Chapter One
"Can I help you sir?" Bob Thompson asked the man amiably examining his collection of books. It was almost seven in the evening and Bob really wanted to close on time tonight. The streets weren't that safe recently, what with all those murders turning up. He didn't want to take any chances these next few nights. So the best way to get rid of a customer was to find out what he wanted in as little time as possible.
"Or are you just browsing?" asked Bob again. He sincerely hoped not. Five minutes to go. The man turned to Bob. He was a little rugged-looking and wore a dark brown coat. He had hair the color of field corn and impossibly blue eyes. Bob was a little taken aback by his looks. The man was certainly English, but had a foreign feel to him. And despite his youthful looks, for some reason, Bob thought him extremely old.
"Do you have medical journals?" asked the man.
"Sorry?"
"Medical journals," repeated the man, "Preferably on the anatomy of the body." His accent was strong though Bob couldn't quite place it. His voice was throaty and rough, a smoker perhaps.
"I'm afraid I don't have what you want sir," apologized Bob.
"Pity. I was looking for some." The man moved away from the store-keeper and scanned the books once more. "I won't be much longer good sir. I'm almost done." His fingers rested on the top of a small black book – The Brothers' Grimm Collection. The man removed the book from the shelf and with a dramatic twirl, presented it to Bob.
"I think this will be sufficient for my reading purposes."
"Uh, of course sir. That will be a pound fifty please."
The man reached into his pockets. "You know," he said, "the fairy tales the Grimms wrote were all very dark, very evil. Blood and rituals with the changing of the moon. Heads rolling and all that. It's all so enticing." The man pulled out two pounds and placed them into Bob's hands.
"Keep the change good sir. And have a good night! Nights have been dangerous lately."
"Right… good night to you too sir! And of course, thank you very much!"
The man gave a slight bow and with book in hand, exited the shop. Bob let out the sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. He wasn't sure why, but he felt threatened then. He gave a brief chuckle, wondering about the absurdity of it all, then proceeded to clean up the store. Twenty minutes later, shop all safe and secure, Bob stepped out into the cool night. His house was not far from here, well within walking distance. As he started along the pavement, a voice spoke out behind him. It was throaty and rough.
"Isn't the moon pretty tonight good sir?"
Silver flashed out and blue eyes in black were the last things Bob Thompson saw.
Drake Anderson was really uncomfortable in this office. He mainly disliked all offices. They were confining and reeked of…work. Which was why he was a field agent. He looked at the figure sitting at the other end of this massive table in front of him.
"I do apologize for calling you back during your vacation. I know you wanted to spend time with your family and all," said the man in the chair. His operative name was 'Joker' and headed the Royal British Library, a superpower of the world. Nobody knew his real name.
Drake shook his head. "That's alright. As long as I get paid, it's all good."
Joker laughed. "I assure you the pay will be very good this time. Now then, to business," said Joker, serious now. He passed Drake several photographs. "Look at these."
Drake examined the pictures and grimaced openly. They were very grisly.
"There have been thirty-seven cases, all perished in the same way. Throat slit, body gutted," explained Joker.
"Any idea on the murder's identity?"
"Just this," said Joker, handing Drake another photograph. This was of a man with blonde hair. "This was taken with a street security camera. The problem is, we don't know anything else about him other than his looks. We've searched many records and still turn up nothing. It's like he doesn't exist."
"But you have an idea?"
"Best case scenario, he's foreign. A spy perhaps. We can check world records but that would take a lot of time and resources. Worst case, and I pray it's not--"
"He's an I-Jin?" guessed Drake.
"And that's where you come in," said Joker, " While I go overseas to handle diplomacy and plow through billions of records, your mission is to use whatever means possible to locate this man and apprehend him."
"And if he resists, I take him out?"
Joker nodded. "You will have access to the resources we have left, and of course, you will have a partner."
Drake groaned. He had a bad feeling about this. "A partner? It can't be…"
Joker grinned evilly. "Who else could it be?"
"Mou… where is she? Almost an hour gone and she's still not here!" Wendy looked at her watch again. She should have expected this. It was Yomiko after all. Trust her to come late for a date that Wendy herself had organized for the girl.
"Wendy-saaaaaaan! Wendy-saaaaaaaan!" Wendy heard her name drifting in the wind. She looked behind her and sure enough, there was Yomiko Readman stumbling towards her. Wendy sighed. Yomiko was still towing her traveling bag of books behind her.
"Wendy-san, I'm sorry I'm late!" apologized Yomiko profusely. She was a little breathless from that run before.
"An hour late! What were you doing? Don't tell me you were reading books and--"
"Well actually, uh, I just bought this new book and I--"
"Never mind that!" interrupted Wendy, "Look at you! I told you to wear something other than the usual library uniform and coat! Ah… can't be helped now I guess. Come on, let's go!"
"Uh, Wendy-san, must I?" asked Yomiko.
Wendy simply gave her a cold stare and dragged her along, traveling bag and all.
Yomiko sighed and picked out a book from the shelf. It was three hours after the disastrous lunch date. For one thing, the man Wendy-san wanted to introduce to her was utterly boring. He wasn't much into literature and worse, kept staring at her like a hawk did a mouse. She had excused herself within the hour and with many apologies to Wendy-san, escaped into this nearby bookstore.
She sighed once more. She knew Wendy-san was only trying to help. And it wasn't as if she didn't appreciate the gesture. It's just that, with her meetings with Nancy-san at the Institute and the way her life was going, she wasn't particularly interested in men at present.
"I always thought the beheading of the wolf was a tad too gruesome," a deep, male voice said from beside her.
"Huh?" exclaimed Yomiko, dropping the book in surprise. She glanced up to see a tall man standing right next to her. He had raven-black hair and eyes the color of clear skies. He looked kind.
"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you like that!" said the man, bending down to pick up the book, "I was just commenting on the book. Little Red Riding Hood? I honestly didn't mean to scare you. I'm so sorry!"
"I-it's alright! It was my fault for spacing out just now!" countered Yomiko.
"Your fault for spa--" repeated the man, who then chuckled loudly. It was a nice sound. "Well then, I don't see a problem here then. Apology accepted Miss…?"
"Uh, Readman. Yomiko Readman."
"Miss Readman then! And my name is Jack Wilde, a medical professor from Sheffield. It is always a pleasure to see such a superb mix of beauty and intellect in such a dismal city!" Jack gave an easy smile.
Yomiko could only blush. This Jack Wilde was very forward but somehow, she liked it.
"Oh, I'm not pretty, or smart," she protested softly.
"Is that so? Well beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and reading classics like this adds to your sense of style."
"Oh…I, uh, suppose…" Yomiko's face was on fire. Say something smart you idiot!
"Hmmm… actually," said Jack, interrupting her inner turmoil for the moment, "I need the help of a native Londoner. I need to buy several texts for my students but I'm not very sure of where to go. Can you assist me in that department? Be my guide? I'll treat you to dinner."
Yomiko's eyes lit up. Visit the bookstores in London? Of course she would! She grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him towards the exit.
"Let's go then," she said, "before they all close!"
Drake was quite sure this was the lead he needed. He had pulled every string he could, called every contact he knew to get Joker's mission moving but turned up nothing. Until now. The last person he spoke to had mentioned a man who was bragging about earning big money for driving people around. A slim clue but one nevertheless. Drake grinned and looked through his binoculars. It was a squat fat man he was observing. His name was Jimmy and he was a carjacker. Not a very good one as well.
"Sir? We're in position," said a man in a brown coat.
Drake nodded, "Let's go."
Jimmy believed his luck was turning as he walked into the usual alley. Sure, his past carjacking exploits weren't going so well, and still no woman would want him. But he felt lucky right this instant. Perhaps it was the fifty dollars he won from the lottery just now. Or that Julia who worked at the nearby bar actually winked at him. Either way, ever since he started driving Mr. Hide about, things had been looking good.
"Freeze!" someone shouted from above.
"Wha--" uttered Jimmy. There were two men on the stairwell above him, both in matching attire, both pointing pistols at him. He turned to run, only to see another two men, their guns out, block his way.
"Wh-hat's all t-this about? Are y-you gu-uys cops?" stuttered Jimmy weakly, raising his hands in surrender.
"Not really I think," said the heavy-set man walking towards him. Jimmy knew the man.
"Drake you bastard! What are you doing here? This is harassment for God's sake!"
Drake laughed. "This is merely a hello buddy. I'm here to ask you a couple of questions that's all."
"Well, you didn't have to do this! Just ask your questions and leave already!"
"Sure Jimmy, I won't be long. I just want information about the blonde murderer that stalks our streets at night."
"I don't know what you mean."
"The killer with blonde hair. You've seen him haven't you? No, you actually help the monster. He pays you and you drive him around. Then after he butchers his victims, you drive him away. Is that how it is?" bellowed Drake.
"I d-don't know what you're--"
"Don't test me Jimmy!" Drake took out his gun and pressed it to Jimmy's temple. "Right now, there are six guns pointed at various spots on you body."
"Five…five guns."
"Six. There's a sniper rifle aimed at your forehead a mile away. Now answer me damn you!"
Jimmy glanced about nervously, then finally gave up.
"I don't know much about him okay? He pays, I pick him up and drop him off. No talking, though he does mumbles to himself after doing his uh, business."
"What else?"
"I'm telling you, I only know his name! It's Mr. Hide, he makes me call him that. Mr. Hide! I don't even know if it's real! That's all I know! I swear!"
Drake turned to one of his men. "Radio in a name, Hide, and get me all the info on him!" He faced Jimmy again.
"When's the next pickup?" asked Drake.
"Tonight. At ten."
"Alright," Drake holstered his gun, "tonight it is then. You're coming with us."
"What? Why?"
"I'm going to need a little favour from you," Drake told the terrified man. "Oh don't cry Jimmy, it's not going to be that dangerous."