9. Commencement 

“So the big guy with the newly acquired limp was taking you up to meet them?” Rosh had been questioning Senga on the evening's events. He was in the front seat of a large blue Nissan estate. He had his head and shoulders turned around to face her. Max was driving.

“Yes. But he's unimportant in the big scheme of things.” She had relayed the details of the slapping incident and how she had gone into the Gemini and down into Darrel's office. She told him how she had gone up to the first floor by accident and heard the shots coming from the room.

“Darrel was the reason I got involved but it’s the men in the black coats that are the problem. If, as Darrel said, one of them is CID, how can I report it? They would never believe me, and anyway, they had even blacked out the corridor cameras. They knew what they were doing, It was a Hit, an execution, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!” She was scared. Even now that they were halfway home in Max's, warm dry car she was scared.

Max had arrived in less than an hour. He had heard the distress in Rosh’s voice on the phone. Switching over to visual he had seen the two of them standing in the Terminal box and had reached for his keys. It was nearly twelve thirty and the rain was rhythmically hammering on the roof of the car

“So what are you going to do about reporting the car?” It was Max. He spoke without taking his eyes off the road.

“That isn’t a problem," Senga replied. “The car reports itself missing when it detects an unregistered driver. It would have contacted the police and our Domestic within minutes. All the new Mitsu’s have it, that’s why I picked it, and anyway, it belongs to the company, they can afford it.” She was annoyed about the car but it wasn’t as annoying as the loss of her handbag and it’s contents.

“What if they found my bag? They will have my cards, my ID and our address? Shit, this is awful.” She was near to tears again. The cards weren’t a problem, like the car, they would register themselves stolen the second that they were used, but the ID? That was another matter.

Max said, “Why don’t you call up your Domestic and see? My handheld is in the glove box.”

“Sorted!,” Rosh leaned forward and opened the dashboard compartment. It was filled with little plastic inhalers and half-used blister strips which tumbled out into the passenger side foot well. At the back of the little recess was a small leather wallet. He picked it out and closed the drop down door leaving the spilled contents on the floor.

He glanced over to Max. "TheLungs still playing you up then?"

Max nodded in the dark.

The wallet was a centimetre thick and when Rosh opened it fully a light came on revealing a high-resolution screen. A series of colourful icons ran along the top of the screen. Rosh touched the ubiquitous symbol that represented 'dial'. He keyed in their home address using the on-screen keypad. He stopped for a moment and looked out of the car windscreen. He took a couple of deep breaths.

“Sorry,” He said, “makes me puke when I read in a car.”

He looked down again at the digital assistant. It had connected and a flashing prompt read ‘Password required’. He entered a three-letter code.

“OK, what’s been happening today my domesticated friend?” He was speaking to the PDA but didn’t expect an answer. He was watching the screen list information that was being passed from their home system.

"We have an invite to a party in October. Next, The residents association want’s us to attend another  meeting about the recent spate of vandalism in the Mill......”

“Too right,” Said Max, “I got hit tonight again. They shat all over my terrace and sprayed the bloody walls again.” He remembered the smell from the open doors.

Rosh continued reading through the list of tasks that his Domestic system had dealt with today.

He stopped. Senga, sitting behind him in the dark car could see the muscles in the side of his face change shape. He was frowning and slowly shaking his head form side to side.

“What?” She couldn’t stand the silence while she waited for him to read out the log entry,

“Rosh, what’s happened? Tell me?......What is it?”

“It’s your car,” He turned his face around again to face her. He spoke slowly.

“It told the Domestic that it was blown up an hour ago in Rochdale.”

 

 

Darrel knocked back his second glass of vodka, the familiar warmth spreading through his chest. If he tested positive for alcohol whilst on duty he would be dismissed for gross mis-conduct but this evenings events had warranted a quick hit and he doubted that he would see an inspector out tonight. He was sitting bolt upright on a plastic chair in his office, his damaged leg was stretched out across another. The pain had started to diminish the second he had applied the medi-patch from his first aid kit. He knew that he would need hospital treatment tonight. He had attended a level one basic first-aid course as part of his guarding job induction but he didn’t remember them demonstrating how to re-align a shattered patella, especially not when it was attached to your own leg. After his attacker and the crazy woman had fled out of the building leaving him doubled over in agony, he had managed to haul himself upright, with some difficulty. His radio had been damaged when he hit the ground or he would have called for help. Each of the towers in the Circle had their own guard and one of them could have run over to help in a matter of minutes. He had made his was along the ground floor corridor towards the central lift column. It was getting late, even the late-shops were closed now. There had been a time when shops in the tower had traded twenty-four hours, but the escalating crime and vandalism incidents eventually forced them to shut up shop before mid-night. He had used the small lift that Senga had used earlier, to take him down to his office and his hidden stash of medicinal vodka.

“Okay Darrel,” He had a habit of talking to himself, “Let’s see how the phsyco female likes this.” He reached across his desk and punched the handsfree button on his internal phone with a single, fat index finger. He stabbed at the button for external calls and pecked out a sequence of numbers that he was reading form a printed sheet on the wall above his desk.

“Salford Precinct Police department,” He read the name out loud as he entered the digits. 

The phone connected and was answered immediately.

“You have reached the Greater Manchester police department, you have been diverted to your local precinct information page.” It was a calm CG female voice, “please select the service that you require from the on-screen list.” The phone had a book sized screen which was at forty-five degrees to the desktop. It displayed a list that Darrel began to read.

“Emergency, Information, Sponsorship, RTA, Customer Service, blah, blah, blah...” He touched the little screen and scrolled the list down until he found what he was after.

“Ah, ha! Duty CID Officer. That’s my man.” He tapped the list item and the screen changed to a list of names. He tapped one of the names and the CG voice from the handsfree speaker said, 'Please leave your message for Edward Lanson. Your message will be screen for profanity and will be retained for up to twenty-eight days'.

Darrel spoke into the handset of the phone.

“Err, Hello Mr. Lanson. This is Darrel Philip Riley, the security guard from Gemini in the Circle.” He spoke hesitantly. “I, I need to speak to you, tonight if possible, I think you may be working in the area. I need to talk to you about a woman that has been hanging around the block tonight. She seems to think that........well, er, it.” He didn’t want to say anything that could get himself or Mr. Lanson in trouble. “...If you could give me a call on this number I can explain things better. I will be here until seven am. Thank you, er.. Yes, thanks...”

Her put the handset back in its cradle, disconnecting the line. The screen blackened. Lanson had been in the building earlier. He might even still be in the area. If he picked up his messages regularly he could be down here soon.

 

He knew of Edward Lanson from a previous meeting in the block when Darrel had caught some kids selling Class fours up on the Park level. He remembered that the CID officer had said that Darrel should call him if he ever had any information on local villains and their activities in the area. He had made Darrel feel important, something that most other police officer that Darrel had dealt with in his life, hadn't.

He wanted to get things sorted out before the end of his shift. He hoped Mr. Lanson would call him soon so that he could get some medical attention on his knee before morning. He knew the benefits of helping the local police out. He could wait. The pain was nothing more than a dull throb now, suppressed by the cocktail of alcohol and drugs.

 

*****

 

Max stopped the car at the barrier that lead into the car park area on the ground floor of the Mill. He reached his hand out of the window and pressed it against a dull metal plate. The rain soaked his arm as he waited for the machine to register him and lift the barrier. Once raised, he guided his car into the building and made his way past rows of parked vehicles to his rented parking space at the far end of the building. Max and his two passengers had been quiet for some time. The realisation that Senga’s car had been destroyed was bad enough. When Rosh had questioned the Domestic further he had found out some very disturbing facts. The threesome climbed out of the car and made their way to the lift doors. The renovated Mill was constructed from re-claimed red brick. They had to weave their way between a number of brick columns to reach the stairs and lift access. They silently entered one of the lifts and made their way up to their home level. Senga thought how clean smelling and well lit these lifts were. She felt safe.

 

Rosh and Senga lived on the same floor as Max, in fact, they lived in adjacent units. When they exited the lift they turned to the left and walked only a few meters to reach the first of the two apartments.

“Coming in for a coffee Max?” Senga asked. Rosh was opening the door with his card.

“Yeah, why not. I can’t sleep now, not after that.”

“Tell me ’bout it!” Rosh was weary but like Max, he would find it hard to sleep tonight.

 

*****

 

 

The pain had returned. It was nearly one am and Darrel had just come to the conclusion that the CID officer wasn’t going to call tonight. He wished now that he had gone straight to the casualty unit and not thought about what rewards he may get from Lanson. He hoisted his bulk up out of the chair, his leg looked crooked he thought. He hopped over to the wall that held his outdoor gear and hat.

“Good evening Mr. Riley.” A liquid smooth voice came form the doorway making Darrel jump. It was Lanson.

“Oh, Highya Mr. Lanson, I was beginning to think that you couldn’t make it tonight. You were in the area then?

“Yes, yes Darrel, I was in the area. I just picked up my mail and got your message.” He noticed Darrel's redundant leg.

“What’s happened to your leg?” He had a rich, cultured accent and was obviously not a native Mancunian.

“Oh, that’s part of the reason I phoned you. Some loony women and a dark fella. He smashed my kneecap earlier.” Lanson indicated for Darrel to sit back down and rest the leg. “Tell me the story then.” He had the same, long black leather coat on that Darrel had seen in the security camera footage. His hands were thrust deep into the pockets.

“Ok. It started when I went outside to sort out some of the street kids that hang around here. Apparently a women followed me back in and…......”

He relayed the story as it had unfolded that evening.

 

“So she left you lying on the corridor floor did she?” Lanson had moved around the room towards the back wall.

“That’s right Mr. Lanson. The man floored me and they ran. My knee needs putting back together, and soon I think.” He looked like a frightened school kid waiting to be told that he could go home. He was leaning forward in the chair and clutching his thigh, as if trying to stop blood from getting to the damaged area.

  “So. Let me get a few things clear. This woman says that she saw me kill someone, upstairs, on first, then carry a body down a corridor?”

“Heard you Mr. Lanson. She says she 'heard' you, not saw.” Darrel stared up at Lanson as he moved into the room along the right-hand wall.

“And has she told anyone about this? Made any phone calls? Spoken to anyone?” Darrel had followed his passage around the room until Lanson passed behind him. The dark figure carried on around, passing the low bench where Tanya had sat earlier, and started slowly back towards the door, hands still buried out of sight.

"No, not from here she didn't. After we saw you on the camera I decided to bring her to you, or at least try and find you to sort things out. That’s when I was attacked. There were two of them.” He was almost back to the doorway now and seemed to be pondering over something. He had brought one of his hands out from the coat and was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I think they were in a car. When I caught young Tanya in the doorway outside, I think I saw her sitting in a car. A Mitsubishi, I think." 

Darrel was puzzled. He was not the brightest of men but had felt as though he was being interrogated, like he was the criminal. Why hadn’t Lanson thanked him and shook him by the hand.

Lanson reached out and closed the office door. He withdrew his other hand from the coat pocket. He held what to Darrel looked like a thin, steel canister. He turned to face Darrel.  “Hey Mr. Lanson. You found the women’s stun bar,” he smiled, “she was going to use that on me earlier when........” He stopped mid sentence.

“Did you find her bag? She said that she lost it when……...” He realised what he was leading to.

How could he have been so wrong. Lanson was advancing towards him forward

 

*****

 

Two weeks later the local paper reported that residents of the Taurus block had found the emaciated body of a teenage, female Gemini resident. She was found in a doorway curled into a tight ball. The post-mortem revealed that the cause of death was a massive brain haemorrhage brought on by an overdose of Rapture. Her Mother, Mrs. Josephine Stanton was reported to have said that this wouldn’t have happened if Darrel Philip Riley was still working in the block. The paper said that the Municipal Circle Management declined to comment.