User blog:Joeaikman/Wiki - Chapter 2

“Maybe you would prefer one in a darker colour, sir? It may well go better with your hair and eyes.” This man was boring him. All he could talk about was suits and shirts and ties. Why were clothes vendors never interesting people? They were all like his father’s friends had been; tiresome bores. Shop waved away the dude showing him suits, Gregory was the name he may have given him when he came in, or maybe Graham. This was the suit that would mark his return to his hometown. He was finally coming back, after all the years that he had been away. He had left the town when he was young, no more than 14, yet he still had fond memories of the time he had spent here. His father had raised him back then and he had taken his only son back with him to England when he assumed his lordly title and took his inheritance. His father had long been in the grave, nearly eight years now, and he was the resplenant head of the Knightley house. That was why he had to look his best for today.

He waved to his manservant, an older man who had first served his father, before heading out of the shop in the very outfit he had just commanded the man to purchase. It fit him well, not too tight or too loose, and it went well with his trousers. The dark navy blue may not match his black hair or brown eyes, but it looked good, or it did in his eyes anyway. The limo was waiting outside the shop, ready to take him straight to the nearby town that he would now call home. He wondered slightly to himself if there would be many people waiting for his arrival and whether or not he would have to fight his own way through the hoard. Surely the town’s mayor would be coming out to meet him. The two had spoken briefly on the phone. The man had come across as just another dull American.

“Get the car started, Jose. We drive for my new home now. Try not to hit anyone on the road.” Jose was a large Hispanic man that served as a butler and driver. He was one of the few members of staff that was retained after the death of the previous Lord Knightley. He had the stubble startings of a beard upon his chin, but had clearly gone to the effort of trimming to the side. He was a lazy man, yet somehow he was appealing to have around. He knew how to keep secrets as well. No doubt Shop’s father had concealed any romantic affairs that he may have had in his trusted driver and confidante.

Shop stepped into the back of the stretched limo, flopping himself down on the back seat. There was so much space within the car, yet it was usually left empty because he very rarely travelled with others that he was willing to allow in his business limo. He had another one for the various amorous entertainments that he often got himself into. He poured himself a glass of the champagne that he kept in the backseat fridge, holding it between two of his fingers, sipping gently as they drove towards the place that he truly belonged; the place that he had always needed to be.



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“I’m telling you, Tim. There’s definitely a story here. A murder in the city and then the police’s top suspect vanishes from his home. On top of that, when the mayor was asked about the situation he didn’t know a thing about it. That’s the kind of story that sells newspapers.” Trent was stood in front of the chief’s desk. Tim listened to everything that he had to say, leaving his expression blank. The boy was naïve if he thought their story would remain exclusive for long. The moment that they broke the story it would be picked up by the others. Besides, they could probably get some money from the mayor’s office for choosing not to report the story.

“Send a message to Barry and Max. We should try and get some statements about the disappearance of Mr Fugi. Until then we can’t report it.” He rose from his chair, heading to the corner of the room where his honey coloured mackintosh was hung up on a bronze peg. “I’m going out to look at the house. Send me a text when you get any information. We do need to break this story as soon as possible if we want to get the full benefits from being the paper to lead.”



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“You did well, Jorn. I hear that our target has been dealt with permanently.” Frank was walking around his study room, his hands held behind his back. He was an imposing man, not because he held a lot of muscle upon his person but because you knew all the horrible things that he could have done to you if you ever displeased him. He had a large beer belly and was barely six foot. If you didn’t consider his status in the town then he wouldn’t be considered a threat at all. “We need to make our move on this Drak situation, however. I am placing you in charge of that. Find me the killer and find me a motive. We need to know if this was a result of another gang operating on our territory. Do well for me in this and I will see you rewarded. Leave me now.”

As Frank turned away from him and looked out of the large window on the wall of his study Jorn turned and walked towards the door. It was flanked on both sides by two men. Billy stood on the left, his eyes trained on Jorn. He was still wearing the same flatcap that he had on the day before. His lips were twisted into a thin smile, his skin pulled tight around his lips. The man was like the Grim Reaper come down to earth. The other man was taller than any of the others gathered here. He wore a black shirt and tuxedo, with black sunglasses covering his eyes. His hair was cut short on the top and at the sides. He was another one of Frank’s most dreaded enforcers. They called him Eyes, because supposedly if he removed his glasses in your presence then you were as good as dead. No one had seen his eyes and lived to say what colour they.

“Just one last thing, Jorn. I have high expectations for you in this business, but if you fail me here then I will not hesitate to have my two friends here pay you a visit. I would encourage you to not let that happen. Good luck.”



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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Fuck me, Norm. I thought that I could trust Tim and the others at the Reporter. Now I’m getting messages from him saying that he’s planning to run a negative story on me right before an election. Its like the other candidate has bought out every paper in town. This is less than fucking ideal. Ring up their office and see if you can get the story stopped. Tim’s an old friend, if he respects that then he will not throw me under the bus like this. If he doesn’t...well then we are both fucked.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Barry rose from his desk, his hand running through his hair as he considered the situation that he had been forced into. He didn’t want to have to stop doing exclusive interviews for the Reporter. They allowed him to have easier interviews than with other papers. The window overlooked the town’s central park, where the guy had been murdered. He could see the police cordons and tape up from here. Max had assured him that he would have a police officer on duty to protect the scene of the crime at all times. It may not be the most useful measure but it at least made him look like he was doing something. It reassured the public that he was looking for the killer and that he was putting people on the street to protect them.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“This is the last thing I need this morning. This is the worst thing that could possibly have happened. If the Reporter turns against me then I am lost.” He could feel that someone else was in the room, but he didn’t turn to check who. Norm had left the room, and that meant he would be alone until the boy scurried in to inform him of some meeting or appointment that he had to attend before lunch. Until then he was just alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t get the smug face of the young reporter from yesterday out of his head. What a set of problems that boy had caused him today. He would have to pre-empt the article and make an official statement before any of this story could be released to the public. It was a small cough that alerted him to the presence of someone else in the room with him. He turned round and saw Norm accompanied by the last man that he wanted to see.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Sir, Matthew Pika is here for his eleven o’clock appointment.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">The three boys were sat on one of the many benches located within the school grounds. It was break time between lessons, and for all of them it was a much needed interlude. They were all young, the oldest of the three no more than fifteen years old. Task sat in the middle, his hair all over the place and his eyes wild, the skin around them red and poofy. He had gone into legend status at the school ever since he had found the body in the park. He hadn’t wanted it, however, and ever since then he had been unable to concentrate on his work or his lessons. Even finding sleep had been hard. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the body dancing in the wind. His blue backpack was strewn on the grass nearby them, and the boy to his left had his arm around his back, as Task held his face in his hands.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Hoagy was the oldest of the three. His face was round and very often flushed. He wore square glasses that almost covered his entire face and rested perfectly on his small nose. It was him that had his arm around the younger boy. The other boy was more distant, although he was very clearly with the others. He sat a few inches to the right, not even touching Task with his knees. Carson was shorter than the other two, his hair perfectly placed and his clothes ironed and cleaned the day before, as if he was dressing to impress someone, not just for school.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“You should be comforting him too, Carson. He’s been through a lot these last couple of days.” Carson shook his head quickly, before then worriedly using his hands to replace his hair. “Typical. Your best friend discovers a dead body and all you can do is think about whether or not Kylie would prefer your hair up or down. She doesn’t like you. Just get over it and help me look after your best friend.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“It’s fine, Hoagy. I don’t want everyone else to put their lives on hold just because of me. If you want to go see her, Carson, then please do. We can talk later.” The third boy rose then, nodding awkwardly at the two and then scurried off awkwardly whilst Hoagy glared at his back. “He doesn’t mean to be insensitive. You two really need to learn to get along. “

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">It was then that the two were interrupted, not by a student but by a teacher. He wore a light blue buttoned shirt and a brown tie, with brown trousers and a pair of standard black shoes. His head was thin and his brown hair was combed to the side and flat on top. This was Brendan Ratz, one of the three science teachers that the school employed. He was the most popular of the three. He was the kind of teacher that made jokes and made his lessons fun, caring more for the students well being than tests and results.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Hoagy, I was just wondering if you could leave for a few seconds. I’ve been told by the Headmaster to make sure that Task is ok and then to take him somewhere. His presence has been requested.” Hoagy stood up, giving Task one last look as he left the boy alone with the teacher. Brendan sat down next to him his hand on Task’s knee. “Something hard is going to happen to you soon, Task. Make sure that you know that I will be there to see you through it.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“And then our Lord told us that we should love our neighbours. He showed us that we could respect them, even if they sinned in his eyes. We are not put on this earth to judge other people, for our Lord will do that when they have passed. This very week our community has lost a neighbour because of the judgement that he suffered at the hands of his own. They ignored our messages. They shunned him and pushed him into the shadows. He was a good man that ended up losing his life for their sins. I speak not to you of avenging this man, but of learning from the mistakes that this town made that cost him his life. The people that took him from us shall be judged in hell, but we shall not judge them here. That is not who we are.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Jude David stood at the podium and delivered his weekly sermon to the almost empty hall. He took this responsibility very seriously, even if each week they could only attract six or seven people to listen. He thought of himself as a voice of the community of Wiki, but the sad truth was that the majority of Wiki just didn’t spare him a thought. To them he was a nutjob and nothing more. He had openly visted Drak when the others shunned him and he often associated himself with known criminals, pardoning them of their crimes on the behalf of an all powerful deity that not many of them actually believed in. To him they had shown repentance and a desire to improve their lot, and that was all that he could ask of them.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“I thank all of you for coming today. Remember that you are always welcome to come here and talk to me if you have a question about the scriptures or about a problem that you are experiencing. I will, of course, keep everything anonymous and will offer you the advice that our own lord would give you.” He smiled out at his adoring crowd before stepping down fro the church podium and moving to the side kept reserved for church officials. This particular parish only had two committed workers. He was one of the them, the local spiritual counsellor as he liked to think of it. The other was a man that he had reformed from being a despised bully to being the most peaceful man in town. He, unfortunately, hadn’t been in attendance because he had been called into work at the last minute. His shop had just had a rich and important client arrive and as the manager he had been needed to offer assistance. He knelt in front of the small altar that they had in the side of the church, ready to do his usual after service.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Lord, I, as your humble servant on this earth, ask you to forgive those who drove that poor man to his death. Show me their faces and I will help them learn from their sins and leave the past behind them. I can be your tool in helping those that have sinned learn and act as good Christians in the future. All you have to do is show me who it is that you want me to visit and help and I swear that your will shall be done. I am your committed servant and I always will be. “

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Look at this, Orion. A CCTV camera took some footage of Kung leaving Parrott’s General Stores yesterday. He then enters a black car that isn’t registered to him and drives off. That means that he’s probably hiding out somewhere in town. We just have to find out where.” The man in the footage had a hooked nose and long, straggly hair. It was definitely Kung Fugi. “We should start by trying to find out who that car belongs to. It may give us a hint as to who is harbouring a suspected criminal. I can take down a request to the forensics department, but I need you to start checking more footage to see if we can find out where that car goes next.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Jorn looked at the team that Frank had gathered for him to use in their unofficial investigation of the Drak case. They were all of them young and none were high ranking in the business. Every single one of them, including himself, was dispensable to Frank. Why would he need to assemble a group of people that he could afford to lose for a simple inquiry into a murder? Was he expecting them to get targeted to. The first through the door was Pop, real name Carl Minee, he was the oldest of the group, hence the nickname. He was known to the younger members of Frank’s business as a father figure, but he could be almost as dangerous as the boss if you riled him. He was a statistics expert and a mole within City Hall itself. Jorn wasn’t sure why Frank thought that they would need someone in City Hall for this, but their boss likely knew best. The next to come was BennyCupster, one of Frank’s corrupt legal team. His speciality was helping to intimidate members of the jury into finding anyone Frank wanted on the outside as innocent. He had been nicknamed the Reasoner by the rest of the group.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Starla was the last to arrive, looking as gorgeous as always. Her brown hair was long and tucked behind her ears. She wore a pink hairband on her head and had piercing green eyes. She had worked with him on a job a few months before and he had fallen in love with her from the moment they met. This wasn’t an industry for romance, however, and Pop had advised him against trying to start a relationship at work. He had been avoiding ever since then so it was less than desirable that they be on the same team.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“So all of you know why we are here. Frank has asked us to investigate the death of one Drakan. He thinks the murder may have resulted from another gang making moves in our territory. We have to find out who this is and, if necessary, extinguish them. Pop, I need you to head down to the police department and meet up with Dr Moe Ortiz. Find out who the police are investigating and see if we can get our hands on any documents related to the case. Starla, I want you to go and search through Drak’s house. The police will already have been over it once, but we may be able to spot something they missed. Benny, I’m sending you to Drawer. Find out the movements of their gang lord and see if he has anything to do with this.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“And what will you be doing?” Pop had a glare in his eyes that Jorn wasn’t at all familiar with. They had always gotten along before, so why was he acting like this now. He was being abrupt and unfriendly, as if Jorn had done something to particularly offend him.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“The mayor is making a speech on the topic this afternoon. I’m going there, to see if he tells us anything that we don’t already know. Afterwards I’ll get myself inside the Hall and try and find out what his personal staff are up to.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“So you’re telling us that you didn’t know anything about the victim, that you simply found his body in the park whilst doing what? Taking a late night stroll? Playing soccer with your friends? Seems remarkably convenient that you were out at that time but didn’t see anyone putting the body up.” Officer Jamahl was stood in a dimly lit room that contained a table and three chairs, one on one side of the table and two on the other. The solitary chair was occupied by Task, a young boy in the company of two grown men. Jamahl was pacing behind the chairs whilst Banfa sat opposite the frightened boy.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“What my angry colleague is trying to get at, Task is whether or not you saw anyone or anything suspicious whilst you were out that night.” The boy shook his head and Jamahl cursed under his breath, his pacing stopping.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“This a waste of police time, Banfa. Either he doesn’t know anything or he’s protecting the killer. I say we launch investigations into him and his friends or abandon this loose end and fuck off from this crap shack. There’s nothing for us here.” Banfa shrugged at the outburst, standing alongside his colleague, rolling his eyes when Jamahl left the room without even looking at the young boy that they had been questioning. Banfa gave him one last pitying stare before leaving after his partner.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“You could have acted nicer to him. He is just a boy, after all.” Banfa sat down in the passenger seat of their shared squad car. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if you intimidate every lead we have into preferring silence over any evidence they may have.” Jamahl was already driving as he spoke, speeding them down the high school’s drive.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“He was never going to tell us anything of any use. The boy is very clearly terrified of something, likely the fact that he just discovered a dead body. He was pale and his eyes sunken. He was clearly missing sleep and in no position to help us. I think we should jut report back to Max empty handed and see how Alexa is doing on the Kung chase.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“This fucking car is like a ghost. It’s registration exists, but the matching vehicle was apparently destroyed five years ago. We don’t know who the last owner was and we don’t know why it was scrapped in the first place.” Orion was swivelling around in his chair as he spoke, his pen tucked behind his ear. “It just seems that it shouldn’t exist. I don’t think there’s much of a lead here. Not unless we can find some form of medium that knows how to talk to dead cars.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“We need to track down Kung or Max will place our heads firmly on spikes. He’s supposedly our top suspect and we have absolutely no idea where he is. Does he have any family or friends that he may be staying with? Have we checked his favourite bars?” Alexa was pacing away from her computer, busy thinking about all the possible locations that Kung may be hiding out at. It was at that point that the phone rang. Alexa was the one to answer it.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“Hello. Yes, this is Alexa. Oh, hey Timothy. What? You’re kidding me, right? She can’t be. Alright, you can send her up, I suppose. I’ll see her in the separate room.” She put the phone down and looked over to Orion, her eyes wide in surprise. “It’s my Aunt Laura…”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“I can’t believe you. Our friend gets taken in for questioning by the police and you’re off chasing some girl who doesn’t like you.” Hoagy was standing outside the classroom that Task had been interviewed in, a haughty look on his slightly flushed face. “Mr Ratz has gone in to make sure that he’s okay. He said that I can go in afterwards. You weren’t hear for that, of course.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“I’m sorry, boys.” Mr Ratz had now left the room, quietly closing the door behind him, leaving Task alone in the dark room. “I’ve called Task’s parents and told them that he can’t be spending any time at school. I think you should give him a few days with his family to calm down and get over the trauma. I’m sure that you understand.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“I didn’t even know you had an aunt. Why didn’t she come to town for your mom’s funeral?” Orion was almost running to keep up with Alexa, who had a look of fie and determination in her eyes as she headed to the room that Timothy had sent her aunt to. Her strides were longer than usua and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">“She left town ten years ago. The last thing I remember about her was her arguing with my mum. The next day she was gone. My mum told me that she had run off with her fiancée, but I never believed her. Something about that argument seems important, but I can’t quite pinpoint it. You should go and keep on the case. We don’t want to end up behind or Max may have us hanged instead of the culprit.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">Orion left her then, reluctantly withdrawing and returning to their shared desk. Alexa pushed open the door to the small conference room. There was a woman stood on the other side of the table, her back to Alexa. When she turned the first thing that you saw was the red lipstick that she had carefully used to cover her lips.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0.35cm;line-height:115%">The hooded figure all in black stood in front of the rundown shack, the can of gasoline in his left hand, a box of store bought matches in the other. They slowly backed away from the building, leaving a trail of liquid between them and the falling down home. Their hands were gloved in leather. They knelt down to cover themselves from the wind, striking the match and holding the flame delicately. They dropped it then, down into the trail of gasoline, and it caught light almost instantly, roaring into a mighty fire. The hooded person backed away even further, but they didn’t leave. Instead they stayed to watch the bonfire. They stayed to watch it all burn.