Utopia: A Dark Thriller: Complete Edition

by Adam Steel

  It wasn’t pleasant.

  Jack eyed the bar. Long lists of exotic cocktails and multi-coloured bottles covered the walls. The bar-tender stared back at him. Jack met the man’s gaze, unflinchingly. He was dark skinned and sported long, twisted dreadlocks. He wore a short sleeved shirt, which had a logo of a yellow shining sun on the front. The bar-tender smacked his oversized lips together, and spoke in a heavy Jamaican accent.

  'Wa can getcha mon?'

  Every inch of Jack’s body yelled at him for the drink. That’d be so good about now. Jack tried to resist the urge. He needed to be focused.

  ‘Well, uh…’

  He was just about to give in – his body moving hypnotically towards the bar - when the sound of a heavy door opening stopped him mid-sentence. One of the ‘gorillas’ stepped through it, followed by another huge black man, wearing the same dark glasses. The doorman pushed past Jack, moving back outside. He sneered as he went. The huge black man came forward and looked down at him.

  Jack swallowed.

  ‘Hey. Kojo,’ he muttered.

  ''Ey mon, Mi gonna take yah fa a likkle fun in di sun, yeh?' he said.

  His accent was very strong and his eyes were invisible behind the dark shades.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jack coughed, ‘Sure.’

  Kojo grabbed Jack’s arm roughly and pulled him off to one side. He was half walking, half marching him, towards the back of the bar. They reached a steel door which was partly hidden by the image of a Caribbean sunset, which had been sprayed across it. Jack caught sight of the bar man who was giving him a side-ways-glance of smugness. Kojo yanked open the door and bodily pushed Jack through it. Jack could barely take in his surroundings as he was frog marched along the dimly lit passage. The music from the bar faded when the door slammed shut behind him. Jack could feel his lungs grating as he struggled to keep up. Kojo was pacing rapidly along the passage towards a gloomy set of stairs.

  ‘Hey. Go easy, man,’ he stuttered, at the hand shoving into his back.

  Jack was unprepared for the arm that went round his throat from behind, stopping him in his tracks. The giant behind him squeezed.

  Jack saw stars.

  'O yeh, mon, wi well ez 'ere,' Kojo leered.

  He cruelly twisted his arm tighter into a painful hold around Jack’s neck and Jack’s cheeks turned an unhealthy red and then purple. He gasped for breath. His chubby fingers grasped at the dark python that was throttling him. It refused to budge. Jack’s papers fluttered to the ground. He was vaguely aware that Kojo was patting him down with his other hand. That’s good. Jack’s oxygen starved brain said. If he was going to kill us, he wouldn’t bother taking our gun.

  Kojo pulled Jack’s gun from its holster and released his grip on Jack and he fell to the floor with an unceremonious bump.

  'Bashy mon, yeh?' Kojo grinned, and examined Jack’s weapon.

  Jack tried to blink the stars from his vision and fumbled to pick up his documents from the floor. They were his lifeline.

  ‘Could have just asked...’ coughed Jack, trying to regain his composure.

  Kojo pocketed Jack’s weapon and gestured towards the stairs.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he ordered, all the humour in his voice had gone.

  Jack shot the man a hateful look. He moved forward, holding the document under his arm in a tight grip. Jack’s wheezing began to subside as they moved downstairs into Red-Man’s lair. At the bottom of the stairs a long corridor stretched into the darkness. It was lit only by a single red bulb which dangled from the ceiling. There were doors off to both sides. The paint on them was peeling. One of the doors was open. Inside the dilapidated room, a brunette woman was riding a man on a decaying mattress. The woman was thrusting frantically, screaming out in mock ecstasy. Jack felt a stirring in his trousers. He was pleasantly surprised – usually he needed pills to get himself to work. He was thinking that maybe the ups and downs of recent days were doing him some good after all. Whatever else had happened, he didn’t feel bored anymore.

  He felt more alive.

  He just prayed that soon he wouldn’t be feeling dead.

  It seemed likely.

  Kojo ushered him onwards.

  'Naa ya badda 'er mon, She in di middle of a job intaview,' he stated, through grinning teeth.

  Kojo grinned a lot. It showed off his gold teeth.

  As they marched past the rooms, Jack could plainly hear the moans of ecstasy from the patrons within. The movement of rusty bedsprings was overshadowed by the thump of a Reggie beat which was emanating from a door up ahead. The door had an image of a bright round sun carved into it. They stopped at the door. Kojo flashed his gold teeth at him again. He rapped on the door with a single knuckle.

  ‘Knock. Knock,’ he laughed, as he read the meaning in Jack’s eyes.

  There was fear behind his eyes. Inside Jack felt sheer terror. He tried to picture the brunette ‘doing the rodeo’ again, to stop his knees from knocking.

  A slit opened in the door: it revealed a pair of dark eyes.

  'Mon fa di don Gorgon,' Kojo said simply.

  The eyes looked briefly at Kojo, then at Jack, and the slit jammed shut. A few seconds later there was a grating sound of bolts sliding back. It was followed by a loud ‘click’. The door opened. The room beyond the door was large compared to the tight narrow corridor that had lead into it. The red walls and drapes of the room, contrasted deeply with the rusted steel of the entrance, and the peeling paint of the passageways. Jack blinked the lights from his eyes as they adjusted to the room before him. Flowing red drapes adorned the ceiling; culminating in an ornate chair at the end of the room. Reggie music thumped from two, large, ceiling speakers. The volume was lowered when the door opened.

  Kojo ushered him through the door and slammed it shut behind him, causing a large ‘clunking’ noise to reverberate through the room. Jack could now see that the man behind the door was a young Jamaican man. He had a distinct look of distrust. He was clasping an assault rifle. It was not pointed directly at him, but it was not exactly pointing away either. Jack decided not to look at it. The centre of the room was filled with a large, ornate dining table with red cloth covering it. Across its surface, credits and red pills lay strewn about. Some men were slouched at the table with small piles of red powder in front of them. Upon Jack’s entry, one of the men took a long ‘sniff’ of the red dust through a shiny silver straw. He pushed back and breathed deeply.

  Jack’s eyes were drawn to the end of the room. Behind the banquet table sat the man himself. Above him was a huge emblem of the sun. He was slouched on a faux throne. It was a far cry from the real thing, but hardly made from plastic either. The effect worked. Red-Man drummed the arm rest with his fingers on one hand. He was dark skinned, with long dreadlocks. Across his forehead, he wore a red head-scarf. He was adorned with sparkling golden jewellery. A golden necklace hung around his neck. The necklace held a pendant which was shaped like a tear of blood. It had a ruby set in the centre. His dark eyes observed Jack. They concealed a dark malevolence and keen intellect.

  Two girls, wearing only gold jewellery, were draped over his lower half. They were stroking his legs fondly. Their expressions were full of lust. Standing behind Red-Man, were two enormous men. They were both sporting the same dark glasses as the doormen. They were holding automatic weapons that looked small in their giant hands and Jack couldn’t help but swallow nervously. Although he had been there before, times had long since changed, and not for the better.

  ‘Welcome fi mi likkle place in di sun yeh?’ Red-Man said.

  His voice carried smoothly across the room, each word carefully chosen.

  Jack adjusted his coat. He stared his host square in the face.

  He started the negotiations: the negotiations he had been practising for weeks up in Eden: the negotiations for his life.

  ‘Red-Man,’ he paused, ‘I figured it was about time we renewed our friendship. You know…things gone a bit stale lately.’

  Red-Man gave him a
cynical smile, ‘Yeh, yeh, yah gone ditch me uh? Or maybe dat’s wa dose CURE people dun fi yah, huh? Mi bredren, dey tell me yah out, yeh?’

  Jack felt a bead of sweat run down his back. He could see where this was going.

  ‘Yeah, well maybe your brothers are as blind as they are stupid,’ he retorted.

  Red-Man’s eyes flickered angrily for a split second, before his composure settled.

  ‘I naa need my bredren fi tell mi when ma’ 'air’s on fire mon. I naa need my bredren fi tell mi, Mi bredda Marko ‘ees in slam!’ Red-Man hissed, ‘an I naa need my bredren fi tell mi, dat tis all yah fault mon,’ Red-Man finished.

  The sound of a cocking rifle coming from behind him, did Jack’s nerves no favours. He held up his hands and shot Red-Man another direct gaze. He had to hold his ground. To falter would mean certain death.

  ‘And, what would you do if you could get to those people who had Marko? If you knew exactly where he was?’ Jack offered in a dry steady voice.

  Red-Man flung his arms open wide.

  ‘Mi go skin those mutha-fukkas mon…make dem bleed fa di king a bludd! Yeh?’ he cried.

  This caused the guards behind to grin widely, exposing their rows of gold teeth.

  Red-Man dropped his arms again and smiled at Jack.

  ‘Di bashy ting mon, is mi got one a dose muthafukkas right 'ere, right nuh, an Mi look at 'im,’ he growled, triumphantly.

  Jack could feel the gun-sights of the man behind him boring into the back of his head. He struggled to remain in control. Better be fast, or won’t live long enough to make the offer, Jack thought.

  ‘I got something for you Red. Something I think you’ll find very interesting. Something to uh…re-new our lasting friendship yeah?’ Jack said and waved the document in his hand.

  Red-Man eyed the paper waving in the air.

  ‘Ah Jacky, take more dan some pape' fa dat eh?’

  Red-Man’s eyes flitted at Kojo.

  The paper was snatched from Jack’s hand and marched across the room.

  Jack stayed very still.

  Red-Man grinned at him as he took the papers from Kojo. He cast a casual eye across the documents.

  ‘Been fun Jacky, Mi be missin' ya mon. Walk good,’ he said.

  Red-Man raised his hand to signal the bullet that would end the troublesome Jack.

  Jack closed his eyes. Endgame, he thought. He didn’t see Red-Man’s hand freeze in mid-air.

  The room fell quiet. Only the music, and a distant rustle of paper spoiled it.

  Jack opened one eye. Red-Man was rustling through the papers. He had sparks in his eyes. He looked up and glared at Jack.

  ‘Wa dis mon? – Yah see where Marko is?’

  Jack felt him-self relax a little. The bullet seemed further away: for the moment.

  ‘Yes. It’s all there. I know what prison he’s in. What cell. Everything. Now you know too,’ he announced.

  Red-Man paused for a moment – considering. He rifled through the file. A confused expression crossed his face as he studied the file. Jack filled it in for him.

  ‘Your brother is soon to be transferred to the lifer’s wing. They’re going to put him away forever.’

  Red-Man glared in response.

  ‘They’re going to transfer him soon. Very soon. Then you’ll never see him again,’ Jack continued.

  The room shuffled uncomfortably. Igniting Red-Man’s temper was often fatal.

  Red-Man jammed a finger down onto the document.

  ‘Deh’s a page missin'! Di transfer details ain’t in 'ere mon!’

  Jack grinned at him.

  ‘No. Those details are in here,’ he said tapping the side of his head.

  Red-Man caught on fast.

  ‘Ah Jacky, yah nebe cease fi impress. Oh yeh mon, friends uh? Bredren, yeh?’ he said.

  Jomo’s expression changed to one of delight and Jack felt the gunman behind him relax. Jack readjusted his coat and pulled a cigar sparking it. It had never tasted so good.

  ‘You want Marko back? I can tell you when, where, and how, he’s being transferred. He won’t be in his cell. They’ll be out in the open. I can give you the exact details. Although…only of course, if you’d like to be friends again, after!’

  Endgame indeed, Jack thought.

  Red-Man gestured towards the others in the room.

  ‘Get di others mon. Wi hab work fi do,’ he ordered.

  The room emptied.

  Red-Man moved down from his chair-throne and embraced Jack with wide arms.

  ‘Yah get me mi Marko back mon an' Mi make yu di goddamn mayor!’ he declared.

  Jack nodded.

  A good deal indeed.

  Chapter 19: Daydreaming

  Jon Li’s Penthouse: Sector One

  Friday 20th July

  Ellie was sitting on the edge of the white sofa in her night-clothes and slippers. The last week had been spent in a haze of tranquilisers and sleeping pills, until she hardly knew what day it was. She had not slept or eaten properly since it happened, and had been signed off work for a week. They had said that she needed to recover from the shock. Ellie had thought that one week, or even her whole life, would never be long enough to recover from the sight of Irene’s body, floating in a blood filled bath. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and her hands still trembled days later.

  Jon Li had been exceptionally comforting over that week. He had been her rock and had arranged for a Doctor and a counsellor to visit her, both of which she had declined. He had also organised Agatha to come in every day to keep a check on her, but despite his best attempts to comfort her, should couldn’t bring herself to talk to him about what had happened. She had been unable to say anything to the CURE officers who had appeared on the murder scene that night. They were keen to remove her from the crime scene and take her to the nearest hospital for treatment and questioning. The Doctor at the hospital had told the CURE officers that she was suffering from shock, and was in no fit state to fill out a report, or answer their questions. She had been sedated and they had taken her finger prints and D.N.A. while she slept.

  All that she recalled of the horror of that night, was a hazy mist of screams and dangling red curls.

  Irene’s house had been cordoned off for the CURE forensics team to enter and dissect the scene. They used hand-held portable devices that scanned every inch of a scene perfectly: recording it for later, detailed analysis, deep within the CURE system in Fin-Sen. Like most things, it was all done by computer. Trained interpreters would analyse the computer results and come to a conclusion about what must have taken place.

  The CURE officers (who had tried, and failed, to question her) had been tight-lipped about what it might have been, or what might have happened. They had stated that they were treating the death as ‘suspicious’.

  No shit, Ellie had thought at the time.

  People don’t throw themselves in baths and shoot themselves.

  They had said that it was a very rare occurrence, especially in Sector Five. They would be thoroughly investigating the incident and they would be in touch shortly. Ellie didn’t want them to be in touch ‘shortly’ or any other time, that would mean re-living the horrendous nightmare. She needed time to herself: time to come to terms with the loss of her dearest friend.

  ‘Ellie…come on…you need to get some rest. Take your pills. The Doctor said you had to rest. Why don’t you go back to bed? You never slept again did you? Agatha is here now and I have to go to work,’ Jon Li said apologetically, nudging her awake from her dark thoughts.

  He was holding a glass of water in one hand and a few pills in the other. He handed her the pills and she swallowed two of them with a gulp of water. He looked very awkward. He took her cold hand and led her to the bedroom where he slipped off her slippers and eased her into the bed. He covered her over lightly with the soft duvet.

  She couldn’t find the words to tell him how much she loved him: to thank him for just being him. So she nodded and kissed him gently o
n his face, hugging him around his neck. Everything inside her hurt so much. The pain in her heart was unbearable, but the feeling of total confusion as to why Irene was dead, was even worse.

  ‘Are you going to be okay? I have to go. You know what it’s like. I can’t get a day off,’ he said.

  His voice was pleading for an answer that would release him from seeing her pain. He looked genuinely sad. She wanted to spare him from feeling even a fraction of what she was feeling.

  She put on her bravest voice and said, ‘Fine. I’ll be fine. You go….it’s okay really, go.’ Fine. What a stupid term - fine. Why do people say they are ‘fine’ when clearly they are not? she thought.

  He looked slightly relieved and hesitantly got up from where he had been sitting on the side of the bed. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Get plenty of rest Ell. I’ll be back before you know it,’ he said softly.

  She forced a weak smile and watched him as he turned and left the bedroom. She heard the door click as he let himself out of the penthouse.

  Something was missing.

  Jon Li had forgone his newspaper ritual.

  There was no smell of delicious herbal tea drifting through the apartment.

  Under the haze of the pills, Ellie didn’t notice.

  Agatha was bustling around in the kitchen, she was singing, badly.

  Ellie sunk back into the soft pillows exhausted from the ordeal. She was glad he had gone to work. He seemed lost as to how to behave around her. It didn’t take long for the tranquilisers to do their duty and she drifted into a sketchy sleep.

  “Ellie dreamed that she and Irene were driving up the mountain road, on the island of Grenada in the West Indies. They had talked many times of going there and now it had finally come around.

  They were on their way up to the falls in the tropical rainforest. It was a popular spot where tourists could watch the native men diving into the pools from the high falls.