by David Barton
“Well, before Ryan came on board I was investigating a single business company that seemed to be losing money on the market but having enough money to keep their top secret companies in business.”
“You never figured out what they were doing?”
“Couldn’t get close enough. There’s more security there than at that huge prison out in the water. But, the more I investigated the more companies I realised had these same discrepancies. Finally I figured out that they were all owned, through dummy corporations, by the Henrikson company.”
“That’s when your investigation shifted to Henrikson then?” She nodded slowly. “Have you noticed anything weird happening in your life? Anything weird at all?”
“Not that I can think of. The only weird thing I’ve seen is the reaction I got from a coroner down at the hospital.”
“What were you doing there?”
She picked out a chocolate from an open tin and ate it, offering me one. I turned it down, not being able to remember the last time I ate something. The wonders of being superhuman I guess. “That was the first thing we did when Ryan was put on the story with me.”
“And the thing that was weird?”
“We went there because there was a high-profile business man who was killed under strange circumstances. I never told Ryan this but he was a black-market competitor to the Henrikson company.”
“Trading on the black-market isn’t anything new and isn’t frowned upon as much as it should be.”
“I know but the way the man was killed peaked my interest.”
“Why is that?”
“He was locked in his room with a prostitute. No one saw anyone enter or leave the room and that includes the hooker. The man was supposedly strangled to death.”
“Hasn’t anyone thought it was the hooker?”
“Not after seeing her. He would have been able to overpower her no problem.”
“What if she poisoned him?”
“There wasn’t anything found. Anyway, she was interviewed by the police and also by the company’s personal security, then by me.” She looked slightly smug that she had gotten an interview with the hooker. “The only piece of information she could give is that the room went really dark for no reason at all.”
“That is weird.”
“Also the coroner’s assistant was really angry with us asking questions about her conclusion. She had figured out what had really happened to the body so you would think she would want her story told and be in the papers.”
“Not everyone is looking for their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Of course, look at you. There’s been nothing in the paper about a masked vigilante.”
“I don’t think you could call me that and we should get back to your story.”
“Right, well I never saw the body but Ryan did and he told me it was like he was shrouded in shadows even in the lit morgue.”
“That sounds like someone I used to know.”
“You mean there and more people out there like you?” She asked the question but the tone of her voice told me she didn’t really care. Either she was faking an interest in me or there was something else going on.
I stood up from the table and walked to the window, leaning against it as my gaze went over the buildings that made up the street. I felt her presence behind me then I heard her bare feet disturbing the carpet. “So, more about the story?”
“Sure. Is there anything in particular you would like to know?”
The feel of the flash drive in my pocket became heavier. I didn’t know if I should tell her about the information Ryan had found. Why would I bring her even further into this? No doubt her curiosity would take her further into trouble. That was the opposite of what I wanted. “Tell me what you were planning on doing next.”
“My next move? Well, I was planning on trying to get an interview with Henrikson himself. Pretend it’s just a usual publicity piece which he would no doubt enjoy. But, that went out the window when someone attacked his building the other day.”
My thoughts immediately went to the reporter. Then I remembered he was just a reporter. When Felicity said attack it seemed more violent. “Was anything taken?”
“Nobody knows, obviously the company isn’t talking.”
“It would be very bad for the public image I suppose.”
“However, I have a photo of the person that broke in and took this anonymous object.”
“Could I take a look at it?”
“Why else would I have already printed off a copy?”
I turned to face her, coming face to face, inches from each other. She was definitely up to something. Maybe she just liked the image and persona of a vigilante helping people. Only, there seemed to be something else in her eyes. She looked at me like we hadn’t just met.
“Is there any chance that you would drop the story if I asked you to?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate, she knew exactly what she wanted and she wasn’t about to give it up. “Sorry but stories are my life. Without them I don’t have the money to live.”
My eyes slowly move around the apartment before coming to rest on her. “You need your job to live but this apartment seems to be filled with things out of your price range. This apartment alone can’t be cheap.”
“I had help, my father passed away when I was young, left me a small sum of money so I was looked after.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for your lose.”
“Thanks.”
Her eyes dipped down as she turned and started walking away. My ears had picked up the sudden increase of beats from her heart, my eyes saw the slight perspiration on her forehead when she lied about how she got the money.
This revelation got my mind thinking. Maybe she wasn’t investigating the man but protecting him. Working on the inside, writing stories that are promising exploitation but are actually the opposite. Which could mean she was working for the very organisation I was investigating.
All of a sudden, everything that comes out of my mouth would have to be thought through. I couldn’t let on that I was onto the organisation as much as I was. She just thought I was looking out for her. She had no idea what I had already unveiled. Lucky the reporter decided to give me the flash drive and not her.
If she knew what he had found, maybe he would join the dead of the city. It all made sense now. The way she was acting with me like she knew something. Plus there was the flirtation. Acting like we knew each other from before. She clearly knew about me.
“You okay? You seem stuck for words like I was wearing the sheet again.”
My eyes focused back on her, only now noticing she had walked back up to me. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to ask. I think I have all I need.”
“Are you off now?”
“As you can imagine I have things to be doing.”
“People that need saving?”
“Maybe.” I slipped from between her and the pane of glass pressing into my back. Walking over to the window with the now broken latch.
“Don’t you want to stay for a little bit longer?”
I looked over my shoulder at her. She was posing, leaning on the table with her back arched. I would be lying if I said she didn’t look good but I couldn’t do that to the reporter. He was the only person in my life that I seemed at ease with. He felt trustworthy.
“I should go.” Not waiting for a response I dived out of the window, my extreme strength in my legs sending me to the building opposite. My hands punched into the brick work. As pieces crumbled on their way down to the street I launched myself like an ape, flying up to the lip of the roof. It was less graceful than my usual exit out of a window but I just wanted to get out of there.
Once I pulled myself up from falling I looked over to the apartment where Felicity lives. I couldn’t see her by a window watching me which I was glad about but my hearing picked up her cursing. Something about being too forward and needing to wait.
If she thought she was ever goin
g to get to me like that she was crazy. It wasn’t just the reporter, it was the way she was acting. It all leant towards her working for the bad guys. Maybe not the organisation I was investigating but something didn’t feel right.
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. I had to get back to my place. See if the note on the back of the photo was a trap or something else entirely. I know I told the reporter’s father to be there but I secretly hoped he had decided not to come. Not after the incident with Felicity. I missed being the only one in my life.
As I neared the building that housed my place I starting circling around it. Watching rooftops and windows for any sign of a trap. Listening for anything that didn’t belong here. Watching for movement where there shouldn’t be any. As I neared closer and closer it seemed like it was all clear.
This changed when I got to the building. There was police tape all around the rooftop. Clearly the explosion hadn’t gone unnoticed. I slipped under the tape, walking over to the hole that used to be my door. There was a small note taped to the wall.
I first peered down the mess that was the stairway. The police must have gotten inside but by the looks of it, there wouldn’t be anything they could have extracted. The bombs I had planted in the wall did their job when the first explosion went off. Made it so no one would know what I had been getting up to.
Next I turned my attention to the note, ripping the tape that stuck it to the brick work. Flipping it open I read the words. Inside you will find a man strapped to a chair. Also, you will find a briefcase that will give you valuable information that will aid your investigation. Only, here’s the catch. You can walk away now and the man will blow up. This man is a convicted murderer I acquired whilst he was being transported.
So you would be doing the world a favour if he died. But, if you want the information you have to enter which will trip a sensor and the countdown will start. You have to save the man to get to the briefcase. If not, the bomb goes off destroying the case, the man and you if you decide to stick around for too long.
The owl.
I found the name very weird to stick at the end of a threatening note. Then again, this guy didn’t seem normal. First the garage now he had taken a convict from transport and planted him and a bomb in my blown up apartment. This guy had something missing in his brain.
I looked down the stairs again, wondering what kind of bomb was inside. Then I remembered the garage explosion and how it was fabricated out of air and noise. Maybe this would be the same but there would only be one way to find out. My feet scuffed over rubble as I walked down the steps. My eyes looked around the apartment as I entered. The place was utterly destroyed. Even I couldn’t recognise the stuff anymore.
Then my eyes came upon the man the note mentioned. However, the note hadn’t mentioned the cage he was sitting in. His head hung low, probably unconscious. His long hair covered his face. He had the typical build of a man convicted of murder. Big arms stretching the orange jump suit he was still wearing. It couldn’t have been easy to move him around like that.
I took a few steps closer to the cage, noticing another note attached to the front grating. I pulled it off and flipped it open. It simply just said, time’s ticking. I scrunched the paper up and threw it to the floor.
My eyes darted around the place for an explosion or a timer of any kind. Even searching the chair the man sat on only revealed the briefcase sitting underneath it. Nothing screamed explosives which made me think back to the fake one at the storage unit. He could be playing around again, trying to keep me on edge without putting me in any danger. An interesting way to get your jollies.
I kicked the cage waking the man up. His head shot up and a swear word came flying out of his mouth. His eyes opened and looked at me his face filled with confusion and fear. “What the hell are you doing with me?”
“I didn’t do this. Someone is playing a game.”
“What the hell is going on?!”
“Stop shouting!” His face froze with a look of shock. “What is the last thing you remember?”
“Um.” His eyes darted around at nothing as his brain remembered his memories. “I just remember a lot of noise. That’s all I can remember.” I stood there and watched as he looked at the cage surrounding him. “What’s going on?”
I could hear the sobs as he spoke. A few tears ran down his face. “There is a bomb planted somewhere but I can’t find it.”
“A bomb? What are you talking about?”
“There’s a bomb with a timer. I can’t find it. If I don’t stop it then we both get blown up.” My stare moved around the room again but I still couldn’t find any explosives. I couldn’t even identify anything that would imitate an explosion.
“So how do we get out of here?”
“I don’t know yet. Is there anything on you that shouldn’t be there?”
“I don’t know. I’m kinda tied to a chair right now!”
“Check your pockets. If you want to get out of this alive then you need to stay as calm as possible.”
“Fine, fine.” His hands moved around as much as they could, restricted by the rope. “Here, I found something.”
He pulled a piece of paper, a note, out of his pocket. “Read it out loud.”
He spoke in a shaky voice. “There is a lock to the cage that involves pain and suffering. Find it but make sure you don’t tamper with the cage. It will blow if you get too curious.”
I moved closer to the cage, my eyes scanning not only for the lock but also for wires or sensors. It only took me a few seconds to get around the whole thing. Finding the lock and also wires trailing down the bars. Only some were visible, others might run in the metal. The lock had a piece of paper attached to the front. Yet another note from this owl character.
I pulled it off and opened it to read the scribbled writing. This test will take pain and suffering to accomplish. You will have to bleed before you can retrieve the information and save the convict.
I tossed the paper to the floor like the last and looked at the lock. It’s obvious it takes blood to open the lock which seems like a sadistic way to keep things save. The silence was suddenly broken by the man in the chair. “What’s going on man? Are you getting me out or what?”
“It takes blood to open the lock.”
“What? Then cut yourself a little and get me out of here.”
His pleas were starting to get to me. They weren’t choking me up with sadness. It was the opposite. I was getting sick and tired of his pleas. Walking around to the front of the cage I saw the tears pouring down his face.
“What did you do?”
“What? I told you I don’t remember how I got here.”
“No, not about that. I’m asking why you were in jail.”
“What are you on about?”
Anger boiled into a shout, “Stop lying!”
“Okay, okay. I was wrongfully convicted for killing a family.”
“Wrongfully?” He nodded furiously. “You’re lying.”
“What? No I’m not.”
“When people lie they start to sweat and act all shaky.”
“I’m tied to a bloody chair with a bomb about to go off. Why wouldn’t I be acting like this?”
My eyes narrowed, “That is true but when you answered the question, your heart beat picked up the pace. Faster than it was already going. That tells me you’re lying.”
His face stopped holding pain. Instead he now looked like a predator. “Fine you got me. Is this all so you could get a conviction out of me? Fine, you win. Now let me out so I can escape from prison again.”
“How did you escape the first time?”
“I don’t know who it was but they said they needed me whenever they called.”
“How did you escape?!”
“You get angry just like my cell mate I killed.” He smiled like he wasn’t in any danger. “There was an explosion at the prison. Many of us got out of the building but the guards caught them. It was like they were paid not to catch m
e. Just the others.”
“Who did all this?”
“I don’t know. Now let me out of these ropes they’re starting to hurt.”
“It wasn’t me who did this. It was someone else and possibly the one who broke you out of prison.”
“What are you on about?”
“It doesn’t concern you now. It’s all about the briefcase for me.”
“What briefcase?”
“Time for you to stop talking so I can think.” I picked up a piece of rubble from the floor. Testing the strength of it before chucking it through the bars. It embedded into the convicts head. I could have easily knocked him out but I didn’t want to. I wanted to kill him. Why should he be released onto the world after what he had done?
Now it was just a decision between having or not having the information. I circled around back to the lock. There was no way to reach the convict to use his blood. It would have to be mine and even though I was willing to sacrifice some blood for the information, it all depended on how much blood it would take.
It could leave me vulnerable if this is a trap. They could come barging in here and take me. I wouldn’t be able to stop them. Or there might not be any information at all. It could be a test to see what I would do or how I reacted to the situation. I haven’t found anything that looked like a bomb yet.
It had even crossed my mind that the briefcase held the bomb. There were so many different ways this could go. So it boiled down to the choice of losing blood or not. Taking the risk to see if the briefcase is indeed valuable or if it was something else.
After my mind had made the decision I slowly slipped my wrist inside the lock. Pushing my arm in as far as it would go. Nothing happened at first, I almost thought the lock had been a trick when a sharp pain filled my arm. Three sharp pricks jammed into my skin. Then I felt my blood being sucked out of me.
Gushing out of the holes that had been created. It wasn’t long before I started to feel light headed. I held onto the cage so I didn’t fall back, making the wounds even worse. I shut my eyes, hoping it would finally stop when I heard a voice. It sounded distant but when I opened my eyes there was a man standing next to me. When did he get here?
