Story 1

Chapter 1 – Lost Angels

Hi! This is my first attempt at a detective story, but it may go off topic occasionally. It’s set in a cyber-punk future, with racial and gender discrimination, so that’s a warning. Well, I don’t know what to say about this except I’m not good at mysteries, so if the answer is obvious, just tell me. Also – could anyone tell me if you can warm to Ben’s character? I like him, but I don’t want him to be too perfect. More like a man with some principles which he occasionally rents out.

Thanks for looking – even if this isn’t your thing, please review, as I desperately need crit on style and naturalist language. However, I am dyslexic, so crit on spelling and slight grammatical mistakes may not have much of an effect (unless anyone is prepared to Beta for me. I’d like a beta!).

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Ben usually went looking for trouble, but for once he had to wait for it to come and find him. Trouble was his business, it paid his bills and got him little luxuries in life, so he was not going to complain about it. He usually hung around in bars, listening for tip-offs, or scouting around for anyone who wanted his services, but today he had decided his office, in the absence of a better word, was the place to be. This was because he rarely seemed to spend any time there, and as it cost him a good $400 bucks to rent out a month he was as sure as hell going to use it for more than storing his coffee machine.

However, he was slowly realising that he’d been better off just using his sitting room as a base, not this fancy office. The people who wanted his services were less impressed by the clinically white walls and wooden floors, but the fact he could find people – people who had been taken, or, more often, people who had gone into hiding, and needed to be found. What happened after he returned them to the person who was looking after them Ben didn’t know and as long as they kept the blood off the walls didn’t care. The last person who came to his office came in demanded that he was given a new face and tattoo removal. Ben had to explain that although his office looked like a doctors, he wasn’t a surgeon, that was the man upstairs, and, by the way, Mr Malkab was looking for him and he wasn’t happy.

As Ben reminisced a happy ending for himself, he heard someone knock on the door. Ben sat up straight, having been slouching in his wheelie chair and shouted, “Come in, the door’s open!”

The man did as he said, and came in. The first thing Ben noticed was the fact he was tall. Very tall. So tall he towered over him, and would have been at least five inches above him if Ben had been standing up. The second thing, and possibly more revealing thing was the walking stick. The man walked with a limp, using the stick to make up for an inconsistency in his step. Ben watched the way the old man’s hand gripped the silver head, his finger having worn little crevasses into the metal. That man must have had to use that stick all his life – but as he noticed the join between the head and the ebony wood he saw the stick for what it was. Well, this man must have a few enemies if he had to carry a knife, no, it was more of a sword, around with him. Well, now it was probably less than before he started to carry a fucking great big sword around with him in a well crafted cane.

Ben wasn’t taking any chances. He took out his best weapon and used it. “How can I help you sir?” he said, being as charming as possible.

“Are you the Ben Smith who can find anyone anywhere?” he asked.

“Is that what they say?” asked Ben with fake modesty. About time he got some recognition. Ben, by looking at the man’s face saw that he was not the kind of person who enjoyed such social niceties. “Yes, I am. May I ask who you are?”

“My name’s Virgil Coast. “

“Virgil Coast! Don’t you own most of this city?” exclaimed Ben a pitch too high, “You own this building here! Oh my God…”

“I do.” Said the man quietly, “And I may be powerful, but unfortunately I need you help. I’m sure you won’t need me to tell you why…”

“Me?” Choked Ben, “Why me? No offence, but I’m sure you could find a less seedy part of the city to look for someone in this biz, and probably someone better.”

Virgil Coast look at him with his piercing dark eyes for a moment, a moment that man Ben feel as if his whole soul was being examined before the old man said, “Unfortunately, I have already tried those people and they have failed. One of my servants advised that I came to see you – she said that when no one else could, you could find anybody, anything, anywhere, even if they were dead. You might be the last man I want to see, but” the old man sighed, his hands shaking, “You are the only person who can find my daughter for me.”

“Daughter? How come she’s missing, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“She was kidnapped.”

“How? I’ve seen the picture’s of your house, guards everywhere…I didn’t think anyone could take a shit in that house without it being known about.”

“Usually, that is the case.” Replied Coast, replying with slight disgust of the curse word and the reference to bodily motions, “but someone in my staff was in on the kidnapping. They took my little Angel and I don’t know where she is…”

“How long ago was this?” asked Ben.

“Two days.” Replied Coast, on the verge of tears.

Ben snorted, then broke out into uncontrollable laughter. “Two days? Only two days? You’re getting upset because your daughter’s been gone two days? Hell, most people give it at least four! About 15 escape in the first few days anyway…”

“This is not funny!” yelled Coast, gripping his cane.

Ben stopped laughing, watching the old man’s hand, covered in liver spots, shaking, but looked like they were a dab-hand at cutting. Ben tried not to smile and said, “I’m sorry, sorry, but seriously, I need to talk to that staff member, find out about which circle took her, or whatever they know. I mean, for a lot of these people they’re literally offered $10 000 just to get a group of girls in one place and they don’t question it.”

“That may be a problem…”

“Why.”

“The member if staff in question has done a runner. I can’t find him either.” Said Coast, embarrassed,

“Frightened of getting the chop?” asked Ben as sweetly as he could.

Coast paused for a second and replied, “I am not used to impertinence in those who I pay, Mr Smith. I am paying your salary.”

“Not yet.” Ben grinned. He looked at Coast’s face, and suddenly saw hundreds of dollars threatening to leave the room in a very angry manner. Ben quickly backtracked, and with a cough said, “Fair enough. I’m going to need details, on both of them mind.” Ben added quickly, “If he’s the one who took her, then he’ll definitely know who runs the ring. Once you know that, then all you need is just to follow their exporting routes. ”

“Really?” asked Coast.

Ben pushed his seat back and took a map of the area out, annotated with various different symbols and colours of felt pens. “Right, you live in the Brixton mansions, so the first place to look is at the gangs that work mainly in the North London Area…not many mind, too many rich people up there, they like the slums better, most people can’t wait to get rid of their kids there, but a few do work there…” Ben took a pen off his table and moved it up to four circles, one purple, one mustard yellow, another green and another orange, “mainly upmarket people, the better brothels, not just regular servants or sweatshop workers, so be happy that she isn’t stuck in some factory in the dark making GAP jeans. This man who took her, can you give me any information on him?”

“I have a file on him, the police let me have it.” Coast took a folder out of a pocket in his coat and put it on the table, a couple of pieces of paper and a photo falling out. Ben didn’t question how Coast was given such a confidential folder and picked up the photo, examining it carefully. “Do you know this fiend then?” asked Coast.

“No, never seen him before. “said Ben, examining it. The man was pretty though, he had to admit. The photo was a regulation one that was taken before anyone started work – one of the ID card, but he didn’t look pissed off, or braindead like most people did in these photos. He was staring a bit weirdly at the camera, but he was surprised the man in the photot wasn’t working as rent boy. With those looks he could have retired in ten years, rich as Coast here. The man’s striking green eyes shone from the photo from between beautiful chocolate coloured curls and pretty plump lips, but there was something about his face that suggested he was Irish, or at least part Irish. That helped narrow it down…

“That cuts out Joshi’s group, ‘cause they only like to deal with Paki’s and Mokosa’s? No way, everyone but Italians and Irish after that Mafia deal…”

“What?” asked Coast.

“This man seems Irish, so that cuts it down to two possible groups.”

“I mean, how do you know all this? How do you know who works where and who mixes with who? Even the police haven’t worked it out…” said Coast.

“Trust me, they have. Or at least some of them. It takes surprisingly little to make people keep quiet about stuff like this.” Said Ben, voice frozen on one pitch.

“But we pay them…” said Coast.

“Yeah, how much? It’s 20 taxes for you rich bastards, but for them it’s barely a living wage, not to mention the 15 tax ripped from their wages. It doesn’t leave much at the end of the month.” Ben snapped, partly at Coast, partly at the unnamed police. He sighed, “I’m sorry to break this to you, but most of them are only human. Plenty of them have kids themselves, as long as their own kids are safe, most don’t care. Now, the last two groups left are the Itali-Irish Mafia amalgamation, they do low profile stuff as well you understand, but they’re the one who A, may have a connect with you mate here,” said Ben as he jabbed at the photo, “and B, often kidnap high profile people. Jesus, you must have really fucked them off. What did you do? Throw them out of your flats?”

“I don’t deal with them, “said Coast, “I am above these Mobs –I’m an honest businessman Mr Smith, I make my money from property, not from trafficking children and selling prohibited goods.”

Honest businessman my arse, thought Ben, if half the stories are true about kicking out families because they’re only a week behind with the rent and the shit state of most of your buildings…well, you’re as honest as a nine dollar note. Ben, however, was able to stop himself from voicing his opinion and continued, “…well, the other possibility, and it is a long shot, is that it’s just Chavs, y’know, but the thing is that they usually do this kind of thing to order, if you will, if an individual just wants someone, they’ll send in chavs to do it. I mean, sometimes brothels will “order” nice girls, but as I said, it’s a long shot.”

Coast looked horrified. “And you say not to worry?”

“Not much you can do Mr Coast, sir, I think I can find her…” I do cases like this in my sleep, he sneered to himself, I’m practically a step away from her fucking address! “but before I do anything, I will need some fees up front, to cover expenses, like.”

Coast rolled his eyes and pulling a wallet out of his coat said, “I will pay anything to get my daughter back. How much?”

“Umm….” This is your chance to get out of here and live a life of luxury! Take him for all he’s got!

“I think $250 000 is enough” said Coast, “I’ll give you 10 now, another 20 when you can give me the address or area, and the rest when she’s back home with me.”

Ben had to work hard to stop his jaw dropping wide open, his eyes growing wide. It was not helped at the man counted out $25 000 in hundred dollar bills. He gave in, his jaw dropped, but he managed to gain some sort of dignity by stammering, “I – I thi-think that will be satisfactory…”

Jesus, he thought, I’ve never seen so much cash in one place – well, at least not to give to me. No wonder that girl’s gone missing – there’ll be a ransom note in a few days, I bet. Trying to keep his dignity, Ben took the money and said, “Do I get an expenses account as well?”

Coast smiled a little and said, “Don’t push it. Do you want the job or not?”

Ben pushed the money away from him, using all his strength and said, “What if I say no?”

“I’ll throw you out of this office and see to it that you can’t come back.” Said Coast quietly.

“Oh.” Answered Ben. He could tell that it wasn’t just exile. “You mean…permanently, right. “

“You said it, not me. And the law is on my side.”

“And you say you don’t deal with the mobs.” Replied Ben.

“I don’t. This is personal security.”

“Well, I think this will be fine!” finished Ben, grabbing the pile of money and putting it in his pocket, “I’m taking on this job, all I need now is some info on your daughter. Do you have any of these files on her?” he asked, pointing at the file about the man, “but I need a photo of her. What’s her name?”

“Don’t you know? She’s always in the papers! She’s my daughter and I am one of the most powerful men in town – she’s on the face to every paper in this city!”

“I don’t read the rags, “said Ben, “I get my info from the original sources. Anyway, I don’t read the society pages even when I do.”

“Well, have a look at this.” Coast dumped a paper on his desk with the headline “Virgil Coast’s Angel Missing!” and a large picture of a girl taking over most of the front page. The girl on the front was dressed for a ball, the photo taken at some society function or another. She was very pretty, but he wasn’t into her looks –skinny white girl, carefully toned, massive brown eyes and shoulder length light brown hair, not exactly blonde, but not exactly brown and an innocent naivety about her. She stood like a girl who knew what she was doing – a girl who knew she was going to be in the papers and wanted to look as good as possible for the pictures, with a brittle smile and a tired pose. As his eyes skipped down to the writing he thought, so her name’s Angel then. This girl’s been cursed since she was born. 17 years old – well, she should be able to look after herself then.

“She’s pretty ain’t she?” he said, rubbing his chin, “she’ll stand out a mile from the rest.”

“Mr Smith, I want her back and I’m prepared to part the waters for her. She means everything to me, she’s my…”

“…world?” Ben butted in. “They all are Mr Coast.”

“If I don’t get her back I will kill everyone in my way to get to her. Find her for me, please. I can’t live without her.” Ben looked at Coast’s cold old eyes, glazed with newly forming cataracts and saw the difference between the words and his meaning. He wasn’t lying, he would pull the world apart for her, he would kill everyone in this city, but somehow those eyes made his shiver.

Ben nodded, that was all he could do, and trying to smile said, “I’ll get her back for you Mr Coast. It’s what I do best.”

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Random facts about this story no one is interested in –

1/ O chose Angel for this girl’s name because it is a very Mary Sue name. I just thought it’d be quiet appropriate. As we get to know he, you’ll see how appropriate it gets.

2/ If you hadn’t guessed, this is a world with a Laizzie faire (sp?) government and practically run by mobs. Like in “Batman Begins.” That movie rocks.

3/ I like to see Ben as a superhero without super-powers. What I mean is, he does the same sort of thing as most super hero’s do (or at least will at some point) but unlike Batman hasn’t got the money to make weapons, and unlike Spiderman or any of the X-men wasn’t born with any particularly special abilities. I just think super-powers are overrated. I think his powers of deduction are almost like magic – and if a normal man can think like that, imagine what we could all do if we put our minds to trying to sharpen our natural abilities. And yes, I am a closet Aristotelian.

4/ The Title does have a meaning, but for the love of God I don’t know what. It is referencing something within the story, but not something necessarily obvious, and definitely not yet.

Thanks for having a look at this – I hope it at least entertained you for the entire six minutes it takes to read – next chapter is a monster in length, and hasn’t got much plot, but I rather enjoy.

Thanks for reading and reviewing – Xandra the Blue.