Dirk woke on the couch of his office to the frantic door knocking he had come to associate with the urgent customer. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to check. There was a boy, black, plain and ordinary features, cheap clothing, relentlessly hammering at his door with increasing impatience. He opened the Door and peeked out from behind it.
"Hello, and you are?" Dirk forced a smile on his stiff face.
The other froze for a moment and looked at him.
"The Don sent me. We have a problem, can I come in?"
"The Don doesn't send kids to me." Dirk frowned
"The Don sent me. And you want to talk to me."
"No I don't." Then he closed the door and went to his couch, where he had left his pants on the floor, and quickly dressed himself. The banging on his door intensified, rudely.
"Alright alright" Dirk shouted. "Give me a minute here, and stop fucking bashing my door in!" Dirk was not a morning person, and 11 AM was most certainly not a time he would rise at when left to his own. Eventually, but only after setting up his coffee machine, and stowing away his gun in a drawer, he opened his door to let the annoying customer inside. Jakub involuntarily coughed when he took a full lung of old lingering smoke, weeks of accumulated dust recently disturbed by his footsteps, and the overpowering odour of coffee with too much rum in it. Dirk took no notice and bade him to sit on a chair at his kitchen window. The slight breeze from the outside helped Jakub cope.
"So, who are you and what has the Don sent you here for?" Dirk asked as he offered Jakub a suspiciously grimy coffee mug, that was steaming away excess heat, and had, as far as Jakub could smell it, no rum in it.
"My name is Jakub Jabari. I am … how to put this" Tears were trying to force their way out of his eyes, but Jakub held them back. He didn't know why he felt like crying now, it was absurd. The whole thing was absurd. Why was this shit fest even his problem? It was all just so … unfair. He continued:
"A woman was murdered last night."
"I've heard. It was all over the news."
"I was told that you were related to her, that she was your 'girl'" Jakub said with slight irritation. Why was this man so calm, did he not know?
"What are you talking about, Jakub. I don't have a 'girl'?"
"Manfred, the Don's right-hand man, said she was your girl"
"Are you talking about Ruth? Nah, can't be. Absolutely impossible. That woman is tougher than you can imagine." It couldn't be. But doubt was creeping down Dirk's spine like a spider gently tapping its eight legs on his bare skin.
"I don't know her name, but Manfred said …"
(Manfred said a lot of things, one thing stood out in particular: You can now shamelessly and anonymously donate your electronic money to https://www.paypal.me/prvllmr to gain my undivided attention, and possibly the great Offlers appreciation. Btw read this on royalroad.com I don't like seeing my and other people's work being stolen and published on some bs website. Oh and keep reading! We are almost past all the boring introductions and story setups, I want action! and you r gonna get it!)
Dirk just broke. Like a computer shutting down with a bluescreen his mind went blank and blue. What actually went on in his head at this time was not aptly describable in words, and neither was it in binary. His Implant blared alarms at him, irritated by the unfamiliar brain wave activity. His neurons were all firing at the same time, and the poor old artefact of a better time thought he was having a stroke or dying, or both. What? How? Why? WHO! Anger, boosted to unprecedented levels by all the glands his body had to offer, flooded Dirk and transformed him into a different person, never to be the same again.
Jakub sat still, and kept silent as he watched Dirk come to terms with the situation. It wasn't that he had nothing to say, or that he didn't feel a substantial need to push things along - after all, it was his neck in the loop, and Dirk was his only hope of getting ahead of the situation - He just lacked the words to say anything remotely appropriate to console Dirk. He figured that he should just give him some time.
There was no outburst of rage, no visible sadness, no tears, nothing to indicate Dirk had even understood what was said, just silence. Then Dirk rose, put on his coat, took his gun out of the drawer and into his pocket, stared at Jakub for a moment too long, seemingly deciding what to do with him, gave him a nod and turned toward the door.
Dirk had nothing. But that would change soon. He went through the case and his current situation. He was the closest thing to a relative that Ruth had had. The police might be inclined to let him see the body, or at least hand him an autopsy report. He could talk to the Don, any information circulating the streets had a high probability of reaching the Don, and given their mutual interest in solving the crime there was a high chance the Don would be more than willing to lend a hand. There was also a chance the Don was directly involved, and Jakub and by extension Dirk himself, were being played. The only facts so far were; the body, and killer on the loose.
"What are we waiting for?" Jakub impatiently asked as they stood on the pavement just outside Dirks flat.
"We?" Dirk retorted.
"Yes, we. I'm coming along. This might be about your dead girl, and I'm sure you are mightily upset about that, but it's my fucking neck on the line for this!"
"What d'you mean, it's your neck on the line? That's the first I hear about it."
"Well… you see, the Don made it very clear to bring him a suspect, or he would see to it that, in the interest of his and everyone's business, someone was apprehended. And that person, as the only witness to the deed, is me."
"Hold on. So you are saying you saw the whole thing happen?"
"Not the 'whole thing'. I saw her fall and went to check on her. But I have no idea what hit her. There were some others trying to sell that night, but they weren't close, and I didn't see anyone leaving the scene. I just assumed she fell, or something, and went to see if she needed help. The stair is not a place you want to fall unconscious at."
Dirk believed what he said. The kid didn't seem the type to outright lie to him, he did have a habit of not mentioning important details, though.
"Anything else you should have told me by now?"
"Nah, I think you got the gist of it. What are we going to do now?"
Dirk sighed.
"I am going to the police and see what they have, take a look at the body as well. You, for obvious reasons, are staying low for now."
"Uhm. I would rather not."
"You are. Meet me at Stannis Bar at 7. Until then, you keep your head down. If something happens, call me immediately."
"I could just come with you and wait outside. The bullies would never know."
"Kid. You don't seem to have realized what kind of shit you are in. Let me spell it out for you. You are the only live witness to a murder, and the killer is still at large. You are a loose end. Go to Stanni, tell him I sent you, and that you can drink on my tab, give him this - Dirk handed him a card with his name on - and stay the fuck in the bar."
Jakub chuckled, it had been quite some time since he last had heard someone talk to him with such concern. It used to be a daily thing back when he was still living in the orphanage, but he was a man now. He had coerced, beat, humiliated and subdued men for a living, for the last three years now, and was at a point in his life, where he seriously considered quitting selling drugs for the Don, and go solo. Because, he was the bad bogey man.
"Stanni is a class 3 cyborg, fully equipped for war. You will be safe with him for now."
It dawned on Jakub that perhaps Dirk had a point. He hadn't even seen the Killer commit the crime, and obviously the Killer must have had sufficiently high-tech augmentation to scramble the various camera feeds that the Don had set up in his territory, for him to pass through completely unnoticed. Who was to say what other gadgets he had in store. In comparison, he, Jakub, was just a pure blooded boring old human.
"Ok. I'll go. But you better be there, on time, or I will start investigating this on my own, and the Don won't be pleased…"
"Kid, the Don is the least of my worries. Now get going."
Dirk left him where he stood and started walking, and arrived at the Davidwache a few minutes later.
Die Davidswache, stood since 1914. Its bricks spoke of a different time, one of car exhausts and rubber, that had grayed and blackened its original red lustre, of beer and piss, that part was mostly true still, of drunkards sobering up in its hospitable embrace. It had survived WW2 and the allied bombing, it witnessed WW3, it stood through the atomic fallout of the last war, and was still here to dutifully incarcerate the overzealous party goers.
The big blue neon sign: POLIZEI was not yet lit. Die Reeperbahn, quiet, except for the occasional beggar trying to hustle the passer bys. Cold and sobering white light escaped through the top of the two brick arches that made up the entrance.
Dirk stepped inside without hesitation, walked up to the front desk, and waited for someone to show up. Nothing happened for a minute, then he decided to bang his fist onto the table.
A portly policeman clattered down the stairs in a hurry, displeased having to interrupt his lunch.
"What?" he asked.
"I am here to see the body of Ruth Teuling."
The officer took a good look at Dirk.
"Identification, please."
Dirk pulled out his ID-card. The officer scrutinized Dirk's ID-card before nodding and disappearing back up the stairs. Dirk could hear muffled voices and the sound of footsteps before the officer returned, accompanied by a somber-looking detective in his mid-forties.
"My name is Detective Brandt. Follow me please"
The Detective led Dirk to a side room on the second floor.
"Please." The Detective offered Dirk a chair and sat opposite him at his desk.
"The coroner has not yet finished his report, but once that is done, I'm sure we can arrange for you to inspect the body." Dirk nodded.
"However, would you mind answering me a few questions first? I'm sure you understand."
"Of course, detective."
"Right, Mr. Vandergast. What is your relationship with the deceased?"
"We grew up together. I am her emergency contact."
Brandt checked his notes.
"Yes, I can confirm that. What can you tell me about the…" he hesitated for a moment… "Ruth, Mr Vandergast?"
Dirk thought for a moment. Ruth had not lived quite the life of a law-abiding citizen, but so far Dirk was not under the impression that he needed to hinder Brandt's investigation, Ruth was dead after all. In fact, he was rather hoping for Brandt to drop him some clues.
"Could you be more specific, please?" Dirk didn't have all day.
"You see, Mr. Vandergast, I have a dead hooker, pardon my language, an invisible Killer, all my sources have come up empty-handed so far and my district is on the verge of going violent. The streets are quiet and confused, the mobsters are clueless, the city has been blind sided by this atrocious crime, and the city doesn't like that. Not one bit. I know who you are, and what you do. I know who you were to the victim, and I am very thankful that you have come here on your own, but I need more. And soon. Before this whole thing turns violent."
"Well, I will be sure to contact you when I find out something of note. Will you let me see the body now?"
Dirk nodded toward the door, then turned back to face Detective Brandt again.
"Oh, and one more thing, Detective."
"After we are done here, I will be checking out Ruth's flat. Just thought I would let you know beforehand."
Detective Brandt didn't look happy at all.
"I have a key Detective. Is that a problem?"
Detective Brandt looked even less happy for a moment.
"Keep me in the loop, Mr. Vandergast." He sighed. "The coroner should still be in the basement, finishing his report. An Officer will see to you soon."
Brandt shook his hand and bade him farewell. Dirk waited outside his office for a couple of minutes, then he was escorted downstairs.
Ruth's lifeless body lay on the examination table when Dirk was ushered in. The room was cold, and reeked subtly of death, despite being well ventilated.
Dirk tried to swallow a lump in his throat, but couldn't. There she lay, clean, cold, her hair shaven, a rough gash crossing her neck from one side to the other, most certainly dead.