Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Friday, March 21, 2008

Through The Godless Hours (39)

Storm clouds were gathering above, in preparation for the afternoon’s downpour, as Ramani sprinted frantically from her kitchen to the house of her nearest neighbour, where she rapped urgently on the door. Having worked herself into something of a frenzy, she knew that only direct contact with her son, albeit by phone, would bring relief. She simply had to hear his voice. To hear him tell her that everything was OK. “’Bu Yanti!” she called out. But there was no answer. No-one was in. “’Bu?” Dear God, help me. Where are they? she screamed, silently. There were few she trusted in the village, and only a handful of whom owned a phone. Ramani had little option but to wait, despite her urge to act in some way – to run wildly, perhaps, from house to house until she found what she needed. A phone. Like the one that is just behind this door, she reminded herself. Please, God. Don’t let them be long… Please… Come on… Come on! she urged, pacing up and down the wooden verandah. Then collapsing, defeated, she sat on the step in front of the house, quietly sobbing into her hands as the first spots of rain began to fall…

Adi lay on his bed, alone with his thoughts. The terrible scene that had confronted him in the early hours of the morning replayed itself over and over in his mind, mercilessly tormenting him. I killed him, he repeated to himself. As surely as if I had put a loaded gun to his head and pulled the trigger, I killed him. It was already ten a.m. and he had barely slept since returning from the Veza Hotel. In addition to the guilt he felt, there was also somehow a sense of shame, of embarrassment that it had been necessary to smudge out the message scrawled on the dead driver’s clammy skin, which had left him looking as though he had been smeared with blood, perhaps as part of some perverted sex ritual. And although this strange aspect of the man’s appearance in death would, together with the syringes lying everywhere, make it seem like a straightforward example of death by misadventure – an open and shut case of a lowlife and his whore getting out of their depth, experimenting with sex and drugs only to pay the ultimate price – the Detective’s instinctive piece of quick thinking before leaving the scene made him feel no better.

In fact, he felt sick. Sick that he had imagined he was in control, cocky enough to expose the hapless informant, a man who had pleaded with him to desist from what he knew was a suicide mission. Except it wasn’t suicide, was it? Adi now contemplated. No – in a court of law I might even be classified as an accessory to murder, given the role I played in the poor bastard’s demise. Once more he turned over in his bed, pulling the covers over his head, and tried again to sleep. His cell-phone was switched off and his door locked and bolted. Adi needed time to think about what to do next, now that the stakes had been raised by that sick fuck of an army Captain – who had no doubt grinned his way through inflicting the macabre death on his driver and what appeared to be a hooker, Adi believed.

And then it occurred to him.

Who is the girl, and why had Captain Fucking Farid involved her – killed her, for God’s sake? There had to be something in it. Because although the army ice-man was a merciless killer, undaunted by the prospect of snuffing out anyone – innocent civilians included – he had not chosen just anybody to accompany his driver into the next life. No. He had chosen this particular girl, and Adi was going to find out why. Finally, he had the essence of a plan. For the first time in a good few hours he was able to relax sufficiently to fall into a deep sleep. And although he would not be able to bring back the driver, he now at least had the next moves in his campaign to snare the Captain mapped out. For whilst presently he did not even know the girl’s name, he would find out – and along with it the secrets she must have held in order for the ruthless officer to have wanted her put firmly out of the way, for ever.

posted by Kirk at 10:43 pm  

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