PLAYING DIRTY
What does it take to be a detective?
This question is of a certain breed; one to which the answer is already known, but necessitates confirmation. Whenever I am being interrogated over the qualifications of my profession, I know that the rag is already in my mouth and all I can do is wait for the water. Everyone's watched TV, knows Dick Tracy and has read Nancy Drew. They already think they know what it takes.
But they don't.
See, folks have sort of a romanticized idea of what I do. They think I need to be smart, charming and ready to leap into the mouth of the lion at a moment's notice. That's a load of BS as far as my knowledge goes. What got out of my experiences in the field and the limited amount of interaction I've had with other P.I.s is one lesson- you've got to know how to play dirty.
See, when you're on your back in the wrong part of town, and some dropper is standing over you with an axe ready to create more than a chemical difference between the right and left side of your brain, you aren't thinking about how Mr. Mustard did it with the candlestick in the billiards room, you want to know how to get this schmuck distracted long enough for you to introduce him to your .45.
I was apparently too busy feeling sorry for myself to notice the creak of my office door because before I knew it, an oddly familiar voice was speaking to me.
"Hello, Victor."
I franticly spun my chair around in surprise and was met with an unknown face. She wasn't stunning, but attractive in that girl-next-door kinda way. She had a wide mouth, and lips that kinda reminded you of a candy-apple you'd ask your mother to buy you at a fair. Her eyes were wide and scared-looking, though you could tell she was doing her best to cover it up with shadow. She seemed well put together, but maybe a little too well put-together, like there was someone she was trying to impress.
"I don't believe we've met." Not exactly a stunning opener, but I wasn't exactly known for making good first impressions.
"You probably don't know me, but everyone knows about you." She was starting to creep me out.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, you're famous!" She responded a little too quickly. She seemed almost boiling over with excitement, though she quickly turned down the heat and composed herself.
"And I am-" she began, while digging around in her crocodile skin purse, "Elizabeth Lavenza." I'd heard the name before, but couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"Alright Ms. Lavenza-"
"Please, just Liz." She pulled a small aluminum box out of her purse, opened it, and presented me with a small rectangle of paper, evidently her business card. How professional. I took it, but put it on my desk without looking at it.
"Okay, Liz, what do you need from me?"
"I need you to find my brother." She handed me a picture.
I found myself eye-to-eye with a small boy, about the age of nine or ten, with very tidy light blonde hair and blue eyes. I almost laughed. His was surely the face of innocence if I'd ever seen it.
"His name is William. He disappeared a couple days ago, and the police are more of a hinderance than anything else."
Not the first time I'd heard that.
I was finding it hard to pay attention to what she was saying. The shadows from the venetian blinds peering out onto the Genevan skyline created stepped shadows across the room. When she moved her head, it was like a piano was being played on her face. "He's a good boy, he's never done anything wrong to anybody!" She was obviously on the edge of breaking down, so I tried to calm her.
"Don't worry sweetie, we'll find your brother. Here," I offered her a seat, and she immediately plunked down into one of my faux leather arm chairs, and began drying her cheeks with a handkerchief procured from her purse. "Now where was your brother last before he disappeared?"
"I was told by one of William's friends that he was seen leaving classes," she sniffed, "but after that… nothing."
"Alright Liz, it's too late today for any action today, but tomorrow I want you to meet me by the front doors of William's school at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Just leave the address with my receptionist." I was already going over the limited evidence in my mind.
"Oh, it's so terrible! Why would anyone want to hurt an innocent child?" She already seemed on the brink of another meltdown.
"I'm sure we'll find out soon. Good day Ms. Lavenza." I was trying to get her out of my office as soon as I could. A broad like that doesn't make it easy to think.
After she had breezed, I was left to ruminate. As goofy as she got over the whole thing, that dish had it straight. What kind of palooka would snatch a little kid? Only one kind, and that's a one with a cause.
Suddenly, it hit me! The name Lavenza belonged to Christoph Lavenza, the CEO of New World Construction. New World was the company responsible for creating the infrastructure that supported the blooming economy of Geneva. They were known for their efficiency, not their humanity. I figured Liz must've been Christoph's daughter. This assumption was confirmed upon closer inspection of her business card. I could already tell this mark had gone all in with no cards in a game she didn't know she was playing.
After dusting the local hash house, I made my way to William's school to find Liz waiting on the corner, looking over-dressed as ever.
"Y'know, if you stick around like that, plugs are going to start thinking you're some kind of pro skirt."
"I beg your pardon?" Clearly taken aback by my remark, Liz had obviously not grown up in the same part of town I had.
"Anyway, let's get started. You said your brother was last seen leaving to go home to school. Are you sure he was going home?" A good place to start was always to question the supposed certitudes of a case.
"Yes, without doubt. William would always tell us his after school plans, and never showed any signs of disobedience to our father." She did sound sure.
"So," I said, "for starters, what route does your brother take to get home?"
"It's kind of a complicated route." She replied, completely unhelpfully.
"Well why don't you and me follow in your brother's footsteps? Take me the way he'd go." I figured that maybe if we went where he went, we could find some clues.
"Sure thing, bird." I let her lead the way.
About fifteen minutes later, we were in Cornevin, widely known to be the "bad part of town." If anything went down in this town, you can bet your butter it went down here. Cornevin also happened to be the neighbourhood I grew up in.
Fancy that.
Surrounded by dope pusher and floozies, I grew up a dip, and would've been dead meat for sure if an orphanage hadn't been built in the area. I still almost hear Mother Annie's nails on chalkboard voice when she threw one of her fits. Golly could that bim holler. Come to think of it, I bet the orphanage was built by New World Construction. I guess I should be grateful to those lugs. On the other hand, why should I? There might be a million reasons why the orphanage was built, but one thing's for sure, it wasn't for me. That's all folks want to do these days, get paid and get lost.
Glancing at Liz, I noticed she was looking exceedingly cautious, almost scared. I guess I never really thought how foreign all this was to her. Her parents probably had nightmares about her accidentally wandering through the wrong alley or running into the wrong kind of people. You'd think that a butter and egg man pa like that could teach his kids a thing or two about the real world.
But who am I kidding?
Liz was probably homeschooled by some world class scholar. Me? I dropped out after kindergarten. Come to think of it, she'd probably never worked a day in her life! But that's just the way the world works. The rich sing in their gilded cages while the poor do the real work. Liz's brain might've been smart, but her head was empty.
"Oh my lord!"
My thoughts were interrupted by Liz's screeching. We had been walking for almost half an hour, and were presently in a particularly filthy alleyway a boy like William had no business wandering through. Liz had fell to her knees, facing away from me. Her neck was bent at an angle suggesting that she was looking at something.
"What is it?" I asked with disinterest, expecting her fussing to be over something totally irrelevant.
She turned to face me with tears running down her cheeks. She presented the object in her cupped hands to me. It was a gold chain.
"Oh Victor, this is…" She was having difficulty speaking over her chokes and sobs. "This is William's necklace! My m-mother gave it to h-him when he was j-just a baby!" Her voice rose almost to a wail at the end of the sentence.
"Hmm.. Give it here." I took the chain out of her hands, which immediately flew to cover her eyes. "Now now, there there." I was getting tired of this broad's proclivity to turn on the water works. I really didn't need a couple of flatfoots putting the screws on me down at the clubhouse as to why some nice twist was keening on account of yours truly.
I handed her her purse. She quickly withdrew a clean, white handkerchief, which was soon darkened by her tears and wet mascara.
After I was sure Liz was taking care of herself, I took a closer look at William's chain. There was a silver lobster claw clasp on it, but the chain had be ripped apart elsewhere. Doing a quick scan of my surroundings showed signs of an incident I had previously failed to recognize; there were trash cans knocked over on their sides, the dusty ground was all scuffed up and garbage bags were ripped, their contents spilling out onto the concrete. It must've happened recently, or else some street cleaner would already have tidied it up. I can't say I was surprised. If there was anywhere a kidnapping would take place, it would've been in a place like that. What really surprised me is that some
hop-head hadn't glommed the golden chain to hustle for some nose-candy to kick the gong around with. That type of thing certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. In fact, through my experiences it was more common for people to be on the gooseberry lay than not.
"There's definitely been some sort of struggle here." I finally announced.
"Victor, you don't think-" she seemed to be having trouble phrasing what she wanted to say in a way where she wouldn't upset herself. "I mean, that he's…"
I could already tell where she was going with this. "Come on Liz, think about it. Why would some boob kill a little boy for no reason? I'm sure he's still alive."
Suddenly I heard the a noisy clang of a glass bottle skidding against rough concrete. I was able to turn around in time to see an ankle and a flap of flogger before it disappeared around the corner about a hundred feet away.
"Come on," I lifted Liz back to her feet without taking my eyes off of the place where the mystery man had just been. I was sure we were being tailed. "Let's get out of here." She too, had heard the noise and was keen to dangle.
We finished our investigative walk with no further incident, and I soon found myself surrounded by smoked numbers at a local box having a smell from the barrel. The place stank of old cheap wine, but I was desperate for a place to nibble one.
I was watching a trio of jaspers playing a game of darts when the tapper slid me my drink from across the bar. I noticed he was ranking me funny, like somehow I had done him dirty. I ignored his malevolent gaze and put down a stiff hooker of whisky. It tasted kind of queer, queer even for a seedy spot like this. My head began to spin. I knew this feeling, I'd had it before. That damned barmaid had given me a Mickey Finn! My vision went dark and I found myself losing balance. The last thing I remembered before I was cooled was sliding off my barstool and onto the grimy floor.
I had never been played for such a patsy.
As I came to, the first thing I noticed was darkness. Soon I could feel the pinch of rope around my arms, chest and ankles, and my pounding headache. I found it difficult to concentrate. Trying to get a grip, I did my best to focus my blurry vision and let my eyes adjust to their darn setting, as to figure out where I was. After a couple minutes, I was able to get a basic picture of my surroundings. It felt as though I was tied to a chair, and from the smell of dust, cardboard and mouse droppings I could tell I was in some sort of warehouse. Empty bottles and cans littered the floor, and damp cardboard boxes lay broken-down and battered around me. I didn't recognize the building, but that was no surprise due to my lack of experience in the field of warehouse interior design.
The next logical thing to do was try to escape. Try as I might, the thick ropes were tied exceptionally, no doubt the work of a sailor or other knot-tying professional. Next was to look for some sort of tool to cut myself free. This was easier said than done, as the very limited amount of light made it almost impossible to see more than ten feet in front of me. As a boy, I'd read detective novels with situations like this. I suddenly remembered how the protagonist would use his body mass to scoot himself over to where he needed to go. Let me just say now, that is much easier said than done. Within three or four scoots, I found myself losing balance, and seconds later the chair had tipped over and i was lying on the floor, completely unable to do anything.
But maybe falling wasn't all bad. From my position I could see a thin sliver of orange light at ground level; a door! About five or ten minutes after my discovery, I heard voices from the other side, beginning very quietly but getting louder by the second. People were coming this way! Eventually I could see shadows moving, and I could almost make out what the voices were saying. Suddenly, the door bust open and the room was flooded with light. I shut my eyes tightly instinctively to block the light out.
"What're ya doin' on the floor, ya putz?" A voice, speaking to me! "Anyhows, yer moll here saw us, heh, escorting you out of the scatter. And lordy knows we can't have no stool-pidgeons, see? 'Specially not one what's so important to the operation." His voice sounded as big and dumb as he looked. I knew this couldn't've been the mastermind behind my kidnapping. But who was the dame he was talking about? My question was answered when none other than Liz was thrown into the room, tied up same as me, only sans-chair. She landed on the ground a few feet away from me with a thud.
"The boss will be with you shortly, so don't go anywhere," the hood was beginning to leave. "Not that you have much've a choice!" He laughed at his own exit line. What a class act.
As soon as the door closed, I knew I had to attend to Liz. If finding her brother's necklace had made her as upset as it had, I knew that she wouldn't take being kidnapped any better. Strangely enough, not wails or shrieks emanated from her. She was almost completely silent, save for her breathing. I was just beginning to think she'd been dry-gulched too, when she spoke:
"What a mess we've gotten ourselves in, eh, Vic?"
Whatever I was expecting Liz to say, that sure wasn't it.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so. Sorry about this Liz." Now I didn't know how to talk to her.
"It's not your fault. Well maybe it is, a little bit." She laughed mirthlessly. "Say, do you think if I turn around I could untie your restraints? It'd be easier for me because I'm not the egg tied to a chair."
That was exactly what I had been thinking, but I didn't say anything other than: "You can give it a shot."
And give it a shot she did. Within ten minutes my hands were untied, and another twenty later we were both free from the ropes. The first thing to do was try the door, but it was locked from the outside. Even if it wasn't locked, there'd probably a guard or two watching the room.
Liz noticed a busted window in one of the upper corners of the room. I figured it was big enough to climb out of, but the problem was getting up there. It was about fifteen feet above the ground, and there was nothing like a ladder or stool to use to get up there. I had no idea if it lead outside, or just into another part of the warehouse
"Maybe I could lift you up?" I suggested, half joking.
"That's not a half bad idea." I actually thought it was. "Kneel down on one leggy the window, and lift up my foot. I might be able to grab the sill."
After a minute or so of preparation, we were ready to crush out. Liz took a few steps back, then ran towards me. I felt the bottom of her shoe on my palms, and shoved upward with all my might. She was surprisingly light. Before I could look up to see if she had made it, Liz let out a shriek. I felt her tumble onto me, and with a crash of cans and bottles we fell to the ground.
"Are you crazy? What in hell are you trying to do?" I wheezed. She had winded me, hard.
As I caught my breath she said "I cut my hand!" She explained before I could ask how. "I did it, I reached the window sill, but there must've been some broken glass up there because when I tried to grab on, my hand got cut something awful."
Before I could collect my thoughts, I heard voices outside the door. It bust open, and couple of heeled wrong numbers rushed in with rods pointed our way.
"Put those flippers to good use and grab air!" One roared. "Actually, you boobs got good timin'," he added with a toothless grin. "The boss is ready to see you now."
Our hands were bound and we were taken out of our prison. Liz's hand was still bleeding profusely, and though she was doing her best to stop the bleeding with her uninjured hand, great drops of blood left a trail behind us as we were shoved along. I felt a rush of wind as we were lead into a much larger room. We were surrounded by boxes containing god knows what, but they were all either decaying or caked with dust, so it was easy to tell they hadn't been touched in some time. I noticed a rusted industrial sized garage door on one wall. A possible escape route, but how was I supposed to break free of the ropes holding my hands, let alone open the thing. The Pirelli lights painted the warehouse an orange colour7, and looking up I could see a railing-less catwalk wrapping around the inside of the huge room. On that catwalk were two people. It was difficult to discern who they were, or even what they looked like, but as we were brought closer to them, I could see there was a large, well muscled man with a poorly shaven beard wearing blue-jean overalls, and a smaller figure who was well dressed, but his hands were tied behind him and he had what appeared to be a potato sack over his head. I could hear faint whimpering noises coming from the smaller figure- he must have been a boy- but the man who was about twice the boy's height seemed only interested in us.
"Welcome!" He shouted to us. "Victor and Elizabeth. You're a little early, but we can accommodate for the change in plans." The man had I strange accent I didn't think I had heard before.
Things were getting weirder by the minute.
"Where are we?" Liz demanded. "Why are you doing this to us?"
"Well this, Elizabeth is where it gets a little complicated. I hope your limited brain can understand what I'm about to tell you." The man seemed like he relished mocking Liz, and while her face betrayed her affrontedness, she did not take any action. "My name is Frank Inunu. Now don't worry, I'm not offended that you don't know who I am. Why should you? Anyway, three years ago, I was a carpenter living in my home town in South Africa. Things weren't great. Business was slow, it was hard to find food and disease was rampant. With a wife and little baby to take care of, those don't exactly contribute to a happy situation. So when I heard that there were many jobs to be found in Geneva, I was thrilled! I would be going to Geneva, the business capital of the world! So I was sailed over by the construction firm I was going to be employed by; you may have heard of them. Does New World Construction ring a bell?"
Frank's face became minatory, his brows furrowed and mouth looked as if he had just eaten something sour. Liz let out an audible gasp, at which some of the guards laughed.
"Yes I'm sure you know that name quite well!" He continued, but was now looking at the boy kneeling next to him. "After all, you're Christoph's little angel, his daughter who he loves more than life itself. Well there's more than one person who fits the same bill you do, honey." Frank wrenched the sack off of the boy's head, revealing the blonde-haired, blue-eyed face of William Lavenza.
"William!" Liz shrieked. She began to cry hysterically, losing all the calmness that surrounded her while we were locked up in the bing. William began to cry as well, and when his cheeks became blotchy, I noticed bruises on his face and forehead. Glancing at his arms and legs, I was able to distinguish bruising there as well. A sudden malice filled me as I thought of the pain caused on this innocent child. Frank certainly wasn't done talking though. He was forced to yell over the sounds of sobbing.
"I arrived in Geneva, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Life was good for a short while. I was slowly saving up enough money to bring my wife and child here too. But that tranquil state was soon shattered by your father's corporation. In the pursuit of even higher profits, New World cut hundreds of jobs, my own included. All these men you see around you here? They were once employees of you father's business too. But that's besides the point. Back to my story. If you're wondering how my family was doing back home, well I can tell you, not well. My wife was evicted from our home, without me sending her any money she couldn't pay for the house. She didn't do much better on the street either. With no formal education, my wife was forced to take jobs that didn'y even pay enough for food for one person, let alone that plus a small child.
"Anyways, after about a few months I was alerted of the death of my wife and child. Whether they perished from malnutrition, some kind of sickness, or hell, were murdered, I guess we'll never know!" His tone began to turn hysterical, but he adjusted the straps on his overalls and composed himself. "And now that I'm done reciting my backstory, I can tell you why you and your brother are here. It's quite simple, really. I just want what we all deserve. A little compensation, is all. We'll be sending a letter to your father shortly, demanding five million swiss francs in cash delivered to a later specified location for your release. And if the money isn't sent? Well, you don't get to go home. Ever."
Liz's crying found a new level of ferocity, as did William's. The only thing I had really been thinking throughout Frank's sad sap story was one thing: escape.
"Oh and your gum-shoe pall here?" He added, "You won't be seeing much more of him!" Franks let out a noise that was more of a hoarse bark than a laugh, but the message got across. "Croak him!" Frank called down to his hatchet men.
"You got it boss!" One called back. Then he spoke to me. "Don't worry pal, this won't hurt one bit. It'll be over in a jiffy." I heard the cock of a revolver and was able to crane my neck just enough to see the torpedo behind me stick his roscoe in the back of my noodle, ready to burn powder.
"Don't look, Liz!" I knew I was about to kick off, and I didn't want a nice girl like Liz getting mentally scared by the image of my popped conk. But I guess it was too late. I heard the squeak of the trigger against the frame, and the click-click-click of the barrel rotating. I braced myself.
BANG!
He was right, it was painless. But for some reason in heaven there's dust that gets in your nostrils. At least, that's what I was thought had happened. As it turns out, I was able to open my eyes! But I quickly shut them again on account of the flying dust. I could hear yelling, and it was clear Chicago lightning was going off in many places around the warehouse. It was difficult to see through the dust clouds, but I was able to make something out; the shine of a buzzer! I'd never been so happy to see a squad of elbows in my life. And from what I could see, it appeared as if they were winning! I was startled by a noise from the catwalk, which managed to rise above the din of gunfire and general chaos.
"NO!" It was Frank. He had a mad look in his eye, like he was about to pull something crazy. "YOU TOOK AWAY SOMETHING I LOVED, NOW I'LL DO THE SAME TO YOU!" Before I knew it, he had planted his foot square in the middle of William's back, and I didn't even have time to call out to stop before Frank gave a mighty shove, and William went toppling over the side of the catwalk. Screaming as he fell, William was unable to do anything because of his bound hands and feet. I couldn't look away as he landed on the concrete with a sickening THUMP quickly followed by a stomach churning CRUNCH. I don't often say this, but right then and there, I fainted.
When I came to, I was back at the clubhouse. But not for the usual reasons. I got the whole story from a chummy looking button when I was awake enough to listen. What had happened was some right gee had seen Liz being taken away, and had called copper. The fuzz was able to track down the truck I was taken away in, and got to the warehouse just in time.
I also leaned that William had been cut down. As soon as he landed his spinal cord snapped, and one of his broken ribs had punctured his lung.
I could almost cry.
A young boy gone too soon. Almost makes you want to settle down yourself.
Who was I kidding? There was no time for breaks. After a quick bite to eat, I was back at my office. After all, there were always more cases to be closed. This one was just a little special, that was all. But was it, really? In this crazy world we live in, nothing comes fair. You either kill or are killed. Like I said, your only option is to play dirty.