A Leap of Faith

“What would you have done on this beautiful Sunday if were not for this demanding case?” Willy asked Freemont as the latter looked outside the plane window into the milky-white clouds.
Freemont sighed. “The usual. Sunday afternoons are for gaming.”

Willy expected to listen to a mature answer than what he heard and it was evident from his facial expressions.

Freemont noticed the same, laughed and said, “It is necessary to keep the kid inside you alive, Willy.”

Their private plane booked for them by the Government of a city-state of Juana landed on the rain-washed runway. Juana is connected by trains with few islands around, that are well-connected with the rest of the world, currently in a better political state than Juana. For almost every travel in and out of this city, airplanes are the most promising mode of transport. The airport was washed, but no amount of rain could wash out the tyranny of the unknown intruders who have been eating the life out of the city by harbouring a brutal regime under Juana’s glorified skin.

A group of terrorists attacked this benign state that lay far away from the globalization, in the middle of the Atlantic. They came by boats. Dozens of them, and took over the administration of half of the petite state.

“The only thing we know about these savages is their reasoning that they scream out loud through videos and banners.” The DCI of Juana, who asked for a favour from Svent Freemont, expressed the borderline despair that he was experiencing.

“And that is?” Svent asked as he leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the wooden table in between them.

The DCI stared Freemont in his deep black eyes and said, “Revenge is inevitable. You took something away from me. I will take everything from you.”

The monstrous demonstrations of murders and total autocracy in half of the city had brought Juana to its knees. If not stopped, the city-state will be eliminated before it could receive any foreign aid, in case it does. The message that the assailants yell out sent a chill down the spines of Svent and Willy, as they both rested back on their chairs.

“It sounds like you have mistaken me for someone who stops terrorism, Mr. DCI.”

“I know exactly where your expertise lies in, Mr. Freemont. I have read and heard a lot about you. I called you here trusting your stellar zeal in solving cases. In the better part of the city where we are right now, several number of people are missing since last few days, and no investigation has come to fruition, yet.”

Freemont was not impressed. He was looking for a reason why he was requested to travel hundreds of kilometers into this war-torn city-state.

“And the reason why I want the best detective here in my city,” the DCI continued, assured to wipe out the frown off Svent’s face. “Is because it is almost impossible to flee this city via cars and passenger trains are rusting in the yard. Goods trains are on, for even the terrorists need them, but they are under constant surveillance. All the modes of transportation have been monitored and controlled by the assailants. They had no idea that the airfield where you landed on could be operational if we want it to. It is like a curfew in the other part of my city-state! The case of missing people is only loosely linked with terrorism. It is something else. Here is where we need your help, Mr. Freemont.”

The sun shone bleakly over the plagued city of Juana as Freemont and Willy made their way towards the private car that the Government of Juana had arranged for the two. On the other side of the street, a man dressed in black overalls, with his eyes, his magnificent azure eyes bore into Freemont’s as if sending him a message. Svent’s prying eyes caught the attention of a pistol shabbily hidden under the man’s loose dress. Without any sudden movement, Svent and Willy took off from the police station and fled the scene, leaving Svent into a swirl of thoughts that centred around the peculiar man who stood behind a tree with a unique pair of eyes.

The hotel room over overlooked the area, which had noticed a lot of missing people- the central railway station of Juana. As the night fell, Svent was deep in his thoughts, and Willy sat right by him, clueless on where to begin with the search. The moon shone with all its might over the railway bridge where a man passed through with a feline stealth. He stopped in the middle of the bridge and after a couple of minutes and jumped off the bridge over an oncoming train! Svent was startled to see this and he hurried himself to the bridge and try to comprehend the eerie series of scenes that took place right in front of his eyes. Willy was instructed to stay at home, in case they are approached by someone in this matter.

Svent came back to the room, disappointed and tensed. Willy asked him, releasing the repressed restlessness, “What happened back there?”

Svent was absolutely clueless, but headstrong on solving this case. There was no body there. Neither on the bridge, nor on the tracks!

They witnessed another eight mysterious jumps from over the bridge onto the trains and this seemed to be in total slip of his hands. He had no grasp on the matter. While Svent was baffled, Willy made a keen observation that threw a very bright light on this case. Willy pointed out that every person who has jumped from this bridge has stopped there for some time with their head sunk into their chests as if they were reading something. Since their hands seemed to be empty, it must be a small note.

“It cannot be a co-incidence that everyone had something to read right before they jumped. Someone is making them do this!” Freemont got up of the chair, and rushed himself to the bridge, once again asking Willy to continue with the case if he does not return back. Svent’s energy was overwhelming to the point that Willy shed a couple tears at the thought of Freemont giving away his life only to solve a case.

Svent waited for some hours and nothing. It was a forlorn afternoon when the clouds dominated the mighty sun, making it look feeble and ineffective. He stood at the bridge and observed the only few people who passed him on the bridge. He could feel the oppression that the citizens felt, making them wait in the shelter of their homes until the dark clouds cleared from their lives. When he put his hands inside his jacket pocket, he found himself fumbling for a small note that someone sneaked into his pocket when he stood there. Feeling infringed, Svent was utterly shocked for the fact that he, being an excellent detective, let the witness away with not much of a sense of when and how!

The note read, “Take a leap of faith on the next train that passes from under you. See you on the other side.” Sweat broke on Freemont’s brow, but he had to jump. This was the only way to find out the truth. He did not know if he is going to come out alive, but this was a chance his passion for the profession demanded him to take. The train came, the coaches all roof open, filled with white goods. He did not know what they were, but he knew that they would prevent him from getting killed. he closed his eyes, jumped on it and the next thing that he saw was a train station where the train was opened up and he was rescued. Fear trickled from every bone of his body, but he had learnt to hide it well. He stepped out of the train as some men tried to help him with it. It was a very small train station.

Before he could orient himself after the train journey to an unknown land, a voice greeted him from behind, “I was waiting for you, Mr. Freemont.”

It was the man with the azure eyes. Svent was shocked to see him there and he immediately realized the he is a part of a bigger plan and he did not know why. “You! You are trapping people here in this faraway land!”

The man with the azure eyes heard Freemont out, understanding his accusation completely. It was not hard for detective like Svent Freemont to find a gun on a man’s body. “Mr. Freemont, I am aware that Juana has brought you here for a cause, and I am here to help you in this cause. I am not against you.”

Freemont was astonished at what he heard. He was in utter disbelief. Before he could speak further, the man with azure eyes continued. “You are the only one whom I can trust right now. If I were to confess to a Juana military personnel or even the DCI, I would be shot dead or imprisoned under premises of terrorism. Nobody but you will believe me.”

Svent sensed a tone of sincerity from his man. Gathering all his patience, he listened to him. He met some Juana citizens who awaited Freemont’s arrival, in order to convince him of the nobility of the man with azure eyes.

“I am indeed a part of the terrorist group, but it is not my choice. They have my family hostage and any hint that they would receive against me, they will all be dead. I cannot tolerate this horrendous inhumanity and I have been doing my part in trying to rescue people from unaffected areas of Juana to his part of the region, where that madman is not creating havoc, and won’t. He has nothing to do with here. Juana is his only target. This needs to be very low-profile and therefore, it is very secretive.”

Freemont was impressed and sympathetic towards the man. His emotions took an about turn. He heard the man out, completely. He now knew the reason why the madman is on a killing spree, and why he is targeting Juana. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take this train back, and urge the DCI to stop his search for the missing men. They are missing for a good cause. They are all safe here, and my small network of people in Juana are rescuing as many as they can before they see themselves on the madman’s target. If DCI advances his search any further and if he hears about it, the consequences are going to be gorier than now.”

“I will do that,” Freemont said with a new-found zest and motive for the case. “Why cannot I recollect hearing this madman’s name before?” Freemont thought to himself, “Victor Klashkinov.”

“Sure you have,” replied the man with azure eyes. “He is otherwise known as The Boss!”

Advertisements

The Boss

The train thundered through the beautiful landscape, only a few kilometres before it made its journey through the mountainous terrain of the picturesque snow-clad scenery. The quietude outside the train, in the serene hills, was in contrast with the environment inside. An old couple in the far end of the coach exemplified the truthfulness of a relationship as they laughed together. A group of young students were on a trip and they appeared absolutely vibrant. A young woman was reading a romantic book, which turned her cheeks red, probably missing her love. Everyone on the coach looked thrilled, except for one man.

A middle-aged man, sitting by himself by the window stared into the depth of the woods from the window. His dark eyes were fixed outside the window for quite some time. He was lost in thoughts, which apparently ate him up from the inside. He seemed to be worried about the what came next and was clearly and quietly expressive about his anxiety.

Frank Gordon, a slightly older man, sat opposite to this middle-aged man; he could not help but notice the growing anxiety on the man’s face. He wore a perfume that had a musty scent. It was very distinguishable and it caught Frank’s olfactory senses. Gordon interrupted his thoughts, breaking the depth of them. “Excuse me, good sir. I hate to bother you, but I could not stop thinking about the nervousness on your face. Clearly something is bothering you. You seem to be in some trouble. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

The man stared at Gordon with a disturbing look, clearly displeased with the unwelcoming interruption. The shadows were playing on his face as the sun was setting down behind the hills outside. His dark hair were neatly set and the piercing eyes were not helping Gordon to perceive the ferociousness of his stare any lesser. Frank was a little shaken by the silent aggression, but he maintained his cool.

The dark-haired man stared back outside the windows, squinting a little against the shine of the sun. Frank was feeling disconcerted upon the odd contempt of his honest concern.

“Everything will be alright, sir,” Gordon said with a forceful smile, trying his best to be nice with the man.

He adjusted his hat over his vanishing hairline and adjusted back in his seat. The train arrived at the station, and the impolite man stood up, taking his discourtesy with him. Oddly, even his impending departure did not help Frank attain rest. It had become harder for him to survive the heat that rose out of the disturbing silence that dominated the space between them, and his behaviour bothered Gordon.

The man left through the door, leaving a trail of the musty scent of his perfume. Apparently, Brent was the only one who got off the train. For a moment or two, Gordon was lost in the strangeness of the man that he encountered. Frank’s eyes came wandering to the bottom of the seat where that unpleasant man sat, and there was a black briefcase that he had left behind. Immediately, Gordon looked out in search for the man and he saw him vanishing behind the walls that led to the exit of the station. Compelled by his instinct of setting things right, Gordon picked up the briefcase from under the seat, which was heavier than it appeared to be, and he rushed for the door at the same time when the announcement of the train’s departure was over. He escaped the train just in time as he saw felt the automatic doors close behind him.

“Curses!” Frank muttered some angered words over the fate of his journey. The station he got down was surprisingly small, signifying that the region did not hold a lot of people. There was one small room, made of bricks for the station master, who was nowhere to be seen. The station was as unmanned as the moon.

The sky was glowing purple. Frank, without wasting much time walked briskly on the same path, which he saw the man take. Assuming that he must not have gone too far just yet, he hoped to get the next train, whenever it was. Upon turning the corner at the wall towards the exit, Frank walked out of the glass door and he saw the man boarding onto the backseat of a black sedan that sped down the road as soon as he was in. Everything happened so fast that Frank had no time to call him and deliver the briefcase.

Luck was not in his favour, but Gordon had ample of patience. Frank boarded a taxi that was waiting at the curb, and asked him to follow the black sedan that went ahead. The taxi driver obeyed and after a chase of nearly twenty minutes, the sedan came to a halt in a sketchy neighbourhood, deprived of rich infrastructure, or even decent buildings. An array of short brick buildings dominated the poor side of the town that he was in. Most of the street lights were non-functional and the only few that were lit faintly highlighted the quiet, broken and messed streets of the area. Frank found it odd that a man dressed as professionally as him would have business in the underbelly of a town. Frank felt the discomfort of landing in such a place, but he had to deliver the briefcase, which might be important to the man. The streets were not filled with a lot of people, and the lonely streets in such a shady night served poorly to his comfort. He had come this far, he thought. He carried on.

He got off the taxi, paid the driver and walked behind the man, who just entered a small green door in an alley between two buildings, where the cars would not fit. It got darker there. He watched his step carefully as the poorly lit street did not help him well with the visibility of the possible potholes; maybe even an open sewage hole. Gordon was as careful as he possibly could. He wished he had a gun for his safety tonight. He kept walking and then just as he approached the green door, he heard some voices. He stopped and overheard the conversation. Two men. They spoke about something that shocked Gordon and blew his senses off.

“You’re still on your number four, Brent. Another seven kills in another thirteen hours. What is making you so sluggish?” The voice was rough; the kind that comes with years of addiction of cigarettes.

Gordon was frightened, and considered fleeing from the scene. His morals held him back. There was not a chance that Frank would not act upon the knowledge of the identity of the criminals.

“I lost my briefcase in the train. My weapon is in it, and I cannot carry on without it. I need your pistol.”

Gordon understood that the man he had met in the train was on a killing spree. He shook in fear, he sweat through every pore on his body, but he still did not flee.

“Here it is. Remember, you have to notify Boss as you climb up the ladder. If he doesn’t receive a notification…”

“I know,” interrupted Vergo with an angry grunt. “He’ll kill my family.”

Gordon’s astonishment knew no bounds. He heard the pain in his voice. Whatever he thought about this man changed every few minutes; from a distressed person to a killer to a probable victim. His head spun with the heavy thoughts of having gotten involved with killers. The briefcase fell on the floor with a slam the moment he realized that it had a weapon inside!

The noise of the briefcase falling on the ground was loud enough to alert the two men and Frank heard the rush of their footsteps closing in. Without wasting another second, Gordon left the scene with the briefcase with him, and ran in the other direction from the train station on a pavement that was filled with people sleeping or shooting injections to their veins. After a long run in the forsaken neighbourhood and very less help from the people around in the area, he felt that he had escaped.

Gordon found one man in black hood at the corner of the street smoking a cigarette, who walked Gordon to the police station. It was a small office that lay in the middle of a malodourous compound at the end of the street. He rushed inside the surprisingly vacant office and spotted one room to his left and he barged inside it. The police station was as sketchy as the neighbourhood, but Gordon did not expect a lot from this god-forsaken region where he was stuck that night.

In that room, he was welcomed coldly by a burly man with greying hair and a big built. His thick grey moustache matched his stern personality. Gordon placed his faith in the stern policeman and narrated the entire incident to him.

“You’re the not the first one to have the knowledge about The Boss. He is feared all across. Kids, adults and others; anyone or everyone could be his target. He has a very strong influence over the political parties and gets away with every accusation with not even a scratch. Killing brings him pleasure and he has not stopped doing so in last some months. He has gripped the entire town under his giant web of violence and corruption, forcing everyone into murderers. Even the saints and the priests have dirtied their hands in this town. You came to the right place, here. You are safe.”

“I will leave this briefcase here.” The trauma in Gordon’s voice was overpowered by the anger that he felt rising in his belly. “It belongs to that man I met in the train.”

“I will take care of it. Soon, all this will be over. His strategy of making others kill, provides him a layer of extra protection. Once we get through that barrier, he will be dead as meat.” The policeman was as cold as he was in the beginning. It seemed to Frank that this was not the first time that he was hearing the anger of a citizen. He felt sad thinking about what happened to those people.

Gordon was flabbergasted. “I hope you have a plan in your mind.”

“What would you do when your family’s life is at stake?” The policeman stared at him with his big silver eyes. “Would you not kill to save them?”

Frank remained quiet. He was outraged at the horrid events that shaped that town. He could have screamed at the unexpected series of events that changed the entire story of his day…possibly his life. He slammed the briefcase on the top of the table with little regard to the respect that the policeman deserved. Before he got up from his seat, the door behind him opened with a creaky voice. He noticed a musty scent once again, and his eyes grew wide open. It was the man from the train. He knew it was him. The scent was so strong. Before his brain could register a reaction, Vergo’s large arms grappled Frank’s neck from behind and snapped it hard, rendering him dead.. His head fell on the table in front of him with a loud thud, his hat fell down on the floor.

“That is number five, Boss,” spoke Brent with very little emotions and he left the office where the Boss formed his shelter, disgusted over the depth of planning the Boss could implement for facilitating kills of innocent people. The man in the black hood followed Brent outside the station.

The Boss sat back in his chair, and a devilish smile was formed on his face at the sight of another dead man. This will never be over.

….to be continued