Detective
My sweating hand slided through the rain water outflow tube of the garret, five meters far from the floor and, the more I efforted myself, I couldn’t go any further above. My heart was almost leaving my body from my mouth and I cursed myself for I hadn’t dedicated more to the exercises.
I held on to the iron tube the best I could and squeezed myself to it. I was an easy target for a riffleman – holding there in that dark alley, but with a lamp right above me.
I doubted my persecutor had a gun – it doesn’t fit a dead person.
That creature of almost two meters and a half height could only be dead, nothing survives to a 45-shooting on the face, at point blank range – I can still feel the humid pieces of bones that fell over me when I shooted – but, whatever, she kept on persecuting me, without worring about the lack of half of her face and without emitting one single grunt.
How did I put myself in this situation? This was the question that pumped in my head that time...
***
Pasadena is a great city, with great problems and many people. This is great for someone with my speciality – private detective. I love looking at my clients’ faces after they see the pictures of their partners practicing the most obcene ever possible acts with other people – even with animals and objects – and receive the account of my fees! It’s an entertainment! This city is heaven!
I forgot what my first case was, but from that time on I can only thank to the increase of my bank account – after all, it’s difficult to maintain three ex-wives nowadays.
I also work with companies, acting in industrial anti-spy activities – these are the most wanted services – and it was exactly with them that my problems started...
***
I was calm that week, enjoying a good and deserved rest after I had caught a fool system analist who thought he didn’t leave any evidences behind when he sent money from one big bank account to another, private and secret, in the Cayman island, but, poor boy, I caught him and received US$100,000 with no much effort.
I enter the web every day, searching for information and receiving and sending e-mails. Than, a headline in the Texas Chronicle caught my attention: a chemistry products industry was been prosecuted for throwing toxic dust in a fallow camp near a city hall’s doghouse. But unfortunatelly a smart-mouth lawyer had started an appeal saying there was some technical failure in the process and the industry would probably escape the justice without paying one penny. It wasn’t right. I noticed the opportunity of getting some clues and obligate the industry to buy my silence. These guys needed to learn something and, on the other side, I deserved a financial add to my account for my effort.
I drove my Audi towards there consulting a map and when I noticed it wasn’t working that much, threw it on the back seat and stopped near a bar.
- Hey – I told the guy who was drinking some beer at the counter – can you tell me where the XYZ company is (I prefer not telling the name because I love my life too much)?
He looked at me like a fool and pointed at the beginning of the street without even stopping drinking.
- Son of a bitch! – I thought. There was so much laziness that even speaking bores. Nevertheless I thanked him and, on first gear, I drove to the beginning of the street.
The industry was enormous and occupied many squares. Immediately, I started calculating how much they would be available to pay for my silence. I took some photographs of some trucks which were being filled and started waiting. I knew these kinds of things are usually done at night.
***
After a couple of hours, the trucks left the garage and, turning the motor on but not the lights, I started following them.
Going to the doghouse as supposed, the trucks stopped in front of the fallow camp and dropped the content of the barrels on the floor. I took many other pictures.
When they finished the operation and left, I drove towards downtown. I couldn’t wait to send the files to my computes and wait until the bussiness hours to begin so as I could talk to the responsibles for the industry.
***
I couldn’t close my eyes for one single moment that night. On the bed, I could only think of how much I would obtain from the industry. Carrying picture-clues just like I had they would surely be condemned. I think I’ll get up to five millions!
At 5 a.m. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wore my agasalho and ran, according to my doctor’s prescription. I couldn’t concentrate myself on my musics in the Ipod. I could only think of how I would talk to the industry’s corporate officers.
I couldn’t stand waiting anymore and at nine o’clock I called the industry.
- I’d like to talk to mr. Johansen, operational manager. – I had seen his name on the company’s website, but I’ve changed here not to have any troubles.
- He asked not to be disturbed. Could you call later? – the attendant answered softly.
- No. I want to talk to him right now. – my tone of voice was severe. – I have a topic of his interest. In case he doesn’t answer me, I’m assure Texas Chronicles will. – I lied with much convicction.
- One moment, please. – her tone of voice wasn’t soft anymore.
I waited five minutes in line. They were probably trying to rake this call, but they must have given up because my cheater would indicate it was from China.
A masculine voice answered: - Who am I talking to?
- It doesn’t matter. – I sharply answered. – I have some pictures that might accuse your industry for throwing toxic dust near downtown. I want to know how much they cost to you. – I shot right in the point.
- No show, no business. – he said.
- Give me you e-mail adress and I’ll send some of them to you. And, by the way, don’t you bother trying to rake this e-mail because it will be from Papue New Guinea – I loved demonstrating my superior intelligence.
He sent me his e-mail and a few minutes later I was sending him five very incriminator pictures. I kept in line with him during this.
- I’ve just received them. – the man said. – If the other ones are similar to these one, we pay ten million dollars for your silence. If you try any small trick, we’ll find you even in hell and make you pay it. – the threaten didn’t intimidate me, it’s usually done in the business field.
- Done. – I answered, feeling rich already. “This money will give me some good vacations in Brazil”, I thought. I’ll have to disappear for some time.
The man kept on: - I want the original pictures with the memory slot of your camera. We know you’ll copy them for your safety, but it doesn’t matter. If you use them, it will be your last trick. – the threaten was made on a tone of voice which made my back go cold.
- As soon as you depositar the money in the bank account I’m sending you now – I pushed the “send” button on the e-mail website – in Cayman islands.
- We’ll make it until 2 p.m. Give us the pictures at Placid Avenue, 32 with no tricks. – and so he finished the call.
***
I checked the bank account and until 2:15 p.m. the money wasn’t there. I started walking from one side to another in the office.
Would they have found a way to shut me?
At 2:22 p.m. the money was there. I could see number one followed by seven zeroes. Great!
I sent the pictures via FedEx to mr. Johansen in that same evening. I could see it, from where I was in Placid Avenue, 33, when the entregador left the building without the package. I went down immediately and, getting in a bus, I went towards downtown to get my things and land off the faster I could to Brazil.
***
From my hotel in Bahia I followed the news about the toxic dust evacuation actions. The industry was free due to the lack of clues. Capital has won once more. That didn’t hurt anything in my conscience.
Six months later and five million dollars poorer, I returned to Texas. But, this time, I decided to stay in Houston. Maybe I could get some incriminatory information about some aerospace company...
The days were long while I tried to find something about the company, and nothing. It looks like the aerospacial offices have less to lie about than the chemical sector.
Nevertheless, on a Thursday, I received an enigmatic telegram.
It was written I had to go to a hangar on the northern part of the city to treat something of my intrest. Strange.
I’m not the type who gives luck to mischance, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that damned telegram. There was no indication about who had sent it. I could feel the smell of a trap, but even so, I drove towards the given adress.
I drove for two hours towards the place. It was almost night when I arrived there. I left the car, checking my 45-gun on my chest holster and my automatic 38-gun buckled to my calf. I was calmer.
I walked to the other side of the street but looking at every direction, went towards the hangar ready to jump to the side at every movement. It wasn’t necessary. Nothing moved.
I opened the door with the maximum care auxiliared by a piece of wood. I was prepared for a shoot in the face. But, once more, nothing happened.
The hangar was empty, except for a big wood box on the center of the floor. I walked towards it taking from my pocket an explosive material sensor.
There was no indication of origin on the box. The sensor didn’t show any explosives. The cover wasn’t closed with nails and I opened it with a sudden kick.
Straw. The box was all covered with straw. Whatever is inside it, it must be under this straw. My sense of trap sparkled in my head.
With a piece of wood, I started searching what was in the box.
Suddenly, on an incredible velocity, an immense and fluffy object jumped out of th box.
It was a blind ratazana with much more than two meters height, which stood on its back paws and started kicking the air in my direction with its long tail.
I put myself aside and, taking my 45-gun from the holster, I shot directedly to the animal’s head.
Pieces of skin and bones from its face shot me. I felt the stincky blood, almost completely coagulated, shooting me. Argh! What a disgust I felt in that moment. With a hole in where there must be the snout, the creature kept on persecuting me. I left the hangar running.
On the other side of the street, my car wasn’t there anymore. What a surprise! Whoever tried to trick me didn’t want to give me a chance to escape. Knowing how curious I am, they were sure that I wouldn’t give up the chance of checking what was going on, even with all that trap smell.
I went up immeditely on a outflow tube on a small abandoned building with five floors. With that creature following me. My hands started sweating and I couldn’t go up anymore.
Right under me the horrible creature was levantando its front paws with very sharpened claws in my direction. I shot the last bullets of my 45-gun on it. And I did it right! That thing didn’t even move when it was shot.
My arm was aching around the tube on which I was holding while my other hand was keeping my 45 and taking off the 38-gun from my calf.
I shot other two times and, facing the same results, I decided to save munition.
In this moment, a tough noise echoed in my mind and I saw the tube cracking a bit above my head. I dropped some degrees out of the wall, holding the tube despairingly with both hands and tangling my arms around it.
The creature jumped a bit some meters below, trying to catch me.
I jumped towards a windows on the wall. When I hit it with my body, many bricks came down, me within, and we fell right over the creature.
***
I woke up one hour later, my head was buzzing, there was some iron taste in my mouth due to the bleeding from my tongue, which I must have bitten when I fell down, and there was much pain around my body due to the fall in between the bricks.
I stood up shaking the dust which covered me throwing the bricks to the side. Then I could see the horrible creature, completely impaled by the tube on which I was holding, shaking its paws with spasms, just like a dying cockroach.
What would the authorities say the next day when they saw the dead creature still alive under the rubbish?
I don’t know. Nevertheless, I took my camera out of my pocket – and besides my peripécias, it was still working – and started taking photographs from the creature and the place, with special attention to the box in which it had been delivered to me.
I feel I have to talk again to mr. Johansen about this fact...