Battles

Victory has proved an untrustworthy maiden. We danced for fleeting moments while Thompson bled, shaken and defeated, on the tarmac at my feet. But so often she leaves my side, joining the dance with strangers, their smiling eyes and hungry jaws devouring every inch of her. The futher she dances across the room, the greater the emptiness inside me becomes.

I won a battle, against Thompson. But for what? The war continues, all around me. Those I fight for, spy for, steal for; they still go to bed at night with fear in their bellies and dread in their hearts. That which I kill for, lie for and beg for never seems to be enough. Money doens't come in, and thanks is a rare gift in this world.

I left Thompson chained to his car and made an anonymous tip to the police. I thought about killing him. Faith presse against his temple, her cold touch doubtless chilling his spine almost as much as it did mine. But in the end, a longer punishment seemed more worthy for the small time crime overlord. Small time, small change. Small pity.

Life continues to hammer down blows around me, and Victory shies coyly away with each fresh impact. I'm trying to track down Seth's cousin, Grey, whom I now know to be a mob boss in the Brighton drug rings. But he's elusive, grey like smoke and shadow. I haven't heard from K in weeks, and wonder if she lies dead. Baltam doesn't return my calls. A child's dead body is a cost he's unwiling to pay.

And my own war against the bottle continues to bruise and bloody me. It's on my mind all the time. I drink whiskey and hate myself for it. I lock it away and spend all day thinking about the release it might offer. I see strangers happily drink the night away, and I envy their escape, their freedom, and their vices.

The fight continues for another day. Tonight I'll drink myself stupid, wake up in bitter disgust tomorrow and start all over again. Here's to Victory. Here's to wars. Here's to the God-damned human condition.

Dirt

The Seth Files don't get much attention these days. Seth's a shady character with beady eyes I can't trust. He wants me to dig up some dirt on his cousin, Walter. In my line of work, I see tough jobs and I see dirty jobs. Seth has handed my a brown sack full of the latter. It's all I can do to keep away from this crap, but sometimes the music just demands a dance.

Walter has life pretty easy. He's got an income with the zeros on the better side of the commas, a car that sparkles in the right places, and a wife who smiles sweetly on demand. He's all gravel drives, white fencing and warm handshakes. I've not been able to get a thing on the guy. Even clean people get dirty fingernails from time to time. But Walter doens't even make a mess when he's on the can.

Imagine my surprise when I discover that Walter is well known in the CCNR as a mob boss called 'Grey'.

I get to hear a lot about Grey. I hear his name whispered in threats, screamed in curses and offered in temptation. In my own silent investigations trying to track down Thompson, I've stumbled into Walter's own shadow, and found that when Walter takes a graceful bow, Grey takes a vengeful swipe. This guy's shadow doesn't even touch his feet, for fear of being connected to him.

But I see the connection alright. All I need is some proof of his involvement this deep down, and he's all mine. And, more importantly, so is Seth's fat cheque.

Sunset

The bloodshot sun falls from the sky. I sit in my apartment, a not-so welcome change of scenery, and watch the hazy sky turn from deep blue to violent red. The sun glows brightly, darkly, agonisingly, leaking blood into the falling skies. The redness flows along the crest of the distant rise of Hollingdean, spreads out and across Lewes Road, and inches towards Moulsecombe and myself, sitting in the dark, watching the desperate death of the day.

As I watch the sunset - so powerful and beautiful in its bold and terrible colours, so slow and dramatic in its stark artistry - I am reminded that everything bleeds.

I still haven't heard anything from K. I'm beside myself, outside myself. Did she betray me after all? Worse, was she captured? I can't understand my obession with the woman; beyond the arrogance, power and grace in that slender body, something about her has claws in me. I make a silent oath to my whiskey that if she gets hurt in this even Thornton won't stop my thirst for revenge.

I've tried to keep myself distracted during the day. I've gathered up everything I have on Seth's over-acheiving cousin. I've collected all the accounts and the family historys. I've found the areas that are just too clean. I'll give that to Seth as a start. The guy is beside himself now. Last time I saw him he was practically shacking with the anger and humilation of his cousins' higher position.

But even as I work through the details of the investigation, I keep one I fixed on the door, the window, the phone, anything which might betray some hint as to K or Thompson's whereabouts.

Friends

I reach the office this morning in a mood blacker than my coffee. Another sleepless night, clues and mysteries racking my brain. The office phone rings all morning. I ignore it. It keeps ringing. I pick it up. An old friend is own town, she wants to meet up, buy me lunch. I can't see when my next paycheck is going to arrive. I'm not too proud to accept. Besides, it'll be good to see a freindly face.

Well, friendly as it gets.

We eat, we talk. She's well. I'm working hard. The job is fine. Lies burn my throat and a smile threatens to tear my face in two. She gets a phone call, apologises for leaving early, and rushes out. A grumpy waitress puts the bill in front of me. Have I just been cheated of my lunch?

It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. She's a friend. But as I count the change in my pockets, my stomach sinks deeper and deeper. The expensive meal turns dark inside me, turns to poison, turns to sickness and bile.

But it does matter. I've been robbed by someone I took to be a friend. One hand drifts inside my jacket. Providence awaits inside.

The mist descends. What am I doing? Damnned fool, it's just lunch. Pay the bill. Go home. Find some dirt for Seth. With trembling hands, I pay the bill and thank the waitress. What is becoming of me? I'm getting paranoid. Jumping at shadows, seeing deamons where there are none, always assuming the worst.

I head back to the office, unplug the phone, and sort through the accounts Seth gave me. Numbers aren't out to get me, but I make sure to keep Faith in sight as I work.

Hideout

Once you've had a gun pointed at you, there's no turning back.

I've been lying low today. Safe in the confines of my office, with The Twins watching my back, I'm bullet proof. Nothing could go wrong. Thompson wouldn't dare try to take me down on my own turf. I was convinced that I'd seen the last of him for a while. But then the phone rang.

Heart beating like some sick carnival parade, I answered. It's another new case. Perfect timing, it'll give me an excuse to stay low. Between Baltams nagging and Thompson's bullets, I like the idea of some downtime.

I headed out to meet the new client, some guy calling himself Seth. I took The Twins with me, of course. Faith & Providence felt cool inside my jacket, a reassuring weight. Seth was a tall man with shifty eyes. I didn't trust a word he said, but his cash was as good as any. He wants me to dig some dirt on a cousin of his. Nothing to do now but run some routine background checks.

I walk back into the office, one hand resting on Providence. The place is still standing. Even the mail doesn't explode when I open it.

4C07 runs through my mind. I write it on the back of my hand, on my files, scratch it into the desk. It's a clue, if only I can figure out what it means.

The Seth Files

Seth is a shady looking character with weasel eyes. He keeps his hands hidden: bastard makes me feel like he's always about to try a trick. He's no magician though, just a disenfranchised under-acheiver who's out for some payback. Seems his cousin is the better brownnoser and recenty got promoted. Seth wants the job, and asked me to try and disgrace the cousin.

Shifty bastard.

Unfortunatley for me, this cousin seems to be about the cleanest character in all of Sussex. Nothing I've found has lead to even the slightest shadow against his character. Frankly, no-one is that clean, and his rise to power is a little too sudden for my tastes.