litranaut

Eddie pulled up outside Jefe’s place and Sam got out. “To be honest, I’m not so sure what this is about. I’m hoping it won’t take long.” It had been three weeks since Sam’s visit. Two since he had made his plans.

Sam had discovered he wasn’t implanted, but he didn’t know if his place was bugged, or his car – so a lot of meetings were taking place in various clubs around The Tow. He’d soon know if his planning was for nothing, though.

This was the final week.

Sam walked into Jefe’s room, sat in the chair he sat in 18 months ago when he sold Jefe his idea of an investment. They still used the same tailor. Sam paid now.

Jefe came into the room.

“Sam. Always nice to see you. How are things going?”

“Eh, you know, Jefe. We own pretty much everything. So, it’s going well.”

“And the schools?”

“Protected.”

“Drug use?”

“Down.”

There was a moments silence.

“For how long?” Jefe asked.

“In the major spots, it’s up and down. At the edges, it’s been down for 6 straight months.”

Jefe smiled.

“Who would have thought, Sam. You’ve made a crime lord an honest man. And yet…”

“He knows.” Sam thought.

“How are things with you, Sam?” The tone was ingratiating. “Anything changing in your life? Thinking of.” A pause. Short. But there. “Going anywhere?”

“Me, Jefe? Noo.” Sam shifted in his seat. “Wh-” Shit. He’d said to much. “Why’d you say that?”

“I’ve heard rumours, Sam. People visiting. Trips to clubs. Quiet planning. I recognise the signs.”

“Signs?”

Jefe fixed Sam with a look, sizing him up, taking his measure.

“Sam,” he said, finally. “Walk with me.”

Jefe got up and walked into the back of the building. Sam had never been anywhere except that room.

He was terrified.

***

They walked up.

“Sam. You know how I think of you.? I look at the difference we have made. And. Well. I like to think we have trust, Sam. You know? That you don’t think of me as a schmuck.”

“Jefe! You know I don’t. That’s why I came straight to you with-”

“That was over a year ago, Sam. I’m wondering about now.”

The roof.

Jefe walked to the edge.

“Sam. Come and look out here with me.”

And that’s when Sam’s spime rang.

Sam looked at the number. There wasn’t one.

“You want to take that, Sam?” Not really a question.

Sam answered. “Yup?”

“Samuel. That’s not very polite is it.”

“It’s all your getting. What do you want?”

“It is time, Samuel. In three hours, The Elevator will be coming. Do you remember what I told you, Samuel?”

Sam stared into Jefe’s eyes. “Sure.”

“Tell me, Samuel. Tell me so I-”

Sam hung up.

“Problems, Sam?”

“Nothing that can’t be handled. So, what were you going to show me?” He joined Jefe at the edge of the roof.

“Look at this place, Sam. Look at what we are. We live like animals. Sure, you do what you can to help, and I let you. But this is what we are. Animals.” Jefe looked up to the smog cloud. “If that’s how they let us live; how they choose to whittle us down; what place do we have up there?”

Sam nodded. Thought long and hard before he replied. “Yep. But what are the chances of me getting up there? Shit, Jefe. You’d be up there before I would.”

Jefe’s shoulders slumped. “And there’s nothing you want to tell me, Sam. Nothing at all?”

“Fuck! It’s not your birthday, is it, Jefe?”

Jefe’s head snapped up and he glared at Sam. “This meeting is over, Sam.”

Sam walked from the roof, then took the stairs two at a time and ran to the car.

“He knows. And the Elevator’s coming. About 3 hours. Sam took a deep, ragged, breath. “Let’s go. It’s going to be all over soon enough.”

***

Jefe watched the car pull away, his jaw tightening as he ground his teeth. He knew something was going on.

He’d seen the signs, put the dots together. It’s just like it was when he was asked to go up. Jefe stormed through the building yelling for his driver.

“We’re going to The Elevator.”

***

High above The Tow, gleaming in the sunlight, a metal and glass elevator started its slow descent.

“Plan B?” Eddie was incredulous. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what he said.”

“But.” Eddie opened and closed his mouth. “Man. Are you?” He shook his head.

“Shit.”

“I know.” Allan nodded. “I know.”

“Well,” said Eddie, standing. “We better get on with it, then.”

***

Allan and Eddie stood by the car.

It was the only protocol Sam insisted on.

They would call when they arrived. Sam would say he’d be right down.
They’d wait for him to get up, have a coffee and a shower. Then, when they saw the private lift start to rise to the penthouse, they’d get out the car.

As the lift returned Allan would walk to the lift door to meet his old friend. He’d take his case, and put it in the boot of the car.

Eddie would hold the back door open and, once Sam was settled, cross to the other side and get in.

Finally Allan would get in and drive.

***

The first stop was a meeting with a supplier at an old meeting house that was rumoured to be the second most protected building in The Tow.

Only Jefe’s was more secure.

However, once they arrived, they were told there was a problem with the room. With much apology from the old man who ran the place, they were kept in a waiting hall for half an hour. As they were, eventually, seated, Sam quietly told the owner that, if that ever happened again, security or not, he’d have the building burned to the ground before the day was out.

Eddie watched the from the corner of the room. That was his job. Any twitch that was out of place, he’d note it; remember when it happened and, five minutes later, lean in and whisper to his boss about it. Five minutes after that, Sam would refer to it.

Meetings with Sam were torturously long.

Eddie walked up to Sam for the fifth time this meeting, leaned in and whispered “Boss, I’m breaking me neck for a piss. Any chance I can slip out for one?”

Sam kept his lips from twitching and kept his head straight. If he looked at his mate he’d dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I see.” He said. “Very well.”

Eddie walked back to his corner and signaled to the camera. 30 seconds later the chamber hissed open.

“We’ll break here,” announced Sam. “Coffee, I think.”

Eddie nipped out and met the old man in the toilet. “Well?”
“Well, we have no idea what we’re dealing with. Tech from up top could be light years beyond what we know about. But – as far as my system can tell…”

***

The meeting continued.

After a 20 minute, unbroken stretch, Sam glanced at Eddie, who shook his head.

Sam nodded slowly. Took a deep breath and turned to the supplier.

“Well, that seems to be in order. Organise the shipment and we’ll deal with the paper work.

They shook hands and left.

***

The rest of the meetings were scattered around town. A mixture of meet and greets, personal appearances and some charity work. That done, the ritual was reversed.

Allan retrieved the case walked with Sam to the lift door, and handed it to him.

Sam stepped into the lift and smiled.

There was laughter, on both sides of the phone. Arrangements were made. Dates and times.

Locations.

“It’ll be fun. You should come. Everyone wants to see you again.”

***

Edgar was lost.

Everywhere looked the same. There were no landmarks and no one to ask.

There wasn’t even a map. He’d googled.

It felt like he’d been stuck there for days but he knew.

It’d been much longer.

***

The night of the party, Ed put on his face. He swapped out his eyes for the sparkling ones; changed his mouth for the one with the easy smile.

He dressed in silence. He’d been alone long enough to not need to speak to himself. Even his internal monologue had stopped.

He tried out some faces with the clothes he chose, and allowed himself one word.

“Shave.”

He wanted to pull his old mohawk out the bag, but that really needed two.

***

Shower, shave, face and clothes done, he flopped onto his sofa. He didn’t want to go, tonight. He wanted to make an excuse, any excuse. But he’d promised people.

He stared at the clock and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when an hour had passed.

In a pervious life he’d have jumped up, ran from the door.

In this one he sighed, pulled on his coat and left quietly.

The party was in full swing when he got there. A drink was shoved into his hand and he was pushed into the melee. He slipped it onto a passing surface and went in search of something less Beer, more wine.
“Ed! You came!” A hug here. A kiss there. Had he been out of circulation that long? As he thought about it he supposed he had. Cornered, he finally accepted a drink – mixer. Strong. Tasted like petrol, so not the best vodka, but it was a start – and listened to the news he’d missed. And what news! He laughed, sympathised, hugged and kissed with the best of them.

***

He’d tried following set paths but they gave out on him. So – he’d set his sight on something on the horizon and made for that.

But it wasn’t a fixed point. It moved across the horizon – sometimes to the left – sometimes to the right. But it got no closer.

It was always out of reach.

So he turned and tried to back track. Get back to where he started and move from there, but he’d wandered for so long he couldn’t tell where that was.

He decided to draw a line. To call where he was Point A. To move out from there.

Which was when the fog rolled in.

***

“So. Tell me, Ed. What happened in…”

He was sharing in a chair in a corner of the chill room with… someone.

Had she told me her name yet? Did I know her from before and just couldn’t remember?

He started his story. One listener became 2, became 4. Soon he had the room listening, laughing, gasping. He grinned, winked, paused to drink, perfectly and then –

With his story was over, the crowd disappeared and Ed was left to his own devices. Namely, another drink.

“That was a great story. Any more where that came from?”

She was beautiful. He looked at her and played the future in his head.

They’d date, sleep together. It’d be fine. They’d get comfortable. And then she’d notice he wasn’t who she thought he was. He wasn’t the guy in the corner telling stories, or the guy on the dance floor. And she’d start to move away, to distance herself.

And he’d notice she wasn’t Her. And he’d try not to compensate, but he knew he’d be restless. Want to leave.

He looked down into his drink. Back up at her with a sad smile.

“A couple. But I only do one a party.”

“What about,” she stepped closer. “After the party?”

***

The fog cleared around him. Enough that he could lay down his hat. Pitch a tent.

Stop wandering.

It was that easy.

***

He looked over her shoulder, to the horizon and remembered when he could see so far.

“Not..not tonight. I have an early start tomorrow. Sorry. But, I’m always around. Do ask me again.”

***

The fog rolled right back in.

***

It was late when Edgar got home. He closed the door, stepped from his clothes and fell into bed within 10 paces.

During the night his face would fall off, and he’d awake lost, with his dull eyes and flat mouth.

But he’d dream.

He’d dream of the horizon.

Hello New Reader.

Or Old Reader. Or Old RSS feed subscriber who has been surprised to see a new story.

We’re back.

Sorry it took so long.

We’ll be back in the swing of 1 story a day, every day. There might be a couple of repeats, just to remind you of some of our recurring characters, but – on the whole – there’ll be new stories; A new layout; Tags so that the archive is more easily navigable.

There’s also going to be some new delivery methods coming. Ones that live in the real world- but more on that later in the week.

First things first, though. Tomorrow we take a small break with a non-Sam story and then we’re going to see the end of his journey. The one that started here: http://litranaut.com/?p=230

Happy New Year to all of you that stuck around, came back, or just started reading.

Man, it’s good to be back.

Flashes of multicoloured lights punctuated the black/white strobe lights, breaking staccato, epileptic movements with explosions of rainbow flow. The bass detonated rhythmically in the chests of the club goers. The air was wet with the sweat of a thousand dancers.

Plan B.

At the edge or the dance floor, huddled over a table, stood Sam, Eddie and Allan. Not their regular choice, but not so rare that a visit would seem out of the ordinary.

They laughed, nodded and winked. And drank for free.

Perks of the Crime Lord status.

Sam started planning jobs in places like this, and kept up the habit. It made sure people knew his face, and it was impossible to bug. Plan B more than any other because of the security on the door. Body scanners that primarily searched for recording implants as well as all possible transmitters. On the off chance they didn’t discover any they blocked 90% of all known transmission frequencies, only keeping open spime channels.

They liked to keep their DJ sets exclusive, and judging by the names they were attracting, and the size of their weekly takings, the audience agreed.

Sam passed through the door without a hitch. Which meant one of three things:

The scanner wasn’t on.

He was just being waved through because of who he was. Or…

His visitor was lying about the surveillance.

But he couldn’t be sure which one was true. Yet.

Sam looked at his two mates. They had all grown up together, gone to clubs that ached to be like this trying to get laid. He’d nickel and dimed in toilets, with those two has his heavies. All the way up, he had made sure no one had touched them – not because he was tougher than the others. He was smarter. Saw trouble coming and sent them away.

“Only one can ride the elevator.”

Allan nudged him and either mouthed “Wanna go to the loo?” or “Whotsits with a choo.”

Sam eventually settled on “What’s up with you” and shook his head in reply.

He glanced at the clock behind the bar. Almost time to go.

He slipped his spime form his pocket and pressed some keys, while leaning over to Eddie and telling him to get the last round in.

He put the spime, face down, on the table and waited for his drink to arrive.

***

As drinks are wont to do – ‘one more for the road’ lead to another, and…to another.

And it wasn’t until the traitorous sun crept into the sky that the three pulled themselves from the dive.

The shuffled into the street, thoughts of breakfast bars, coffee and bacon.

Sam patted himself down. “Shit.”

“Sh’up?”

“I left my spime in the club. Can you go grab it for me, Al? I’ll sort out a lift.”

Allan blinked, shook his head. “Shure.” He paused, as if trying to remember what he was just asked to do, swiveled round and stumbled back into the bar.

***

Allan, struggling to sober up, weaved through the crowd working their way out.

“Man, Sam was getting sloppy. All their shit was on his spime. What on earth was he doing leaving it on a bar table?”

He reached the main room and saw one of the waitresses at their table, slipping the spime into the pocket of her apron.

“Yo. I think that’s my man’s.”

She looked up. Her care-gland clearly wasn’t working. “You Allan.”

He was sure that should have been a question, so nodded.

She sucked through her teeth. “Shit. If you and ‘yo man’ are going to buy this place, you better not be fucking with any of us – you hear?”

“Wha-” But she had fished out the spime, given it back, and walked away.

He looked down at the screen.

“Allan. Plan B is go. Make sure everything is prepared. Tell Eddie, but never when I’m in earshot. Now delete this shit and give me my spime back.”

“Plan B?” Something was stirring in the back of Allan’s mind. “Plan…” He went pale, and ran to the toilet.

***

5 minutes later his stomach was empty and sober was crashing down on him.

He tapped Sam’s spime on his shoulder. “Yo. Next time, remember your own damn toys. Oh, and a took a photo of my cock and sent it to your contact list.”

Sam looked up, saw a question forming – “So…” and shook his head, so slightly, but enough to deflect it.

“…Where’s our damn lift, man? You might be the King of Crime, but you are the Loser of Lifts. If I have to walk home. Again. Cos you’re drunk arse can’t get me a car I’m going to have to think about a new job.”

The argument – the one they had been having every night they went out since the days of trying to get laid – played into the distance.