Fiction Friday - 6 June 2008
This Week's Theme: Your character becomes obsessed with someone. Who? And Why?
“The old man is not going to like this.”
Dante finished inspecting his nails, then looked across the room at his partner. “The old man probably won’t. But that isn’t our concern, is it.” He returned to the task of scrutinizing the nails of his other hand, only to be interrupted again.
“He’s really not going to like this. What do you think he’ll do?”
Dante sighed. He truly missed Virgil. He didn’t question, he didn’t speculate. He took instructions and got results. Unlike Shelley.
“I think Shelley, he’s going to take the information we give him, and then he’s going to pay us. After that, you and I are going to leave, and whatever he does with the information is his own business.” Dante rose from the red leather chair and began to walk around the room. It was a library, or a study, he could never decide the difference. They always looked the same to him, shelves lining the walls with hundreds, perhaps thousands of books, and in the middle a large wooden desk, a reading lamp and a comfortable chair. The portraits on the wall of the noble ancestors (he spotted the familial resemblance) gave no clue either way. But the fire place, the two leather chairs placed either side, and the tantalus set between them, yes, this was a study. The old man’s study.
“But… well, when he finds out what happened to the target. You heard what he did to Milton.”
Dante laughed. Milton. Yes, that was particularly gruesome, but Dante had been paid well enough to do it. “Unlike us, my dear Shelley, Milton had been asked to find something and bring it back undamaged. Which he failed to do. Quite spectacularly. Of course the old man would be upset. We, on the other hand, were only asked to find the boy, and tell him. We didn’t have to bring him back, and we can hardly be blamed for what the boy chooses to do with his life.”
The door to the study swung open. Dante turned, and respectfully bowed his head. Shelley staggered to his feet, fidgeting with his tie in order to look respectable. The old man peered at them. “Dante. Shelley.” He strode over to his desk and sat down. “Good news?”
Shelley gulped nervously and started to stammer. “N-not as such, sir, no…” Dante held up his hand to stop Shelley blurting out anything further.
“Good news sir. We found him.”
“Took you long enough” the old man muttered, snapping his fingers at Shelley. “The report you have there, hand it over. Come on man, quickly.”
Shelley held the report out with a trembling hand. It was snatched away roughly.
“New York? Hardly the back of beyond eh? Why so long to find him?”
“New York, via several other places sir. He hasn’t stayed in one place for quite some time. Quite the traveller. Even I haven’t been to Machu Picchu before, and that’s just one of the better known places he’s been through. But he appears to be settling in New York. Due to his problems…”
The old man glanced up, and for the briefest second Dante registered a look of concern. So, the old bastard does care about something. The look melted in a fraction of a second, and the old man regained his composure. “What problems?”
“Alcoholism. And he appears to have developed a heroin addiction. He’s moving between the homeless shelters at the moment, mainly the church run ones.” Shelley flinched at this, expecting the old man to explode with rage. He was surprised that he sat there, calmly.
“A shame. I thought he was stronger than that.” The old man began reading through the rest of the file.
Dante coughed politely. “We have taken the liberty of setting him up with a supplier. We don’t want to tip him off that we’re here, but at least we can control what he’s taking.”
The old man nodded. “Good thinking Dante. Well done.”
Dante coughed again. “Now sir, the delicate matter of our fee?” Shelley blanched, expecting the worst. Instead, the old man picked up a phone, and dialled a number. “Hodgins? Yes, you can wire the money now. Thank you.” Putting the phone down, he looked up at them. “Thank you. You may go.”
Dante began to usher Shelley out of the room, but paused at the door. “If I may say so sir, there are some fine portraits in here.” The old man glanced around the room, as Dante continued. “Perhaps room for one more, when he returns from New York?” The old man did not flinch, but there was just a slight twitch in his eye.
“It’s the nose and eyes, sir. Very strong resemblance.” Dante shoved Shelley roughly out the door, then turned. “We weren’t the only ones looking for him sir. There were others.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Others?”
Dante nodded. “Of the… religious persuasion.”
“Thank you Dante. That will be all.”
“Of course.” He bowed, and shut the door as he left.
The old man spun around in his chair and gazed out of the window, the report hanging loosely from his hand. He had finally resurfaced. Broken, haunted, but alive at least. That was something. He would need to keep a close eye on him, keep him safe. Especially if other people were taking an interest. Religious… The old man had a good idea who that might be.
He stood and walked over to the tantalus, pouring himself a large measure of whisky. “Gideon, what on earth do the Watch want with you?”
“The old man is not going to like this.”
Dante finished inspecting his nails, then looked across the room at his partner. “The old man probably won’t. But that isn’t our concern, is it.” He returned to the task of scrutinizing the nails of his other hand, only to be interrupted again.
“He’s really not going to like this. What do you think he’ll do?”
Dante sighed. He truly missed Virgil. He didn’t question, he didn’t speculate. He took instructions and got results. Unlike Shelley.
“I think Shelley, he’s going to take the information we give him, and then he’s going to pay us. After that, you and I are going to leave, and whatever he does with the information is his own business.” Dante rose from the red leather chair and began to walk around the room. It was a library, or a study, he could never decide the difference. They always looked the same to him, shelves lining the walls with hundreds, perhaps thousands of books, and in the middle a large wooden desk, a reading lamp and a comfortable chair. The portraits on the wall of the noble ancestors (he spotted the familial resemblance) gave no clue either way. But the fire place, the two leather chairs placed either side, and the tantalus set between them, yes, this was a study. The old man’s study.
“But… well, when he finds out what happened to the target. You heard what he did to Milton.”
Dante laughed. Milton. Yes, that was particularly gruesome, but Dante had been paid well enough to do it. “Unlike us, my dear Shelley, Milton had been asked to find something and bring it back undamaged. Which he failed to do. Quite spectacularly. Of course the old man would be upset. We, on the other hand, were only asked to find the boy, and tell him. We didn’t have to bring him back, and we can hardly be blamed for what the boy chooses to do with his life.”
The door to the study swung open. Dante turned, and respectfully bowed his head. Shelley staggered to his feet, fidgeting with his tie in order to look respectable. The old man peered at them. “Dante. Shelley.” He strode over to his desk and sat down. “Good news?”
Shelley gulped nervously and started to stammer. “N-not as such, sir, no…” Dante held up his hand to stop Shelley blurting out anything further.
“Good news sir. We found him.”
“Took you long enough” the old man muttered, snapping his fingers at Shelley. “The report you have there, hand it over. Come on man, quickly.”
Shelley held the report out with a trembling hand. It was snatched away roughly.
“New York? Hardly the back of beyond eh? Why so long to find him?”
“New York, via several other places sir. He hasn’t stayed in one place for quite some time. Quite the traveller. Even I haven’t been to Machu Picchu before, and that’s just one of the better known places he’s been through. But he appears to be settling in New York. Due to his problems…”
The old man glanced up, and for the briefest second Dante registered a look of concern. So, the old bastard does care about something. The look melted in a fraction of a second, and the old man regained his composure. “What problems?”
“Alcoholism. And he appears to have developed a heroin addiction. He’s moving between the homeless shelters at the moment, mainly the church run ones.” Shelley flinched at this, expecting the old man to explode with rage. He was surprised that he sat there, calmly.
“A shame. I thought he was stronger than that.” The old man began reading through the rest of the file.
Dante coughed politely. “We have taken the liberty of setting him up with a supplier. We don’t want to tip him off that we’re here, but at least we can control what he’s taking.”
The old man nodded. “Good thinking Dante. Well done.”
Dante coughed again. “Now sir, the delicate matter of our fee?” Shelley blanched, expecting the worst. Instead, the old man picked up a phone, and dialled a number. “Hodgins? Yes, you can wire the money now. Thank you.” Putting the phone down, he looked up at them. “Thank you. You may go.”
Dante began to usher Shelley out of the room, but paused at the door. “If I may say so sir, there are some fine portraits in here.” The old man glanced around the room, as Dante continued. “Perhaps room for one more, when he returns from New York?” The old man did not flinch, but there was just a slight twitch in his eye.
“It’s the nose and eyes, sir. Very strong resemblance.” Dante shoved Shelley roughly out the door, then turned. “We weren’t the only ones looking for him sir. There were others.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Others?”
Dante nodded. “Of the… religious persuasion.”
“Thank you Dante. That will be all.”
“Of course.” He bowed, and shut the door as he left.
The old man spun around in his chair and gazed out of the window, the report hanging loosely from his hand. He had finally resurfaced. Broken, haunted, but alive at least. That was something. He would need to keep a close eye on him, keep him safe. Especially if other people were taking an interest. Religious… The old man had a good idea who that might be.
He stood and walked over to the tantalus, pouring himself a large measure of whisky. “Gideon, what on earth do the Watch want with you?”
Oh, had I forgotten to mention I've resumed work on The Long Watch?
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