The thought stung her.
Where was he all those other times she had to fold George’s clothes? Where was he all these years? It wasn’t his exile that pestered her. It was the absence and the return. He thought an orgasm was going to erase the struggles she went through bringing George up alone. The notion was borderline offensive.
And now John would be here soon for an evening of reconciling Netflix and chill. His belief that everything was on the mend, and that now she suddenly needed him.
But she didn’t need him. She hadn’t before. Grace Morgan was always aware of the verdict that John Vinyar wasn’t special. He just professed to be.
With a knock on the door, she felt empowered, determined. Primed for a final goodbye. Jogging down the steps, she took a moment and a deep breath as she unlocked the door.
‘John- oh, I’m sorry.’ She paused. ‘Can I help you?’ She said, greeting the stranger at her door.
‘Hello there, Mrs Morgan? I’m Detective Mann from the KCPD. May I come in and ask you a few questions?’
‘What is this regarding sorry?’ Grace politely replied causing Mann to pause for a microsecond.
‘Is John Vinyar currently in your residence?’
‘No, not for a while. Is he in trouble?’
‘No, I just have a few questions if you wouldn’t mind.’ Mann subtly requested once again, seeking entrance to the property. Grace realised that the paranoia installed by John’s antics had gotten to her.
‘Are you okay? Your eyebrow is bleeding slightly.’ She commented as a small open wound upon the officer’s eyebrow started to bleed.
‘Ah yes, I’m fine. Occupational hazard I’m afraid.’
‘Well come in, I’m sorry. I can be over-cautious nowadays. We had a rather unpleasant break in before Christmas.’
‘Oh god, I’m sorry to hear that. It’s good to see vigilance. We need more smart women like yourself.’
‘First aid kit’s in the kitchen.’ Grace said, escorting the detective down the corridor. George watched on from the stairwell before heading into the lounge area. Mann investigated the habitat, looking for others as Grace hunted for a bandage.
‘You have a lovely home.’
‘Thank you, here it is.’ She said, finding a plaster as Mann looked on surprised to see a small boy staring at her from the lounge.
‘Oh, I didn’t realise you had a child.’ Mann muttered, almost regretful, reaching for her radio.
‘Dispatch, this is 583, can I get a squad car at 4 Aglaia Street, I have a child alone in a house, possibly abandoned.’ She stated. Her calm, strategic tone sent chills down Grace’s spine. The mother turned toward George with a face that had him nervous.
‘George go to the bathroom and lock the door!’ She yelled, turning to grab a nearby kitchen knife. Before she could turn to face the officer, Mann drove the handle of her firearm ferociously into Grace’s head. Knocking the young mother out cold.
George raced up the steps using both hands and feet before steering into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Confused by what was happening in the adult world. He climbed into the bathtub and sat silent with the shower sheet closed.
✽
Eva exited her car, worried by the situation in front of her. Two police officers walked down Grace’s front path toward the road. The latter of the two holding George. Like a lioness to her cub, Eva sprinted across the street, making her presence known.
‘What are you doing with him?’ She yelled, unfazed by their authority.
‘Are you his mother?’ The first officer quizzed.
‘No, I’m his Aunt. My sister should be here with him.’
‘Well we got the call. We found him in the bathroom, he had locked the door from the inside. He’s refusing to speak.’
‘I don’t understand, who made that call?’ She queried, walking alongside them.
‘Detective Mann, you will need to contact the station to speak with her directly. We have orders to take the child.’ The officer responded. Eva knew the repercussions of resisting a police officer. But she also knew better than they did that George was going nowhere. Moving in between them and their exit, she placed herself in the gateway that led off to the road.
‘You are not taking him.’ She affirmed.
‘Stand aside miss, or I will arrest you.’ The officer warned.
‘What’s going on?’ John called out from across the road, arriving from the main street before it.
‘Who are you?’ The officer inquired, reaching for his defensive baton.
‘John Vinyar. Where are you taking him?’ John replied. The officers looked to one another, knowing his name a little too well.
‘This child is heading to the station with us. I will call for back-up if required sir, stand aside.’
‘Where’s Grace?’ John whispered to Eva, now by her side.
‘I don’t know, a police officer called and said he was alone.’ She replied, a growing dread in her voice.
‘The boy isn’t alone. His auntie, a blood relative, is here.’ John argued with the officers.
‘Immediate family only sir, now step aside.’ The officer advised and warned.
John wasn’t thinking. He just saw George in a stranger’s arms, being carried away from his mother’s house.
‘I’m his father.’ John countered. The announcement awoke a nervous and displaced George, who turned to see his father’s apprehension.
‘Evidence of the claim or it is as I said, sir.’ The officer replied, adamant in following police policy. John realised the revelation to the boy was wasted on the mere fact he had little evidence to the point. Nudging Eva to join him in stepping aside. They watched as George looked to them both, too fearful to express an emotion.
‘It will be okay George. I will be there soon. I’m going to find your mummy okay.’ Eva said in a maternal intonation.
As the police car drove away, John bombed into the house, racing through all the rooms.
‘John’ Eva called from the hallway downstairs, ‘What’s going on? Where’s Grace?’
‘I don’t know.’ John said nervously as he descended the stairs. ‘Who made the call?’
‘A detective, some guy.’
‘Who Eva?’ John exhorted.
‘I don’t know. They just said a man detective.’
‘A man detective? Wait, Detective Mann? Marler’s partner.’
‘Yeah, that guy.’
‘She’s not a guy.’ John explained, reaching for his phone and dialling the police station. ‘Detective Marler please, it’s urgent.’ John requested. The response down the line caused his lips to open from their default pout to something more fearful.
‘I’m sorry. What?’ He said in alarming disbelief. ‘When?’ He replied overwrought. He dropped the phone to his side, hanging up as it descended.
‘What is it? Eva asked, needing some context to events. John stared at the floor, choosing not to announce the little blood-spot he spotted a few inches shy of the dinner table leg.
‘Go to the station. I’ll find her, I promise.’ He stated. Eva could hear guilt, even shame, in his tone, but her focus was on her nephew and making sure he was okay. She jogged out of the house and into her car without even a farewell.
John roamed through the dining area and into the lounge. Disillusioned at the potential narrative taking place. He slowly lowered down and took a sit on the sofa. Something he had once purchased with Grace many years ago.
Trying to think where she could be and more worryingly, why she was taken. He looked up to the wall, studying the photographs he was all too aware, excluded him. To his surprise, dead centre of the collection rested an image of him and George at the rugby match.
✽
Grace regained consciousness, with her eyes still dazed from the hit. The surroundings were new and different. And her feet felt like they were levitating off the floor.
Carried by a large, intimidating man toward what seemed like a fridge door. Her heartbeat
sped up, and her awareness heightened.
‘Who are you? Where am I?’ She yelled. Her shrill voice disgruntled the man, causing him to drop her to the ground. Crawling away from him, she looked back to see Mann standing beside him. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘Our employer wants to speak with you.’ Mann explained.
‘Who is your employer?’ She demanded to know.
Mann approached her slowly. Grace climbed to her feet and retreated up against the peculiar fridge-like door. The detective now an inch from her, twisted the doorknob behind Grace and watched as the young mother fell beyond its frame and into a cave-like cellar.
‘Welcome, Miss Morgan’ a deep, cold voice echoed from the disturbing room she had fallen into. Grace turned to see what looked to be a makeshift prison cell. Equipped with a small table with handcuffs resting on top of it. In the far corner awaiting her, stood the masked terrorist Kingdom, a face until now, she had only seen on the news. ‘I apologise for the facade’ he murmured, removing the mask. ‘We have met before.’ He announced. ‘The night before John’s big fight with Nico. A long time ago.’ Grace recognised Razz’s face. Once seen with John and more recently, as a colourful presence on the news.
‘You’re the Worthing killer.’ She proclaimed, turning to see an emotionless Mann observing them both.
‘He wanted her here, keep her occupied.’ Mann instructed, slamming the door closed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
John pulled up outside the Old Market and headed for the front door. His phone vibrated, and he knew better than to be optimistic. He removed it from his pocket to see a video call from Grace. The first video call she had ever initiated with him. It sent all optimism crashing as reality hit and he braced himself for the next few seconds. A deep breath in and he hit accept on the invitation.
The interface transitioned for a moment before filling the frame with a strange pinkish-beige colour. He looked on confused, unable to decipher the image. The frame motioned, and John deduced that someone had the phone close to something.
‘Hello, John’ a voice greeted, sounding happy, almost boastful.
‘Who is this?’ he demanded to know, still trying to decipher the visual.
‘You don’t remember your friends John? Even the ones you leave buried by your self-indulgence?’
‘Tobias.’
‘We had an agreement, John, you would stick to the plan, Nico would finish, and we’d walk away rich. You cost me everything that night, and I paid dearly for it. That’s not friendship.’
‘You raped and beat up two nurses Razz. We were never friends. I told you before, you get what’s coming to you in this world. Tell me where Grace is, or I promise you, you’ll be at Defcon-fucked.’
‘Oh, John. I thought that night would have taught you. What you can lose when you don’t keep that temper in check.’ Razz sinisterly replied, moving the camera backwards. Zooming out to illustrate just what the warm colour that filled the frame was. It became immediately clear that the visual was that of Grace’s naked body. Resting unconscious, draped and taped over a table.
John could feel his whole body enter a state of paraesthesia. His hands tingled and numbed simultaneously. His lower lip began to quiver as his sanity started to derail.
‘Now don’t be alarmed, she isn’t dead yet. I’m not that cruel. In fact, she may be the very first girl I make love to before suffocating with her own hair.’ Razz announced, turning the camera to show his smug demeanour. He could only enjoy the guise across his old friend’s face. ‘The most delicious fact of all this is that it is you that brought her to me. You disobeyed Frank’s wishes and he, in turn, brought her to my door. It’s like what you said. You get what’s coming to you in this world, John.’ Razz explained, ending the call.
As the interface closed, John felt like he was going to be sick. All noise absorbed itself into a single high-pitched tinnitus inducing noise that pained his eardrums. His face began to burn as blood and pressure gathered beneath his cheeks. A vibrating mess, he dropped to his knees, scattering the phone to the curb in the process. Knelt down, isolated on the street, his mind went into an overdrive of rage. A thousand toxic images torrented through his sanity, disabling it. Unwilling to bear the burden, he screamed a painful and exhaustive cry to the sky. The roar ended with John’s face retreating back down to earth, appearing almost to enter a prayer.
It hit him that in this horrific space in time, he was about to lose all that he had left. A critical moment or juncture in a person’s mind-set when they suddenly feel free to do anything.
Lifting off the floor like a man possessed. He felt his brain switch to auto-drive as he headed to Red’s car boot. Removing a bag full of weapons. Either a personal stash or reserves from Red’s more eventful days of business. He unzipped it to reveal several light pistols and a long-range rifle. He grabbed the bag and tossed it into the passenger seat of the car.
Knowing Razz would only make the call if he was locked away safe somewhere. John set his sights on the man he considered liable for his fury. He stomped hard on the accelerator, causing the wheels to spin as they propelled the car forward. Heading for the Melancholia, seemingly aware of where to find his beloved brother.
In what was a rare spectacle. Hades sprinted through the city streets in broad daylight. Reaching the Old Market as Red’s car passed the far corner, the screech of its tires implying urgency.
Checking to see he hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, Indy removed the mask as he pushed the front door open.
As it shifted inward, providing a small margin for Indy to enter. He could smell an abhorrent scent he had never come across before. He then looked up to see whether the news of the factory had made it on television.
His mouth dropped at the devastation in front of him. The television was broken, laid smashed on the ground. In its original position, hung from the walls by chains and rope, was Big Red’s bloodied corpse. Still fresh minus a hand that had appeared to have been sawn off.
Indy tripped over a nearby stall as he examined the milieu. Every inch of the pub’s front house had been destroyed. Vandalised by parties unknown. A trail of blood began at the foot of Red’s suspension, ending at the bar top where his missing anatomy laid. Indy, keeping his distance, tried not to heave his stomach contents onto the floor. He tried to determine who and why someone would do this to the adorable big man.
He had been butchered. His blood still dripping onto the floor. Indy knew of only two people with the mentality and capacity to achieve such an undertaking. And one of them, Razz, had incriminated the other earlier in the day. The brutality pointed to Goldmolar. But the motive and clues to accuse and seek out Red remained unclear to him. How did Molar know to head to the Old Market? Did they know who Hades was?
Indy suddenly realised in his struggles that he himself may have revealed it to the woman at the factory. It felt like a cheap-shot to the liver.
It was his fault.
Indy tried and failed to hold it in as his vomit cascaded across the pub floor. On his knees, he threw the Hades mask away, watching it crash into some empty beer bottles. Needing support, needing guidance, he reached for his phone and called John. Regardless of the man’s potential duplicity, Indy needed him, now more than ever.
Unable to get through, he opened the cellar, hoping that it was nothing like the scene upstairs. To neither his hope or fear, the basement workshop was empty and untouched. He walked into its centre, realising that Felix was likely ignorant of events.
Indy needed a moment. A pause in time to absorb things. Alone and in an eery silence, he set himself down on the workshop floor. Contemplating all that the day had revealed.
✽
Frank’s car pulled up outside the Hoveslade safe house, and he had his lines prepped. Grace was there for her own protection from John and his associates. All of whom had been supporting the lunatic Hades on his violent crusade.
The identity of which he still struggled to accept.
&nbs
p; Once he had his brothers pacified. Grace’s innocence and intelligence would be the calm voice of reason to authorities. He had taken into account that her capture and treatment would leave her tricky to persuade. He hoped that Mann had used her smarts. Gathering Grace up delicately and that Razz was kept to himself, alone and hidden. Masturbating to the dark web.
He knew, or he believed any anguish Grace would no doubt display, would be nullified by the revelations he had ready about John. His true allegiances, and his real agenda.
Frank entered the house, unsurprised to see his employees lounging on couches. Smoking weed and playing golf on the games console. He groaned at the view before noticing Mann alone in the back garden on the phone.
‘Mann, where’s Grace?’ He asked puzzled. Mann quickly placed a finger to her lips. Engaged in a conversation with a senior police official on the subject of Marler’s demise.
‘Yes sir, I’m doing the best I can to cope. It’s understandably difficult, he was a great man.’ She replied down the phone. Frank cared little of her occupation, taking offence at her attempted shushing.
‘Get off the phone and get back to the fucking office.’ He yelled, slamming the back door closed, and continuing his hunt for Grace.
‘Sorry sir, no sir, I’m near an industrial estate, there’s an argument nearby.’ She tenderly replied to the official. Ending the call to head to the Melancholia, hoping not to run into her employer on-route.
Frank scanned every room with no luck, realising the only space left was the makeshift holding cell.
‘Where’s Razz?’ He asked one of his stoned, semi-aware thugs.
‘Er, down in the cell I think.’ He replied.
Frank saw a predicament.
Caused by his own lack of explicitness to both Mann and Razz.
‘Follow me.’ He ordered the spliff-holding thug.
Marching down the corridor to the soundproofed cell door. He gripped hold of the handle and pushed it open.
Persona Non Grata Page 25
