by K. C. Finn
“You were talking about…something?” He prompts.
“Yeah. So Smyth’s having some trouble rounding up Flash Morgan,” Kendra rephrases. “Nobody at the House of Cards seems to remember anything about hearing a gunshot.”
“How forgetful of them,” Cae replies with a roll of his eyes.
“But Flash has been back to the same neighbourhood as the casino,” Kendra adds with half a grimace. “Smyth put two officers out after him and they’re both in the hospital as of this morning.”
“Ouch,” Cae responds, but it’s with little real feeling. Anyone who goes after a guy like Flash Morgan hand to hand frankly deserves what they get as a reward for their stupidity.
“You think he’ll go back to the House of Cards?” Kendra enquires.
“Indirectly perhaps,” Cae answers. “I have a feeling Lady Locke is still holding his stake money for the poker game, and I’ll bet it wasn’t a spare change kind of amount.” A trickle of concern makes Cae shift in his seat. “You’re not sending anyone in there again, are you?” He checks coyly.
Kendra shakes her dark head, missing his look of relief. “No they’ve got some big event going down there tonight,” she continues. But then her head rears up and she quirks a black eyebrow at her detective. “Why?” She asks in a tone suddenly laden with suspicion.
“No reason,” Cae murmurs, and he knows he’s already blown his attempt at staying cool.
“Don’t go down there,” Kendra warns with a wagging finger. And then she lets out a frustrated little sigh and drops the finger slowly. “You’ve already been there, haven’t you?”
And Cae makes a very serious decision in a very short amount of time.
“Actually I haven’t,” he lies.
“Oh,” Kendra says, her whole brow rising with a pleasant air of surprise. “Well, good.” She suddenly seems at a loss for speech. “It’s nice to see you listening to me for a change.”
“Well, you are the chief,” Cae replies, and he can feel that sickly, shaming sensation creeping into the pit of his stomach again.
“Hmm,” Kendra smirks. “In that case, you want to stay late tonight and help your wonderful chief with her mountain of paperwork?”
A little pang of panic alerts Cae’s mind. “Ah, no thank you,” he says, attempting a casual denial. “I think I need an early night, actually.” A yawn arrives as if on cue, and Cae is more than grateful for it.
“Plus you despise paperwork,” Kendra adds as she buys into his excuse.
“Plus that,” Cae confirms.
“Well it was worth a try,” the chief answers, hauling herself up with a manly swing to get to her feet. “You could do with the rest, Cae. You look awful.”
“Thank you for that,” the detective answers dryly.
When Kendra has left Cae looks at his face in the reflection from his computer screen and finds that her usual total lack of tact is actually a pretty accurate representation of the truth. For the first time in several months the young detective’s features have turned gaunt and even paler than usual, and he knows by the trembling in his hands that the drug withdrawal has to be the cause.
Cae sits back in his chair and lets out a breath, content in the knowledge that he won’t look quite so haggard for much longer.
8.
Lady Locke makes the decision to give Cae his payment for the night up front so that he can be “at his best” for the evening’s events. The news immediately puts the detective into good spirits as he takes himself off to the side room to indulge his greed. He finds himself in what had been the crime scene two nights prior, which has now been swept up by the forensic team and smells strongly of bleach, but such matters are far from Cae’s concern at this moment.
The cap snaps open with a delightful pop, and Cae takes his trusty silver teaspoon from the pocket of his long black coat to scoop up the substance as quickly as possible. The sensation is almost instant no sooner than the powder has raced down his gullet, and the usually weak detective feels his fabricated strength returning. His muscles start to tingle and his blood gets a little hotter, and when he replaces the bottle and the spoon in his pocket, Cae can feel the purposeful determination of every motion in his hands and arms.
He suddenly feels extremely ready to guard the feline Cara, almost wishing for some kind of trouble to start so he can prove his worth to Lady Locke. It will all lead to the wealth of information that he needs to collect on The Face, after all, and then whatever lies he’s told Kendra will pale in comparison to his achievement in single-handedly capturing the greatest criminal magnate of all time.
Amid his proud smiling and optimistic thoughts, Cae assesses himself carefully, and comes to the conclusion that Lady Locke’s chemist might have put a little too much HOPE in this batch. It will have to be remedied before his next payday.
“Enjoying yourself there?” Asks a silk-laden voice from the far door of the room.
The preoccupied detective is snapped from his reverie by the sight of Zerafina Xiao, tonight clad in a bodysuit that mimics the shimmer of leather. The oriental beauty sidles up to Cae without smiling, but she extends her slender hand in all politeness.
“Miss Xiao,” Cae says with an incline of his head. He takes her hand for the briefest of moments as she absorbs the sight of his black gloves. “I had the pleasure of watching you perform yesterday.” He stumbles for a moment, but adds “You were marvellous” before his nerves can get the better of him.
The young woman grimaces with a sharp flick of her jet black ponytail. She casts her eyes to the ground and replies in a bitter tone. “Lady Locke doesn’t seem to think so. I am to perform only as an epilogue to the unveiling of that little beast tonight.”
“Cara’s just a novelty,” Cae offers, his throat growing dry. “There’s no talent in just existing.”
The sienna-skinned woman meets Cae’s gaze again, and now her darkly painted lips curl upwards a little. She is much shorter than he had imagined, a tiny frame from every angle, but her hand-on-hip stance gives the impression of a much grander stature.
“You’re a policeman, aren’t you?” It doesn’t seem much of a question, as though Zerafina already knows the answer.
“A special detective,” Cae corrects. “I specialise in unusual investigations.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll find plenty to amuse you here,” Zerafina comments idly. “All of these people seem very unusual to me.”
Cae chuckles quietly, and as he tries to avert his gaze from the amused beauty before him, his bright blue eyes catch sight of the time on the clock opposite him. He shuffles in his all-black attire.
“I think I’m about to be wanted outside,” he says.
“What a shame,” answers Zerafina, slinking her way out of the room in front of him.
Cae follows her with slow strides until they emerge into the bustling atmosphere of the casino’s main gambling hall. Zerafina’s stage has been usurped for the grand unveiling and it is now garlanded in a sequined display that was most definitely commissioned by Lady Locke. Black and green velvet swathes, to match Cara’s colouring, are draped over the square tank and the lady of the house herself is dressed in a brilliant green ball gown to compliment them.
She beckons to Cae, who comes to take his place beside the tank, one hand under his coat, poised on the holster of his hand gun. His eyes scan out sharply into the crowd, where the few faces he recognises are all fixed on the tank. Andre Lutz and Mai the cashier are right at the front of the gaggle, each at the ready with ornate looking cameras to snap the best image of Lady Locke with her prized possession. Croop the robot stands off to one side, his silvery hands in position to begin the protocol of the required level of raucous applause. Zerafina Xiao stands way off at the back of the gathering, and she couldn’t look less interested in the goings on if she tried.
But then another face catches Cae’s attention, an irrepressibly smug and handsome face. The olive eyes of Redd Richmond are not watching the tank, but focused dire
ctly on Cae; the conman’s tongue jutting slightly out over his lips as he stifles back his laughter. The young detective feels his blood boiling at the older man’s amusement; how funny he must think it to see Cae working in a place like this. Redd lets his mouth fall back into a relaxed and expectant expression as his eyes move slowly back to Lady Locke and her gesturing, but the phantom of that sardonic grin stills hangs on his lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Lady Locke begins grandly. “Thank you for your attendance on such a very special night. I won’t bore you with one of those terribly pompous speeches - we all know what you’ve come to see!” The elegant woman takes the foremost velvet cloth between her bejewelled fingers. “I present to you my little Cara - the last feline in Europa!”
Amid the applause as the beast is unveiled, a shout catches Cae’s attention. Somewhere in the centre of the crowd a body is moving sharply to get away. The body is dark skinned and bald headed and bears a hideously ugly face covered in scars and pock-marks. As the great lump of a man tries to exit the distracted crowd, Cae realises with horror that the figure is Flash Morgan.
9.
Vaulting from his position on the stage, Cae extracts his gun and orders the crowd to separate. He rushes down through the people as fast as his legs will carry him in pursuit of the burly profiteer, who has thundered out of the crowd at last and into the open space of the gambling hall. Croupiers and waitresses leap fearfully out of the path of the vicious mogul as his heavy feet circle their counters. Cae catches a glimpse of Flash’s beady black eyes as he glances over his huge shoulder to assess his pursuer.
But as the wanted man looks back Cae spots movement ahead of him. A moment later the ageing form of Detective Smyth appears brandishing a handgun, flanked by two other officers. His moustache is set rigid on his stony face as he raises the gun level with the criminals’ head.
“Stop right there, Morgan!” He bellows through the space between them.
Flash’s head snaps back to focus on the police trio blocking the doors ahead of him, but his feet do not obey Smyth’s commands. Instead he careers on like some great ugly freight train in the direction of the blockade, engaging the old detective in a deadly game to see who will break first.
To Cae’s great surprise Smyth fires immediately at Flash, who ducks the bullet by tucking his enormous head down into his burly shoulders. The shot comes flying over him and whizzes past Cae as he veers to the left, his footfalls increasing to a run as he tries to connect with Flash before he can reach the men at the door. Smyth fires again and misses again, and the cries of shock and panic start to rise in the crowd still gathered at the back of the hall.
When Flash Morgan reaches the three detectives, only one of them is sensible enough to get out of his way before the impact. Smyth and the man on his right are flattened by the human wrecking ball that smashes through them and the double doorway, and as Flash breaks into the foyer of the House of Cards Cae is still a few feet behind him.
“Come on!” He shouts to the one unharmed officer that remains, and the two of them keep up the chase.
The foyer is emptying rapidly from the sound of gunshots, public and staff alike are racing into the bathrooms and storage cupboards. The usually smiley coat check girl ducks down behind her counter with wide, wet eyes as Cae surveys the space sharply. Flash is headed for the main exit, but Cae can already see the red and blue lights of the Pandas outside cutting through the dark curls of smoke. The door has been barricaded from the exterior, as Flash discovers when his thick dark hands smash against the handles in an attempt to break through and make his escape.
The profiteer turns then, his tiny eyes expanding to their full circular shape as he stares down the barrel of Cae’s gun. The other officer beside him trains his own weapon to take aim on the dark, round figure some feet away. But Cae has known Flash Morgan for many years. Trapped or not, this vicious creature won’t be going down without a fight.
“How’d you think you were going to burst out there without a gas mask, Flash?” Cae questions, planting his feet firmly as he keeps his hands steady on the gun.
“You’d be surprised how long you can last without a mask once you get used to it,” the criminal replies with a rough, crooked grin. “How’s your mother, Rex?” He snarls.
“Dead, like she always is,” Cae bites. “And that’s not going to work on me anymore.”
“Gotten over it, have you?” Flash croons in his gravelly tone. He grins again, this time so wide that his tarnished gold teeth reflect in the bright lights of the foyer. His tiny black eyes glitter. “Well I haven’t. It was quite a sight to see.”
A sight to see? Cae feels his grip loosen for the briefest of moments on the gun as the revelation hits him. Whilst the disgusting mogul before him has often used Cae’s mother’s fate as a pressure point, he has never before made such a claim.
“You’re lying,” Cae insists. “Come off it Flash, you’re just looking for a new angle.”
“Am I now?” Flash replies, stepping slowly closer to the two armed men. Cae can see from the corner of his vision that the young officer accompanying him is shivering. “But she was burned alive, wasn’t she, Rex?”
The young detective can only nod, knowing that such details were kept out of the press at the time. Flash tiptoes closer again with his huge feet. He raises his scarred brow and scratches his wide chin.
“And that acid,” the criminal continues. “Now that stuff’s hard to forget. Bright green it was, and it kept its colour all the way through the burning.”
In one short moment several important things happen. The first is the sound of Detective Smyth and his colleague, now recovered, as they burst into the foyer with a volley of gunshots. The second is the fact that Cae is certain that his heart has stopped in shock for just a moment at Flash’s revelation. The combination of these factors makes it nearly impossible for him to stay focused on the aim of his gun, and so the third thing to happen takes the form of the man-mountain that is Flash Morgan suddenly charging towards him.
Flash smashes chest first into Cae, but the detective’s firmly planted feet keep him rooted as the dose of RESISTANCE does its work. Shocked that his usual technique has failed him, the profiteer gets a hand around Cae’s wrist to try to wrangle the gun from his grip. But again Cae’s chemical influences get the better of the crook, and a healthy two-parts THRUST in Cae’s new blend allows him to take Flash’s gripping hand and force it away, relinquishing his gun hand long enough to train it right into the centre of the dark, pock-marked forehead of the vicious killer.
“On your knees,” Cae commands, and Flash obeys.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Barks an authoritative voice over the growing mutters of the relieved crowd.
Cae looks up to see that the double doors of the clean air partition have been opened, and he meets the hazel eyes of Kendra glaring at him suspiciously over her mask.
10.
Between the doses of his blended chemicals Cae starts to uncover the full extent of the impact between himself and Flash. He can already feel the fragile, scarred skin of his torso has cracked, and an inspection under his black jumper tells him that he is bleeding into his undershirt. At Dartley station Cae takes a spare tube of medical ointment from the bottom drawer of his desk and reaches up into his shirt to tend to the tainted skin in the privacy of his office.
Until there is a knock at his door.
“Come in,” the detective says as he straightens out his shirt and jumper, feeling the cool, sticky ointment stinging his raw flesh.
The perfect pair of legs that step through the door tell him that he is in the presence of Angelica Lane before he even looks up. Her petite face flashes him a smile.
“Good thing you were at the casino tonight,” Angelica observes with a flick of her blonde hair.
She steps further into the office and sets a file down on Cae’s desk. His gloved hands slip across the table to retrieve it with a curious look.
“I�
��ve managed to arrange three meetings with some of the men from your list,” she explains as she sits down opposite him. “They’re all up at the prison; I’ve made them look like formal reviews so it won’t look suspicious for either of us.”
Cae’s blue eyes scan over the three pages inside the file for the names. Joseph Grant, Ross Holly and Jude Wilkes. He looks back to Angelica with a smile. “Thank you,” he replies. “This is going to be very helpful I think.”
“You’ll have to wait about a fortnight,” Angelica adds hastily. “It was the earliest I could get them.”
“Well that’s-” Cae begins, but another form barges through his door to interrupt the discussion.
Angelica turns with a graceful arc of her pale neck to observe the intruder. “Hello Chief Nai,” she says as she eyes Kendra carefully. “Lovely night, isn’t it?”
“Hi Angelica,” Kendra says flatly as she comes to stand beside the seated woman. “Nice to see you. Get out.”
Angelica rises from her seat amid the tangible tension and gives Cae an apologetic look before she exits the office. Kendra does not bother to close the door fully behind the blonde officer as she goes. Instead the ex-sergeant circles the empty seat, looking down on Cae with a hard face.
“You told me you weren’t going there again,” she states.
“I’m sorry,” Cae answers in a throaty tone. “I’m still working on Lady Locke, I couldn’t help it.”
“So why lie to me?” Kendra demands.
“Now hang on a minute,” Cae sparks with indignation. “You’re lucky I was there. Smyth and his men were worse than useless.”
The former solider nods her head slowly. “You’re right,” she agrees. “But you weren’t. You were very capable.”
It isn’t a compliment, and Cae feels an uneasy sensation forming in the pit of his stomach. His palms start to sweat under his black gloves. Kendra looks away from him then, her face a picture of seriousness as she surveys the walls of his office.
“You’re not the only one who can deduce things, you know,” she muses, and Cae doesn’t like where the comment is heading. “I’ve just been down to the storage room to take a look at the contraband.”
