A Hot Day in New London
Chapter 5 (Jedi at aemail4u.com)
On to part 6!
A darkness filled the room as smoke entered from an invisible door.
A small string of light from underneath the door allowed the reader to
see two shadows blocking parts of the light. The door creaked open,
allowing the terrifying author to enter. "Review." Though she tried to
use a threatening voice, her own voice was too high and she was coughing
from too many special effects. She glared at Belgian Waffle who was
fanning too much smoke, almost suffocating the author....
A bent figure paced the roof of a shop downtown. Every now and
then, it would lift its discolored face to stare upon the nifty shop
on the other side, before returning to its chaotic thoughts and once
again angering itself with a situation of its own making.
HE had once been a genius. HE had once controlled people and
HIS own destiny. HE had the master plan to take over New London. But
somehow, that ‘master plan’ had backfired. Now, HE was just a lackey.
A servant to one HE himself had created. As if the lack of gratitude
for the gift HE had given him wasn’t enough, but then to treat HIM as
As the anger coursed through the figure’s veins, he once again
glanced down at the shop, with his bony eyesockets scanning its
premises for the two souls he had been sent to retrieve, ‘unaware’ of
course. Still nothing. Certainly it would not take this long to
interview the witness and leave?
Yes, he had been there when they walked in, and seen them
talking, supposedly to the one he had knocked out last night. At the
thought he smirked and laughed cynically to himself. Yes, that had
been worth it. To have power again. To feel the malevolence in what he
did. Not only did he beat that one, but he stole a little trinket as
well. Ahhh, to kick someone when they are already down is power
itself. Enjoying the victory is always better when you know the loser
has lost more than their pride.
And yes, Holmes did walk outside and check the doorknob he had
broken. A sly grin slowly crept upon his face. No, he didn’t quite see
him. He had yet more time before having to return to
Anger poured across his features as he began to relive that
fatal mistake. True, his ‘master’ was a genius and far more evil than
HE himself could be, but still. HE had created him to be a partner! An
associate! An extension of himself! Where did things go wrong?
And then, that Yardie brat had disappeared from the window and
so now he couldn’t even tell where they were in that shop. The figure
spun around, glaring hostilely at the little shop, his eyes greedily
searching its occupants. But once again to no avail. And so he began
to pace again, his thoughts dripping with cynicism.
Master wasn’t that bad. Or as smart as Master’s maker.
Was it not obvious that the crypnosis had not completely wiped out his
cravings, the primal desires of power he sought? Plenty of times he
had disobeyed Master, but did Master never connect the points? Oh no.
HE would suffer this indignity until Master had finally succeeded in
his little war against Holmes. Ah yes. His plan to take over New
London -- nay, the world -- was quite brilliant. HE would be the one
to reap the rewards of this conquest. After all, one cannot live
forever. A simple yet elegant plan would be all that would be required
to dethrone his Master. Something -- HE would find some way to do it.
But until then, HE would wait and suffer. Suffer for the day that HE
would rule. That HE would once again have that power! One day. One day
soon. Master will eventually succeed. There is only one master of this
person and HE would only play this role until an opportunity arises.
He grinned malevolently as the trio left the shop. The one he
had beaten earlier took some extra time, adding to the Yardie’s
already mounting frustration, to program his Closed sign and
engineer a makeshift lock on the door. Yes, the boy was smart, or at
least inventive. But he must have some brain damage from that pipe if
he thinks he can win a rematch.
"And now, to make myself known," he thought aloud, savoring the
last of his meager time before returning to the suffering under
‘Master.’ And with that he turned towards his vehicle and began to
make the preparations.
As the small group climbed into the cruiser -- Lestrade
driving, Holmes beside her -- Josh in the back leaned forward against
his seatbelt in an effort to include himself in the front seat's
conversation lines. Looking over the papers one more time, Holmes gave
Lestrade a wry smile. "So, what were you doing late last night at Mr.
Coultrane’s, my dear Lestrade?"
Lestrade instantly reddened at the underlying insinuation
before snapping back, "Chemistry, Holmes. What did you think?"
"Chemistry...and just what kind of chemistry was that?" he said,
rubbing his chin. "And I’m sure it took you all day and over half the
night to manufacture that batch? If the attack occurred around 4 AM,
you must have left at about 3?"
As Lestrade turned another shade redder than before, Josh piped
in, "We were just doing the ‘old friend gig.’ You know. Chatting about
the weather -- and, other stuff." And looking a bit less pressed added
in a jolly tone, "Time flies when you’re having fun."
Josh, do you have to take two steps back for every step
Suddenly, Lestrade’s internal vidphone began ringing. Instantly
recognizing the com signal, grimaced and prepared for a long, loud,
yelling lecture from Grayson as she punched the com; the only force
driving her towards this end was duty.
"LESTRADE!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE!!! I THOUGHT I TOLD
"Something came up, Chief, and Holmes and I are inspecting it."
"WHAT?!?!?! THAT DEAD DETECTIVE...well, I suppose as long as
you’re out of my hair."
He glanced down at some papers lying on his desk before
continuing, "I want you to track this hovercraft signature. Don’t do
anything stupid. Just track it. Understand, Lestrade?" he finished,
eyeing her suspiciously.
"But Chief, I’m...."
"This is the same signature as the guy involved in those recent
chemical thefts. Follow him and nothing more, Lestrade."
"Yes, sir," she said, lighting up and punching the com off.
"Well, that went much better than I thought it would."
"Are you sure that was Grayson?"
"Huh? You mean that was Beth’s boss? Hey, he does sorta look
like a bobcat when he’s mad...."
As she shook her head in annoyance at Josh, she noticed
something. It was slight, and barely perceptible, but at the mention
of her name, Beth could almost sense the detective next to her tense
and then quickly relax, as if catching himself doing something he
hadn’t quite thought out yet.
"The com signal was Grayson’s, he looked like Grayson, but then
again, the hovercraft signature wasn’t in the report. How’d he know
Holmes began to add in where Lestrade left off, "Did you not
notice the background? Since when did Grayson have a desk like that?
And furthermore, when did he ever start allowing me on cases without
some major complaint of my 'antiqueness?' 'Dead detective' has merely
become his way of addressing me -- a title, might I add."
Josh leaned forward from the backseat and interjected, "He’s
got a point, Beth. From what you’ve told me, he would have at least've
complained of you taking off or thrown a couple of underhanded insults
at Holmes first. I guess I really shouldn’t even say a thing, seeing
as how I don’t have the same experiences like you do, but it just
didn’t sound like your version of him."
As Lestrade huffed, she then said, "I guess the only way to
really be sure is to get a trace on the signal. Hold on, guys. This’ll
only take a minute."
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