by A R Zane
Max was starting to get suspicious. “What are you talking about, man?”
“Where were you last night, Mr. Dunne?” Max was unnerved; he was conscious of the inspector’s use of ‘Mr.’ instead of ‘Detective’.
For the inspector to ask him this question, then he knew something Max did not know; he must have known all that happened last night. Max thought deeply about the question. He could easily refuse to answer but he knew that would spell guilt in bold. Still, he must not entirely divulge what had happened the previous night or he would be nailing himself on the cross. He knew that everything that had happened now had been planned by the mysterious adversary who stayed in the dark while he shot arrows to the light. Everything about the situation smelled of setup. He would have to put his wits together and get himself out of this one.
“Oh, I was with her last night,” he lied; he said it so smoothly that he almost believed himself. “I picked her up along Allen Street at around 10.30 last night.”
“Really?” the inspector stared as he lit another cigarette. “Who is she?”
“She’s a hooker.”
“And did she by any chance tell you her name?”
Max shrugged. “Of course she did, but you know all these call girls, they bear a million names.”
“And what name did she give you last night?”
“Barbara,” Max replied grimly.
The inspector nodded for the first time. “Yes, that’s what we drew from her prints. Her name is Barbara McKenzie. She lived downtown.”
Barbara McKenzie? Max was confused. Why is everyone going by different names? What’s going on? he wondered confusedly. He wanted to ask if the inspector meant Barbara Burrows but he knew that would be an unwise thing to do. It would suggest to the man that Max knew a lot more than he was letting out.
The next question took max unaware.
“How did your phone get to her pocket?”
“What!” It was an involuntary reaction.
The inspector stared at him once again. He was silent, expecting Max to reply his question.
“Oh, my mobile phone! Did she take it? Oh wow! She must have stolen it while I was asleep. I didn’t know. I was still sleeping when you called me.”
“Are you saying she stole your phone?”
Max knew what had really happened and he wanted to tell this man about everything, but he would not be believed. Evidently the Barbara Burrows, the senator’s daughter he picked up from Fortune 8, was a fake. She had been playing him all along. She had her role to play and she had carried it out perfectly well. Her job was to switch phones with Max, and she had done exactly that. She had picked Max’s phone between the seats instead of her own on the dashboard, and Max had not been aware of that – until this moment. He cursed himself for being so intellectually slow.
“That’s the only explanation, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said the man, “Who would steal phones these days. What do they hope to gain?”
“Maybe she’s interested in finding out my banking details.” As he said it, fear gripped him. That was most probably the case; the bastard had taken his phone just to move all the money in his account, to use it as collateral.
“Can I have the phone, please?” Max begged, “I want to make sure my account balance is still intact.”
The inspector reluctantly gave it to him. “You have two minutes.”
Max pressed the phone, swiped through various pages and apps and finally located his account balance. $240,000 had been cleared from his account; he was left with only $4,000. He felt like crying.
“How is it?”
Max smiled at the man. “It’s intact.”
“We’ll move her now. A bad case. She must have either been killed by a sociopathic client or by one of her pimps. She’s not the first whore to be killed in an alley.”
Young officers had started preparing her for transportation. Max intentionally left out the part where the corpse’s phone was with him. The inspector did not ask about it and so he didn’t bother talking about it. The phone was the only lead he got.
“What about my phone??”
“We’ll mail it to you as soon as we are done with the investigation. You should be expecting it in about three days’ time.”
The inspector walked away, leaving Max in the alley. As Max walked out into the open, he saw the inspector’s car following the ambulance transporting the deceased body of Miss Barbara McKenzie.
He stood in the middle of the road and stared at the phone in his hand. Why had Barbara left hers? She must have intentionally done that, too. It that was the case, then it meant that another task was waiting for her somewhere in the phone. He walked to his car and locked himself in as he browsed through the phone the second time. He was slower and more careful this time around. There were various pictures of the girl. Then he started noticing a kind of pattern. There were various pictures of a flower and a spoon; and apart from that, Max noticed that the girl had the tattoo of the same flower and spoon. Almost all the pictures contained this image of a flower and a spoon.
He knew there was a clue here; an important clue indeed; he just needed to find it. First and foremost, he identified the kind of flower it was – a rose. He drew out a paper from his glove compartment and wrote the name down. Then he wrote down s-p-o-o-n.
rose spoon
It didn’t make sense to him.
Rose spoon
What did a flower and a cutlery have in common?
Rose Spoon
He tried to think. Then it occurred to him. It was a name.
Rose Spooners
The Web
Rose Spooners
He didn’t know anyone going by that name, of course. If he were at home he would have searched through the address books. But he was not at home, and time was not on his side. The Rose Spooners – whoever she was – might be in serious danger. He had to act fast; besides, he needed to locate the bastard tormenting his life; and so any lead that might possibly bring him closer to him must be faithfully followed. He would have used his phone to search for the name but it had been taken from him, thanks to the bastard playing some games with him. He never asked for this; why had he been chosen to be the player had the other end? What did the psychopath see in him anyway? At first he had thought it was Craig pulling all these but he knew he was mistaken now. Craig was big and muscular, granted, but he wasn’t very much in the brain department. All he knew was violence. If Craig had put Emily in his car, then he had been told to do so by someone else. But he could give it to Craig, the crazy guy knew how to hide his own tracks. He had successfully eluded Max for weeks now. Max wished he could just grab the idiot now; he would make him, revealed the name of the person pulling his strings. Surely, the anonymous manipulator had taught Craig how to hide himself.
Barbara McKenzie’s phone had no network reception. It was practically useless; no call feature let alone access to the internet. And so Max drove to the nearest cyber-café he could find. He paid for an hour’s time and was given a computer at a corner of the café. As he browsed, he requested for a cup of coffee.
The first thing he did on the internet, however, was use a search engine to look for the name. In the search box, he typed in Rose Spooners.
No suggestion came. Instead, Max immediately got directed to a website www.spoonrose.net. A dark blank page came to the screen immediately. For five minutes, the blank page remained on the screen. Max was confused; he did not understand what was going on. All the keys he pressed were nonresponsive. He was beginning to think that there was a kind of technical error and was about to call the administrator when a message suddenly appeared on the screen.
HELLO MAX
He was surprised; evidently, the search engine had brought him to a chat site. He immediately knew it was his enemy at the other end.
“Who the hell are you?” he typed a response and pressed SEND.
A few seconds elapsed before another message appeared.
I AM OMEGA. CALL ME OMEGA.
“What do you want from me?”
YOU ARE IMPORTANT.
“Important for what? what the hell are you talking about?”
WE NEED YOU.
“Need me? Who are you people?”
WE ARE ONE.
“What is your real name?”
“I AM OMEGA. CALL ME OMEGA.
The message were not only cryptic, they were downright creepy. Max felt like he was chatting with a villainous computer robot. It couldn’t possibly be a human being at the other end of the line. He tried another angle.
“Are you Craig?”
CRAIG IS MY SERVANT. YOUR BROTHER IS MY SERVANT.
Now it seemed like there was indeed a human being at the other side.
“Can I see your face?”
I AM YOUR MIRROR. LOOK IN A MIRROR. YOU ARE LOOKING AT ME RIGHT NOW.
Another crazy response. The person was definitely mad. He was looking at the screen and seeing only the reflection of himself. A creepy sensation suddenly overcame him. What if the person was looking at him right now? The computer system had a webcam at the top. What if the madman who called himself Omega was staring at him from the other side through the system camera?
“Are you seeing me now?”
There was a short pause before the message appeared.
YES. I SEE YOU. I SEE ME.
Typical. Max sighed. Omega was probably speaking in a language that could only be understood by mad people like him. Max obliged further. He raised his middle finger to the camera. If Omega was truly seeing him, he expected him to respond.
FUCK YOU TOO!
Max nearly fell off his seat. Truly, Omega was looking at him through the camera.
“Let’s meet, Omega.”
OKAY.
“Where do we meet?”
FOLLOW THE TAG.
“What tag? What are you talking about?”
FOLLOW THE TAG.
“I don’t understand what you are saying.”
FOLLOW THE TAG.
Max decided to change the subject. Omega had not proved to be sane so far. He would need another approach.
“Where do you live?”
EARTH.
“Where the hell on earth?”
ON LAND.
“Which state of the country? Give me your address, let me come to you.”
FOLLOW THE TAG.
Here we go again! Max was out of any question to ask. Omega was insane, none of his answers would make sense.
“Why did you bring me here?”
YOU HAVE A MISSION.
“What mission?”
FIND ME.
“Find you? What the hell are you saying again?”
FIND ME.
“Where are you?”
FIND ME.
I’M BACK!
The screen came back to normal. He had ten minutes left for his time to elapse. He quickly entered the website again. www.spoonrose.net. He must locate where he was; most importantly, he had to know what Omega meant by the final two word ‘I’m Back’. Who is he? Where is he back from? What does he intend to do? How does he expect me to find him when he gave me no address? He continued wondering gravely as he typed in the address and pressed ENTER from the keyboard.
He was met with a shocker.
The site www.spoonrose.net does not exist. Do you want to buy the domain name?
He logged out of the computer. To hell with domain name.
***
As he walked out of the internet café, his mind was blanker than when he had entered. Although he had just chatted with the person had gained himself the reputation of making his life a living hell, Max was still unable to learn anything about the bastard, save for his name Omega, which, of course, was a sobriquet. Omega had refused to divulge his original name; he had also refused to reveal his face. While he stared at Max through the camera, he had kept his own identity hidden.
Max knew that Omega was reeling him in again. He had intentionally made Max follow the trail of breadcrumbs to arrive at the site. He had fashioned out his own twisted way of communicating with him and playing the game only he understood. The person who knows the game will always win. Omega knew the game, Max didn’t; that was why Omega was always winning, of course, because he knew the end result beforehand. And, of course, this was because he prided himself in being a lot smarter than his opponent. Once again, he had reeled Max into his web. He had fashioned out a new form of communication just to send him a message.
Omega had told Max to find him. He had said he was back – back from where exactly? Who was this Omega? Max suddenly discovered that Omega would create that avenue to be located. He knew he would not have to worry himself. Soon, another terrible event would occur and Max would be somehow involved. With Omega, someone would have to die; he seemed to enjoy passing his message via one crime or the other. He would present Max with a red-herring and direct his attention away from the right path. He had done so right from the beginning. The missing husband. The lost brother. The kidnapped little girl. The abducted fake Barbara Burrows. Everything had been used to deceive him; he had thought he was fighting crimes but he didn’t know anymore. Just when he thought he was doing the right thing, it would turn out that he was actually doing the biddings of Omega.
Now the bastard had told him he had a mission, another mission. Although Max did not know what the mission was but he was looking forward to it
It would start very badly, but of course, he would deal with it. This time around, he would try his best to capture the sick bastard.
***
The hooded figure stood waiting in the parking lot. It was quiet, everyone had departed except this one person he was waiting for. He had chosen the right day and the right time. He knew the schedules of his target. Of all the seven days of the week, this was the exact day he felt was best for him to strike. This was the exact moment. He smiled to himself as he stood smoking a cigarette in a dark corner not far from his target’s car. At 10.15, he saw the elevator door open and his target stepped out into the parking lot.
The target was Inspector Rudge.
He knew he was exposing himself to a lot of risk by coming out here. if he was unable to overpower the inspector, his cover might eventually be blown. He needed to make this right. He had to make the statement as clear as possible. It was his destiny to do so.
He could have easily sent one of his disciples to carry out the job but he didn’t want to risk it; they wouldn’t carry it out as perfectly as he wanted it. Besides, those idiots were vulnerable to being captured. They were too careless for his liking. Soon, he was going to get rid of them all. Soon. He smiled at the thought. He was excited.
As the inspector stepped closer to his car, the hooded figure threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, extinguishing the ember. The inspector walked past without noticing the figure in the dark.
The hooded man followed behind the man.
Inspector Rudge took a few more steps and stopped. Something didn’t seem right to him. He was looking at another car beside his. He was the last person to leave the office and there was no one else in the building. Who would have parked a car at this time? Sensing danger, he quickly drew out his pistol and turned around.
“Hello Inspector,” the figure greeted, smiling warmly.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“You have something of mine.”
“You shouldn’t be here at this time. I told you –”
He gurgled in his words as the figure planted a knife deep in his neck. The muscles of his legs withered and he collapsed to the floor. Inspector Rudge did not die noisily – he died in his own mess. The pants were immediately soiled with his urine and the more putrid smell was evidence that it was not only his bladder that gave out.
But the figure didn’t mind the smell; it was a common thing to him. A lot of the people he had killed in the past had died in suc
h manner. This one was no special either. He bent over the corpse and hurled it across his shoulder. Then he took the next few steps to his waiting care. He opened the trunk of the car and deposited the corpse there.
He retrieved the man’s office key from his pocket and then relieved him of his phone. With the keys, however, he returned to the building, located the deceased’s office and searched around. He saw it immediately. It was lying in the drawer.
He smiled proudly to himself as he sat behind the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. Once again, the city would be terrified after ten years. Ten long years.
He drove out of the police station into the street – away towards hiding spot.
He would leave a message for Detective Max Dunne.
Smokescreen
Max heard about the death of Inspector Rudge from the news. Just two days after the inspector had discovered the dead prostitute, he, too, was now dead. Everything about it reeked of Omega’s handiwork. Why did Omega kill Inspector Rudge? Max wondered. Did the man pose any threat to him? How was the inspector connected to any of these? Perhaps the man was already on the trails of Omega; he had most probably discovered a secret and was already closing in on the elusive Omega. What did Omega have to do? Stopped him. Permanently silenced him. Omega was indeed a man person; he had no qualms about killing a cop. It was a message to him, Max found out. Omega was telling him that he could kill him whenever he desired to; his detective tag would not stop Omega if he was bent on ending Max’s life. And there was no way Max could escape from him. The message was loud and clear. As he stared at the television and watched the footage, sweat broke out of his forehead. The inspector had been killed in such a gruesome manner, it seemed. Inspector Rudge’s body was decapitated, separated from the torso.
Max wanted to scream out loud. He wanted to run out of the house into the street. He wanted to run down the street naked screaming at the top of his voice. Everything was crazy and mad. Mad!
It was unbelievable! No, it can’t be!
He left the television on as he grabbed his coat and left the house. He drove to where Inspector Rudge’s body had been found but the severed body had already been packed into a body bag and deposited in an ambulance heading toward the morgue.
