Show No Mercy (2 page)

Chapter Three

The policeman

Adam continued to rest on his chair, keeping his attention to his photos.                                                                                                  

Meanwhile, outside, a policeman was paying a taxi for dropping him off. He gave twenty pounds, and then stared at the block of apartments in front of him. He walked inside.

He had a rectangular face with a defined, slightly pointed chin and a sturdy jaw line. His dark eyes were small and spaced evenly apart, sitting below trim eyebrows that seemed to curve as a natural extension of his broad, rounded nose. He kept his mouth closed in a thin, straight line, and his hair—naturally light brown in color but powdered to a bright white—was neatly tied and worn back to reveal a wide forehead. The jacket he wore over his broad shoulders had neatly polished buttons, and the scarf around his neck was tied so that the ruffles perfectly filled the space left open by his coat. He walked straight, his face held forward in a steady gaze, and had an air of authority that was palpable.
His name was Callum Hodgkinson.             

"Does Adam Attenborough live here?" the policeman asked at the reception.                                                                                                               

"Yes," replied the receptionist, who was a beautiful, irresistible lady, named Pearl.
Her dark hair fell like a curtain of silk to the top of her waist, the sunlight catching the stray strands of hair that blew across her face. In a way this made her more beautiful, as the deep brown complimented her eyes which were of a similar shade. Her eyes were without doubt the most captivating aspect of her appearance, reflecting a look of wisdom far beyond her age that could not help but draw people in. She did not care much for wearing makeup, instead favouring a neutral look to compliment her natural beauty. Her tanned skin and tall, slender build was like that of a model's, coupled with the latest trends she wore gave the impression that she had just stepped off a runway.
"On the top floor, room fifteen."                                                                                   

"Thank you," Callum Hodgkinson nodded, smiling.                            

He went up there, and opened the door to Adam’s apartment. Adam didn't notice. He didn't know the policeman was here. He just continued going through his photos.                                         

The policeman crept behind him. He lashed out, shoving Adam on to a chair with such force Adam nearly scraped his knee cap on the floor. "What the-" Adam began.                                                                     

“Shut the fuck up, you little son-of-a-bitch. Fucking dick head,” the policeman shouted viciously, as he got a rope and tied it round and round Adam very very tightly, leaving him struggling and unable to do anything. Adam was a muscley man, a little too muscley, but even so, he slept in to deep unconsciousness.                                         

The policeman used this opportunity to rummage through Adam’s belongings. He knocked over all of the drawers in a desperate search, because in the policeman’s eyes, Adam was a criminal.

Chapter Four

Finding the diary

He began to tear up many of Adam's photos.
              Adam didn't know what was going on.

“Goddamit,” the policeman shouted relentlessly. “WHY THE FUCK CAN’T I FIND ANYTHING?!”

But after searching everything in the flat, after approximately an hour, the policeman found Adam's 2005 diary. He opened it up.                                         

On the first page, there was a photo of an incredibly handsome man: he had perfect puffy black hair, light tanned skin and was wearing a formal suit.                           

It was Adam Attenborough.                                                       

Callum looked from the photo to Adam, to and fro. He was dumbfounded. “Holy shit,” he murmured.                                                       

Underneath the photograph, Adam had written:

My name is Adam Attenborough. I am a successful business man and am twenty years of age. I love my life, and how I live it, so I have decided to write a diary about it. I sound very silly, talking to myself as no-one is going to read my diary, but I might as well have an introduction anyway. I remember when I was a child, oh how much fun I had. Oh no, I'm going off topic. I tended to do that when I was a kid. Everybody laughed at me because I did it. Oh, I'm doing it again. Better start my diary!

Callum almost laughed. He was enjoying reading it all ready.

Part Two - Flashback

As I lie in my bed,

Your name running through my head.

All I can think of is you

And all that you do.

The way you look at me.

I feel as if I’m in a dream.

The blue sky

Reminds me of your eyes

Which gives me butterflies.

You have brightened my life

With that beautiful smile.

No longer are my days a trial.

Your touch is like heaven,

Upon my young skin.

If only you knew

That what I say is true

I would do anything just to be with you.

Hand to hand, palm to palm

Just hold me in your arms,

I love you with all my heart

'Till the very day it falls apart.

I may be young

But my heart is strong.

I know what love is

It's my name and his.

You make all the problems float away

No matter how was my day.

I love our heart to heart chats

When our beats connect,

And when my head starts to fade back

From when the blue sky

Turns sacred black.

Chapter Five

The cleaning advertisement

Sophie Steele was a beautiful and attractive young woman, and was at her work studio. She worked at a TV production company, making adverts. She was the most popular woman in the crew, and everyone always gazed at her enviously. However, her director despised her for showing off and never doing what she was told to do. On the other hand, Mr. Sandalwood couldn’t help but admit that she was eye candy for the TV viewers, especially the men, and was probably the prettiest lady on the set.

Sophie had long, black, silky, straight hair that went up to her waist, so she often tied it up. She had a slim figure which many girls would only dream of. Every inch of her was beautiful.                                                       

"Come on, places everyone!" shouted the director, Mr. Sandalwood, furiously. Sophie loved to annoy Mr. Sandalwood for her own pleasure.
You only live once.
That was her motto.                                                                     

"SOPHIE! THIS ISN'T A PLAYGROUND, THIS IS A TV STUDIO! YOU'RE NOT A LITTLE KID! YOU'RE A WOMAN! NOW GET GOING!" Mr. Sandalwood roared.
                           

"OK, OK, keep your hair on, SANDALWOOD!" Sophie shot back, mocking his last name by giving it extra emphasis.
                                                                                                 

The advert was to advertise some washing-up machine powder. Sophie was about to play a trick. Sophie had planted a dirty shirt in the basket, which another girl from the crew, named Christie, was going to produce. This would keep Mr. Sandalwood raging. Christie did not know that she would be holding up a dirty shirt. This meant that Christie would get the blame.

Christie Clough and Sophie Steele were deadly enemies. They were forever shouting and arguing with each other.
                                                                                                 

Sophie joined the others, because it was time for take one of the advert.
                                                       

"And … ACTION!" Mr. Sandalwood roared.

"I get some washing up machine powder,

And put my clothes in the washing machine,

But my clothes stay the same!

They're not clean!

So then I get some Dazzle powder,

And it works a treat!

My clothes are nice and clean

So now I can save time and eat!"

Sophie sang this with five other women. They held up how the results were without using Dazzle, and then Christie held up the shirt with using Dazzle. It was dirty and soil-stained. Everyone started sniggering so hard it hurt.                           

"CHRISTIE!" Mr. Sandalwood cursed.                           

"It wasn't me," Christie said innocently, throwing Sophie a dirty look.             

"Grow up, Christie." Mr. Sandalwood didn't seem to realize what Christie said. “Don’t think you’re going to be the woman of the house by copying Sophie’s bad deeds.”

Christie sighed angrily, tossing her hair back. Christie had short red hair and wore so much make-up that it literally looked like she’d plastered it on. Despite her efforts, she wasn’t exactly popular with the men.

As they took a coffee break, Christie strolled right up to Sophie, with a fake crown on her head, a furious expression worn on her face.                                                                                                                             

"You'll pay for this," Christie said. "You could have lost me my job!"
                                                       

"Well, at least I didn't lose mine," Sophie threw back, and gave Christie a fake but dazzling smile.                                                                                                 

"Just go to hell, Sophie,” Christie said hotly, even though she didn’t give a fig about religion.
                                                       

"Why should I? I don't deserve to." Sophie paused. “And don’t bring God into this.”                           

"Oh yeah?" Christie said, hands on hips.                                                                                   

"Well, you deserve to perish in hell. Have you got any reason why you shouldn't go there?"
             

Christie snorted, clearly defeated. She walked away.                                                                                                 

"Nice one, Soph'," Sophie's friend, Bessie, said. Bessie was short, with shoulder-length ginger hair. She never wore make-up, or fancy clothes. She was more of a simple person.
                                                                                                                             

"I couldn't do any better," Sophie said, smiling at her.

Chapter Six

Adam’s work colleagues

Adam Attenborough was a successful business man at the time. He was an irresistible man, always dressed smartly and was kind at heart to some people. Adam was very rich. It started off with just a small business, but then it developed into a bigger and better business, expanding and becoming more successful as the days went on.  A limousine pulled up outside of Mr. Sandalwood's studio. Four of Adam's work agents climbed out. They walked inside the studio.
                                                                                                               

"Hi, is Sophie Steele here?" asked one of them, whose name was Mike. Mike was dressed in formal attire, his hair spiked up and his forehead full of spots.
                                                       

Mr. Sandalwood stroked his grey beard. "Yes, but why?"                                                                                   

"Oh, we have a message to pass on to  her sent by Adam Attenborough. Now can we please speak to her in private?" Mike said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
                                                                                                               

"Yes, come right this way." Mr. Sandalwood lead the way. He was somewhat excited, because such successful businessmen were coming to see a mischievous young lady.

Mr. Sandalwood pat Sophie on the shoulder. Sophie shrugged him off, disgusted that her director was touching her.
                                                                                   

"What was that for?" she asked suspiciously.
                                                                                                 

"Oh, nothing.” Mr. Sandalwood nodded towards Mike and his fellow colleagues.
                                         

"Now, Mr … Mr … " Mike began. He’d forgotten Mr. Sandalwood’s name already.

“Sandalwood,” Mr. Sandalwood prompted kindly.

“Can you find me, Sophie and my agents a private room to talk in?"                                                                     

"Certainly," Mr. Sandalwood said. "Do you like our adverts? Would you like some biscuits? Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Mr. Sandalwood always sought every opportunity for self-promotion.                                                       

"Do stop wasting my time," Mike replied hotly. "Now, where do we go?"
                                                       

"Just here," Mr. Sandalwood opened a door.                                                                                                                             

Mr. Sandalwood grabbed Sophie by the arm and ushered her in.
                                                                     

"Get off me, Sandalwood."
                                                       

"Come on, I haven't got all day," Mike shook his head. "I've got to be down at the airport in a couple of hours for a business flight."                                                       

Sophie followed them into the room. Christie and Mr. Sandalwood started eavesdropping.
                                                                                                 

"Adam Attenborough would like to propose to you ..."
                                                                                                               

"Do you say yes?"
                                                                     

They eavesdropped at the wrong parts.             

"They're getting married!" Christie said jealously, thinking why anyone would want to marry Sophie, though the reason was very clear.                                                                                                               

"Oh, Sophie has finally done something with her life," Mr. Sandalwood exclaimed, and began daydreaming of how Sophie would shower him in her money because she would be getting married to a very rich man.
                                         

The truth was that Adam was proposing her a deal on giving her housing benefits.                           

They started eavesdropping again.                           

"So, do you agree?"                                                                     

"Well, erm ..."                                                                                   

"Come on, I need a downright answer here."                                                                                                               

"I'm not sure."
                                                                                   

"Well, here's his card ... phone him to let him know about your decision."                                                       

The door opened and Mr. Sandalwood and Christie quickly backed away, trying to pretend to be engaged in their own conversation.

“So, Christie, how was your day?” Mr. Sandalwood asked Christie. His acting was highly unconvincing. Then they quickly turned around to see Mike and the others walking out of the room. “Oh,
there
you are! Did you have a nice chat?”                           

Mike snorted, and then turned to Sophie. "Thank you for your time, Sophie," he said.                                                                                   

"And you, Mr. Sandalwood," one of the others, Chris, added, who literally looked identical to Mike.                                                                                   

"My pleasure," Mr. Sandalwood grinned, and gave Sophie an assuring and excited wink. Sophie blinked, confused.
             

Adam's work agents left and as soon as the door shut on their disappearance, Mr. Sandalwood and the others started cheering loudly, all except from Christie.