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| I know that I've been absent for a while. And I know that many of you lost faith in me. But I am back, and still the best PI there is. In fact, my absence can be explained in short order. I was under cover. Deep undercover. Marianas Trench deep.
I believe last we spoke, I was in Brazil. Running from heart-break and goons and dames and generally anything and everything that has ever caused me pain. I was also trying to avoid immediate and even instant death. The kind of death you can't return from. Beyond that, the details of that case now run together in my mind like muddy water that even the homeless guy on the corner wouldn't drink. So I'll not bore you with the forgotten details other than this; I survived that case. And every case since.
Maybe, if time is my friend, I'll enlighten the masses and lay some stories on your ears. The kind that make the small hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely not your typical kiddie bedtime stories. But all in due time.
I'll be back. Unless my bookie finds me first. | | |
| I raced
towards that row of trees as if my life depended on it. For all I could it did. As I neared the tree line I heard a sharp
crack behind me. I immediately heard the
whiz of a bullet passing by. I ran like
a mad man, ducking to the right and left.
I flew into the trees only to realize that there was a sudden drop off
into the river below. I hastily beat a
retreat looking for another way of escape.
I stepped
back out of the trees only to see the villainous barkeep and her goons
sprinting across the lawn. I turned on
my heels back into the trees, whispered a prayer, and jumped.
The forty
feet between the top of the embankment and the river below was the longest
forty feet I have ever seen. Or
felt. Or fell. I crashed into the water below as if I were a
piano falling out a fourth story window.
Every bone in my body seemed to splinter as I hit the surface of the
water. The ensuing crash I made will
certainly make the natives restless tonight.
I surfaced, regathered my wits about me, and swam to the far shore.
I crawled
out of the water, and glanced back up to the opposite side. I saw five people there, but didn’t take time
to identify them. The bark of several
guns told me to blaze a trail. I did
just that. As I ran into the underbrush,
I thought I heard two splashes in the river, but I couldn’t be sure. And I didn’t take time to see if I was right.
I doubled
back after a mile or so to see if anyone was following me. What I saw next was enough to make the hair
on the back of my neck stand up. It’s
the feeling a guy gets when he knows that he’s been spotted and has merely
moments to choose between life and death. | | |
| The glass
on the table looked vaguely familiar. Of
course, then again, it may have just looked like a glass. Clear, round, about 3 or 4 inches tall, and
something dark filling it about half way.
I needed an eye opener like the pope needs a hat, and that looked like
it just might do the trick. It was then that
I realized that my surroundings didn’t seem at all familiar.
I was
laying on a couch. It was black as a
rainy night in color, and made from an expensive leather. I heard her evil laugh coming from somewhere up
the hall. I bolted for the open window
in front of me, and only then realized that I was attached to the couch by a
long rope of some sort. The ensuing
crash seemed to immediately summons 3 goons, 2 house keepers, the gardener
working underneath the window, and the twins.
I felt like a circus sideshow.
But why
were the twins here? And why was the
diabolical barkeep no where to be seen?
And why was I tied to the furniture?
And where exactly was I? I felt
that some of these questions must be trick.
What I had to do now was to figure out which were the trick questions. I looked
around and saw that the rope had come undone from around the leg of the couch. I love goons…they’re so stupid. The space between me and the open window
seemed like a wide open football field.
I was the running back and all the linebackers were behind me. I sprinted and dove. It was a textbook play. As I landed on the lawn and sprinted for the
trees, I heard her shriek something about not letting me get away.
What I didn’t
know was that just beyond the tree line was a forty foot drop with a river
below. | | |
| I stepped
off the plane well ahead of Sway. We
were to meet up at a restaurant on the outskirts of Rio. The questions continued to pour like
rain. Why was Sway really interested in
coming to Brazil? Would she turn on me as soon as her objective
was complete? Was the diamond real or
just a myth? Why did the barkeep kill
the lovely Ms Ashley and then head to South America? Yes.
You read that correctly. It was
the barkeep, Scum, that had almost caused my stay in Chicago to become a long one behind tall,
hardened bars.
I stepped
out of the airport and into the Brazilian sun.
I caught a cab and headed downtown.
The pieces to the puzzle fit together as well as a cat in an all dog
boarding house.
Questions continued to fall and I had no answers….yet.
I stepped
out of the cab, and walked to my hotel. It
was getting dark now, and jet lag was setting in. The room was cramped, but it would work. I decided to stay in and spend the evening
with a friend. Her name is Bourbon, and she’s
very close to my heart...a little down and to the left to be exact. I pulled the flask from my pocket and took a
drink.
I woke the
next morning with my thoughts instantly focused as only the cocking of a
handgun can do. I looked to my left and
found myself staring down the barrel of a gun…and from where I lay it didn’t
look much like a water pistol. The goon
on the other end mumbled something about needing to go with him. I decided that I didn’t like that idea and it
was time for Ms Glock to write a chapter for the goon to read. I pulled her from under my pillow and fired
three shots off in rapid succession.
Ms Glock
made at least one convincing argument so I bolted for the door. I dressed in the elevator on the way
down. As I raced out the hotel door, I
spotted a goon to my immediate right. He
swung what looked like a pipe at me and played an all percussion symphony on my
head. My last thought turned the lights
out when it left. | | |
| I headed straight for the airport. I had just missed the flight to Rio. There wasn’t another one for another 12 hours. I was losing time.
I called the Red Pen and told her to hold all my calls until I got back unless it was Bill. Bill is my bookie. I told her to tell him that I had run away to Russia in search of his money. She told me that she had spoken with Mr Google and he had told her that Rio wasn’t the place to be this time of year. He told her that during Carnival there was a lot of mischief that went on down there. I didn’t care. I had a line on the fair Ashley’s killer, and was compelled to go.
I got the last seat on the airplane. No, really…it was the only seat that hadn’t been sold, and it was back in the very last row. You know, the row just in front of the bathroom that doesn’t recline. I took my seat and decided to try and catch some sleep on the flight down. I had no sooner closed my eyes than I heard a sound that was enough to make my blood run cold.
I didn’t have to open my eyes to know that Sway had just taken the seat next to mine. I was next to the window so I knew there would be no quick escape from her. She began talking before she even sat down. I never acknowledged that I heard her at all. I ignored her like a barfly ignores the drunk next to them. However, the more she talked, the more interested I became.
She told me that she knew about Ashley. She told me that she also knew she was next if she didn’t act first. She was a hired gun…or muscle…or whatever you wanted to call her. I preferred to call her hot. She was a mercenary of sorts. She had no loyalty, and was only out for self-preservation. We now have a common problem. We either walked off the plane working together or she would come for me as soon as she was done with her primary objective.
It didn’t take long for me to decide that Sway couldn’t be all bad… | | |
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