by Matt Drabble
He walked proudly along the dark alleyway where most citizens would fear to tread; the night was quiet but held no trepidation for him, for this was his world. He was armed with a six inch switchblade and an indomitable attitude, his plan was to take himself into the inner council of the Dent Company within two years. He would sit in a swish office and pass rule and judgement on those below, and it was Ghost’s position that he coveted the most. He could easily see himself sitting at Jimmy’s right hand, advising the king and plotting his removal, he was young and felt immortal.
Suddenly a dark shape stepped out into the alley in front of him blocking his path. He did not have time to take out his blade before the figure fell upon him hungrily, and he discovered that he was not so immortal after all.
Ghost punched the key code numbers into the expensive and effective mechanism quickly. After all of these years, he could always sense when Jimmy was about to, not just cross the line, but take a flying mad leap over it. The heavy door swung open and he stepped inside swiftly finding a depressingly familiar scene. Jimmy “Eyes” Dent had an underling cowering beneath a vicious onslaught. Jimmy was still that little boy touched by the hand of madness; he’d earned the nickname Jimmy Eyes because of the look that washed over his face, rinsing away any semblance of sanity. On more times than Ghost could remember, that look had gotten them into trouble, as their carefully laid plans had turned to the taste of ashes in his mouth as Jimmy lost control.
The office was large and spacious, dominated by a towering central desk where a ridiculously expensive computer system glistened in silver. Ghost knew only too well the limitations of Jimmy’s technical ability, as most things in Jimmy’s life, it was all for show. The room was surrounded by large original framed posters of Jimmy’s favourite movies. Goodfellas, Scarface, The Godfather I and II, adorned the walls and offered inspiration. Ghost sighed to himself, there were some things that Jimmy just would never listen to, if you didn’t know just what industry they were captaining, then this room spoke volumes.
Ghost crossed the room quickly, covertly assessing the situation; the cowering man was Jackson Moon, their head accountant. He was a small, nervous man at the best of times, around five foot seven and a wiry squirrel with a quick-witted mind for figures and loopholes.
“Morning Jimmy” Ghost offered with a forced cheeriness, as he began casually leafing through the assorted mail piled up on the imposing black marble desk. Jackson looked over at him with a puppy dogs pleading. Ghost knew from long and bitter experience that Jimmy was never a problem to tackle head on, the trick was always distraction, like you would employ with any aggressive animal.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jimmy barked.
“I’m still early” Ghost replied, casually opening a couple of bills and drawing the attention. This allowed Jackson to his credit, to stagger to his feet, straightening his tie and smoothing out his clothes and demeanour.
“These bastards are robbing us blind” Jimmy sweated.
“What Jackson here?”
“All of them, I can’t find Kofi and his boys, and now Jenkins has disappeared on the East side, no-one has seen him for days”
Ghost looked up sharply, Kofi and his band of misfits had been a pain in the ass for years. Jimmy only kept them around for the vilest of deeds, and it was a habit that even he had been unable to shake Jimmy of. However, Jenkins was the Port Authority Manger, their man on the inside, every cargo shipment that they brought in over the oceans came through Jenkins. He was a man of modest means and tastes, Ghost had chosen him because of his unshakable reliability, and his lack of independent thought. He was extremely well paid, and Ghost had kept a close eye on him, pleased to find that Jenkins was a true bureaucrat. He was organized, methodical, and most importantly lacking in imagination. His money was tied up safely through an accountant that the firm had provided, and Ghost was confident that they were never in danger from the unexpected. His attention piqued because Jenkins had missed exactly two days from work in the last twelve years. “Perhaps Jackson here should fuck off?” He offered.
Jimmy dismissed the accountant with an arrogant flick of the wrist, Jackson slipped past Ghost quickly and quietly, with a grateful nod to his saviour, Ghost waited until they were safely alone.
“What the hell are you doing?” He raged at Jimmy.
Whenever they were alone he would speak freely to Jimmy, and whenever Jimmy knew he was in the wrong he would revert to a sulky child.
“What?” Jimmy pouted.
“You’re beating up accountants now?”
“He started it” Jimmy’s response at least had the good grace to be unconvincing. “I can never get hold of the man, he only comes in at night, I’m sick of having to chase after low rent employees”
Ghost shook his head, unwilling to get sidetracked into a, he said he said argument. “What the hell’s this about Jenkins?”
“Ah, he’s probably just run away from that fat pig of a wife of his”, Jimmy sat down heavily in his custom leather recliner.
“Bullshit, I picked the man myself; he wouldn’t fart on Saturdays if it wasn’t on the schedule, if he’s missing, then something’s wrong”
“We got bigger problems than that, the Parker brothers are still moving in. Every week I hear how these fuckers are taking a piece here, a chunk there, bad mouthing us all over the manor” Jimmy flung balance sheets of facts and figures off of his desk.
“We can’t fight every new punk on the block, you know that. About 80% of our business is now legitimate, in the next five years, it will be 100%, and then the Parkers can have every corner”
Jimmy whirled on him in a flash, “Not a fucking chance” he snarled, “I’ll kill every last one of them first, I’ll burn their houses and fuck their dogs, I’ll rape their mothers, I’ll… I’ll…” he spat.
“You finished” Ghost asked as he waited for the storm to pass. “I’ll check out the rumours, if it’s serious then, and only then, will we take action. Meanwhile, I’ll follow up on Jenkins, that worries me more than any kids with ideas above their stations. Do me a favour and stop molesting the staff alone in the meantime”
“Hey you know me, I’m a pussycat” Jimmy beamed, the rage passing at the soothing thought of possible violence to come.
Jimmy stood at over six feet three, several inches taller than Ghost but lacking the width. Where Ghost was toned and athletic, Jimmy had grown soft and lazy. He wore expensive and custom hand-made suits, favouring pinstripes and garish shirts and ties. Jimmy was a large man with his own magnetic pull. His personality was domineering, and he was able to control a room regardless of the occupants, with only a look that silenced. For all of their lives, it had been Jimmy that drew the eye; his magnetism was their most powerful weapon. It opened doors and minds, and in the beginning, that was exactly what they had needed.
CHAPTER FIVE
October 1992
“You’re nuts, it’ll never work, it’s just a movie” Ghost exclaimed loud enough that several patrons of the coffee shop turned to nose at the unruly teenagers. Jimmy leant out around Ghost and dissuaded the unwelcomed enquiries with a stare.
At eighteen Ghost was already a physical specimen, tall and wide, his natural power augmented by hours of painfully endured silent exercise. Exercise where muscles were stretched, and ligaments strained, all without complaint. He long had the understanding, that the paths truly taken had no shortcuts. Jimmy had also sprouted, his puny frame from the orphanage was now filled to bursting. His face was clean and clear, and his hair was lush and glowing. His eyes were the deepest darkest blue, the kind of eyes that had already drowned an ocean of maidens. The sensory sights and sounds from their days at St Marys were long forgotten, but the lessons were not. Their bond was iron forged in the fire of Jimmy’s rage and the ice of Ghost’s calm.
They were living near the port in Fresh Haven; their dark, cavernous hole of an apartment would be barely inhabitable to most men. But they were not most men; “Endure t
he Darkness” was Ghost’s motto. He knew that these surroundings were only ever going to be temporary. They had an unspoken understanding of their destiny in life. Let the social workers and liberals talk of opportunities, let them pontificate on cause and effects. Jimmy and Ghost had no interest in swimming against a ferocious tide to merely dream of the bottom ladder rung. Ghost had no real desire to inflict pain and misery on others around him. But he was realistic about the requirements when overcoming the system, and for every job that turned his stomach he had Jimmy straining at the leash.
They had been watching the movie “Mobsters” on a VHS tape, the images bouncing around on the largest television that they could find. Jimmy had balked at the large expense, wanting as always just to steal a smaller one. Ghost however, knew that the TV and video recorder were imperative as learning implements. You are maybe born with a propensity for criminality, but nobody is born with a preloaded knowledge database, for how to achieve this aim, most wannabes end up punks arrested at the first attempt. Their tape collection consisted mainly of crime movies, Scarface, Miller’s Crossing, The Untouchables, Once Upon A Time In America to name but a few. Whilst Jimmy loved the action and celluloid fantasy of these worlds, Ghost sat glued to the screen with a huge notebook frantically scribbling. He watched for organizational structures, tips, pitfalls, mistakes, successes, he ignored all of the moral messages merely scanning for useful information. He also read every autobiography on crime figures that he could find, he had charts and graphs on Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, Pablo Escobar, Frank Lucas and many more. His small bedroom was bereft of sleeping space due to his encyclopaedia of crime. Just by living in their neighbourhood, he had observed at close range one of the fundamental flaws in most films, the police were not idiots. No matter how clever that you thought that you were, someone saw something, you left some taint at the scene, or you overlooked some part of the plan. The police were professionals, and they quite simply knew more about crime than you did. The very first thing that Ghost knew they needed, was a cop’s brain. This he found in a rundown shack of a bar, not three miles from where they lived, an ex detective sergeant called Marley. The man had two failed marriages, four self-exiled children and was slowly drinking himself to death with cheap liquor. It had not taken Ghost long to find and befriend the man through the provision of alcohol, and they had become fast friends. Ghost had spent the last eight months of the fallen detective’s life, pulling every procedural structure and every investigative technique that he still remembered. He found where criminals repeatedly fell down, every difficult, unsolved case that the man had worked on, what had stumped officers and why. Ghost’s encyclopaedia grew day by day, the only difficulty he had at this time was Jimmy’s impatience, but when they were 18 and 16 respectively Jimmy was easier to control.
“It’ll work trust me” Jimmy spoke with the cocksure worldly wise knowledge of the teenage mind.
In the movie, “Mobsters” Patrick Dempsey and Christian Slater were playing gangster partners of equal standing amongst themselves, but Patrick Dempsey believed that everyone else looked to Christian Slater as the leader. So Patrick Dempsey has a small boy told, that a man of great power and importance has a job for him. The boy is sent into a room where just Patrick and Christian are sitting, the aim being for the boy to have to decide which man is the important one. In the movie of course, the boy approaches Christian Slater, this was Jimmy’s favourite scene in his favourite movie. Ghost had studied the film and had found little of any real educational value. In a rare initiative drive, Jimmy had set up the exact same scene in their local coffee house.
Eddie was outside prepping a kid as they sat, Eddie was a moose of a boy, he was gigantic but also a little slow witted. He was a target for any of the multitude of local bullies, as he was prone to cower instead of lashing out despite his superior size. Ghost had spotted the potential immediately, and worked hard to gain Eddie’s trust. Once that trust was gained through careful kindness, he had helped Eddie gain confidence, he worked out with him, and they went to the movies and shared meals. Slowly Eddie stood taller, slowly he began to feel his size, slowly he didn’t stoop as he walked and strode instead of shuffled. Ghost sealed the deal by paying a man from outside of the area to attack him as Eddie walked by. Eddie, seeing his one and only friend in mortal danger, found the confidence and lurched into action and together they killed the fake attacker as Ghost had always planned. Number one rule that Ghost had from the very start, was to never leave anything that could come back to bite you. Their terrible secret bonded them together, and Eddie was always at his side. Even Jimmy took to the idea of having a giant as protection and surprisingly his cruelness took a backseat to his desire for self-preservation.
Eddie pushed the prepped boy into the coffee house, and Ghost watched the small, nervous boy enter and shuffle forward. He leant back in his chair with a smile on his lips, this was real life he thought, and it would do Jimmy good to realize that. The boy reached the table and looked at both of them, he turned back looking for the now departed Eddie. He turned back to the table and looked into both of their eyes in turn; he then sidled around the table to Jimmy’s side and whispered in his ear. Ghost was stunned and annoyed in equal measure, Jimmy looked over grinning wildly, his eyes dancing in triumph, and a monster was born.
CHAPTER SIX
April 2012
Jessica Kyle watched the Quebec bar from her carefully selected vantage point outside. It was too early in the evening, even for the dock crowd to be hoisting and drowning yet, but she was here to watch for only one man, Abraham “Ghost” Kane. The man was number two to Jimmy “Eyes” Dent, the biggest gangster in the city, and the most dangerous. Jimmy had a love of the limelight and treasured nothing more than a publicity laden trial where he could buy and steal a verdict, all beneath the full glare of the city. There were already at the last count, seven autobiographies of the man including two official ones. The man’s life was an open book; his second in command however, was where she felt the true story lay. Ghost, never was a nickname more appropriate, she could find next to nothing about the man despite digging for almost three years now.
At thirty four, Jessica had quite simply been the apex reporter in the city; it was a title that was well earned and deserved. She stood at a modest five feet five, and a disciplined eight and a half stone of toned fitness. Mousy blond of hair without the need for dye and crystal blue of eye, she carried herself with a confidence that was often mistaken for arrogance by jealous colleagues of both sexes. She knew that she was physically attractive in the conventional sense, and had learnt early on to fend off amorous approaches, both in the workplace and on the streets. She was tenacious, intelligent and above all else driven. Her background was one of middle class mediocrity. Her father had been a dentist, and her mother had worked part time at first as his receptionist, and then had taken over the bookkeeping side of the practice when they had expanded into private health care. Her parents had both retired and now lived under the warming sun in Portugal. Her childhood had been one of security and stability; she was an only child but never spoiled, her father a firm believing in instilling a powerful work ethic at an early age. There were no hidden skeletons in her closet scratching at the doors, no traumas through school or college. She had just always been a little distant from her surroundings; she was friendly but without any real friends. She’d had relationships and was loving, but without ever finding real love, whatever she was subconsciously seeking, she had never stumbled across it. She had always found it ridiculous, that her classmates and colleagues appeared to convince themselves, that in a world of six billion people, they had found their true soul mates effectively living within a commutable distance.
She had parked opposite the Quebec bar this morning waiting for Ghost, she laughed to herself, Ghost, Jimmy Eyes, the whole thing sounded ridiculous, little boys with silly pirate nicknames. Jimmy Dent was a violent psychopath with a hair trigger temper and little regard for human life. He had a piece o
f everything dirty in Eagleport since the disappearance of Bennett Drake back in the mid-nineties.
She first saw the man in the flesh some three years ago; there had been a gala evening at the Natural History Museum to raise funds for the roof restoration. Jimmy had been there, loud and brash as always. Rumour had it that he was moving into the legitimate world, and had several of the city’s top politicians already in his pocket to facilitate the transition. She had been working as a staff reporter for the Globe at the time, assigned to cover the shindig as her lecherous editor thought that she would fill a cocktail dress with enough cleavage to entice loose and tipsy tongues. She had been interviewing the mayor when Jimmy had made his grand entrance. He’d swaggered into the great hall with a surgically augmented trophy girlfriend poured into a Versace gown, the word was that she was an ex stripper he’d plucked from one of his clubs. As he’d paraded through the room, obviously revelling in the attention, a young waiter had turned into him carrying a tray of discarded half empty glasses. The contents had spilled over Jimmy’s pristine white tuxedo that demanded attention. She could remember the gasps from the entourage and assembled guests. She remembered vividly the flash of darkness that passed through Jimmy’s eyes, and even though she was some ten feet away she took an uncharacteristic step backwards. The biggest thing that she remembered though was the man to Jimmy’s left, a well built man in a black suit that she had taken for just another meathead bodyguard. The man moved faster than she thought possible, almost to the point of seeing the accident before it happened. One second Jimmy looked as though he was about to explode, the next the bodyguard had hold of his arm and was in his ear. Whatever he said appeared to do the trick, Jimmy was suddenly all smiles and gregarious again. He’d slapped the young waiter on the back and thrust a fistful of fivers into his pocket. After everything that's been written, and all of the publicity surrounding the celebrity gangster, she knew that this mystery man was a story. She’d barged into her editor’s office the following morning with demands for the time and resources to pursue her idea. However, being a human being that lacked a penis, she found that her idea was dismissed summarily out of hand. Jimmy’s the story, Jimmy’s the mark she was repeatedly told as she had walked out of the office that day and had never been back.
