Shell Shocked (The Cosmic Carapace, #1) (6 page)

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T
he fire jiggled, alive with sparks inside a fireplace that would have dominated most rooms, but not this one. This room could take it. In fact it could probably take anything. An Elephant? No problem. The Argentinian Polo Team complete with horses? Almost certainly. The room gaped. It yawned. It did other things with its metaphorical mouth that made the mind boggle. The four fires that lined one wall were kept constantly lit to ensure that cloud formations didn't occur near around the vast rafters which ran the length of the high ceiling.

At one end was a richly coloured oak desk. A man sat in the tall leather backed chair which accompanied it and leaned his elbows on its surface. His hands steepled in front of his face, the ends of his fingers lightly touching his lips.

The figure the other side of the desk in a lower and far less plush form of seating, quivered. A bead of sweat was running down his already slick forehead and making for an escape down his nose.

“Are you to tell me...” the figure in the tall leather chair began, before a long pause that caused his unfortunate sweating audience to hold his breath for the duration.

“That you do not know what happened to our man? That his mission remains incomplete? And finally, that you have also run out of... specialists... for this particular task?”

The perspiring man was now wringing his hands, turning them bright red as they twisted and turned. He rocked slowly forward and backwards as he tried to think his way out of this. There really was only one choice left, but he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't.

“I would suggest you answer me Mr Geeb or face the consequences. Offer me another name who will not fail, and let me also be clear that if they DO fail, you will then once again, face consequences.” At this, he removed his hands from his thin lips and placed them palm down on the desk in front of him and stared at the unfortunate Geeb. His narrowed eyes became narrower, his thin nose became more pinched, his impeccably maintained moustache and goatee, remained impeccable. It is very hard to stay strong in the face of immaculately groomed facial hair, and the form of Geeb opposite him visibly crumbled, sagging into a heap as he croaked.

“There is someone.”

“Who?” The answer suddenly snapped back from below the moustache.

“Don't know his real name, just know him as Mr Pall.”

“And is he... capable?”

“Yes.”

Too bloody capable thought Geeb. He really didn't want to be doing this. Geeb was a firm believer in gut instinct, and right now his gut was having a similar kind of instinct to a snake who has just been woken up up from an afternoon nap by a mongoose. It was tying itself into a rather complex Celtic knot at the thought of giving up this name. This unpleasant effect was only outdone by the terrific thumping of his heart beating against his chest. However much stock he had in gut instinct, he was all too aware that his head was screaming at him that although there may be terrible danger in the future by offering up this name, there was a definite, terrible danger that was looking at him across this desk which should really have his full attention.

“Get him.”

“I can't, but I know someone who can.”

“Then do it.” There was a slight pause before the man of the impeccable moustache smashed his fist onto the desk causing both the gut and heart of Geeb to huddle together and hold hands.

“NOW!”

~~~~

M
r Geeb was sat in the darkest corner, of the darkest pub, in what would delicately be called 'the bloody nasty part' in the city of Alexandria. He was not a happy man. Partly because he was waiting to meet a man who he knew to be a violent, sadistic killer, but also because he was having to wait with one Norbert Strang. It wasn't that he disliked Norbert, in fact they had always got on since they had been at school together. That is until now.

Norbert had always been from the rougher side of the tracks, which was saying something at a school where the star pupils were the ones only involved in mild fraud and larceny. He just had a knack of knowing everyone and knowing everything about them. This would normally have been a great concern for the kind of people they had grown up with, but somehow Norbert was never seen as a threat. He was looked after, protected. People helped him out when they could, finding him work, a place to live, a place to hide some delicate items he had happened to come across...The truth was that he was too inconsequential to worry about too much. He just kind of bumbled around on the periphery of the underworld, but always with one squinting eye on the way the wind was blowing, and one hairy ear to the ground in order to find any gap in the criminal market he could slide into and make a few dollars.

What had made Geeb slightly less than enamored with Norbert right now was the fact that he seemed perfectly at home in this, almost certainly, life threatening situation. He was currently leaning back into the filthy material of the bench they were sat on, puffing on a slim cigar. He was at this moment relating a story about a maid he knew who worked for one of the big houses in the city that belonged to old money. She had apparently been having an affair with the older gentleman who paid her wages and had managed to persuade him to set her up in a nice apartment near the house, and lavish her with gifts. Apparently the wife of this gentleman, herself several years younger, had found out about this arrangement and had paid this young lady a visit to give her a piece of her mind. From here Geeb somewhat doubted Norbert's rather lurid version of events, but an abridgement would be that the two women fell in love and had now bumped off the husband and were living quite happily together in the large house. Norbert's version had a lot more description of the hot and heavy elements, including many chuckles which implied a level of muckiness that Mr Geeb could barely imagine and some words that he had definitely never heard before and wouldn't want to again.

Mr Geeb wasn't one for imagination in general. He preferred things to be very much tangible, in front of his eyes, and hopefully involving sausages. His stomach was rumbling now. Where was he?

As he thought this, he caught sight of a man who had arrived a few minutes earlier and sat at the table next to them. He was now removing the cloak and hood he had been wearing, revealing a face that may well keep Mr Geeb off his sausages for a few days. Its individual features were all decent enough. A strong Roman nose, a pronounced chin which led up to strong cheekbones, but then you reached the eyes. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then these needed cleaning. Or possibly smashing in. They somehow changed the whole face into something sinister, malevolent, unnerving. They slithered from one side of the narrow openings that passed for eye sockets to the other, alert and searching. These gleaming black holes were currently focused on Geeb, and below them a thin lipped mouth was curling at one corner into what was clearly an award winning sneer.

“'Ello. I believe you've been looking for me.”

This wasn't a question, just a fact that he had wrestled to the floor violently. To Geeb, it appeared that this man would probably do everything violently. He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, leaving him goldfishing, his red cheeks deepening in colour. Norbert came to his rescue.

“'Allo Mr Pall! Nice to see you again! This 'ere is my friend Geeb who was looking for you!”

Geeb stared at Norbert in disbelief. He talked to this man as though he was an old friend, just like he would to anyone. This man wasn't just anyone though, he was a shark in a tank of floating sushi and right now Geeb felt like a salmon skin roll.

“Er, yes, well I have someone who would like a job doing which, I thought you might be interested in considering.” He thought about this sentence for a second or two and decided it wasn't quite as respectful as the situation demanded and added, "sir."

“I don't work for no one who I don't know who it is.” The leathery face leered back. Despite the rather confusing grammar, Geeb got the message and promptly wished he hadn't. This meant he would have to give the name of the man who had forced him to come here and search for Mr Pall in the first place. He didn't have first hand experience, but the rumours suggested it was this kind of behaviour that resulted in the loose-lipped fellow in question suddenly waking up in the dead of night wondering where his body had got to. As it certainly wasn't attached to his head any longer.

Although... there is a saying in Alexandria, 'It's better to have your throat cut tomorrow, than it is today.' Right now, staring into the cold eyes of Mr Pall, Geeb decided that this might be the wisest thing anyone had ever said.

“It's Lord Garsh,” he squeaked out, his voice breaking with the wave of panic he felt speaking his name. Even Mr Pall reacted. Not in an overly obvious way, but it was there. At the corner of his thin lips, just for a second, there was a slight twitch in the sneer. His eyes seemed to gleam just a shade more malevolently.

“Oh yeh. I've been 'earing all about him. Ee's been 'ere there and every-bleeding-where that one. I was wondrin' when 'eed need my... services.”

“You alright Mr Geeb?” Geeb had gone rather pale at the pause and the word 'services', Norbert was peering into his face with concern.

“I...I'm fine Norbert.”

“Only, you look a bit peeky to me,” he said stuffing peanuts into his face.

“No, no, I'm quite fine.”

“Now I see why you're nervous Mr Geeb.” Pall leant forward as he spoke, Geeb could feel the stench of his breath reaching his face. He tried not to grimace.

“You 'ave realised you is caught between a shark and a tiger. What I would say to you Mr Geeb, is that sharks is very dangerous creatures... but only in the sea. I would say that you do not spend your days in the sea Mr Geeb. So If I was you, I would worry about the tiger.”

He grinned a grin that Geeb, over the next few days, maybe months, would try and forget. He had a very sudden and urgent desire to get this business concluded as quickly as possible.

“Lord Garsh would like you to... obtain someone for him. They are... difficult to get to.”

“I'm good at difficult Mr Geeb.”

“Yes, well. Then there will be other... jobs. He says to say he will pay you well.”

“Oh I know he will Mr Geeb, I know he will.” The grin appeared again, and Geeb seemed to vanish back into his filthy seat.

“You know you really don't look well Mr Geeb,” said Norbert as half eaten peanuts fell from the corners of his mouth.

~~~~

“P
lease, take a seat Mr Pall.”

The voice was rich and thick like treacle, but there was an edge there, it was subtle, but Mr Pall had a lot of experience of people who had that 'edge'. In fact, he prided himself in having removed that edge from many many, many men. Mr Pall had an edge like a razor blade, and on the other side was a drop so steep and deep, all you could see was a black abyss. He looked at the man in front of him. An angular face with trim, jet black facial hair. A slick ponytail at the back of his head. He wore a dark velvet suit and was relaxed back into his large leather chair. A man who knows he is on home turf thought Pall, a man who has the confidence of at least four well muscled men that Pall had seen, stood outside the door. Ready at a moment's notice. They wouldn't get here anywhere near in time though, and that told Pall that this man who was was so assured and comfortable and secure, had absolutely no idea who he was dealing with.

The chair that sat on his side of the desk was significantly lower than both the desk and the chair the man sat in, a basic intimidation tactic. He turned it back on him and strode over to the huge, dark wood desk and promptly sat on it, legs to the side. He leered in.

“Don't mind if I do.” He pulled an apple from his pocket and slid a knife from a secreted sheath in his snakeskin cowboy boots. He began to cut chunks from the fruit with the knife. It was so sharp, he didn't have to put much pressure on, it just slid through. Two could play the intimidation game. Mr Pall always played it to win.

The slender figure behind the desk didn't seem concerned, in fact, there was a slight smirk on the edge of his sharp mouth that looked like he might even have been amused.

“Mr Pall, I will come directly to the point. I have a certain task which requires a man willing to put himself in a great deal of danger for the opportunity of excellent financial reward. I have been told that you are such a man.”

“I find danger is normally somefin' other people 'ave to worry about.”

The angular man steepled his hands in front of him, his pointed elbows anchored on the desk. A grin came across his face which was nothing more than a thin, horizontal split at his mouth, causing his thin moustache to rise.

“I'm sure that is all too true.” He paused and seemed to be searching Pall's face for something.

“Ok. the job is yours. I need you to... acquire two people.”

“Acquire, eh? That's a fancy word when kidnap is just as good.”

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“S
o what did he want?”