Isle of Noise Page 5

  “Then you can buy me that whiskey,” I managed.

  But I was already starting to blush as I felt her eyes take me in again.

  “If you succeed you might be in luck,” she said softly as she moved to be level with me. She was inches away and I moved to watch her.

  “I might buy you a bottle,” she said, her fingers running down my shirt sleeve.

  I laughed and she walked away leaving nothing but a trail of vanilla and something else mixed with the smell of smoke, all I wanted to do was follow.

  * * * *

  “I just want to talk to you,” I said quickly.

  The man was sitting on a rug in front of a fire, playing with a little girl; she had a carved marble set of animals that she was moving round in her own little world. I had come into the room and instantly I felt him push me out again.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his tone calm but threatening.

  “You had a stroke. We are trying to get your affairs in order,” I tried to repeat again.

  He looked up at me. The moustache was there but there was greying on his temples and the starts of wrinkles.

  “She wants the gold, huh?”

  “If that’s your affairs then yes,” I said with a shrug.

  “Don’t give me that young man. I love my daughter but if she was a man she would run half the city.” He sighed. The world around us shifted and we were by a lake watching the sun sinking towards the trees.

  “I’m not waking from this am I?” he asked plainly.

  “It doesn’t look good,” I admitted.

  “Then the gold can be lost,” he spat.

  I liked him. He was simple and straight forwards and I liked to see just how powerful his mind could be.

  “Is it her husband?” Usually I would be the one controlling the world but right now I was just a guest.

  “No,” he sighed. “It’s … complicated.”

  He turned to look me over, his features annoyed.

  “Why should I talk to you about this? Why should I not just push you out, close my mind and live out the rest of my days… here?”

  “I’m Jack. I’m a private investigator, used to be a policeman, you can trust me, I just need to ask you about where the gold is. I don’t care about this, I’m just doing my job. There is no reason to trust me except that right now I’m asking you to.”

  He watched me for a few moments and it felt like he was looking into my very soul; is that what I looked like when I was doing this? Was he trying to read me? I was damn glad I had told him the truth. Open honesty was the only thing that was going to get me through this.

  “I’ll make you a deal. You let me in your mind; let me see who you really are and I will give you the gold. Do with it as you will, give it to her if you want. I don’t care.”

  I had never had someone in my mind. Never let someone look into my life. Did I want to do it…? Even for a million gold? I walked over to the water. I went to pick up a stone and skim it but my fingers went thought. It was beautiful but it was fake, an illusion.

  “If money isn’t your weakness, then how about curiosity?”

  I felt the world around me shift. There was a pressure behind my eyes and forehead. Time sped up, the sun sank. Fog blew over the grass and water, cobblestones appeared under my feet and buildings loomed out of the fog around us.

  “How about being able to see just what I can do?” he asked, his voice soft next to me. “Where are we?”

  “London,” I sighed feeling a little more at home.

  I was a city boy through and through. I always chose stone and concrete over grass and trees, the stone jungle was always easier to survive for me.

  The thick pea soup fog was hard on my lungs, it was hard to breath but that could have been the real world infringing on the experience. I never remembered the fog smelling so... chemical. Two people were huddled in a doorway talking softly as a set of high heels echoed through the silent street.

  “Not this,” I said firmly.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  I shook my head and forced the image away but I couldn’t. The woman slowly came closer, her silhouette slowly becoming solid, the two men straightening slightly.

  “No!” I raged.

  I sat up ripping the mask off and the tubes came out so violently blood followed trickling down my chin.

  “Hey! Calm down,” William soothed.

  “This is totally different. I never met someone like it. I’ve never known a mind like it,” I breathed as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “You gonna carry on?”

  I wiped my chin and thought but it wasn’t easy. I brought up my coffee and late night beer into the bowl beside the bed. The sick and blood mixed making me panic momentarily, the vomit thick with blood. I leant forwards and waited for the blood to stop.

  “I don’t know. Give me till tomorrow,” I sighed.

  It was early and the world was silent but I couldn’t sleep. Something about laying down for most of the day makes a guy restless. The fog was close to the windows, wind slowly shifting past. I paced up to the window. A million gold would be damn tempting; I looked at my shirt slung on my chair, the corners fraying and seams coming apart. It was like the moment I saw the one flaw everything got worse; my tiny flat, cheap, broken furniture; it seemed to annoy me.

  Click click click.

  The sound of high heels could be heard on the cobblestones turning my attention to the street. Every sound hit my mind and made my entire skin jump. I felt every nerve strike as the sound hit and soon my heart was thumping, slamming into my chest. I stopped breathing as I laid my hand on the cold windowpane. The clicking of high heels married to the figure walking along the empty street. She had her hands in her pockets as she made her way. It was such a casual movement but it filled me with fear as I shook my head softly uttering.

  “No, no, please god no.”

  The woman stopped and tilted her head to look into my window. Relief flowed over me and I could have fallen to my knees as I pushed away from the window and headed for the door, grabbing my coat as I left.

  “You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone,” I said softly in the form of a greeting.

  “I had to see you Jack,” Silvia said softly.

  The way she spoke my name made me want to shiver; her voice was soft and soothing.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I tried again. “You’re a married woman.”

  “You spoke to my father. I need to know what he said.”

  Her hand touched my arm and slid to my hand, her thumb running along my thumb knuckle.

  “Can I come in? Maybe have a drink?”

  I sighed heavily and tried to keep my head calm and nodded. I slipped my hand into hers and walked her into the building, her hand gripped on mine. What was I doing?

  I would have given her tea but it would seem I was out of milk, sugar, and it appeared tea as well as coffee.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  She gently sat down on my sofa and watched me, her pale blue eyes almost glowing in the dim gloom.

  “What ya got?”

  She smiled softly and looked at the permanently stocked drinks cabinet.

  “Gin?” I offered.

  She slipped off her shoes and brought her legs up under herself and rested her head on the back, her hair gently tumbling down the cushions, the light glistening from the soft curls.

  “Is that what you’re having?” she said with a sigh.

  “Gin's a bit of a girl’s drink,” I teased. “I’ll have a scotch.”

  “Then so will I,” she soothed.

  We sat on the sofa together and I watched her sipping the golden liquid between her beautiful, full lips. She ran the very tip of her tongue along her top lip and then sucked the bottom.

  “You’ll get me in trouble if your husband finds out you’re here. I don’t think he’ll be that understanding.”

  “He’s out, gone to Manchester. Working,” she said, her tone
flat.

  “So someone’s life will be ruined,” I sighed.

  “I think if I answer that I would be incriminating myself.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at her quip. I shifted round on the cushion and stretched a hand over the back, my fingers finding a few strands of her hair to play with. She turned and lay her head on my hand and sighed.

  “Tell me about my father,” she said softly.

  I couldn’t concentrate with her soft cheek on my hand. I turned it round to cup her cheek in my hand and for a moment we just watched each other.

  I’m not a morning person. I love the night; it’s quiet, unassuming and keeps to itself; but the sun, that happy bastard will hound you till you are awake and can’t get away. The curtains were slightly open and the sun was streaming through the rectangle. I reached for the person in my bed to find it empty. I had woken up alone. Memories of her feel, scent and taste made me groan as I smelt her perfume. I wanted to stay there, maybe I hoped she would come back, maybe I was hoping it was all a dream and I would wake next to her but I couldn’t stay. I needed to get to work.

  Cold sweat mixed with fear as I scanned the world, people talking round me, over me, pushing me further. I stumbled hard hitting the doors and out into the street. Salt in the air, gentle drone of a fog horn, docks; no, they weren’t here. Where did they come from?

  Sound of clicking heels on cobblestones, fear shot through me as I stepped back.

  “Just grit your teeth,” a voice hissed.

  I shook my head and tried to push myself back out of this memory, fight the fear, but I couldn’t.

  “I said not this,” I shouted.

  I turned on my heels and tried to run into a dark alley. Darkness enveloped me and I started to fall. Nothing fell past me and I tried to grab for anything.

  I hit the ground and woke in bed, the springs creaking softly. A hand sought out mine as I sat up wiping my brow. I looked down at the dark angel between my sheets.

  “Is this what is happening out of here?”

  John was leaning on the doorway watching us.

  “It’s what I wish would happen,” I said softly and honestly.

  “She would eat you alive,” he sighed.

  I had given up trying to keep control. I had given him everything to play with… everything but that memory.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked softly.

  “I wanted to know who you are.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t even know,” John said, his tone firm.

  Even in my mind I went for the drinks cabinet but I couldn’t open it.

  “I know who I am!” I snapped “I’m Jack. I did my national service when I was eighteen, I got a job in the police at twenty one, I was married at twenty five, six years ago I started working at the institute and three years ago two men…..” I couldn’t finish, I just choked on my own words.

  “Three years ago, you lost your wife when?” he urged.

  The room slipped away and I was back on the street but now I was in control, I let him in, let the memory flow it was easier than speaking the words. We watched as I turned to see a past me standing by the doorway. I looked younger, my mousey hair styled carefully instead of left its usual messy, “styled” by fingers and gel, my eyes bright and hopeful instead of pickled in their sockets.

  Four men approached, one asking for a light. I obeyed and lit a match. I couldn’t do anything about it. One second I was helping him the next he was on me, all four of them hitting and kicking. They took my money and my father’s pocket watch and then they stopped, the sounds of heels slowly building. I tried to stop watching as we watched silently.

  “They were thugs, looking for quick cash,” I managed to say.

  I spun round but we were standing by a glass fronted shop. I could see everything through the glass but it helped; it made it a little more surreal.

  “Don’t make me,” I pleaded softly.

  “What happened?” he tried again.

  “They guessed she was coming to meet me. Two held me down as two approached her.” I watched in the window as I helplessly watched the three become frantic. The gun shot rang out and she slumped onto the floor, the blood spilling onto the filthy cobbles.

  “She wouldn’t give them a silver, cut glass engagement ring. It cost me a day’s wages at the institute. I would have brought her a thousand damn diamonds if she had just given them that… bit of tat. I was going to replace the glass for a diamond and buy her a real gold wedding ring. She just had to give it up.”

  I watched my past-self crawl helplessly to my already dead wife. I broke down and fell to my knees.

  “I would have replaced it,” I repeated sobbing, the salt tears stinging my eyes.

  Carpet under my knees. I was back in my flat, alone. I groped round for leverage and helped myself to my feet as I tried to get myself together. I looked at the cabinet but didn’t reach for it. I couldn’t remember how I got here. Did I dream this? Was I sleep walking? Had I come from work? I stood and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess as I tried to settle by running my hands through it, trying to pat it down; I stopped and rested my hands on my head.

  “My name is Jack,” I said firmly to myself. “Three years ago my wife was shot and killed in a robbery. She was three months pregnant with my child. She died because she wouldn’t give them a ten shilling ring and since then I have not been able to function. She was my life,” I said out loud.

  The world went black and I was back at the lake and John was next to me.

  “This is where my wife told me I was going to be a father. In this place. At that moment. It was the happiest I had ever been and I can’t even consider losing that for a moment like yours.”

  Tears trailed down my cheek.

  “You know me enough yet?” I sniffed.

  John gave a soft warm laugh and nodded.

  “You know what Jack. I think I do.”

  I woke slowly and reluctantly. I couldn’t tell if I was in my bed or the machine. I clumsily groped my face and found the mask, my cheeks soaking. I had been crying while under – now that is embarrassing.

  “Keep calm,” a voice said. “You used a full dose.”

  I felt something. The noxious taste of rubber and the choking feel of a pipe down my throat. I clenched my fists and waited, breathing through the tubes up my nose. With the gas finished the quickest way to get someone to wake was to pump air through the tubes and flush out the gas quicker, but it also helped when you had a feeding tube down a man’s throat. The mask lifted and William was getting me free. The tubes scraped my throat and I wanted to gag but I held it in longer till I was free and I let my body do as it wanted.

  “You’ve been out for days,” William chatted, putting a wet cloth on the back of my neck.

  “Hence the healthy liquid diet and the hangover.”

  “How do you usually deal with hangovers?”

  “Don’t let yourself sober up enough to get them, that’s the trick.”

  I drank the water and sat up. The world swivelled as blood drained down and back round my body. I simply sat there for a moment and took in the world. I had to check this was really the world. I took William's arm. The heat and feel of hair was reassuringly real.

  “I would give it a minute,” he said, helping me to sit on the side of the bed.

  “I know where it is. I can close this case,” I said, watching the old man sleep.

  “What we doing with him?”

  Usually he would be ‘processed’. Tell Silvia he hadn’t survived the treatment so there was no chance of him remembering then he would become subjects of other projects. But he was still in there.

  “Tell them I might still need him,” I sighed.

  A nurse came in with a wheelchair and smiled.

  “Can I at least walk to the bed?” I asked.

  “You can try.”

  I stubbornly tried to stand, my knees gave way almost instantly and I slumped in
to the chair, the world spinning uncontrollably. She helped me as I feebly tried to sit round as she smiled down at me. I sighed and she ran her fingers through my hair.

  “Alright. You win,” I admitted.

  The bus station was silent. It was another hour or so before the drivers would be starting again but a solitary figure stood by the roadside, her trilby pulled over one eye, her coat covering everything but an inch of blue dress and those legs. She watched as a car pulled up. Silently she got in and watched the man beside her.

  They both smiled and she leant in to kiss him. Their lips lingered as she ran her nails down his coat collar.

  “I missed you,” she whispered.

  “It’s been a long week,” he sighed. “Where’s your husband?”

  “Just…. gone,” she sighed.

  “He told me. I know where it is.”

  She smiled and kissed him again for a moment. He gave a soft groan and pulled her closer making her laugh softly as she pulled back and she kissed his cheek as the car drove off.

  The car left the city moving through the quiet streets and out into the countryside. No one to see them, nobody even knew they were on their way. It was just two lives, two heartbeats as the lights moved through the night dipping and climbing out to one of the lonely mansions sitting silent and firm on the hillside.

  Finally they pulled into a long, winding driveway before pulling up just before the main estate. The man got out and looked up at the building and gave a soft smile before opening the back trunk and producing a hurricane lamp. Lighting it, he helped her out of the passenger’s seat and they moved through the cut grass. The house wasn’t their goal. They moved to a circle of trees and to a small ancient icehouse. It was luckily open–more like the wood had rotted away from the lock–and as expected, freezing. Even in the warm summer night they could see their breath.

  “In here?” she asked softly.

  “In here,” he repeated.

  She reluctantly took the lamp and followed him down the mossy steps. He looked round the empty room and found a crowbar lying in the shadows in a little alcove. Most likely a place to put the lantern. He picked a tile and started breaking the mortar, slowly chipping away until one was loose. They both kneeled bringing the light closer till the golden sheen could be seen in the light.