The smell of freshly ground coffee beans filled the room that Sam stumbled into the next morning. After telling her boss she had agreed to the mandatory vacation time Takashi had taken her to their new base of operations.
“I get to work freelance, which means no bosses breathing down my back,” said Sam. “I get to work out of some place that doesn’t smell like stale coffee and urine. I got the newest gadgets last night. I got to wake up to the smell of fresh coffee. I got a lucky break.”
Takashi picked up his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen into the living room. “Don’t talk so much in the morning,” Takashi grunted.
“Looks like someone is in need of a daily dose of caffeine.” Sam poured herself a cup and joined Takashi in the sparse room. A couch and two chairs had been set up to create a conversation area in the large room, the other half of the room was used for sparing practice. Although Takashi was several decades older than Sam, he had left several bruises before she had called it quits the night before. “For an old geezer you pack quite the punch. Where did you get your training?”
“Around. Now shut up before I shut you up.”
Sam sat obediently in her chair until Takashi had finished his coffee. “Can we talk business now?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Takashi pulled of a folder and opened if on the low coffee table. “These are all the paintings that have been stolen so far.” Another folder joined the first. “And these are the suspected marks.”
“Suspected?” Sam inquired. “As in they have reason to believe these would be target by JP.R.? Actual evidence?”
“Not evidence exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means they had a profiler look pick out the most likely hot spots for us to work with. They are arranged in order of most to least likely hits.”
Sam flipped through the folder growing more disgusted with each suspect mark. “This is bullshit. Complete bullshit. Did the people who created this steaming pile of crap even take a peek at JP.R.’s record?”
“I would assume so,” replied Takashi unfazed. “Why?”
“There isn’t a single Monet painting in here, for that matter there isn’t even a single impressionistic painting. There’re a few abstract pieces, but seriously, I want to meet this profiler, they suck.”
Takashi’s eyes never left Sam as she shifted through the paintings and ruled out every lead they had. By the time Sam had gotten to the last possible mark in the folder, papers littered the floor. The soft clink of coffee mug hitting wood stopped Sam’s rant, I’ve said to much in front of him … What if he realizes the truth.
“Looks like Commissioner Weslyn wasn’t lying when he said you were the best one for this job,” Takashi stated. “You are a mystery. You have had the best education, and yet, instead of continuing your education or starting your own business, you become a police officer. With your high intelligence and quick understanding it wasn't long before you were promoted, and here you are now, a captain. Why pick this career? It’s dangerous.”
Sam lowered her head and stared at the mess she had made earlier, I can’t let him figure out the truth. “You read my file, you tell me.”
“Is revenge your only reason?” Takashi whispered. “Is revenge what gives you the edge to succeed? Or is it something else?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he replied. “It matters because there’re are people who care for you and your irresponsible actions will hurt them. Remember that you are not the only person who gets hurt when you’re injured!”
“Yes I am!” Sam cried back. “I have no family. I have no friends. My old partners want me dead. The only thing I have to live for is revenge!”
“Of course you have friends.”
“No I don’t.” Sam looked down at the bronze ring on her pinky, it had been silver platted when she had gotten it. Years had slowly washed away the silver platting, letting the bronze show through. The engraving had been worn away with silver platting, but Sam still remembered what it said, what it meant for her. “My family was all killed, along with all my friends. The only people around me now are co-workers, and most of them can’t stand me.”
Takashi sat in stunned silence as the words sunk in, she has no one, how has she managed to survive so far? “The name is Ren, Ren Takashi. I only let my close friends call me that.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“No, no I won’t,” Ren replied. “I am an old man who can make his own decisions without being questioned by a young hooligan like you.”
Sam leaned over and started picking up the papers around the room. Putting them back in order proved more difficult than she expected, none of these, he wouldn’t steal a single one, not his thing.
“You’re the expert, where should we start?”
“Ren, that is a very good question.”
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Introductions, Emerald Eyes part 2
“You got any cigarettes?” Samantha let her eyes rove over the new guy. He was older, late fifties, slight for men, but in good physical condition. She guessed that he could keep pace with her for over an hour without falling behind. He dresses smart, old school smart, she thought as she saw that his uniform was buttoned all the way up and starched into stiff lines. He’s dangerous; I need to keep away from him if I can. He could screw everything up.
“No, I don’t have any cigarettes,” Takashi replied.
“Gum?”
“No.”
“Then what good are you?” Sam snapped back. “Get the hell out of my interrogation room.”
Takashi pulled out the steal chair across the table from Sam and sat down. “We are going to be here for awhile Ms. Ray, you should get comfortable.”
Sam’s red boots landed on the table with a thunk, Takashi didn’t even blink. Well he’s a tough cookie. I wonder how much it would take to shake him up.
“How do you like your coffee, Ms. Ray?”
“Black, but bring two sugars.”
A sleek black phone slid out of Takashi’s pocket. He set it down in the middle of the table, next to the phone he placed a manila folder. Leaning forward Takashi whispered into Sam’s ear, “Read the file. Then decide what you want.”
“I’ll be back with your coffee,” said Takashi as he walked out the door. “Don’t take to long to decide.”
Sam leaned forward and grabbed the folder, but she didn’t open it until she had checked who was sitting behind the two-sided mirror. Just the security guard … Hmm … If I move my legs like this he won’t be paying any attention to what’s in the folder.
“Oh, my god,” Sam whispered when she looked at the first page. Inside the folder were pictures of several works of art and detailed reports on how they were stolen. “They’re all Monet’s.”
Flipping back to the front of the folder Sam went through the pictures slower this time, listing of all the paintings. The woman in the Green Dress, Woman in the Garden, the 1867 version, Poppies Blooming, Train in the Snow, and The Boat Studio. “It’s a very specific mark this guy goes after.”
Two packets of sugar slid across the table followed by a steaming cup of coffee. Takashi sat down across from Sam and handed another folder to her. “This is a recent hit. It happened while you were, lets say, previously occupied.”
“You mean blowing this up,” replied Sam. “Am I right?”
Takashi nodded his head and watched Sam open and smell each sugar packet before pouring them into the coffee. She stirred it twice to the left and three times to the right before leaning back and taking a slow sip.
“Peculiar way to drink your coffee.”
“This is a peculiar way to ask for someone’s help, Mr., I didn’t catch the name the first time.”
“The name wasn’t offered the first time.” Takashi slide the newest information across the desk, a picture of Starry Night slid out. “It had his calling card.”
“No.” A white business card landed on the table next to the picture, the initials JP.R. printed in black stared back at Sam. “No.”
“Why not?” questioned Takashi. “It fits right up his alley. Late eighteen hundreds impressionist painting, fits with the rest of the marks.”
Sam shook her head and took a sip of coffee. “This is too out of character. Someone is setting JP up, either that or they coerced him into stealing it.”
“How do you know that?” replied Takashi. “JP.R. could have finally decided to play in the big leagues. We both know he is capable of stealing he wants. So what has stopped him so far?”
“He has no interest outside of Claude Monet,” Sam countered. “And his early works at that. I could see him, maybe, and I mean maybe, going for one of Monet’s later works. But Vincent Van Gogh? And to top it off Starry Night by Van Gogh? No. It’s to famous. Stealing it would do him no good.”
“Well it doesn’t matter if he stole it or not. People think he stole it, and they want it back,” said Takashi. “You have a decision to make. In or out?”
“Who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
Sam stared at him, he looked familiar, bad familiar, the kind of face you see and remember so you can avoid it the next time around. “Are you stupid?”
“I’m Takashi,” he replied. “For this assignment that is all that matters.”
“So this is strictly off record then?”
“Yes.”
Sam grabbed her leather duster off the chair and headed out the door. “Well isn’t
this going to be fun,” she mumbled. “Finding someone who set up the best thief in the world right now. Yeah definitely my idea of fun. You sure know how to pick the good ones Taka.”
“Just keep walking. And it's Takashi.”
“I can't go back to working until this solved can I?”
“Nope.”
“Well, fuck.”
Part 3
“No, I don’t have any cigarettes,” Takashi replied.
“Gum?”
“No.”
“Then what good are you?” Sam snapped back. “Get the hell out of my interrogation room.”
Takashi pulled out the steal chair across the table from Sam and sat down. “We are going to be here for awhile Ms. Ray, you should get comfortable.”
Sam’s red boots landed on the table with a thunk, Takashi didn’t even blink. Well he’s a tough cookie. I wonder how much it would take to shake him up.
“How do you like your coffee, Ms. Ray?”
“Black, but bring two sugars.”
A sleek black phone slid out of Takashi’s pocket. He set it down in the middle of the table, next to the phone he placed a manila folder. Leaning forward Takashi whispered into Sam’s ear, “Read the file. Then decide what you want.”
“I’ll be back with your coffee,” said Takashi as he walked out the door. “Don’t take to long to decide.”
Sam leaned forward and grabbed the folder, but she didn’t open it until she had checked who was sitting behind the two-sided mirror. Just the security guard … Hmm … If I move my legs like this he won’t be paying any attention to what’s in the folder.
“Oh, my god,” Sam whispered when she looked at the first page. Inside the folder were pictures of several works of art and detailed reports on how they were stolen. “They’re all Monet’s.”
Flipping back to the front of the folder Sam went through the pictures slower this time, listing of all the paintings. The woman in the Green Dress, Woman in the Garden, the 1867 version, Poppies Blooming, Train in the Snow, and The Boat Studio. “It’s a very specific mark this guy goes after.”
Two packets of sugar slid across the table followed by a steaming cup of coffee. Takashi sat down across from Sam and handed another folder to her. “This is a recent hit. It happened while you were, lets say, previously occupied.”
“You mean blowing this up,” replied Sam. “Am I right?”
Takashi nodded his head and watched Sam open and smell each sugar packet before pouring them into the coffee. She stirred it twice to the left and three times to the right before leaning back and taking a slow sip.
“Peculiar way to drink your coffee.”
“This is a peculiar way to ask for someone’s help, Mr., I didn’t catch the name the first time.”
“The name wasn’t offered the first time.” Takashi slide the newest information across the desk, a picture of Starry Night slid out. “It had his calling card.”
“No.” A white business card landed on the table next to the picture, the initials JP.R. printed in black stared back at Sam. “No.”
“Why not?” questioned Takashi. “It fits right up his alley. Late eighteen hundreds impressionist painting, fits with the rest of the marks.”
Sam shook her head and took a sip of coffee. “This is too out of character. Someone is setting JP up, either that or they coerced him into stealing it.”
“How do you know that?” replied Takashi. “JP.R. could have finally decided to play in the big leagues. We both know he is capable of stealing he wants. So what has stopped him so far?”
“He has no interest outside of Claude Monet,” Sam countered. “And his early works at that. I could see him, maybe, and I mean maybe, going for one of Monet’s later works. But Vincent Van Gogh? And to top it off Starry Night by Van Gogh? No. It’s to famous. Stealing it would do him no good.”
“Well it doesn’t matter if he stole it or not. People think he stole it, and they want it back,” said Takashi. “You have a decision to make. In or out?”
“Who are you?”
“Does it matter?”
Sam stared at him, he looked familiar, bad familiar, the kind of face you see and remember so you can avoid it the next time around. “Are you stupid?”
“I’m Takashi,” he replied. “For this assignment that is all that matters.”
“So this is strictly off record then?”
“Yes.”
Sam grabbed her leather duster off the chair and headed out the door. “Well isn’t
this going to be fun,” she mumbled. “Finding someone who set up the best thief in the world right now. Yeah definitely my idea of fun. You sure know how to pick the good ones Taka.”
“Just keep walking. And it's Takashi.”
“I can't go back to working until this solved can I?”
“Nope.”
“Well, fuck.”
Part 3
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Emerald eyes, part one
Red boots tapped the floor echoing in the empty room. A distorted vision of matted hair, which used to hang in glossy waves, reflected the dire situation. She glared at the old man sitting behind the double-sided glass.
“How does she know where you’re sitting, sir?” asked the young security guard, who had been on shift since they had brought the woman into the other room.
“Hmm?”
“I said, how does she know where you are sitting, sir.”
“Because she is damn good.”
“Sir?”
“She has an uncanny ability to know things,” replied the man. “If she gets out this destructive streak without dying she will be the best detective we’ve had in years.”
Both men stayed watching in silence, as the woman continued to tap her red boots on the floor and stare daggers at the mirror, until a rap on the door announced the arrival of the commissioner.
“What do you think of your new partner, Takashi?” The commissioner pulled up a chair next to him and the woman’s eyes snapped to him before returning to glare at Takashi. “Mirrors like this are useless against Capitan Ray, but I guess it’s better to put her in an interrogation room and not a cell. A cell would look bad on the record.”
Takashi chuckled under his breath. “Blowing up part of a foreign embassy and your partner to catch a thief is what looks bad.”
The two men shared a look, they had gone threw training together and had been partners before Weslyn’s parents had smoothed his way up the chain. It had been a sore point between the friends for several years, before Weslyn had risked his life to save Takashi from a terrorist kidnapping.
“Can you do it Takashi?”
“I don’t know commissioner. She’s a tough one,” he replied. “After reading her file I know why you wanted me to partner with her. But there is nothing I can do to help.”
Commissioner Weslyn looked at his friend for several moments, gauging to tell if it was okay to broach the issue that had caused him to be captured by terrorists. “Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes you can Takashi,” confirmed the commissioner. “She is you thirty years ago. You’re the only person here who can understand her.”
“No,” Takashi whispered. “I can understand her. I know all to well were she is headed if she doesn’t stop. But I am the last person who could stop her. She needs a friend like you Nicolas.”
Takashi pushed his chair back and headed out the door. “If you’ll excuse me sir. I am going to introduce myself to my new partner.”
Part 2
“How does she know where you’re sitting, sir?” asked the young security guard, who had been on shift since they had brought the woman into the other room.
“Hmm?”
“I said, how does she know where you are sitting, sir.”
“Because she is damn good.”
“Sir?”
“She has an uncanny ability to know things,” replied the man. “If she gets out this destructive streak without dying she will be the best detective we’ve had in years.”
Both men stayed watching in silence, as the woman continued to tap her red boots on the floor and stare daggers at the mirror, until a rap on the door announced the arrival of the commissioner.
“What do you think of your new partner, Takashi?” The commissioner pulled up a chair next to him and the woman’s eyes snapped to him before returning to glare at Takashi. “Mirrors like this are useless against Capitan Ray, but I guess it’s better to put her in an interrogation room and not a cell. A cell would look bad on the record.”
Takashi chuckled under his breath. “Blowing up part of a foreign embassy and your partner to catch a thief is what looks bad.”
The two men shared a look, they had gone threw training together and had been partners before Weslyn’s parents had smoothed his way up the chain. It had been a sore point between the friends for several years, before Weslyn had risked his life to save Takashi from a terrorist kidnapping.
“Can you do it Takashi?”
“I don’t know commissioner. She’s a tough one,” he replied. “After reading her file I know why you wanted me to partner with her. But there is nothing I can do to help.”
Commissioner Weslyn looked at his friend for several moments, gauging to tell if it was okay to broach the issue that had caused him to be captured by terrorists. “Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes you can Takashi,” confirmed the commissioner. “She is you thirty years ago. You’re the only person here who can understand her.”
“No,” Takashi whispered. “I can understand her. I know all to well were she is headed if she doesn’t stop. But I am the last person who could stop her. She needs a friend like you Nicolas.”
Takashi pushed his chair back and headed out the door. “If you’ll excuse me sir. I am going to introduce myself to my new partner.”
Part 2
The story behind the stories
I have written several stories and wanted my friends and family to be able to read and critique them, but it is a pain to have to email everyone, which is why I set up this blog. So that people can read what I have written and critique it. Critique it nicely. I should have my first post up sometime later this week.
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