Still deafened by the shot, I looked around to find something that could be used as a weapon when a man wearing a mask broke through the door. He was holding the gun loosely so I took that as an opportunity to disarm him. He was being careless; it was obvious he assumed the first shot had been enough. My right fist connected with his jaw, while my left hand reached for the pistol. His loose grip easily broken, I grabbed the gun leveled it with his head and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty? What kind of hired gunman only has one bullet left in the clip? I tossed the gun aside, focusing all my attention to the gunman’s fist connecting with my nose. Stunned but not out of it yet, I reached for a lamp nearby, broke it on his head, and used the opportunity to grab my laptop and run out of my office. I noticed two well dressed men looking at me. They were out of their element in this office building, and too calm for the chaos that had just happened. The gunman wasn’t alone. I wasn’t about to stop on their account, maybe they had more than two bullets and without the cover of my door, I wasn’t too keen on my chances for survival. I ran through the corridor, turned a corner, and walked into an office. Everyone was panicking in there, and while they saw me, they did not slow me as I ran towards the back and the fire escape. I ended up in a back alley in time to see the goons step into their black sedan and drive off. I took a chance and rand towards the street to see their license plate. The car was a rental, but I still made a mental note of the license before running back in the alley. The street would obviously be watched so I should stick to places where another individual would stand out. Out of breath, I had reached a bike path. People looked at me funny, with my broken nose, the blood and sweat staining my shirt, and heavy respiration it made sense.
I followed the bike path for a while, and eventually docked in another back alley behind apartment buildings. I then sat down, and took the time to think. With Sarah dead and an attempt on my life, it was obvious Maddy’s “ex-husband” had a score to settle. I had no time to waste; I reached for my pocket to grab my cell phone. Empty. I would have to warn her in person. I took a deep breath, straightened my nose and then looked for something to cover up the blood soaked shirt. Thankfully, someone had left a load of laundry to dry outside, so I grabbed a t-shirt, cleaned my face and changed. I would deal with the cops once I had made sure Madeleine was safe. I walked towards our rendez-vous point.
Thirty minutes later, I was at the reception desk, sporting a black eye and bruising on my face. The employee was less than collaborative when I asked for Leslie Johnson, and called her to the reception rather than sending me up to her room. When she saw my face she was shocked, and brought me back to her room so that I could tend to my injuries. She turned on the TV as I was in the bathroom cleaning up. I walked out looking a little better, and explained to her what had happened. She broke down crying halfway through my story. I comforted her, she had had a much worse day than mine all things considered. She reached for the fridge, and got something to drink. I figured it would be time for me to call the police about the incident at my office, but halfway through dialing, something caught my attention on TV: footage of my escape through the office. I hung up the phone and paid attention to the announcer.
“We repeat, the suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Earlier today, the body of Sarah Blake was found earlier today at her apartment, shot by a gun that was found later in the day at the office of Philippe Stevens. Philippe, a private detective, is seen here fleeing his office where a shootout occurred earlier today. The weapon was found emptied, and there are signs of a struggle. Finger prints have confirmed that the weapon had been used by the detective and documents relevant to a lawsuit filed against him by Sarah Blake have been found at the scene of the crime...”
I was played like an amateur. Obviously the empty gun would be a trick; he held it so loosely to bait me in grabbing it. The false legal documents must have been part of the plan; they frame me as Sarah’s killer, and get the heat off of their backs. What kind of a hornet’s nest had I shaken up?
[Well, here is the latest segment. I feel that the last part may have pulled the trigger too soon but I couldn't quite keep padding the story, and obviously at this point the climax is approaching quickly. Then again, I may keep it up for a little while, if I get any ideas. ]
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A little update
I haven't forgotten this place, and I wanted to say that I will try to post the conclusion to the Trouble story before the month of July. At this point I think that story needs closure, and I am pretty much ready to fill in the blanks, I just need to sit down and write it.
The reason for this desire to be done with this story is two fold:
One, it's time you get to read the end, I've been hoarding it in my brain and that's just selfish.
Secondly, I have an idea for a new project, and I would like to be done with one before embarking on another main project.
Obviously, all of this is dependent to real life stuff that may make it easier or harder for me to do this, but that is how life goes really...
The reason for this desire to be done with this story is two fold:
One, it's time you get to read the end, I've been hoarding it in my brain and that's just selfish.
Secondly, I have an idea for a new project, and I would like to be done with one before embarking on another main project.
Obviously, all of this is dependent to real life stuff that may make it easier or harder for me to do this, but that is how life goes really...
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Repercussions (Trouble Part 9)
My phone rang, it was a name I hadn’t heard in quite some time, I answered happily, since Madeline had been one of my least boring customers: “Hey, Madeline, how’s it going? I didn’t...”
“Sarah’s dead... they... someone... She’s dead...”
“Calm down, how did she... tell me what happened?”
“I was coming home after getting something at the grocery store, the cops say there was a break in, she was shot. I... since I left my husband, I didn’t know who to call... Your phone number was the only one I could think of.”
It had been about six months since that day. I’d found evidence that her husband wasn’t even a real person. He hadn’t gotten a name change like I’d first suspected, Albert R. Thompson was a fake identity, created entirely. I still remember her shock that day.
“What do you mean, you quit? What the hell am I paying you for?” she shouted.
“You paid me to figure out everything your husband owns, the problem is, the man you married is simply a piece of paper. Even his marriage to you is a fabrication, if I keep poking around I’ll have evidence that Albert doesn’t exist, and only Frank is real, and Frank has not been married to you.”
After more discussion, she finally understood that she’d been played for a long time. She was angry, but she was also cornered. We decided it would be wiser for her to simply pack up and leave, looking deeper into this would be like poking a bee’s nest. I would simply contact the cops with my info anonymously, if I could point them in the right direction, the guys in blue can be quite useful. I still remember Madeline’s last visit here, I decided to give her a break since she wasn’t getting anything out of the divorce, and well, I had been abusing the expense account.
“I’m settled in with Sarah, thank you for your help, here’s the check for your fees. Thank you for the price, I feel I should be paying you more.”
“Well, I figure I failed at m y job. I couldn’t find anything that you could get out of this separation. I didn’t expect this to end this way.”
“Me neither, but I guess if I can’t get anything out of the divorce, I can get a good story out of your case. Thank you for the copy of your case notes, I think the juicier parts may come in handy when I feel like writing another novel. Well then, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. Good luck with everything Madeline.”
“Thank you, and goodbye Phil, maybe I’ll call you again when I need a reality check with next novel.”
I smiled as she walked out of my office. That was five months ago. The police had started poking where I’d pointed them, and somehow Albert R. Thompson stopped existing. Then the investigation stopped. It was suspicious, but then again when they say “stopped” in the news they might just mean that details are no longer being shared. Madeline’s voice brought me back to the present.
“What should I do, I can’t go back in, I have nowhere to go.”
“Well, as superficial as it’s going to sound, I’d say first you should try to replace whatever they stole that you need for a daily life. Buy some clothes, and go rent a hotel room for a few days. Your apartment will be inaccessible during the investigation, and who knows what they took in the home invasion.”
“They didn’t take anything, I just can’t go in because the body... oh my god, Sarah...” Madeline broke into tears at this point. On the other hand I got this nasty feeling in my gut, something didn’t add up. Someone knocked at the door.
“Look, Maddy, I have to go. Here what you are going to do, go and withdraw all the money you can from your bank account, and then stop using any of your accounts and credit cards. There’s someone at the door here, I have to go, just go get the money, then go to the hotel on the corner of fifth and Bank, register under the name Leslie Johnson, I’ll contact you there.”
The knock at the door got insistent. Funny, I was sure I had left the door unlocked. As I was walking towards the door, I realized what they may have been after in that robbery: my case notes. I was almost at the door when I saw that it wasn’t locked, I got that nasty feeling in my stomach and dove for cover less than a second before the sound of a gun being fired shook my office.
[So, here it is, the long awaited continuation of the "Trouble" story. I figured that since we'd all been away from the story for a while, it would be only fair to have Phil be away from the story as well. Also, yes, he has a name now. The unnamed protagonist was getting old. I can't promise I will be regular in updating, I wish I could be but inspiration has been hard to come by, I've had this direction for the story in mind since last June, but I couldn't get it to stick on paper. Oh well, hope you can all forgive me.]
“Sarah’s dead... they... someone... She’s dead...”
“Calm down, how did she... tell me what happened?”
“I was coming home after getting something at the grocery store, the cops say there was a break in, she was shot. I... since I left my husband, I didn’t know who to call... Your phone number was the only one I could think of.”
It had been about six months since that day. I’d found evidence that her husband wasn’t even a real person. He hadn’t gotten a name change like I’d first suspected, Albert R. Thompson was a fake identity, created entirely. I still remember her shock that day.
“What do you mean, you quit? What the hell am I paying you for?” she shouted.
“You paid me to figure out everything your husband owns, the problem is, the man you married is simply a piece of paper. Even his marriage to you is a fabrication, if I keep poking around I’ll have evidence that Albert doesn’t exist, and only Frank is real, and Frank has not been married to you.”
After more discussion, she finally understood that she’d been played for a long time. She was angry, but she was also cornered. We decided it would be wiser for her to simply pack up and leave, looking deeper into this would be like poking a bee’s nest. I would simply contact the cops with my info anonymously, if I could point them in the right direction, the guys in blue can be quite useful. I still remember Madeline’s last visit here, I decided to give her a break since she wasn’t getting anything out of the divorce, and well, I had been abusing the expense account.
“I’m settled in with Sarah, thank you for your help, here’s the check for your fees. Thank you for the price, I feel I should be paying you more.”
“Well, I figure I failed at m y job. I couldn’t find anything that you could get out of this separation. I didn’t expect this to end this way.”
“Me neither, but I guess if I can’t get anything out of the divorce, I can get a good story out of your case. Thank you for the copy of your case notes, I think the juicier parts may come in handy when I feel like writing another novel. Well then, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. Good luck with everything Madeline.”
“Thank you, and goodbye Phil, maybe I’ll call you again when I need a reality check with next novel.”
I smiled as she walked out of my office. That was five months ago. The police had started poking where I’d pointed them, and somehow Albert R. Thompson stopped existing. Then the investigation stopped. It was suspicious, but then again when they say “stopped” in the news they might just mean that details are no longer being shared. Madeline’s voice brought me back to the present.
“What should I do, I can’t go back in, I have nowhere to go.”
“Well, as superficial as it’s going to sound, I’d say first you should try to replace whatever they stole that you need for a daily life. Buy some clothes, and go rent a hotel room for a few days. Your apartment will be inaccessible during the investigation, and who knows what they took in the home invasion.”
“They didn’t take anything, I just can’t go in because the body... oh my god, Sarah...” Madeline broke into tears at this point. On the other hand I got this nasty feeling in my gut, something didn’t add up. Someone knocked at the door.
“Look, Maddy, I have to go. Here what you are going to do, go and withdraw all the money you can from your bank account, and then stop using any of your accounts and credit cards. There’s someone at the door here, I have to go, just go get the money, then go to the hotel on the corner of fifth and Bank, register under the name Leslie Johnson, I’ll contact you there.”
The knock at the door got insistent. Funny, I was sure I had left the door unlocked. As I was walking towards the door, I realized what they may have been after in that robbery: my case notes. I was almost at the door when I saw that it wasn’t locked, I got that nasty feeling in my stomach and dove for cover less than a second before the sound of a gun being fired shook my office.
[So, here it is, the long awaited continuation of the "Trouble" story. I figured that since we'd all been away from the story for a while, it would be only fair to have Phil be away from the story as well. Also, yes, he has a name now. The unnamed protagonist was getting old. I can't promise I will be regular in updating, I wish I could be but inspiration has been hard to come by, I've had this direction for the story in mind since last June, but I couldn't get it to stick on paper. Oh well, hope you can all forgive me.]
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