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The other side of the moon-3
Ch-3
A trip down Memory Lane.
It was late 8 when he finally trudged across the door.It was an exhausting day undoubtedly but satisfying nonetheless.His blue linen shirt sagged with weight and his jeans had several visible creases all over them.Yet,he could not help a goofy grin spread across his face as he tossed them aside,switching on the shower.He had nowhere to go for the next two days.He can spend his next two days sitting by the window,browsing through casual reads.Of course,there was Hestia.But she would probably be busy with his upcoming exams.
Morris looked up at the clock.Hestia would arrive by 8:30.More often that not,she would stay through the night if there is a party.However,she had homework to do tonight.Moreover,he knew for a fact that she hated the hated the birthday girl with passion.She had complained about her to him endlessly.According to her,she was an arrogant showoff,impossibly narcissistic and a 'vile hag'.Although,she could even bear up with him if it meant meeting up with Emmeline.
Morris sat down at the table in his changed clothes and took The Times.He scanned the paper for the crossword.Though he wasn't much good at it,it was a nice way to spend time.Hestia was brilliant at it.She had picked it up from Anil.He tried to get the hang of it ever since to give Hestia company.His forehead crinkled with concentration as he proceeded to solve the first clue
The next time he looked up,it was 8:45.She was late.Maybe she got caught up with Emmeline too much.They aren't seeing each other much,he mused as he ran a hand He through his hair unconsciously.He should probably get on with the dinner yet.Maybe he call her after 30 minutes.He has nothing to worry about,he assures himself though his face is pinched with worry.He doesn't even see that it is _ instead of _ as he absently twirled the spoon around the pan.
She did not answer when he called at 9:15.He was definitely worried now.Maybe,it is because of the raging storm outside,he reasoned against himself.Or maybe it is because of a boy.His lips twitched slightly.Though he tried to play the 'stern father ' role,he enjoyed listening Hestia talk about them.It was oddly comforting.It was a reminder of much peaceful times when Alice was …. He tried to shake it off.It hurt.It was unnecessary.He listened to the house creak with the rain,the rain on the roof,the rain against the window panes as he tried to ease the hammering of his heart.It was never meant to be easy.But he has managed till now,hasn't he ?
By 9:45, Morris had been pacing in the kitchen for a good 15 minutes.He could not go out as he had given the car to George . He had taken the car to escort his mother to the hospital. Morris had wanted to join but George had assured him that it was fine and there was nothing alarming.Needless to say,Morris didn't believe him. Whiting's mother's health has been worsening for years.She would turn eight-five next month.Her frail health is certainly a cause of worry.However, George never accepts help easily until and unless he is absolutely cornered and there is no way out.
Morris and Whiting had attended school and college together.Although they were never quite friends at school. The more appropriate word would be 'acquaintance'.Their friendship truly blossomed in college over their shared interest of plant poisons_ . The quiet,shy boy had always intrigued Morris.He was rather unassuming and unsociable on the exterior. However,once you broke through the shell,he wasn't half-bad a person.He was shy but brave yet.He was incredibly resilent.He was kind and compassionate too.And he could bet on his life that no one had a deeper knowledge of _ in _.But no one was perfect ,wasn't it.It was scary how cold and unreadable he could become when he was angered.His eyes would not betray a flicker of emotion.A stony wall.He honestly could murder then.And enjoy it.Enjoy it…Like some heartless lunatic...
Morris internally shuddered at the thought.It was hauntingly disturbing . He never softened up completely,he chuckled.Even Hestia whom Whiting loved dearly had suffered his wrath multiple times.Most probably,she deserved it,he mused. Whiting was not one to lose his temper easily .
His even temper and vast knowledge were precisely the qualities for which Morris had suggested the profession of teaching to Whiting .He denied it to begin with and had opened a business of _.It had failed spectacularly.He had suffered huge losses.It was only then that he had taken up teaching at NEOM_ college along with Morris.Since then,he had steadily rose to the position of chief-assistant teacher_.
After a hour and a half or so minutes,Morris was furiously pacing the kitchen, engrossed in his thoughts and worry etched on his face.The clock perched on the front wall above the poster of Bowie read 12.Unwashed dishes were strewn around the kitchen, patiently waiting to be cleaned.However,Morris paid them no mind. Hestia would certainly get an earful when she comes home.He tried to push the thoughts of her being in some sort of back into his mind.It was easier said than done.His half-dozen times to call her was unsuccessful.He muttered a series of impressive litany of profanities under his breath as he passionately cursed the weather.
Finally at 1,he decided to go to bed at 1. He would reprimand Hestia to his heart's content when she gets home next morning.But for now,he needed sleep.A good six hours of sleep.He was absolutely knackered.As his mind escaped to the blissful oblivion of sleep,he desperately tried to banish the image of Hestia crying, falling….
*************::::::::::::::::::************
The chilly mist ventured into the room through the balcony, on either side of which stood a pair of bougainvilleas. The clock stroke five when the sun's vague sphere started reflecting itself on the distant lake . The chirping of the mellifluous swallows now could be traced to the cluster of winter-blossoming trees lining the lake.
The room looked contented with the badious bed, bookshelf and clothes's drawer but on Hestia's demand it had been overloaded with a rococo table and some sofas. Morris yawned wide as a heimal shiver rushed up his vertebrae. January winter is certainly awful than hell, Morris declared to himself. He maneuvered the ornate vase to the central table, cautious enough not to harm it. With the vase placed away, he stepped out and sifted through his 7 feet bookshelf for the book which Hestia had suggested last week. He certainly couldn't dare to lose it unless he was ready to hear a good lecture on the amount of wildness hidden inside people who didn't take proper care of their books and belongings. If this notion were true, then I would have been declared wilder than wildness itself, Morris chuckled with the thought.
He slowly ran his eyes through his immense collection of books,both of medicine and literature. Eyeing his entire collection for the first time, Morris could understand why his colleagues often fondly called him as 'Mr. Too much multi-talented'. They believed Agatha Christie, Jack London , Charles Dickens along with other similar writers weren't supposed to fill two-third of a medical professor's bookshelf.
After scrutinizing almost 5-6 rows, he found his book suffocated between 'Jane Eyre' and 'The Great Gatsby'. The book was titled 'To the lighthouse'. He gazed at the cover page description for a few moments but then withdrew his eyes to the main book, after all he trusted Hestia's choice. Though the main reason for finding this book wasn't his curiosity, actually he wanted to erase all his faults before approaching Hestia for being so late yesterday.
Hestia was so orderly about her things and life that Morris seldom got a chance to scold her. Today however he was on the heavy side. He felt a great anticipation rise in him.o George (Whiting) had always described this father-daughter relationship as too funny, though Morris found nothing funny about being scolded by his daughter,for accidentally destroying his new jacket.
*************::::::::::::*************
The hall clock announced 8 and still Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Morris knocked at Jacob's door before dragging himself in. Jacob sat near the window, savouring the beauty of the landscape and giving occasional sips at his black coffee.
Good Morning,jac" Morris said , flittering towards the preserved congeries of old newspaper."Good Mor-ning. " Jacob replied, marvelled by the early morning appearance of his master.
"Wondering how I woke up early?"
Jacob nodded in the affirmative.
"Actually I never really managed to sleep, except a short nap around 2. You know,I think old age is taking over me. " he smiled.
"But I think, it has already taken over you."
As they both collaborated in a spasmodic burst of laughter, Jacob could now, vaguely outline the relics of his childhood memories-the pleasant company of his parents, their car accident, him getting a job at Morris's , his kindness, and then a sister in the form of Hestia. It's been a long journey, he concluded.
"I think you want to say something, sir?" Jacob said, gathering himself back.
" Oh! Yes, actually Hestia isn't in her room so I thought maybe you could tell me where she was?"
" But she didn't return yesterday!" he said, sounding amused.
Morris first shot a glance at the door and then at Jacob.
"So you have started to accompany her silly pranks."
"This is no prank. I had waited till midnight but she didn't show up.
Morris still wanted to believe it to be a joke but the verisimilitude erupting from Jacob's eyes and his voice was a flawless evidence of his sobriety. Without any prior warning, his heart started hammering against his ribs, he could feel his blood rush with a sudden trepidation.Unconsciously,Morris recalled the phone call he had received this morning. "Dr.Morris? We have a bad news. "
Uninterested in getting downcast in the early morning by some bad news, he had hung up the call. However, now he found himself sprinting down the corridor to his phone and dialing the latest number-
"Hello? Inspector Richard speaking." the shallow voice sieved out through the speaker into the empty room.
"Inspector?"
"Yes? "
"Were you the one who called me in the morning?"
"Is this Mr. Morris? "
"Hm-hm. "
"Ah, well sir we have a bad news for you.We think your daughter is no more. "
"What the hell do you mean, you think she is no more? " he gave a stentorian roar.
"Nobody survives a gang warfare, especially when they were on the main road. We questioned your daughter's friend and she said that your daughter along with some of her friends had just set off for home when a series of gunfires and bombings were heard. We found multiple bodies but aren't sure if your daughter is among them. "
The saturnine words echoed in the silence and struck him like a bolt out from the blue. The inspector patiently waited for a response, at last however he broke the silence-" Her body couldn't be identified, she was sieved with bullets, but her clothes were identified by her friend as the same one she had worn the previous night.You may come to try'na identify the corpse."
Morris felt weakened by the news as his fingers struggled to hold the phone. It slowly abandoned his palm, bouncing off to the oriental carpet. A frigorific droplet found origin in his eyes which he quickly wiped off.
"Ja-c. " His voice ceased to raise above a whisper as he threw himself to a chair.
Jacob trudged into the room, evidently having heard the conversation.
"I called Emmeline and she agreed. " Jacob stared with erubescent eyes.
"You go and…." he swallowed hard "Check if it's hestia, I will have to attend something else. "
"Please,take care-"
Morris reluctantly laid his hand on Jacob's shoulder, making a silent promise.
**********::::::::::**********
Dusk felt like a lazy harbinger of the inevitable night. White clouds replaced the dying sun as the skylarks rushed below them. An amalgamation of crimson and cyan filled the empyrean canvas. Morris crouched under the umbriferous Rhododendron, awaiting the arrival of a predecided four-wheeler for his rendezvous.
The evening scratched off the last bits of sunshine as the heimal darkness settled down on the city. The silence which had felt so pleasant and soothing just an hour ago was now threatening to snatch the peace of Morris's mind. He writhed as the scope of remaining incogitant of the current situation, by the help of the hillside scenery became impossible . His mind jabbed with the thoughts of all that happened in the morning . He couldn't even dare to tell himself 'what' had happened in the morning though he frequently imagined his daughter lying cold on a stretcher…
A rivulet of light preceeded the arrival of a black jaguar. True to it's name, the car leaped out from the smog like a wild predator and ebriosly ensconced beside the footpath. The driver killed the engine, cutting the source of the ephemeral light. Nothing happened for the next few minutes except the sound of opening the car's door.
Even in the little light emanating from the moon, Morris could see the two men briskly coursing towards him, their cabochon eyes narrated a intrinsic desire to crush him between their arms. They evacuated him to the car's back door and he obeyed their nocent glare without providing any resistance. A precocious teenager nervously occupied the driver's seat, seeming to consider driving a jaguar through the woods as an unnecessary sisyphean task.
Morris squeezed himself in the corner, trying to liberate his mind from their thraldom. The engine groaned, illuminating the tarred forest road. The narrow, deserted road seemed perfect for a clandestine journey like his but he wondered why such a wild road had been tarred.
"The road was made to support a conurbation about to be built here but later they decided not to commit such a massive deforestation." the driver said, as if reading Morris's thoughts.
However his benign smile soon settled down under the glare of the bald headed ruffian sitting beside him. The deciduous forest rushed past them, it's foliage hovering over the car. The fuscous sky looked like a panther, patiently waiting for it's prey.
The thought of meeting a Don at his very place brought an immense nausea and borborygmus to Morris and the inquisitive gaze of his company further made him delirious. The dank forest soil didn't help either.
The car swam through the darkness with unnarratable speed. Morris fought against himself,trying to forget all he had witnessed since dawn .Tears were rare in his eyes and even today he had been exceptionally sanguine. However, now it seemed hard-After all how long had it been when he had cradled his little daughter? When did she grow up? And now they say she's dead?
The car rotated a complete 180 degree before coming to rest in front of a humongous building with a black door which was presumably an alternative for the first. Dustbins were carelessly scattered over the open lawn and the facade had been privileged with various unnecessary sketches of animals and the Jolly Roger. Morris patiently awaited an instruction, which in fact came soon.
"Get down you stupid old man. " the voice was of the security guard.
Morris followed him to the interior of the building.
The rubiginous facade of the building was by no-means suggestive of its true colours. The interior was made with black and white tiles, each of which were carved with simple but aristrocratic designs. The ground floor hosted a grand bacchanal which seemed to consist of all the wealthy and prominent youngsters of the city. The balcony was privileged with tea-tables which possesed everything but tea. Iridescent lights filled the ceiling and the rostrum had to bear the music system.
The guard took Morris to the 1st floor where ebrious men gathered around billiard tables and happily invested in roulette. Others had themselves deeply involved in dice and cards. Some of them screamed in delight while another man, who seemed to have his life on stake ended up with an ambsace. Unlike the ground floor this floor was trimmed into well planned rooms each of which were lit by mim lights. Within the gap between two such rooms was a narrow, subtle staircase which raised up into the darkness. The guard positioned himself beside the balustrade and flicked out a grey walkie-talkie ,dialing a saved number. It buzzed for exactly four seconds before the intended person coughed from the other end.
"He is here",the guard said at once,unwilling to waste any time.
"Okay,I am sending Tyler',the man replied smoothly.
Moments later,a tall man,clad in all black, emerged out of the dense darkness. After coming within a foot of Morris' reach,he held out his hand wordlessly. Morris sighed internally as he gave away his phone.The last means of communication had been taken away.The man seemed to smirk as he grasped his phone,which did nothing to appease his growing apprehension.
"This way",the man commanded,waving a hand towards the ascending staircase .
The night shadows seemed to crawl upon Morris, whispering words of
peril,urging him to turn back.He shivered as he felt the wind lightly caressed his skin,the soft whistle of a predator.A sepulchral chill surrounded the place. Even as his instincts told him to turn back and run,he knew it was impossible.He could hear a ocassional voice wafting out of the door though never in plural.The employees must have left for the night.
The escort led him to the third floor. It was darker here, the lights dimmed considerably. Before he could observe anything more,the man turned around and stated"A search".
He raised a questioning eyebrow but acquisiesed.It was necessary,he assumed.After two minutes of hopeless groping,he finally relented and straightened up.He still glowered at Morris as if he had done a grave sin by not conjuring up a weapon and granting him the pleasure of confiscating it.
He led him to a door,at the far end of the corridor.He worked hard to keep a poker face,belying the growing nerves inside him.The door's design was more elaborate than the others he had seen.An ornate carving of a golden snake acted as the door knob.Intricate designs were carved on the wooden panels which he surely would have appreciated if he had the time.For now however …
He opened the door.
A man sat on a sofa in a large handsomely appointed living room. Across from him in a chair,lounged a tall man with heavily lidded black eyes and long,sensitive fingers.He was twiddling with the dials of a radio,changing channels.A elegantly jewelled dagger rested on top of the side-table.
"Mr.Morris ?",the man inquired.His voice was deep and gravelly with a strong cadence to it.
"Yes.Thank you for permitting me in.",he replied politely even though fury bubbled inside him."We need to talk",he further added,now fully inside the alcoholic room.
He nodded and waved a hand to dismiss the other man.The other man eyed the dagger skeptically,as if questioning its presence here.Morris had assumed that a revolver was more to the man's taste.The man responded with an even look until the other man shrugged and left.
His face was sharp,a knife-like edge to it which was transformed when he smiled.A cheekboned face,tapering to a pointed chin , the alluring eyes and the pencilled eyebrows...a steady but slightly mocking gaze.Lank brown hair framed his face,uncommonly pale.An enigmatic face.
He knew him.He was sure.He had seen him with somebody.It is difficult to forget such a face.
To be continued...
© Ignite
A trip down Memory Lane.
It was late 8 when he finally trudged across the door.It was an exhausting day undoubtedly but satisfying nonetheless.His blue linen shirt sagged with weight and his jeans had several visible creases all over them.Yet,he could not help a goofy grin spread across his face as he tossed them aside,switching on the shower.He had nowhere to go for the next two days.He can spend his next two days sitting by the window,browsing through casual reads.Of course,there was Hestia.But she would probably be busy with his upcoming exams.
Morris looked up at the clock.Hestia would arrive by 8:30.More often that not,she would stay through the night if there is a party.However,she had homework to do tonight.Moreover,he knew for a fact that she hated the hated the birthday girl with passion.She had complained about her to him endlessly.According to her,she was an arrogant showoff,impossibly narcissistic and a 'vile hag'.Although,she could even bear up with him if it meant meeting up with Emmeline.
Morris sat down at the table in his changed clothes and took The Times.He scanned the paper for the crossword.Though he wasn't much good at it,it was a nice way to spend time.Hestia was brilliant at it.She had picked it up from Anil.He tried to get the hang of it ever since to give Hestia company.His forehead crinkled with concentration as he proceeded to solve the first clue
The next time he looked up,it was 8:45.She was late.Maybe she got caught up with Emmeline too much.They aren't seeing each other much,he mused as he ran a hand He through his hair unconsciously.He should probably get on with the dinner yet.Maybe he call her after 30 minutes.He has nothing to worry about,he assures himself though his face is pinched with worry.He doesn't even see that it is _ instead of _ as he absently twirled the spoon around the pan.
She did not answer when he called at 9:15.He was definitely worried now.Maybe,it is because of the raging storm outside,he reasoned against himself.Or maybe it is because of a boy.His lips twitched slightly.Though he tried to play the 'stern father ' role,he enjoyed listening Hestia talk about them.It was oddly comforting.It was a reminder of much peaceful times when Alice was …. He tried to shake it off.It hurt.It was unnecessary.He listened to the house creak with the rain,the rain on the roof,the rain against the window panes as he tried to ease the hammering of his heart.It was never meant to be easy.But he has managed till now,hasn't he ?
By 9:45, Morris had been pacing in the kitchen for a good 15 minutes.He could not go out as he had given the car to George . He had taken the car to escort his mother to the hospital. Morris had wanted to join but George had assured him that it was fine and there was nothing alarming.Needless to say,Morris didn't believe him. Whiting's mother's health has been worsening for years.She would turn eight-five next month.Her frail health is certainly a cause of worry.However, George never accepts help easily until and unless he is absolutely cornered and there is no way out.
Morris and Whiting had attended school and college together.Although they were never quite friends at school. The more appropriate word would be 'acquaintance'.Their friendship truly blossomed in college over their shared interest of plant poisons_ . The quiet,shy boy had always intrigued Morris.He was rather unassuming and unsociable on the exterior. However,once you broke through the shell,he wasn't half-bad a person.He was shy but brave yet.He was incredibly resilent.He was kind and compassionate too.And he could bet on his life that no one had a deeper knowledge of _ in _.But no one was perfect ,wasn't it.It was scary how cold and unreadable he could become when he was angered.His eyes would not betray a flicker of emotion.A stony wall.He honestly could murder then.And enjoy it.Enjoy it…Like some heartless lunatic...
Morris internally shuddered at the thought.It was hauntingly disturbing . He never softened up completely,he chuckled.Even Hestia whom Whiting loved dearly had suffered his wrath multiple times.Most probably,she deserved it,he mused. Whiting was not one to lose his temper easily .
His even temper and vast knowledge were precisely the qualities for which Morris had suggested the profession of teaching to Whiting .He denied it to begin with and had opened a business of _.It had failed spectacularly.He had suffered huge losses.It was only then that he had taken up teaching at NEOM_ college along with Morris.Since then,he had steadily rose to the position of chief-assistant teacher_.
After a hour and a half or so minutes,Morris was furiously pacing the kitchen, engrossed in his thoughts and worry etched on his face.The clock perched on the front wall above the poster of Bowie read 12.Unwashed dishes were strewn around the kitchen, patiently waiting to be cleaned.However,Morris paid them no mind. Hestia would certainly get an earful when she comes home.He tried to push the thoughts of her being in some sort of back into his mind.It was easier said than done.His half-dozen times to call her was unsuccessful.He muttered a series of impressive litany of profanities under his breath as he passionately cursed the weather.
Finally at 1,he decided to go to bed at 1. He would reprimand Hestia to his heart's content when she gets home next morning.But for now,he needed sleep.A good six hours of sleep.He was absolutely knackered.As his mind escaped to the blissful oblivion of sleep,he desperately tried to banish the image of Hestia crying, falling….
*************::::::::::::::::::************
The chilly mist ventured into the room through the balcony, on either side of which stood a pair of bougainvilleas. The clock stroke five when the sun's vague sphere started reflecting itself on the distant lake . The chirping of the mellifluous swallows now could be traced to the cluster of winter-blossoming trees lining the lake.
The room looked contented with the badious bed, bookshelf and clothes's drawer but on Hestia's demand it had been overloaded with a rococo table and some sofas. Morris yawned wide as a heimal shiver rushed up his vertebrae. January winter is certainly awful than hell, Morris declared to himself. He maneuvered the ornate vase to the central table, cautious enough not to harm it. With the vase placed away, he stepped out and sifted through his 7 feet bookshelf for the book which Hestia had suggested last week. He certainly couldn't dare to lose it unless he was ready to hear a good lecture on the amount of wildness hidden inside people who didn't take proper care of their books and belongings. If this notion were true, then I would have been declared wilder than wildness itself, Morris chuckled with the thought.
He slowly ran his eyes through his immense collection of books,both of medicine and literature. Eyeing his entire collection for the first time, Morris could understand why his colleagues often fondly called him as 'Mr. Too much multi-talented'. They believed Agatha Christie, Jack London , Charles Dickens along with other similar writers weren't supposed to fill two-third of a medical professor's bookshelf.
After scrutinizing almost 5-6 rows, he found his book suffocated between 'Jane Eyre' and 'The Great Gatsby'. The book was titled 'To the lighthouse'. He gazed at the cover page description for a few moments but then withdrew his eyes to the main book, after all he trusted Hestia's choice. Though the main reason for finding this book wasn't his curiosity, actually he wanted to erase all his faults before approaching Hestia for being so late yesterday.
Hestia was so orderly about her things and life that Morris seldom got a chance to scold her. Today however he was on the heavy side. He felt a great anticipation rise in him.o George (Whiting) had always described this father-daughter relationship as too funny, though Morris found nothing funny about being scolded by his daughter,for accidentally destroying his new jacket.
*************::::::::::::*************
The hall clock announced 8 and still Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Morris knocked at Jacob's door before dragging himself in. Jacob sat near the window, savouring the beauty of the landscape and giving occasional sips at his black coffee.
Good Morning,jac" Morris said , flittering towards the preserved congeries of old newspaper."Good Mor-ning. " Jacob replied, marvelled by the early morning appearance of his master.
"Wondering how I woke up early?"
Jacob nodded in the affirmative.
"Actually I never really managed to sleep, except a short nap around 2. You know,I think old age is taking over me. " he smiled.
"But I think, it has already taken over you."
As they both collaborated in a spasmodic burst of laughter, Jacob could now, vaguely outline the relics of his childhood memories-the pleasant company of his parents, their car accident, him getting a job at Morris's , his kindness, and then a sister in the form of Hestia. It's been a long journey, he concluded.
"I think you want to say something, sir?" Jacob said, gathering himself back.
" Oh! Yes, actually Hestia isn't in her room so I thought maybe you could tell me where she was?"
" But she didn't return yesterday!" he said, sounding amused.
Morris first shot a glance at the door and then at Jacob.
"So you have started to accompany her silly pranks."
"This is no prank. I had waited till midnight but she didn't show up.
Morris still wanted to believe it to be a joke but the verisimilitude erupting from Jacob's eyes and his voice was a flawless evidence of his sobriety. Without any prior warning, his heart started hammering against his ribs, he could feel his blood rush with a sudden trepidation.Unconsciously,Morris recalled the phone call he had received this morning. "Dr.Morris? We have a bad news. "
Uninterested in getting downcast in the early morning by some bad news, he had hung up the call. However, now he found himself sprinting down the corridor to his phone and dialing the latest number-
"Hello? Inspector Richard speaking." the shallow voice sieved out through the speaker into the empty room.
"Inspector?"
"Yes? "
"Were you the one who called me in the morning?"
"Is this Mr. Morris? "
"Hm-hm. "
"Ah, well sir we have a bad news for you.We think your daughter is no more. "
"What the hell do you mean, you think she is no more? " he gave a stentorian roar.
"Nobody survives a gang warfare, especially when they were on the main road. We questioned your daughter's friend and she said that your daughter along with some of her friends had just set off for home when a series of gunfires and bombings were heard. We found multiple bodies but aren't sure if your daughter is among them. "
The saturnine words echoed in the silence and struck him like a bolt out from the blue. The inspector patiently waited for a response, at last however he broke the silence-" Her body couldn't be identified, she was sieved with bullets, but her clothes were identified by her friend as the same one she had worn the previous night.You may come to try'na identify the corpse."
Morris felt weakened by the news as his fingers struggled to hold the phone. It slowly abandoned his palm, bouncing off to the oriental carpet. A frigorific droplet found origin in his eyes which he quickly wiped off.
"Ja-c. " His voice ceased to raise above a whisper as he threw himself to a chair.
Jacob trudged into the room, evidently having heard the conversation.
"I called Emmeline and she agreed. " Jacob stared with erubescent eyes.
"You go and…." he swallowed hard "Check if it's hestia, I will have to attend something else. "
"Please,take care-"
Morris reluctantly laid his hand on Jacob's shoulder, making a silent promise.
**********::::::::::**********
Dusk felt like a lazy harbinger of the inevitable night. White clouds replaced the dying sun as the skylarks rushed below them. An amalgamation of crimson and cyan filled the empyrean canvas. Morris crouched under the umbriferous Rhododendron, awaiting the arrival of a predecided four-wheeler for his rendezvous.
The evening scratched off the last bits of sunshine as the heimal darkness settled down on the city. The silence which had felt so pleasant and soothing just an hour ago was now threatening to snatch the peace of Morris's mind. He writhed as the scope of remaining incogitant of the current situation, by the help of the hillside scenery became impossible . His mind jabbed with the thoughts of all that happened in the morning . He couldn't even dare to tell himself 'what' had happened in the morning though he frequently imagined his daughter lying cold on a stretcher…
A rivulet of light preceeded the arrival of a black jaguar. True to it's name, the car leaped out from the smog like a wild predator and ebriosly ensconced beside the footpath. The driver killed the engine, cutting the source of the ephemeral light. Nothing happened for the next few minutes except the sound of opening the car's door.
Even in the little light emanating from the moon, Morris could see the two men briskly coursing towards him, their cabochon eyes narrated a intrinsic desire to crush him between their arms. They evacuated him to the car's back door and he obeyed their nocent glare without providing any resistance. A precocious teenager nervously occupied the driver's seat, seeming to consider driving a jaguar through the woods as an unnecessary sisyphean task.
Morris squeezed himself in the corner, trying to liberate his mind from their thraldom. The engine groaned, illuminating the tarred forest road. The narrow, deserted road seemed perfect for a clandestine journey like his but he wondered why such a wild road had been tarred.
"The road was made to support a conurbation about to be built here but later they decided not to commit such a massive deforestation." the driver said, as if reading Morris's thoughts.
However his benign smile soon settled down under the glare of the bald headed ruffian sitting beside him. The deciduous forest rushed past them, it's foliage hovering over the car. The fuscous sky looked like a panther, patiently waiting for it's prey.
The thought of meeting a Don at his very place brought an immense nausea and borborygmus to Morris and the inquisitive gaze of his company further made him delirious. The dank forest soil didn't help either.
The car swam through the darkness with unnarratable speed. Morris fought against himself,trying to forget all he had witnessed since dawn .Tears were rare in his eyes and even today he had been exceptionally sanguine. However, now it seemed hard-After all how long had it been when he had cradled his little daughter? When did she grow up? And now they say she's dead?
The car rotated a complete 180 degree before coming to rest in front of a humongous building with a black door which was presumably an alternative for the first. Dustbins were carelessly scattered over the open lawn and the facade had been privileged with various unnecessary sketches of animals and the Jolly Roger. Morris patiently awaited an instruction, which in fact came soon.
"Get down you stupid old man. " the voice was of the security guard.
Morris followed him to the interior of the building.
The rubiginous facade of the building was by no-means suggestive of its true colours. The interior was made with black and white tiles, each of which were carved with simple but aristrocratic designs. The ground floor hosted a grand bacchanal which seemed to consist of all the wealthy and prominent youngsters of the city. The balcony was privileged with tea-tables which possesed everything but tea. Iridescent lights filled the ceiling and the rostrum had to bear the music system.
The guard took Morris to the 1st floor where ebrious men gathered around billiard tables and happily invested in roulette. Others had themselves deeply involved in dice and cards. Some of them screamed in delight while another man, who seemed to have his life on stake ended up with an ambsace. Unlike the ground floor this floor was trimmed into well planned rooms each of which were lit by mim lights. Within the gap between two such rooms was a narrow, subtle staircase which raised up into the darkness. The guard positioned himself beside the balustrade and flicked out a grey walkie-talkie ,dialing a saved number. It buzzed for exactly four seconds before the intended person coughed from the other end.
"He is here",the guard said at once,unwilling to waste any time.
"Okay,I am sending Tyler',the man replied smoothly.
Moments later,a tall man,clad in all black, emerged out of the dense darkness. After coming within a foot of Morris' reach,he held out his hand wordlessly. Morris sighed internally as he gave away his phone.The last means of communication had been taken away.The man seemed to smirk as he grasped his phone,which did nothing to appease his growing apprehension.
"This way",the man commanded,waving a hand towards the ascending staircase .
The night shadows seemed to crawl upon Morris, whispering words of
peril,urging him to turn back.He shivered as he felt the wind lightly caressed his skin,the soft whistle of a predator.A sepulchral chill surrounded the place. Even as his instincts told him to turn back and run,he knew it was impossible.He could hear a ocassional voice wafting out of the door though never in plural.The employees must have left for the night.
The escort led him to the third floor. It was darker here, the lights dimmed considerably. Before he could observe anything more,the man turned around and stated"A search".
He raised a questioning eyebrow but acquisiesed.It was necessary,he assumed.After two minutes of hopeless groping,he finally relented and straightened up.He still glowered at Morris as if he had done a grave sin by not conjuring up a weapon and granting him the pleasure of confiscating it.
He led him to a door,at the far end of the corridor.He worked hard to keep a poker face,belying the growing nerves inside him.The door's design was more elaborate than the others he had seen.An ornate carving of a golden snake acted as the door knob.Intricate designs were carved on the wooden panels which he surely would have appreciated if he had the time.For now however …
He opened the door.
A man sat on a sofa in a large handsomely appointed living room. Across from him in a chair,lounged a tall man with heavily lidded black eyes and long,sensitive fingers.He was twiddling with the dials of a radio,changing channels.A elegantly jewelled dagger rested on top of the side-table.
"Mr.Morris ?",the man inquired.His voice was deep and gravelly with a strong cadence to it.
"Yes.Thank you for permitting me in.",he replied politely even though fury bubbled inside him."We need to talk",he further added,now fully inside the alcoholic room.
He nodded and waved a hand to dismiss the other man.The other man eyed the dagger skeptically,as if questioning its presence here.Morris had assumed that a revolver was more to the man's taste.The man responded with an even look until the other man shrugged and left.
His face was sharp,a knife-like edge to it which was transformed when he smiled.A cheekboned face,tapering to a pointed chin , the alluring eyes and the pencilled eyebrows...a steady but slightly mocking gaze.Lank brown hair framed his face,uncommonly pale.An enigmatic face.
He knew him.He was sure.He had seen him with somebody.It is difficult to forget such a face.
To be continued...
© Ignite
