User blog:Joeaikman/Wiki - Chapter 4

“I came as quick as I could, Mrs Masta. Is he alright?”

The voice came from downstairs, Meanwhile, Task lay on his bed, on top of the blue and white checkered duvet, shaking, crying, sobbing. He lay on his side, staring at the pastel blue wall, but in the darkness of the room it seemed darker too. It was the one part of the wall that wasn’t covered in posters. Elsewhere the lack of light made it look like there were figures looming over him, grasping at him with long, tentacled hands, whispering his name as they crowded around him.

They vanished when the door opened, and the light from the corridor was let into the room. Task didn’t look up. It was Hoagy stood in the doorway. He was wearing his pyjamas still, and was only just undoing his bicycle helmet as he walked in. He cared about his friend. He had rushed over here as quickly as he could. Task,s mum had called his mum the moment that she thought something was up with his friend. Carson should be on his way too, somewhere. He was never where he needed to be on time, though.

Hoagy knelt by Task, who was shaking, as if it was cold, but the room was warm and humid. Hoagy pulled the duvet over his friend, but that didn’t help. Task still shook and moaned under his breath. There was a dead look in his eyes. They lacked the sharpness that they sometimes did. He was tired, but there was no way that he could be sleeping. Hoagy readjusted his body so that it was in the recovery position, before going to see if he could get some more layers for his patient. He had always wanted to be a doctor, ever since he used to play doctors with older sister. She was ten years older than him, but when he had been five she had loved to spend time with him. Less so now, of course, now that she had a job.

Task’s house was larger than his, because Task’s family were richer. He wasn’t sure what his friend’s parents actually did for a living, but his father was often out of town, whereas his mother always seemed to be around, but Task insisted that she had a job. Task’s mother was younger than his father, in fact, she must have been quite young when she had her only child. Task had an older half-brother, but he was often away with his father. Daniel was cool, though. He always treated Hoagy and Carson nicely whenever he was here. One time, he had come into their school to tell a bully to stop picking on them. He was a nice guy.

When he retrieved the extra covers and he returned to the room, he found Task already asleep. He was still shivering, but was also snoring lightly. Hoagy sat himself down on a chair in the corner of the room, and watched his friend sleep. He pushed his glasses up his face and yawned. He wondered where Carson was. Those were his thoughts as he fell asleep. He would kill Carson for not being here. He would kill him. He would kill. He would.... And then he slept.

-

Banfa was stood in the dark study room of the house that had, until recently, been Drakan’s refuge from the pain and hardships that the world had to throw at him. The room itself was a mess. The wallpaper was peeling, and he could smell damp coming from somewhere. The couch was old, with cushions the colour of curdled milk, where they weren’t covered in dirt and mould. There was a bookcase, but it was near empty. The few books that were there were covered in dust, save for one unmarked transcript, which he found shoved down the back. It had been dropped in some kind of water, however, and the words were all blurred. He bagged it for examination. It may be a clue.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">When he put his flashlight underneath the couch he startled two baby mice, who ran off out of the room. There was some rotting food underneath it too, as well as an ornately decorated brass key. He wasn’t sure what it was the key too, as all the rooms had been unlocked when the police arrived. Maybe there was a secret door somewhere. A trapdoor, possibly. Whatever it was too, Drakan had hidden it, as he had done the manuscript. Perhaps he had been worried that someone would find it, but who had he been expecting to run through his house? The police? A friend? An enemy? This was certainly worth keeping.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">His mind passed back to when he had interviewed Drakan after he returned to the city. Max had called him in to see what he may have known about GIR’s motives. Of course, he hadn’t know anything. GIR had followed him around in high school, a fringe member of his social group. He had been friends with Kitana, who Drak had slept with a few times in their last year, among other girls. After high school, Kitana had married Dante Knightley, a british baron, and Drakan had gone on a soul searching journey as the woman that he said he loved shacked up with another man. He had described the pain, but there had been no need to. Both Banfa and Max had known what it was like to love one that didn’t reciprocate.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">He had gone to Kitana’s funeral, and mourned her at her graveside, and had been surprised to hear that GIR had been arrested for her murder. Dante had approached him afterwards, offering him a job opportunity abroad. He had taken it, and sold out, going to manage Dante’s financial interests in the United Arab Emirates and Beijing. He had spent a few years there, before going to work in the London office, for Dante’s son, after his benefactor died. He had then been sent back to Wiki, to buy up property for the Knightley family prior to the son’s return.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The boy had come back, or so Jamahl had told him that morning. Some baron’s son, that had been what his supposed partner had called him. That could only be Dante and Kitana’s son. There was nobody else that could fit that bill. He had wondered why Shopnil had chosen to return now, so soon after Drakan’s death. Maybe Drakan had warned him off from coming due to the reaction that he had received on his own arrival. It was possible that it might be worth visiting Shopnil at some point in the near future, to find out what his motivations for returning had been. Was there more to it than he thought, or was it nothing? He needed to know.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">As he went further into the room he had to hold a cloth over his nose. The smell of damp was quite overpowering here, but there was something else. Sort of a burnt almonds smell. He couldn’t quite make out what else it reminded him of, but there was something at the back of his mind trying to get out. He knew what the smell was, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was infuriating. Something about it was reminding him of a past memory, but he wasn’t sure which one. Was it a past murder? Was that where the memory came from? Had he smelled this same smell when they had found the corpses ten years ago?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Then something caught his eye. The desk that was positioned in the far alcove of the room. Where the rest of the room had been disgusting, old and uncared for, this was clean and pristine. He could smell polish on it, as if Drakan had gone over it the same night that he had been killed. Why would he have done that? Had something happened to the desk that he needed to keep clean? Why express so much care for this desk but leave the rest of the room to degenerate into a cluster of foul smells and rotting food?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">He started to inspect the desk. On the surface was a typewriter, an old model. The keys weren’t covered in dust, which suggested that it had been used recently. What had Drak been writing, and why not invest in a computer? He opened two of the drawers with ease when he tried, but both were empty. Then he came to the third. There was splinters along the wood here, as if someone had tried to force the lock. It must have been one of his fellow officers, when they had come to inspect the place last time. Nobody else would have been able to get into the building.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">A thought came to him then. Maybe the key he had found was for this desk’s drawer. He pulled it out and tried it, but it didn’t fit. Infuriating. He almost threw the thing across the room, but he kept himself under control. He tapped his foot as he was thinking, and then he heard the hollow sound, and the creak of the floorboard. It was then that he realised that there must be something hidden underneath the floor. When he eventually prised up the board, he found a key, almost identical to the one that he had found underneath the couch earlier. He tried this one in the drawer, and found that this time it turned and then the drawer opened.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Inside was nothing but a small notebook. The cover was cream, and on the front it said, in print, Visitor's Book. Inside was a list of all of the people that had visited Drakan since his return to town. He saw himself and Max on the front page. They were the second name on the list, but the first one had been scribbled out in the same pen that it had been written in. That meant that Drakan had written the name and then almost instantaneously scribbled it out. Why would he doing that? Was the meeting one that he regretted?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Looking through the pages there were a few instants of this happening. Each time he had written the name, the date and the reason for the visit, but had then scribbled over all of it, blurring it entirely from view. Maybe Moe Ortiz back at the station would be able to use some scientific techniques to work out what was written underneath. He didn’t hold out hope, but it was possible that this person was the murderer that they were looking for, or, at the very least, could tell them something new about Drakan’s personal life.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Carson was walking up to school, a smile plastered on his face as he stared off into the distance. He didn’t even respond when Duke, Patty and Skylar called out insults to him. They were the three school bullies. Duke and Patty were twins, one boy, one girl. Duke stood at a towering six foot four inches, with short, cropped blond hair and little piggy eyes. He was your stereotypical jock. Captain of the football and lacrosse teams, popular, lady’s man, and as thick as a brick. His sister was the exact opposite, smart and devious, she was in the top sets for every subject, but used her intelligence as a tool to mock her classmates. She was pretty, short with long brown hair and a slender frame. Skylar was Duke’s girlfriend, and was everything you would expect from the lead cheerleader. She slept around, mocked girls for being too fat or too thin, too ugly and made those that were pretty into members of her personal army. They didn’t like Carson.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Right now, however, he didn’t really care. He was on cloud nine, and that meant that he could stare off into the distance without paying much attention to the bullies, who Hoagy would fixate on for most of the day. That was where he and Hoagy diverged. His friend was so fixated on worrying about everything that could possibly happen. He always planned for the worst. Carson didn’t. He liked to think that the future was always going to be brighter than the present, and last night he had been given proof that this may be the case.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Hey, Carson.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">He looked to his right, and saw Kylie waving at him in the cute way that she did. She was accompanied by some of her friends, but Carson only had eyes for her. He loved her long black hair, the way it shone in the sun, the way her smile glimmered, the way her eyes sparkled. One of her friends laughed as he stared, and he quickly averted his gaze. He expected that to be the end of their daily interaction, and was therefore surprised when he found the girl of his dreams walking alongside him. Her arms locked through his as they walked, and that surprised him even more. What was going on, all of a sudden?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I’m sorry about Tea. She can act so immature around cute guys. Some girls are like that. They just can’t control themselves.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">She thought he was cute? He should respond. He should say literally anything. He should say that he thought she was cute too. Was that needy? How would that come across? He needed to come across as manly and strong, not nice and nerdy, that wasn’t what girls wanted. That had been what his sister had told him. She had said that girls liked a bad boy, like Jacob from Twilight or Gale from the Hunger Games.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I- I- It doesn’t matter. Don’t mention it.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You sure? Good. Anyways, Carson, I was wondering if you could do me a small favour. I could maybe do something for you in return.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Erm- Yeah- Sure. Whatever you want.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Well… I was wondering… If you could introduce me to Task.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Task. She wanted to see Task. Why would he think that she would ever be interested in him. Of course she was only asking him because she was interested in his broken friend. That was when he went from cloud nine straight back down to earth. It was the moment that broke his day, almost as much as the moment afterwards, where he felt obliged to respond in the way that he did, because he loved her and he didn’t want to let her down. He sighed.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Sure.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jorn was sat by himself in the room. The three chairs in front of him were meant to be occupied by the three people that Frank had given him to work with. None of them were here yet. None of them had come. None of them had even bothered to respond to his email. How could he possibly be expected to lead them when they didn’t show him any respect? Was Frank setting him up to fail? Was that what was happening here? Why would Frank want him to fail? What would he gain from that?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Then the door opened, and it was Pop that stepped in. He stood up to greet his friend, but Pop waved him down. He sat down himself, in the middle of the three chairs. He looked tired and old, which was not how Jorn was used to seeing him. Usually he was full of life, despite his age, always willing to give advice to the younger members of the syndicate. He had been with Frank for longer than any of the others of this level. He had worked for Frank’s predecessor, and his predecessor, and maybe even his predecessor. The rumours surrounding him differed on how old Pop actually was.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I don’t bring good news for you, Jorn. Frank has taken the case out from your control. He is handing it over to Eyes, due to its sudden increase in importance in Frank’s personal opinion.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">That confused Jorn. Why would Frank give him this job only to take it away? What had happened that meant that Frank was now ready to take such a personal interest in this case?

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“What happened?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Did they not tell you? I assumed you would be one of the first to know, what with who sent him there. Benny is dead. He was taken prisoner by the Drawer gangs and they killed him, to send a message to you, and to Frank. They took you sending him there as a sign that you thought they were responsible for Drakan. You insulted them.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">They had killed Benny because of him? I mean, sure, Benny wasn’t a likeable dude. He had been quick to anger, and loved nothing more than cruelly mocking anyone that he didn’t like. That was who he was, but he hadn’t deserved to die for it. How could he move on from this knowing that his actions had resulted in the death of a fellow human being, and someone that he had known and shared words with on occasion. He had been responsible for a friend’s death, would he be able to live with himself? Even worse, would Frank allow him to live, now that he had lost one of his finest lawyers because of one of Jorn’s mistakes. Maybe Billy or Eyes were already preparing to get rid of him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Frank asked to see you later. He wants to discuss your involvement in the case, I would expect. There is no need to worry. Nobody blames you for Benny dying.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">That was a lie, because Jorn definitely did.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jose was sat at the bar, his large frame perched on a stool, a pint of golden coloured liquid in front of him, with a thick head of froth on top of it. He sipped. He put it down. He sipped again. He did this in silence. He was thinking. It had been a long time since he had been in this place. Not since Master Knightley had married his young wife. This had been where they had the reception, he remembered. It had been different then. The place had been brighter, more formal. Now it was dark and seedy. One of the lights in the corner had broken and was flashing on and off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You okay, mate?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The bartender was looking at him, cleaning a pint glass out with a dirty rag as he did. His face was lined and sagged in places. He looked a bit like an older Kevin Spacey. There was a drawl to his voice, and one of his incisors had been replaced with a gold tooth. Jose didn’t need to ask how it happened. He could guess easily enough. The bartender of a place like this would likely have his fair share of fights.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“The names Dick Nixon. You new to town? Don’t think I’s seen you around before. Anything you need, I can get.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jose took another sip, before placing the pint back down on the bar. He turned his head to the man that was asking too many questions.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I need answers.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Trent ! Trent! Trent, come quick! We need to get down to City Hall as soon as we can. There have been some developments in the Drakan case!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">TK pulled on his old coat, and pulled up the collar to shield his face. It had been a cold day before now. Slow news, as well. If they could report this news first…

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">He found his assistant already at the door, dressed in a red and black shirt, with his hair ruffled. He opened the door for them, and then ducked into the driving seat of his old car. The paintwork was faded and the metal was battered and dented in multiple places. He had owned this car for a very long time. It was almost like family to him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“What are these developments? I haven’t heard anything on social media.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Kung Fugi has handed himself in for interrogation. Apparently he has been advised to do so by his lawyer, so that he can prove his innocence. Hi s lawyer is the news. He’s being represented by Matthew Pika .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“But… That’s not… Why would Pika represent such a candidate. He usually only works for those with buckets of money that they can throw at a case. Even if Kung Fugi is innocent, he certainly isn’t wealthy.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“That is what is so strange about it. I want to get the Mayor’s view on Mr Fugi. See what Barry has to say about all this.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You think he’ll know anything worth discussing?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“No. But I think he might be able to offer some insight in why Matthew is so willing to take this job.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Hey, Hoagy. You look tired. Where’s Task?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Those were the first words that Carson said to Hoagy after finding his friend in the assembly room. They always sat in the same place, because Hoagy always came in to get the same places. It was part of his ritual, or something. Carson wasn’t quite sure what went through his friend’s mind ninety percent of the time. He was fairly certain that Hoagy had some kind of educational problems.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“See for yourself.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Hoagy gestured towards the back rows of the assembly hall. When Carson turned to look, he saw Task sandwiched between Duke and one of his jock friends. The two were laughing at some joke that Duke had told, whilst Task sat, squashed into a small space and staring straight ahead, his eyes empty and cold. That wasn’t the Task that Carson knew. Something about him was different, but he couldn’t tell what from here.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Why is he with them?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Who knows? We walked up to school together, and then Duke came out of nowhere and whisked him away. I’ve not seen Task say a single word to him since.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“That’s strange. Maybe Duke is planning some sort of prank on us.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Maybe.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Hoagy looked worried at the latest developments. He never told any of his friends, but he was secretly very insecure about himself. Duke and Skylar often laughed at him for being fat, they mocked him, they swirlied him. One time, Duke had hidden his clothes after their sports lesson. He had been stuck in his tightie whities in the changing rooms until Task lent him some clothes. His face had been red from the tears.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Mr Pixel, would you mind sitting down so that our session can begin?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Carson looked up at that. His face flushed when he realised that the entire hall was staring at him. It was Professor Raatz that had asked him to sit, as he was the one stood at the podium. Professor Lee was stood behind him, but had remained silent. He could hear Duke and his cronies sniggering behind him. He quickly took his place next to Hoagy.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Excellent. Well then, children. I would like to welcome you to this assembly. I know that this was announced late, but it is something that I have been asked to do on the behalf of the Police Department. Recently, as you know, the police have been looking for a man named Kung Fugi. His home was burned to the ground, and the police think that one of you may be responsible. They implore you to come forward if you know anything about this incident.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Hey, yo. Brendan!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">That was Duke. He never called the professor’s by the names that he should use. It was part of his big disrespect the system persona.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I know something about whoever did it. They are an absolute ledge!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">That caused laughter from some quarters, whilst others let out exasperated sigh. Professor Raatz grimaced up at the podium. Carson didn’t envy him for having to deal with people like Duke for his job. Part of why he was so looking forward to leaving school was that he wouldn’t ever have to see Duke again. Also the fact that he had got into the same college as Kylie. That was important too.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“See? Your name is right here, the fourth to last appointment before the end of the book. The last entry on the last page was the same day that Drakan was killed. You visited him three days before, and had visited numerous times before then. What was your reason for visiting, minister?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jude David held the book that Banfa had rescued from the remains of what had used to be Drakan’s study. His tongue flicked against his lip as he thought, as it had a tendency to do. He had been surprised to receive a visit from the police until he realised what it was about. He had been expecting this visit since Drakan turned up dead. He couldn’t let them find out the truth.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I was visiting him to give religious counsel, officer. Drakan was a… troubled man, as you knew. He had many skeletons that he wished to confess to. I was more than happy to listen to them, as is my duty. He had many secrets, and I regret that my old mind has likely forgotten most of them.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Banfa didn’t buy it. There was something about the way that Jude was sat, and the things that he was saying that didn’t add up, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Something about this room suggested that he was lying. The minister was sat in a way that blocked out a part of the room, but all that was behind him was a coffee table and a typewriter. There was a cupboard full of crockery, and a glass cabinet that had a saxophone inside. Nothing about this room suggested that this man was a criminal.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I think… I think he once said something about a girl… A girl called Laura Ashley .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“He was a good man.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Frank was stood over the body of his late compatriot. Benny had lost most of his teeth in the fight that had taken his life. He had been stabbed several times in the stomach, or so Frank’s doctor had told him. The attack had either been a botched attempt to kill him quickly, or someone had wanted Benny to die slowly and painfully.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jorn was watching Frank, and trying to watch Eyes and Billy too. There was five of them in the room, not including Benny. Pop had tried to come up, but Eyes had advised against it. The last member of their party was Dan Kore, Frank’s private surgeon and medicine specialist. He was one of the lieutenants in charge of the operation, but nobody was really sure what his job was.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“He had a wife and two daughters. Remember to have a whip around for him on the legal team. Have some magnolias sent to his widow from me personally. He told me once that they were her favourite.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Frank slammed his fist down on the metal slab unexpectedly. He was angry, but all Jorn wanted to know was who his anger was directed at.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“The bastards at Drawer are going to pay for this. They do not take down one of our own and just get away with it. We are going to retaliate back, as soon as I find out who killed this Drakan bastard. They were the root cause of all this. I want them brought to me alive, so I can kill them as slowly as Benny died. Then maybe they will know how it feels. Maybe then we can give Benny some justice.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Yes, sir.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Eyes had a firm voice, but one that wasn’t loud. He had a way of asserting his authority over the room, but here it was very clear who was in charge.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Eyes, you are taking over the operation. Take all of Jorn’s resources and Bill too. Jorn, go to our police mole and find out whatever you can from him. Billy, I want you on this Kung Fugi. Apparently the police fancy him as the killer. Find out everything you can about him.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“As you say, Frank.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Good. Go fetch me this bastard.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Brendan was stood in the same back alley that he was in last time. This time he was silent, not talking. His arms were crossed. There was an impatient look on his face. He was waiting. Waiting for something, or someone. There was the sound of techno music somewhere nearby, yet it still sounded far off. It was strange. It sounded like the backing track to a film like Van Wilder, or a soppy romantic comedy. It wasn’t at all fitting of the look on Brendan’s face.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Professor!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The person that he was meeting appeared at the other end of the alley. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie, pulled up so that his face was covered. He was tall, and with a bulky, muscled build underneath all the layers that he was wearing. The entrance caused Brendan to sigh in dismay and raise his hands to his face.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Masking your identity means nothing if you call me Professor, Duke. I have told before, when we meet like this you need to call me Brendan, or an alias, not professor.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The hooded figure pulled it down and revealed his face. It was, indeed, Duke. The muscled jock from Wiki High School. When you looked at him up close you could see that his nose was even more squashed, and seemed like it had been knocked out of place at some point in the past. He had a small white scar just underneath his left eye, and another next to his right ear. He wasn’t handsome, but he was tall and strong.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Sorry, professor. I’ll remember next time.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">He was also stupid.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Brendan sighed again, but this time he didn’t move his hands. He was rummaging in his pockets. He was looking for something, and was quite anxious that he should find it quickly. The music had died out, and the door to the club opened. A third man stepped out. He wore baggy clothes, with a baseball hat turned backwards and long, scraggly hair.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“S’up, Dragon .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t use my real name!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Your real name is Dragon?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Well… No… It’s Steve, but still.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Alright, alright. Calm down, Steve.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You fuck-”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Will you two both calm down. Take these and do your jobs. We have to be careful after all the events of the last few days. You think that you can do that.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Yes, boss.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Yes, professor.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Brendan sighed.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I’m telling the both of you. There was nothing weird or strange about the body. Drakan was killed in the exact way that I told you. He then had his neck broken prior to being strung up. He had already been dead for a good hour prior to being hanged from that tree. The higher ups suspect that he was killed and then shoved into the boot of a car. Would have had to be a pretty spacious trunk, though. There was absolutely no sign of curvature in the spine or legs, which you would expect if that had happened.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Jorn was stood down a dark alley, with Pop stood behind him, and Doctor Moe Ortiz in front of him. The doctor was not a brave man, and that was why Jorn was sure that the man wasn’t lying to them. He may have taken the risk when Jorn was heading the operation, but now that Eyes and Billy were involved there was no chance that he would sell them out. On top of being a coward, the man wasn’t much to look at. His nose was bulbous and his frame large. There were hairs visible in his nose and ears, and he had at least three chins that he tried to hide beneath a sketchy beard.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Great. So your assistance in the operation is that he wasn’t hanged to death, and that he may have spent time in a large trunked car. Thanks man, real helpful.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Hang on, hang on. The neck was also broken with some heavy object, not a foot or any other manual way. Someone dropped an object from a height onto the body, after he was dead. A fire extinguisher or something like that. There was a fracture at the back of the skull.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Is that the best you have?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Yes. Tell Frank I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You have done enough”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Pop stepped forward as he said that.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Jorn. We have ourselves a lead.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The office was deserted when he walked back in. It was night outside and the glare from the road lights was the only thing that let him see. He flicked the switch. Two of the lights flickered, but none of them came on. Banfa was tired from a hard day’s work. He used his sense of touch to feel his way to his desk, and sat down before his old computer. He didn’t hear the approach of the man behind him, but he did feel the hard whack as a baton hit him on the back of the head. He fell forward, and his forehead hit the desk.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“So you are saying that you have no idea why Matthew Pika is so willing to take on what seems like a foregone result against his client? Mr Mayor, we know that Matthew visited you a few days ago, shortly after Drakan’s death. Was he expecting some sort of prosecution of yourself? Was he here to talk to you about Drakan at all?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You don’t have to answer either of those questions, sir.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Of course he doesn’t, Norm. This isn’t an interrogation. We just want to know if the good Mayor will answer our questions of his own volition. We could always just leave and ask Matthew. I am sure he would oblige to talk to us.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Barry held up his hands at that, a smile on his face, a gleam in the right lens of his glasses.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Now now, guys, that will definitely not necessary. I asked Matthew here so that I could ask him to represent Mr Fugi in his trial. I know that Mr Fugi isn’t exactly wealthy, and I thought that finding him a lawyer out of my own pocket was just the kind of thing that those of us who are well off should be doing. Helping the poor out of dire straits.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Trent spoke up then, causing Tim to glare at him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Does that mean you know for a fact that Mr Fugi is innocent?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">That caused a hesitation from Barry, but he quickly fixed his frown back into a playful smile.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I met Mr Fugi once. I don’t think that he would ever harm a fly.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“That would be despite being found guilty of drunken assault on two separate occasions in the last ten years, sir?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Norm stepped between them then, blocking Barry from the sight of the two reporters. His arms were crossed, and there was anger on his face.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“This interview is over. The two of you know the way out.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Seriously, why didn’t you tell me you had an aunt, Lexi ? Is it because you think she is hotter than you?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Alexa blushed at that, even though she knew Orion was just playing around with her, that was partly true. Her aunt, Laura, had always had men in and out of her house when they had been younger. She had always been attractive, and time had only made her more beautiful. She wasn’t sure why she had never mentioned her to Orion, though. Maybe the topic had just never come up. Orion never told her about his family either. Some things were personal.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“She shouldn’t have been in the building once, let alone a second time. She isn’t police, and she has a… a history with members of the police in other towns that she has lived in."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Do you mean she used to fuck them, or has she got a criminal record? Surely no relative of the fine and upstanding Alexa Day is in any way untoward. I bet you’re the kind of girl that never even missed a homework deadline. Am I right?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">She flushed an even darker shade of red, and nodded, not even deigning her trusted partner with a response.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Just… Just don’t trust her, okay?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“If you don’t trust her then I don’t either.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You pushed too far. We could have got more info out of the two of them if you had let me take my time on wearing them down.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Oh come on boss. Even I could tell that he was bullshitting his way through that interview. The longer we took the more time we gave him to concoct a lie.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“And in that scenario we would have had a lie to print. Now we have nothing. You’re still young, Trent. Leave some things up to the professionals.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Tim walked away then, leaving his young assistant stood in the middle of the corridor outside the mayor’s office. A door opened behind him, and Norm stepped out. The light of the lamp that hung above them caused some glare in his glasses.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“You should listen to your boss. Some journalists have met quite unsavoury fates before now, when they don’t know when to stop asking questions. It is, after all, a dangerous business. Good day, Mr Kidst.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Why did you call me here, Barry?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Barry was sat opposite from the suave and debonaire Matthew Pika, who was dressed in a blue suit with a deep blue tie.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“People have been asking questions-”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“They have come to you about why I have taken on the Kung Fugi case? Do the press know of our disputes? Why did they seek your opinion out.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I am the mayor of this town.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“For now. We both know that you gave me the case because it is lose lose for me. Either I prove Fugi’s innocence and leave the town worried, or I send an innocent man to jail. That was why you gave me the case, Barry.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I gave you the case because I believe in Mr Fugi’s innocence-”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Of course you do, because you know whoever the real murderer is. I have powerful friends, Barry. I would strongly recommend that you do not get into a war of words with me. Let’s be honest with one another.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I told you the truth.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Matthew laughed at that. He had an irritating laugh, not because it sounded bad, but because it was so perfect, just like the rest of him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“There is not much point in me being here if you are going to lie to my face. When you want to stop playing games, give me a call.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Matthew stood up and walked to the door. He turned back to face Barry then.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“There is a war starting in this town. Drakan dying is the most interesting thing to happen here in ten years. More will come in the next few weeks. I would suggest not getting involved.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Hey you!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">Norm had spotted the young girl hanging around the press room whilst Barry had been talking. He didn’t recall her taking any notes, yet here she was again, sat outside the Mayor’s own office. He had to find out what she was doing here.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be on this floor. Members of the press are restricted to the lower levels.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“Erm. I’m not with the press.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The girl had pale skin, small eyes and was wearing a smart white shirt with a black jacket over it. Her eyes were large, and pale blue.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">“I’m here for the assistant job. My name is Starla .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">-

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial,sans-serif;">The figure in the black hood positioned a chair in the middle of a dimly lit room. A noose is placed above it. He turns to a wall where there is a series of faces of various townspeople. There is Jorn, Starla, Alexa, Jude, Barry, Banfa, Matthew and Shop amongst others. The figure picks up a red marker pen and draws a neat cross through Banfa’s face.