the cycle to shout ‘shut up!’ to the over excited children, who were animated by the amount E numbers they had ingested. Edward frowned, how his town had changed. No, how the world had. Yet in its subtlety, no one had seemed to notice.
He noted the time and hurried his pace as he passed through the sliding glass doors and into the bus station. It wasn’t very busy. Many people were using cars more now; the newly built tram system and the increase in motorised scooter sales hadn’t passed Edward by either. The incessant droning of a teenager revving what could only be described as a lawnmower engine annoyed him beyond belief. He caught sight of Paul Ruben by the newspaper kiosk, he marched toward him. The detective was moving; he had noticed Edward and was on course to meet him halfway.
Edward narrowed his eyes; he noticed Paul was carrying a magazine. He couldn’t help but sneer at the adult publication, the young girl on the cover. Her modesty saved by some well-placed words. The detective wasn’t slowing down, he would not stop. Surprised Edward jolted to a halt and then Paul slapped the magazine against his chest.
“Don’t think you have this one.” He said in hushed tones.
Edward held out his hands as the publication fell into them. He glanced over his shoulder and watched the man disappear through the glass doors.
Edward opened it up, a small wedge of pictures not related to the source material sat in the centre pages. He removed the pictures, tossed the adult magazine and left for home. Edward smiled to himself as he tucked the images away, Mr Ruben must have really disliked that particular assignment to have tried to embarrass him in such a manner. No matter, Edward thought.
After arriving home that evening, Edward sat down with a glass of orange juice and looked at the pictures. With no hair, Maximus seemed more capable than before. He was far better than Martin; he had been a poor choice in Edward’s eyes. Turning toward the two boys, he couldn’t argue they looked alike. It had been a lapse that had alerted the Associates that this child even existed. Edward assumed it was a lapse, to be shielded for what looked like fifteen to sixteen years was not an easy thing to achieve. He dialled Sarah’s number from memory, Edward avoided records from habit.
“Sarah, it would seem your hunch may very well be correct.” He said as she answered the call.
“You have a picture?”
“Yes. I will send it you now, you can set the ball rolling, so to speak.”
“Excellent, it appears the lackey has come through after all.”
“Indeed.”
The book was almost at its end, the spy thriller had entertained him. Max noted the authors name and decided to look up any other works he had written when he had the chance. Max was interrupted by a phone call, he answered it. “Hello.”
“Mr Carter, I have been asked to inform you.” He began formally. “The link between the boy and his friend has been found.”
“What? Already?!” he exclaimed jumping to his feet. “How is that possible?”
“I have been advised to warn you, the child known as Luke Simons will most likely be under surveillance within the next twenty-four hours.”
“How? How has this happened?”
“I was merely told to inform you of this.” The phone went dead.
Max threw the phone on the bed angrily, how had this happened? Why had Edward allowed them to move ahead so quickly? Not even attempting to slow them down. Max stared at his phone, he should call him. He still had Martin’s phone under his bed, he could ask him why he allowed this to happen. Max crouched down and fished out the plastic bag. The phone battery, sim card and backing had been removed from the main shell. Max’s thumb hovered over the on button. What if he had no choice? What if they were watching him? What if they were watching him now? A call may blow his cover.
How would he explain this to Paul Ruben, if Luke Simons ended up on the front of tomorrow’s paper missing, then the next day Wesley? He needed answers and the only one who had them was Edward. The screen lit up as the mobile phone came to life. All the information loaded up and Max keyed in Edward’s number, but stopped. Max pondered the alternatives and decided it would be far less conspicuous if he sent him a text, asking for a face to face meeting. If Max was honest, he had missed him. All the time he had worked under him he had referred to him as Maximus and it had driven him nuts, but now he didn’t seem to mind. He put in a time and a place he’d recognise, took a deep breath and pressed send.
Chapter Twelve
Perry charged towards him and he knew instantly he was in trouble. He was i
ncensed, his eyes burned with a primal rage, that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the colosseum. Not stopping or relenting, he kept bowling forward. Wesley felt the rough sensation of the cold wall press against his back.
“You!” Perry yelled. “You will fight me!”
Wesley looked to his left and right. There was nowhere to go. The strangest thing was this hadn’t occurred to him once. Wesley had not even considered anyone bringing the clash world into this one. But at this moment as he was pushed harder against the wall, he could think of nothing else.
Perry grabbed Wesley’s collar and pulled him forward. He was taller than Wes, but he was also broader and had a seasoned scrapper’s look about him. Wesley had only fought once in his entire life. He'd won the fight, but only because the other boy lost his footing in a puddle.
“You can fight me here or there. Your choice!” he said furiously. “But I think I’ll give you a taste now, so you know what’s coming if you don’t challenge me tonight.”
Wesley watched his arm pull back, his fingers curling into a solid ball. That’s when he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. You’d think anticipating a punch would hurt less, it didn’t. The first blow hit Wesley clean on the cheek, the cold temperature made it sting more than it should have. Falling to the ground Wesley immediately covered up, expecting the blows to rain down on him. There was a scuffle, Wesley could clearly hear it. After a moment of no follow up punches, he looked between his arms folded across his face. He didn't see anything at first, and then moving his gaze he saw Perry. He was struggling against a force greater than him. Wesley lowered his arms, the force was Darren. Perry was easily held in a choke hold by Darren and grinned at him on the floor, no doubt amused. Darren swung Perry around and tossed him across the grey tarmac, like he was in the colosseum. Perry scrambled to his feet, his fists clenched he glared at Darren. He assessed his chances against his new opponent. Darren was six feet, two inches tall and broader than Perry, also more imposing than Wesley.
“This is not your fight!” he shouted.
“This is whatever I say it is.” Darren retorted calmly.
“This isn’t over!” Perry screamed. “I’ll torture your mate tonight!”
Perry turned and ran, fleeing through the school gates into the street. Darren turned to Wesley, still grinning he moved closer.
“Why did you do that?” Wesley asked.
“I’m above you. Here in this place, I’m better than you. Yes, I said it. It’s not wrong because it’s true.” He smirked.
Wesley smiled. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Just a bit.”
“I know I was a tool.” Wesley admitted. “I’m sorry, thanks for helping me out.”
“I’m sorry for being less than helpful.”
Wesley held his face as he stood up; with a nod he walked away.
“Hey, why didn’t you challenge him?” Darren asked.
Turning back he smiled. “I thought it would make him mad,” he admitted.
Darren pointed at his face. “It worked.”
Wesley laughed, “Yeah too well.”
“So who’s he fighting tonight?”
Wesley thought. “I have no idea.”
“But he said ‘I’ll torture your mate tonight.’ So how’d he mean?” he replied curiously.
“Not a clue, I didn’t. Sadie or Alwin either.”
“Guess we’ll see tonight.” Darren replied.
“Yeah, tonight.” Wes guessed it was as close to patching things up as he and Darren would get.
The school cafeteria was full; tables lined the hall from one end to the other, each one packed with hungry kids. The dinner ladies moved around observing the childish goings on like prison officers patrolling the yard. Sadie, Alwin and Wesley sat in the far corner. Two other students sat just out of earshot of their conversation.
Sadie frowned at Wesley’s cheek. “That really looks like it hurts.”
“It did, not so much now.”
“I can’t believe he actually hit you,” Sadie said. “What an idiot.”
“You know what you should do now?” Alwin added.
Wesley shook his head. “No, what?”
“Destroy him in the colosseum.” He grinned.
“I don’t know…” Wesley said hesitantly.
“You have to.” Alwin said.
“What if he comes back?” Wes asked. “Daz might not be there next time and if he is who says he’ll help me again?”
Sadie stopped chewing her chocolate bar. “Darren? Our Darren?”
“Yeah, he put Perry down. If it wasn’t for him I’d be in a lot worse state.”
Alwin’s face went funny, not a frown or a grimace but somewhere in-between. “Didn’t think he’d help you out after the other night,” Alwin added raising his eyebrows.
“You don’t give him enough credit.” Sadie happily informed him. “He’s not as bad as you make him out to be.”
“She’s right.” Wes admitted. “He didn’t have to help.”
“Guess so.” Alwin answered half-heartedly.
“Like I said if I challenge him and win, he could come for me anytime he wants.”
“And do what?” Sadie asked. “He can only beat you up.”
“Only!”
Alwin smirked.
“You can get the police involved. He can't tell them about the arena can he?”
“I think he’s got a hang up on the whole being beaten up thing.” Alwin laughed. “In all honesty, I’d happily take the kicking to destroy him on the sand.”
Wesley glared at him, “One kicking, but how many would I have to take?”
“He’s on an eight win streak. He needs two more before he can challenge the Elite.” Alwin squinted. “How good would it feel to knock him back down to zero, zilch, nada, nothing?”
“Actually it would be nine, he’s challenged someone tonight. If he wins it'll be nine.” Wesley said.
The three of them looked at each other, each one thinking about what Wes should do. From the looks on their faces it was clear Wesley was the only one in two minds.
“I’ll think about it, see what happens tonight.”
The choice was still playing in Wesley’s mind, like a CD on a loop as he entered the colosseum pit. He made his way across the marble floor and saw Alwin, Sadie and surprisingly Darren. He took a deep breath and readied himself for an unpleasant conversation. Even though he and Darren had sort of made it up, the simplest thing would break the uneasy truce.
“Hey Wes,” Alwin said.
“What’s up guys?” Wesley replied.
Darren just nodded, strong and silent Wesley thought.
“What did you decide?” Sadie said cutting to the chase.
“Not sure yet.”
“Well, we found out who’s fighting Perry tonight.” Darren said.
“Who?” Wes asked intrigued.
Darren gestured towards the arena door. It was Patrick Pullman; Wesley wiped the palm of his hand down his face. He'd done this, this was all on him. Patrick did not understand what he was getting into, Wesley had to tell him.
“I have to warn him.” Wes said breaking away from them.
Patrick was little anxious, but nowhere near what he should be, facing someone of Perry’s level. He mentally prepared himself. He had chosen his manifestation, an archer. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would look like, he had three or four ideas but had not made a conclusive decision. Grey, blue, the colour wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t decided on. Patrick looked between the stone walls and into the amphitheatre. The sand was immaculate, alluring and exciting.
“Patrick.” Wesley said placing a hand on his shoulder.
Nervously pulling away, he looked at Wes. “What do you want?”
“You can’t fight.” Wesley explained.
“The hell I can’t.” Patrick retorted. “I have a clash next.”
“I know he’s going to hurt you.”
Patrick just looked suspiciously at hi
m.
“Seriously. He wants to hurt you because I won’t fight him.”
“He knows I’m not even friends with you lot! He’s helping me out.”
“I’m trying to help you, he's not.”
“You?” Patrick laughed. “You wouldn’t even talk to me. Why would you care even if he was trying to hurt me?”
“Because I should have helped you out,” he admitted. “You need to believe me, you can’t do this.”
“Sorry, but I am.”
Wesley knew he had pushed him to this, to face an adversary he couldn’t compete with. The chance of him having a sketch pad full of cheats like Wes was unlikely. “Please! Don’t go out there, he will hurt you.”
Patrick turned away, looking back out at the arena he waited for the announcer to call him out.
“No luck?” Sadie asked as Wesley returned to the group.
“No, it’s my fault. I should've given him two minutes of my time.”
“Poor Paddy, gets beat down at home, school and now in his dreams.” Alwin added with a shrug of his shoulders. “What a life, huh?”
“I couldn’t change his mind. Perry will be rough on him.”
“You tried,” Darren said. “Nothing else you could do.”
“I could have been less of a tool,” Wesley realised just how much he had changed. He was lying to his best friend, keeping secrets from his parents and worst of all cheating within the arena. He had received help in all his clashes, Wesley was living and acting out a lie.
