Carefully romancing her cup of coffee, Camile sat in her office grimacing at the thought of the upcoming family dinner she had to attend. She dreaded the event, fully aware of how often they brought up the topic of marriage, even going as far as introducing her to men she'd never met before, all in an attempt to set her up on dates. It always ended up in disaster as she always belittled them, and just the way she effortlessly intimidated them, seeing their angry expressions as they quietly swallowed the insults made her laugh.
None of you are near my class she sneered as she thought, her mind flicking to the so-called men who dared to ask her out, all of them beneath her in every way. Her parents had gotten married for love and so for many years the girl believed in the same process. She herself used to believe the same ten years ago that love lay as the premise for marriage. Only somewhere along the line, she had changed her way of thinking. What was there in getting married to a man who was poor or average just because he loved you if you can hardly make it through the day? What am I, if I don't have the comforts and pleasures she know she deserved, without the liberty of having every thing she wanted. It was not that she couldn't manage herself, being a billionaire was not just a stereotype but a lifestyle that she rightfully embraced.
Being the owner of Tisphone's fashion design industry, one of the largest fashion industries in the country, she had set herself on such a high pedestal that men who were not as affluential as she was were seen to be 'beneath her standards'. A knock on her door snapped her out of thoughts.
''come in.'' she replied as she lazily arranged the scattered papers and files on her desk.
''Good morning miss Camile'' mike smiled as he casually entered her office landing on the soft sofa heaving a deep breath.
''it seems you have a lot of free time on your hands, coming to visit me so casually…and would you get your filthy legs off the table?!'' she said as she playfully went to hit his arm.
''ouch!! Chill baby girl, can't you spare me? Im obviously stressed here cam.'' Mike whined as he stretched getting more comfortable.
Camile laughed as she looked at her best friend, he was well different from others. He was handsome, perhaps not in a conventional sense, but he had that appearance which could make him stand out in the crowd. He was fair almost pale white.
His unfathomable golden brown eyes contrasted with his light toned face. When he smiles, his smile reaches up to his eyes and wrinkles them, flaunting his modesty and humility. Often, you could see a hint of his emotions in his sparkling eyes, as at times where his words couldn't convey his emotions, his eyes did so. He sometimes spoke too fast which perhaps revealed how much thoughts he concealed within himself.
Above all was his frame and his stature. He wasn't extremely muscular, his lean tall frame deceptive enough to make one think he's weak; how ironic. However he could stand out in a crowd, which was mostly due to the way he carried himself. He was perhaps just one in a million, nothing special but all the same unique.
''So I saw your text. A family dinner again?'' mike said as he laughed. ''At least I'm gonna hear some juicy tales. And please be nice to those poor little fellas who are unfortunate to come and try to win your heart over.''
''hey mike! You're not helping.'' She whined as she instantly regretted telling him. ''I don't blame them though. You're turning 27 in the next few months, you're a smart and beautiful lady but the fact still remains that you're getting old''.
Flipping her head towards mike, she scoffed, '' you think I don't know that dimwit? I just don't need this kind of pressure right now and you of all people should know that.''
''I know. Even though they aren't taking the best approach right now, the fact that they care should be the more reason you should give it a chance. Who knows? '' he chuckled as he stood up to leave.
'' Hmmm…'' cam replied uninterestedly as she sorted out the files as one suddenly caught her interest. It was an invite to the grand fashion conference worldwide taking place at Paris, France next month. She had almost forgotten that she had an event as important as this to attend.
''Miss Gwen, please book me a flight to Paris next month. The duration of my visit would be three weeks, Thank you.'' She said as she placed down the intercom. A few weeks of vacation wouldn't be such a bad thing anyways she thought as a smile crept to her lips as her intuition and curiosity took hold of her. The greatest minds behind the world's leading fashion statements would be gathering and the fact that she would grace them with her presence excited her. As a fashion designer and exquisite fashion artist, she loved her job; being able to do what she loved best, creating and bringing to life well designed clothes that her artistic imaginations came up with and the best and most fulfilling thing was seeing people love, value and appreciate her work of art. Honestly, it was the best feeling…and indeed she loved to savor every moment.
* * *
The sound of the airly cool music, the clinking of drinks as people gurgled themselves up with beers and whiskey, the smell of the sweaty air as folks danced to the point of exhaustion, was definitely a place one would find Brady Thompson, a detective who apart from his love for alcohol and women, was a big shot in the cops investigation division.
Squeezing himself onto the only vacant seat at the bar; a torn leather seat, he noticed smoke permeated the room, forcing him to adopt a squint as he kept the entrance in view. TVs blared overhead and drunken slugs sat either side of him, the collection of empty shot glasses and beer mugs in front of them suggested that they were indeed career drinkers.
Settling down, he flagged the bartender, '' hey! Joe, the usual.'' Turning towards him with a half baked smile, a lean figure came into view, '' Well, well well , if it ain't cop Brady…it's been quite a while since you've been here, job's been taking you off the bars lately?'' replied Joe as he skimmed though the drinks sampled on the bar stand bringing down some whiskey and cocktail.
'' Nothing much man…just some murder cases I've been trying to wrap my head around lately...'' He replied downing the drink as he tried putting these past two weeks behind him. The thoughts of those lifeless men, known to be Bruge Kevelsky, a famous rogue, a thief and an expert killer; and Mark Clyde a lowly clerk at some local organization , brutally slaughtered; always a bloodbath with the silliest of clues brought forth like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle missing a piece, never completing the picture.
The recent death of Arius Margin, an international antique and craftsman collector had indeed, oddly enough unlike the others had made Brady certain it was fixed up to look like it was a suicide. But what would a wealthy, affluent and opulent man like himself have gotten into, that resulted to the end of his own life was what really got him wondering. One thing was for certain, the recent murder cases and Margin's death were somehow interlinked.
The omission of their pinky fingers and the L-marked carvings on the right side of their chest were all similar, as though the killer attempted to ridicule the cops' efficiency in bringing him to justice, and that was what spiked up Brady's interest on this case.
His love for danger is like a fire that only grew stronger the more it was fed. His profound built up courage from under constant threats had sharpened his in-built instinct for danger. His close-to-death encounters had purged him of fear long time ago but waltzing into danger or poking his nose into trouble didn't seem like the kind of thing he does but always ended up in it.
Its like I have a hidden talent of always getting in trouble He always mused. His leisure time was always spent at the Brimmers bar, just chilling, taking a few drinks as he chatted on with Joe, who for some weird reasons always enjoyed the stories of missions he had taken on, never failing to give him the thrill of the dangers he had faced and his lucky escapades. He never minded the crowd, the drunks, the whores and the messed up ones who got in trouble with the coppers all the time; to him it was exactly the kind of place he needed to be when he wanted to be carefree.
But today wasn't a day for jokes and stories; That very morning he had an anonymous letter containing riddles with information about the ongoing murder rampage. The letter suggested the sender knew him well enough to arrange a meeting, specifying the bar as the location and 21:00hrs as the time. Unquestionable—this mysterious person had a message to deliver and what it was, was certainly impatient.
Glancing at his watch, the time read 21:48pm. As minutes went by, he began to lose hope and wondered if he was being played for a sucker which he highly doubted but still couldn't get off his mind. As he kept on a light conversation with Joe, a woman with platinium blonde hair and tight mini skirt sauntered up to the bar, eying the regulars like an aging lioness hungry for a meal, until her gaze landed on Brady.
''It's been a while Thompson,'' she sneered as she made her way towards him, flipping her hair flirtatiously as she did so, getting her some stares from some nasty drunken slugs. ''I can see you've been dillydallying.'' she said as she slithered onto one of the chairs beside brad, considering it was occupied a second ago.
''Toying around with dead bodies as your work permits you to do so.'' ''Get over yourself honey, '' Brady replied uninterested as he kept his attention at the entrance, ''not in the mood for your whoresome displays today Marcy.''
"what's got you so riled up? And more importantly what's got your attention? You've been orgling at the entrance. Expecting someone aren't ya?'' She asked, taking a shot of vodka in a gulp. ''Hmmm, '' he replied completely uninterested in her attempt to prompt up a conversation, ''Look, I ain't here for fun and games Marcy, there are some things that shouldn't be talked about so casually."
''Chill Brad. Just wanted to know if I could be of help, I quite know everyone who comes here ya know?'' she said as she lit up her cigar, giving suggestive winks at some of the men who sized her up with their eyes , ''Just wanted to get a role in those dogged action packed tales you always tell Joe 'bout. You didn't need to be so uptight about it. I'm off now, seems like I caught a big fish. '' she beamed as a huge man with a viking-golden hair wearing ripped jeans and a polo shirt waved at her riling her to come over which she did , sliding off her chair leaving as Brad couldn't even care less.
Whipping around as he carried on with the beer while deep in thought only to be interrupted by the sight of a shadowy figure entering through the door. The figure had an intense, what might be described as terrified look on its face and its eyes immediately ran through the gathered crowd before fixating on him. In that moment, Brady was conscious of it: this was the guy he had been looking forward to being in a relationship with. Quickly he ordered two beers and when he turned round to face the stranger he was standing right in front of him. He was averagely tall, muscular, and bulky with broad shoulders, perhaps in his late twenties with lean, muscles straining through the tattered jacket he wore. The thin nose that was deeply embedded in a high cheekbone was partly hidden by the black hood that covered most of his head, though one could tell that he was a nervous man and his eyes which scanned around restlessly.
"This isn't a place to talk," the man croaked, beckoning Brad to follow him. They left the bar and walked slowly down the street until they arrived at an old diner. As they sat at one of the worn tables, Brad watched him closely, noting the way he ordered his meal with surprising ease, as though nothing in the world mattered except filling his stomach. The man shifted his gaze between the waiter and Brad, unfazed.
"What will you have, Cop Brad?" he mused, the question coming across as casual, as though the business at hand was of little concern compared to satisfying his hunger.
"Just water," Brad replied, his voice flat with disinterest. He scanned the diner's interior for the first time, and his gut twisted. Four burly men—two sitting at each end of the diner—made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A chill ran through him, the familiar, unsettling feeling of danger he often felt when trouble was near.
"So, I'll get straight to the point," Brad said, his voice low. "What do you know about the serial killings happening lately?" He wanted out of there, and the sooner he could wrap this up, the better.
"Hold your horses…" The man paused as the waiter arrived with their order, placing the plates on the table before retreating just as quickly as she'd come. "We haven't properly introduced ourselves. I'm Wilson." He said between bites, chewing his food hungrily, barely bothering to look at Brad.
"I didn't come here just to get acquainted," Brad muttered, trying to mask his impatience.
"Guess this is a waste of my time then." Brad pushed his chair back, standing up and moving toward the door, his steps quick and purposeful. But the bad feeling he'd sensed earlier confirmed itself when he reached the door and found one of the hefty men now standing in front of it, a sneer curling his lips. The man's eyes dared Brad to try and leave.
"Who said you could leave?" Wilson's voice broke through the tense silence. He wiped his hands on his napkin, looking completely unfazed by the shift in energy. Dropping some cash on the table, he stood up and walked toward Brad, his footsteps slow and deliberate.
Brad didn't move, his jaw tightening. Wilson was too close now. "I wasn't done talking," Wilson said, his voice cold but oddly calm. "Actually, the one who wants to have a word with you isn't me, but someone you'll meet very soon."
Brad's pulse quickened. This was no longer just about information. It was clear now—whatever game Wilson was playing, he was in deeper than he'd thought.
''hey what do you mean by that?'' Brad said as he felt uneasy but refused to show it. A million ways to flee from this den soon occupied his thoughts but they all brought about the same conclusion because there was no way he could deal with four of those huge men. ''Don't scare the shit out of him Wilson.'' The huge man in front of him who he later knew to be Mateo bawled as he signaled the other three men who came standing side by side, keeping their gazes on him.
''Scared? That word seems a bit foreign to me.'' Brad fumed taking a few paces forward, now standing directly in front him as they locked gazes, hating the fact that this big oaf thought he was afraid, finding it pretty easy to loathe the guy. ''Okay fellas, let's all take a breather.'' Wilson cooed breaking the silence, then turned to face Brad, ''I would strongly advise you to remove any silly thoughts you have in your head right now and kindly co-operate with us .
''Not like I have a choice anyways.'' Brad let out a short, bitter laugh and shrugged as he stepped back. ''Lead the way. ''
Wilson nodded in acknowledgment but the quirk at the corners of his mouth looked more like a snarl, then he walked out of the diner. The others followed him: Brad bringing up the rear as both Mateo and the other man continually stared at him intently. Across the street an old van was parked on the other side of the road; they got in and within minutes were roaring off in it.
Brad didn't require them to blindfold him or to do anything to ensure that he wouldn't know the way–they weren't going to let him escape–at least not yet. His mind started churning, well aware that wherever he was headed was more than a casual business meeting. One thing was clear: they knew something about the murders and most probably, they were in it too. The question was, how involved were they?
The van drove fast and twisted and turned through the roads and bridges of the city that Brad got to recognize. The journey took about forty-five minutes, the atmosphere getting tenser by the minute. Brad being the logical one, he found his mind focusing more and more as they got closer to where they were headed. He realized that it was one of the more peaceful neighborhoods in the city but this street where the house is located is entirely different; it is narrow, devoid of any human presence most of the time.
At the end of that street, the van stopped, bringing an end to the journey that had spanned awful time. Brad's eyes darted to the surroundings: There was an old, decaying house just in front of them. There was a building, but it seemed that it had long been deserted; the windows were broken, and the doors were either missing or swung open with a noisy gust of wind. The yard had also gone to waste with all kinds of unwanted plants such as weeds and wild shrubs growing all over the place thus enhancing the increased degree of desolation of the place. To the left, a still, fetid pool that was more like a swamp, the water a sinister dark brown and filled with squirming life forms at the water's edge. The air still stank of moisture, and Brad's gut told him that this is where people should never venture.
''what a magnificent place to meet'' Brad thought distastefully, amused by his own sarcasm. ''Hey!! Move it '' Mateo growled shoving him into the house and the look in his eyes told Brad the feelings of hate were quite mutual.
As Brad moved down the hallway, light embraced them and opened doors to the series and as they made it to a door a few to the right, there was a small cozy room.
The dim, pulsating rays of the candlelight illuminated the home and penetrated through the doors, careful and crafted furniture decorated the room. There were two comfortable chairs fixed opposite each other; a neat table was laid between them. Some of the cushions were placed haphazardly in the room to give people the comfort of the room. This was quite shocking to the exterior part of the house, it gave a perfect caveat that you should never judge a book by its cover.
Slumping down onto one of the cushions, one of the men said, ''I think it's about time we had a break, all this up and go jobs are really gonna wear me out."
''Jeez do you have to complain about everything you lazy-ass.'' Another piped in as he walked towards Mateo, ''I think he should grab a seat.'' He whispered looking over to Brad, who actually heard him. '' you heard him didn't ya? Put your ass down.'' Mateo said keeping his gaze on Brad. ''And remember, don't you dare try anything funny.''
Brad chuckled at the fact that the thought had left him completely. He was already here against his will and he was intent on making this little trip worthwhile by getting all the information he could lay his eyes, hands and ears on. Settling down, he looked at his watch, which read 11:15pm. As he waited for the mystery man in question, his thought drifted far, he knew he had gotten into a big mess. If they presumably didn't let him off, how the hell was he supposed to get out of here? He had studied the environment on getting here, there probably might be other exits leading outside but the other exits would probably lead him into the thick bushes surrounding the house except from the entrance through which they came in.
Another issue was how to get rid of these men who guarded him like hound dogs and there's probably a possibility that there were others in the building. It was at times like this he wished he wasn't completely alone; he should have informed some cops about the email at the time he got it, '' always wanting to play the hero ''He sighed .
As the minutes dragged by slowly, the laughter of the men as they got more engrossed in their conversations, with Wilson joining them from time to time drowned out the silence leaving Brad and Mateo in their own thoughts. Soon after, the door creaked open and a grimly looking man, looking in his early fifties walked in and the noisy conversations abruptly came to an end. Taking a quick glance at Brad, he turned towards Wilson and said. ''Mr. k wants to see you immediately.'' Wilson face gleamed as he stood up following the old man as they left. Five minutes later, the same old man came back signaling Mateo with a wave of his hand causing him to jump from his seat, striding towards Brad as he grabbed his arm forcing him up.
''Mr. K would like to see you now.'' Mateo briefed as he led Brad through the hallways and up the stairs. The house, though seemingly abandoned from the outside, had an unsettling aura—a place that didn't belong in this neighborhood. Brad's mind raced, pondering his next move, but his options were limited. As they reached the top floor, Mateo—the hulking figure—took Brad by the arm and pulled him into the room with urgency. Inside, Brad's eyes immediately locked onto a shocking sight: Wilson the man who had brought him here was dead. Wasted away like a dog, on the floor with his brains shattered by a bullet to the head. The room went deathly still. "Finally, Brad, the pooja of this new house begins." "Welcome to the party, Brad" a man said as he sat behind the desk. Brad looked off to the side and his insides burned as the man seated behind the desk cleared his throat to speak.
A fearful sight, able to demand respect and giving of an air of authority. His icy stare followed Brad closely while he looked like he was thinking hard. He was looking very well, polished clean, features sharp as knives and eyes barely hidden by a subtle smile. He had black hair and it was combed back, he sat right and looked as though he controlled everything in the room and even the people in it. "What a wonderful sight that was, or was it sound, what do you think they said?" Brad said dryly, calmly even though he could feel the cold like electricity running down his spine.
The mere look that Mr. K gave, didn't seem to be a smile at all; it was fake! "Indeed" he said his words calm but with an undeniable hint of malevolence. "Wilson… well, he knew too much. Oh, as for you, Brad Thompson," he said and now the anger of the man was barely controlled. "I'm glad you could make it."
Brad narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't exactly call this an 'invitation,' more like coercion."
Mr. K chuckled darkly. "You could probably say that, but to me, it feels more like a chance. You understand, Brad, I do need your help. You know, there is a job I want done and there is no other person I trust can do it but you".
Brad grew more and more suspicious and he folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not your errand boy. I didn't come here to help you, I came to see what you've got to say about the murders going on here."
Mr. k then looked at him, placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair with a slow, amused smile. "Well, that explains it then, you've been spying on us, haven't you? A man who has no discreet sense."
'' You act as though you're talking to a child. What the hell makes you think I'll help you?'' Brad said frowning.
Mr. k gave a sinister smile which had started putting Brad on edge, ''Wilson did say you lack patience though, but I think it's best if you let me complete my offer.'' He reached for an envelope in the drawer, took it and slid it across the table to Brad.. Opening it's content, Brad's heart almost leaped out of his chest as he stared in horror, his deepest and darkest secret stared right back at him.
''It seems you have come in terms with what's in there.'' He said, satisfied with the reaction he got. ''it seems my offer's still on. Help me get what I want and I'll make this all go away, besides if this got out not only your reputation and your job will be at stake, you'll be sent to prison for quite a while. We wouldn't want to taint your records now, would we?'' He said as he calmly stared back at Brad.
Bringing out his demons was just something someone like Mr. k could do, but what baffled him was how he got hold of his dark secret that no one , literally no one knew about. It was at this point he knew he had successfully been persuaded because he would do anything in the world to never let his past come to light as the guilt and pain he bore because of his action had already been too much to bear alone. ''The tactics you use in getting others to do as you will is quite commendable I'll say,'' Brad said as he leaned forward. ''but I want to make one thing clear, you better meet your end of the deal or else you'll be getting a visit from me, personally.''
''Of course. Although let's get this straight, I make the rules and I determine the course of action during this short period of partnership and if everything goes well you'll get your share of dough that'll definitely set you up for life.''
''I'm not in for the money K, just make sure you keep to your end of the deal.'' Brad said as he lit a cigar, relaxed. ''As you wish, and also concerning the murder cases you seem to suspect me for, let's just hope you keep your nose out of that.'' Mr. K said sternly as his eyes suddenly went deadly. ''Also note that you'll be watched 24/7 and if we sense any form of disloyalty, we would gladly and effortlessly send you on a trip to see your maker.'' Brad nodded as he realized that he had been caught in a tight leech.
Brad swallowed hard. This wasn't a negotiation anymore—it was blackmail. He could feel his guilt and fear creeping back to the surface, the weight of his past crushing him all over again.
"What do you want from me?" Brad asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. K smiled, that same cold smile he gave him before. "I want you to assist me in securing the Oasis Diamond—a jewel that has defied a number of people for several years. It is with the Bentleys which name I'm assuming you and a million others are quite familiar with. You'll help me steal it."
For a moment the two men looked at each other as Brad suppressed the feelings churning inside of him. "And what's in it for me?"
Mr. K's gaze turned sharp. You assist me and this shall be the end of it," he said, pointing at the papers in the envelope beside him. You'll walk away free. But mess with me Brad, and I can assure you everybody will learn the real Bradley Thompson."
Brad took a deep breath, the implication of the situation had only just caught up with him. He was stuck. This was the only way he was going to be safe, However when he sat down to do the job, he began to see how deep the rabbit hole really was. It was much more than money; it held some stock to something that Mr. K could not even begin to fathom, a much bigger game was afoot.
Brad tilted the chair back and owned himself a cigar with that quiet dignity that came of years of being powerful. "Fine. I'll do it. But you better hold up your part."
The next few hours early into the morning, Brad found himself making a deal with the devil.