No. 4, St. James' Street

(Continued from Mr. Miller and the Mysterious Mistress)

It was 23 to 3 37 past 2 nearly 3 AM when I heard the faint crash in the distance. I was lying on the floor, still half-conscious. As I laboriously made my way towards the window, something else caught my eye.

I could barely make out the silhouette of a hooded figure in the darkness. It was hard to tell whether it was walking towards or away from me, but I could see that it had a weapon in its hand. All of a sudden, lightning struck in the distance, revealing that it was the Batman action figure I kept near my bed every night.

As I tried to collect my thoughts leading up to this point, I realized that I was really hungry again, and went downstairs to get something to eat. On the way to the elevator, I glanced at my phone to check if I had missed any important calls or messages. There was nothing new -- the last message was from Jessica telling me that something was wrong, which I’d already replied to 3 days ago. So I tossed it into my pocket and began looking for a burger joint that would be open at this time of the night.

A couple blocks’ worth of directionless wander brought me to back to the hotel I was staying at. By now I was really tired of walking around on an empty stomach, so I got back to my room and proceeded to take a quick nap.

By the time I woke up again it was around 5 PM. I lazily got dressed, grabbed a sandwich ‘to-go’ and took a cab to Jessica’s. It was a fairly short drive, but the rush hour traffic slowed us down, and it was almost sundown by the time I finally reached. I rang the doorbell, and was soon greeted by Jessica’s patent half-smile.

“It’s nice to see you! Where’ve you been all these days?,” she said, as she leaned forward to give me a hug.

“Er. I was at my room all along. Why do you ask?,” I said, sidestepping gracefully.

“You never called! I thought you ran away or something,” she huffed as she tried to pick herself up and dust off her dress.

“Why would I run away?” I questioned, following her into the house.

“I’m not sure you know this, but they found your prints on the murder weapon,” she said after a while, taking a sip of the coffee she’d just made for both of us.

“What? That’s strange -- maybe the killer looks like me, then, huh?” I mumbled. My mouth was filled with the cookies I found at the back of the house.

“Uhh. I’m not sure that’s how fingerprints work. Maybe you touched it when we were inspecting the scene? Anyway, there’s another set of prints on the gun – probably belonging to the real killer. Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to find a match in the system.”

“Hmm. Well, that’s a dead end, then. How about we check out this Travis dude’s apartment?”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

And so we decided to drive to Travis’s place in my car. Good thing I’d already parked it behind Jessica’s house a couple of weeks ago.

It took us about an hour to reach the address. Mainly because it took me a large chunk of time figuring out whether St. James’ St. stood for Saint James’ Street or Street James’ Street.

Once we got there, though, we found his place pretty quickly. There weren't too many buildings in the neighbourhood. And amongst the Burger Kings and the Subways, it stood out like an apartment in a sea of fast-food chains.

I sneaked in from the fire exit. I nearly tripped and fell over a couple of times, but eventually made my way up the eight long flights of stairs. Then it was just a simple matter of picking the lock -- a trivial task that took my expert fingers no more than 45 minutes.

From the inside, the apartment was a completely different story. Rows of neatly-lined books on shelves. Expensive-looking clothes in the wardrobe. Luxury sanitary ware in the toilet And a swanky large screen TV on the wall.

I made my way towards the living room, only to be met by Jessica's gaping eyes.

"Hey, how did you reach here? Was there another elevator or something?", she asked, looking puzzled.

"Nope. Back door. Came in through the fire escape."

"Huh? Why would come through the back when the front door was open?"

"Why would you come through the front when the back door was closed?"

"What?! That doesn't even--"

At this point I could barely make out the muffled sounds in the distance, as I was already in the kitchen. There was a pizza that looked at least 3 days old, but I was starving, and I'd eat anything to fill my stomach. Except for the stupid muffins that were in the fridge. Heck, I hated muffins so much, I wouldn't even eat them if I were full.

With that out of the way, I proceeded to inspect the living room a little more closely. There was nothing of interest -- no finger prints, no blood stains, and no wine glasses with smudged lipstick (which somehow lead to the killer by looking at what shade it is).

It was when I was heading back towards the bedroom when I really stumbled upon something big -- the dining table. I didn't notice it and ended up tripping over it and falling down. As I got up, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a discarded folder laying nearby. I skimmed through the pages -- it looked like a report of some sort. I stowed it in my jacket and began surveying the bedroom.

Nothing really stood out -- except Jessica -- who was now standing outside. I locked the door so that it remained that way I checked the drawers, and most of them were empty. However, one of them had what looked like a secret compartment. Opening it revealed a smallish-looking flash drive.

"What's that?," Jessica said, stepping back into the room. "Oh. Looks like you finally found a clue! You know what? Let me make a copy of the files so that I can take a look as well. You know, speed up the investigation and stuff."

"Cool," I said, fingering through other stuff in case any of them prove to be relevant to the case. Nothing else turned up, though. By now, Jessica had made a copy and returned the flash drive. After scanning through Travis' personal belongings for a little while longer, we decided it was time to call it a day. By the time I dropped Jessica off and reached my apartment, it was nearly 11 PM.

I plugged the flash drive into my laptop and did a cursory check of the files. It looked like a bunch of worthless junk, mainly consisting of autobiographies and documentaries about famous politicians -- yet another dead end.

Then I remembered about the folder tucked away in my jacket. I took it out and tried to make sense of the documents inside. It looked like some form of research on the local drug cartels. Some one had spent countless hours understanding and documenting each and every aspect of their operation -- complete with photos, locations, and most importantly -- names. And one of them stood out like a familiar name in a list of unfamiliar ones -- 

Joe Finch.

Finally, we were getting somewhere.

---

Will any of this ever make sense? How close are we to finding out who the real killer is? And will I have any indigestion problems due to the stale pizza? 

There's only one way to find out.

Stay tuned, for the next episode of Dragon Ball Z

Mr. Miller and the Mysterious Mistress

(Continued from Jessica)

I had no idea what I was getting into.

The recent turn of events had a very unsettling effect. The house seemed to have a creepy, dark undertone. The sun was setting in the distance, and the clouds cast a gloomy shadow on the sky.

Jessica went to the bathroom to freshen herself up. In the meantime, I sat there admiring the posters in the room. There weren’t any, so I finished quite fast.

When she came back, her hair was tied loosely in a bunch, and she looked less distraught. She was also wearing a white shirt underneath a leather jacket, and blue jeans, which I did not mention in the previous post as it was not relevant.

It is not relevant in this post either.

‘Aren’t you even going to check who he is?,’ she asked, looking exasperated, as I tried to finish my lunch. ‘Never mind, I’ll do it. Let's see. He’s roughly 5 foot 11. Well-built. No signs of struggle -- Looks like he was taken by surprise.’

She proceeded to check his pockets for more clues.

‘Expensive-looking leather wallet. Driver’s license states his name as Travis Miller. All the cash is intact. No cellphone. Single gunshot wound on the chest.’

She then started looking for things around the room that might help reconstruct the crime. There was an empty shell casing on the rug. And a handgun. On closer inspection, it looked like there were 2 sets of prints on the gun.

‘I’ll check with my friends over at forensics and see if I can get them to analyze this,’ she said. In the meantime, see if you can dig up anything on Travis.

‘Wait, what’s your interest in Travis?,’ I asked, curious.

‘Part of an undercover job. Can’t talk about it,’ she said, looking uncomfortable.

‘But aren’t you off the force?,’ I said. She flinched, trying to suppress her memory of that incident.

Then there was an awkward silence. Tension slowly built up in the air, as neither knew what to say next. Suddenly, my phone rang. But I left it at home, so I didn’t know this yet.

‘So maybe I had some unfinished business to take care of,’ she finally said, ‘What’s your motive, anyway?’

‘Doing a favor for a friend. Can’t talk about it.’

‘Fair enough. Do keep me posted. This case means a lot to me,’ she said, parting with a half-smile. I nodded in acknowledgement.

After she left, I started snooping around the house for a little while longer. Something didn’t seem right. Why wouldn't the killer hide the body? Why would the gun be left at the crime scene? I made a note of everything that seemed useful, and left, taking a cab back to my hotel room.

By the time I got there, I was really hungry, so I made a stop at the bar and ordered some snacks and a drink. Oddly enough, I spotted Sam at one of the tables.

He looked different from when I last saw him. His face was narrower and skin a little darker. He was in a grey hoodie, loose black jeans, and worn-out canvas shoes. I went up to him to let him know of the latest developments.

‘What’s up, Sam?’ I said, as I thumped my hand on his shoulder.

‘My name’s Joe,’ he said, in a voice that sounded like a cross between a whimper and a grunt. ‘Joe Finch. And I have a job for you.’

I had a strange feeling I'd heard the name before.

‘Huh. How do you know who I am?’ I asked, puzzled.

‘That’s not important. What's important is that I know about the body in the shack and that you are working on it.’

‘Go on,’ I said, now that he had my complete attention, ‘how are you involved? And why do you need me?’

‘My wife thinks that I killed him. I knew that the two of them were having an affair, so I set up a private-eye on him. Somehow, she came to know of this, and now she thinks that I killed him in jealousy, and wants a divorce.’

This just got more interesting.

‘Personally, I don’t care about the divorce. Heck, I’d probably be happier. But I want to get this murder allegation off my head. If you can prove my innocence, I’ll pay you twenty grand in cash.’

‘I guess I can’t really say no to that. I’ll let you know if we narrow down on any suspects. How do I contact you?’

‘You don’t. I’ll get in touch with you when you have the details,’ he said, and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

‘I guess I've had one drink too many,’ I thought to myself. I paid the bartender and went back to my room.

Once there, I saw my cellphone lying on the bed and picked it up. I’d missed a call from an unknown number. And there was text message from Jessica. The forensics report was back, but something was not right, and she wanted to meet up as soon as possible.

---

What exactly was Jessica worried about? Where the hell did Joe Finch come from? And can I come up with a third question for the outro? Only time will tell. Stay tuned!

Update - Click here for the sequel!

Jessica

I remember it like it were yesterday.

It began like any other Tuesday morning. Mild in temperature, sunny in climate, and slightly windy in wind. I was taking a stroll in the backyard, looking at what my neighbours were doing minding my own business, when I heard the slow tinkling of music, which meant that the mailman had arrived.

No, wait. I guess it was an ice-cream truck. Also, maybe it was a Saturday. I don’t remember clearly.

Irrelevant little detail.

What was relevant was that I found an unusual looking letter in the male mail. It was from an old friend. It seemed to be an emergency, and he wanted to meet me immediately. I don’t know why he sent a letter if it was really that urgent. It must have been really important, I reasoned, so I quickly got dressed and headed downtown.

He mentioned that he wanted to meet up at Johnny’s. It was a shady local bar. Not like the ones in movies, though. This one was under a tree, and so it blocked most of the sunlight.

His name was Jack. One of those generic names that are usually made fun of a lot. Jack of all trades. The thing-that-is-used-when-changing-tyres-jack. Jack-knife. Jack of hearts. Butter-knife. Yeah, I remember he was the butt of all jokes in school, the poor guy.

He was already there when I reached. He looked stupid. And worried. But mainly stupid. He was wearing a crisp printed cotton shirt underneath a cardigan-like-thing that only someone named Jack would wear.

‘What’s up, Jack?,’ I asked.

‘My name is Sam,’ he said, rather huffily. I guess it was the taunting at school that made him so grumpy.

‘So what’s the problem?,’ I asked, as I signaled to the barkeep to get me a beer, whilst admiring the woodwork and stools and such.

I don’t know why Sam thought I was disinterested. He was a weird guy. He spake of his tale in a slow, grim tone.

'You look as sad as Joe Finch in the middle of a divorce,' I said, as I lit a cigarette with a lighter I found at the back of the bar.

'Who the hell is Joe Finch?'

'I dunno. But I'm sure as hell he would look just like you'

'But why would he be sad during a divorce?'

'Did I say sad? I meant happy. Typing mistake'

'What??,' he asked, with a dumbfounded look. ‘Never mind. It’s the Smiths again. I don’t know what they are up to this time, but I reckon it's something terrible. I heard gunshots coming from their apartment the other night. So I thought I’d give you a heads up’

‘You what?! And you decided to send me a letter?? Wow, sometimes your intelligence scares me. Lucky for you, I came right away, huh?’

‘Actually, it’s been 9 days,’ he said.

At this point I just freaked out and left. I don’t remember some of the events that followed, but somehow I ended up in a rusty looking shack. It reeked of something noxious. It also leaked of something dihydrogen-oxious.

Good thing I packed enough food for 3 people.

The place looked like it had recently been refurbished. Some knick-knacks were out of place, and most of the furniture looked chewn-up in places, but overall, it had a pretty homely feel.

I rummaged through the things in various rooms, looking for clues as to why I was there, but to no avail. I almost gave up hope as I made my way into the last room, where I was shocked to see someone already there -– Jessica. She saw me too, but didn't say a word. This was strange.

Jessica was not usually this silent. This was probably due to the duct tape plastered onto her mouth. I asked her why she didn’t do something about it.

‘My hands are tied,’ she said. And indeed they were. Literally.

Also, she didn’t really say this, as her mouth was taped. Pay attention.

It was a pity, really. Whoever did this to her was either keeping her hostage, trying to extort some information, or simply felt that she talked a lot. That reminds me – I did. She did talk a lot.

I undid the tape, in spite of myself. Fidgeting with the curtains was beginning to bore me.

‘This is a setup!’ she cried, ‘I’ve been framed!’

‘Framed for what?,’ I asked, rather indifferently.

‘For this!’ she sobbed, pointing in the general direction of a dead body lying nearby.

‘Oh, I never noticed. Hmm. Well, this complicate things a bit. What are we going to do with all the extra food??’

---

Will Jessica be able to prove her innocence? And what of our mysterious hero? Will he be able to recount all the gruesome tales of that day? Or will an unknown third party ruin everything?

Stay tuned to find out. 

Update - Click here for the sequel!

Friday

I looked at my watch. It was 10:30. Twenty more minutes left for the class to end. An eternity, more like. I tried to strain my eyes on the board, barely able to make out half the words. I had absolutely no idea what class was going on. I wasn’t sure whether anyone else in the classroom did, either.

Unable to concentrate any further, I drowsily turned to look outside the window. Through the corner of my eye I caught a faint glimpse of a handful of bees buzzing around in circles. A little further off into the distance, there seemed to be some construction work going on. There always was.

And then I looked down at the sheet of paper lying in front of me.

Blank.

No, wait. There was small circle drawn somewhere in the corner, with the letters ‘MC’ scrawled untidily in it. I was supposed to hand in my article for 19a by the end of the day. This was the plot, and all I’d come up with so far was that it would have a ‘main character’ in it. Brilliant.

Suddenly, Neha turned to tell me something. “Oye-lucky-lucky-oye is a palindrome.”

“What?!,” I asked, taken aback. And everyone around us burst into muffled laughter. I smiled, too. A much needed break from the monotony.

Rajiv glanced at the piece of paper, too. “Wassup, homie?,” he said, “Still no luck with the plot, eh? You know what? You should go out, man. Get some inseparation,” he said.

“Inspiration,” I corrected him.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Technical mistake,” he quickly replied.

Seeing as I desperately needed to get away from the class anyway, the moment the period ended, I walked out with the two of them in tow.

Once outside, I noticed that the place wasn’t bustling with much activity, for some reason. A friend of mine was deeply engrossed in a copy of Moscow Vector. And another handed me some notes. 'Kulla' (shorty), she called out to Rajiv. They spoke for a bit as I looked around the place. That was about it.

I suddenly remembered that I had to meet someone in the post office regarding a cash transaction.

“Is his name Mani?” Rajiv asked, “Coz then you can just do Mani-transfer. Get it? Money transfer?” He winked at me and both of them started giggling. I dropped my pencil and face-palmed myself in frustration, but gave in to the laughter eventually.

“Or, if his name is Deepu, we could ask him to Deepu-sit the money. Get it? Deposit?” I said, as my face lit up.

“You’re stupid, or what? If you want to deposit something then why do you need another guy? You can do it yourself,” Rajiv countered. And then he and Neha broke off into boisterous peals of laughter. I smiled slowly, accepting defeat.

As we walked further, we saw a mangled heap of metal that was the remains of a BMW-sedan and a REVA. The irony. I could hear the sirens of a cop-car echoing far away. In the adjacent lane, a few people were painting the sidewalk, and Neha went over to help them. I wanted to lend a hand, too, but couldn’t, as I had a bunch of things to do.

Upon reaching the post office, I received a text message. I frowned as soon as I finished reading it. I had to get back to college urgently. Rats. I frantically looked around for the man in question, finished off the work, and hastily bid Rajiv goodbye. He had some business of his own to take care of.

“Come online at 5,” he said while leaving.

“Sure,” I smiled, and turned to leave. The walk back was largely uneventful, save for an airplane momentarily screaming overhead. As I entered college, I was lost in thought about the article when—

*Thud*

Something hard hit my head from behind. I turned around in irritation to see what had caused it. But the moment I saw what it was, my anger evaporated, along with the sharp pain.

“What’s up?,” a voice spoke, cheerfully. It was Shalini. She had hit me with a book to catch my attention. “I thought you were in the post office? Then how did you come back so fas—”

“Speed post,” I interrupted.

“Oh, right,” she said, trying to suppress a snigger, “Should have expected that from a nerd like you.”

“Hey! Don’t call me that!”, I snapped.

“Nerd.”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Although, don’t actually try that, by the way. I’m really afraid of stones.”

“Really?! How come?” she inquired.

“Well, I had this dream once. It was a dark and stormy night. I was stealthily shooting some guards from a distance, when suddenly, alarms started going off everywhere. I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could to get cover, but on the top floor, there was a huge evil-robot that seemed to be bent on killing me. So I ran down again. On my way down, I slipped and fell, because my shoelaces were untied. So I threw them away, and bought a pair of chappals from a nearby shop. Just then, I saw a friend who had a bike, and we tried to get away, but his bike wouldn’t start. The next moment, I was at the top of the Malaysian twin towers, and I lost my footing and plunged downwards. When I woke up, my pillow was gone,” I rattled off effortlessly.

Shalini was at a loss for words for a few seconds. Finally, she spoke. “But you didn’t mention stones even once,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s because I’m claustrophobic,” I explained.

“What?!?! B-But that’s not even—” and then she stopped. “Ok, you win. By the way, sometimes I think that people live in their dreams for too long. Wake up.”

And just like that, I began wondering how life was all about dreams. Some people dream of being great writers, musicians, actors, among others, but how many of those dreams really get fulfilled? How many live in their dreams as a means of getting away from despair, and how many change their dreams into reality. About how much talent goes unnoticed. And then I remembered a verse from a poem by Thomas Gray—

‘Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air’

“Wake up,” she said again. Although this time her voice seemed different.

“Huh?” I mumbled.

“Class over. Let’s go, sleepyhead,” the new voice spoke again.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus. I was back in the classroom again. Evidently, I had dozed off. As I slowly tried to regain consciousness, the events that had recently unfolded played back in my head.

And then I looked down at the sheet of paper lying in front of me. There was small circle drawn somewhere in the corner, with the letters ‘MC’ scrawled untidily in it.

Sigh. Time to make a start...

Christie

There I was, standing in the middle of the road, when it hit me. The bike, that is. The next few seconds were a blur. Although I vaguely remember watching a pale blue object as it flew across the sky in a graceful arc, landing with a dull thud on the freshly paved street. Oh, and the bike lay sprawled on the sidewalk about fifty feet from where the aforementioned girl-in-blue fell.

I had been knocked off my footing, and was lying with my face splat on the ground. Through the corner of my eye I could see her make an unsuccessful attempt to scramble herself onto her feet. I made an earnest effort to get up as well, but it was much too tedious for my aching limbs, and I collapsed to the ground almost instantly.

It was surprising to note that none of the onlookers even bothered to help. But I soon managed to ascribe the elementary lack of a Good Samaritan spirit to the fact that there wasn’t a single soul around, save for an old man in poor clothing. Technically, though, he couldn’t really be called an onlooker. Why? Well, I suppose that it’d help if I retraced my steps first.

...

It all started this morning. The moment I woke up to the mellifluous twittering of the birds, and the warmth of the sun’s rays gently caressing my face, I knew that something would go terribly wrong. Clairvoyance. ESP, if you will. I got dressed and left for the mall, an outing that was brought about following a chance encounter with an old friend the previous week. As I proceeded to hail a cab, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my ribs. Moments later, all the cabs seem to be plying from top to bottom, a very queer phenomenon. That’s when my IQ-riddled brain helped me sense that I had fallen to the ground.

I dusted myself off, and noticed that I was not the sole observer of the vertical taxi syndrome. A petite lass lay motionless on the floor, wondering what forces of nature could have conspired to cause such a mystical occurrence. Evidently, she happened to bump into me. As I leaned over to help her up, the glint of her hazel eyes told me that something greatly distressed her.

“Are you alright?”, I asked.

“Oh it’s nothing, really. This kind of thing happens to me all the time”, she giggled.

“Haha, ok. I thought you seemed pretty upset. Anything I can help you with?”

“Well now that you mention it, I do have to pick up my dad’s body from the hospital. And I could really use a helping hand. Would you come with me? Pretty please?”

At first, I found it fairly strange that a girl whose father had passed away could remain so calm about it. At the same time, I really didn’t want another errand on my hands. Plus, I was already getting late for the mall. But it would be grossly immoral of me to desert her in her exigency. Which meant that I really couldn’t say ‘no’ either. So I did what I felt would be best, even though I knew I was going to regret it. I lied. Through my teeth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I really wouldn’t mind accompanying you. In fact, I was on my way to the hospital myself. I have this fever, you see--”

“You have a beaver?! That’s so cute!”

“No, actually I said that I have a fever--”

“It’s ok, you can show me your beaver later. First, we have to go the hospital”

And she yanked me along before I could explain myself. On our hasty way towards the hospital, I nearly got run over by a truck. Thrice. Once we got inside, she feverishly heckled one of the nurses. The poor nurse seemed to be more than eager to divulge information about the location of the morgue at the prospect of being free from her clutches. And we stormed off towards the morgue.

Sitting by the entrance to the room was an old man, probably in his sixties, in patchy threads and sporting a pair of shades. We inquired about the body.

“Er, I’m looking for the body of Mr. Carl Evans”, said the girl. Her name was Christie, as I’d learnt en route. “Can you help us?”

“Only if you help me, too” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”, I interjected.

“I mean to say that, in return, it would be really nice if you could help me get back home. It’s just a couple of blocks away, right across the street. You see, a blind man can only travel so far by himself”

“If that’s the case, then how, pray, would you be able to help us?”, I asked, skeptically.

“Well, I have the keys to the register. Nicked ‘em”, he said, brandishing his teeth whilst clutching the key-ring.

“Seems fair”, I thought aloud, grabbing the keys from his hand, and unlocking the desk right beside him. I rummaged through the papers, and soon realized that it was a bunch of worthless junk. “You tricked us! There is no name-register in here”, I grumbled.

“Oh, I see”, he said, which I, for one, found pretty annoying – given that he couldn’t see. “Maybe they moved it someplace else. Did you try the patient-display system? I hear they’ve installed it on almost all corridors”

And sure enough, there was a large colour screen gleaming right in front of us. I face-palmed myself and searched the database. “Cool, they’ve even arranged it in an alphabetical order. What was your dad’s name again?”

“Carl. Carl Evans”, she replied.

“Oh, I ‘C’” the old man grinned. I clenched my teeth in exasperation, and then proceeded to skim through the names of people beginning with a C.

“303-A”, I announced. And we skipped over to the allotted cabinet. I held my breath and slid out the cold body, still in its bag, and Christie helped me lug it outside.

“I’m sorry, but how did he die?”, I asked.

“I dunno. Probably drunk-drove off into the lake or something”

“Oh, I sea”, the old man smirked. I stopped short at the point of giving him a fistful, flush in the groins.

As we heaved the body out, some sort of sensor on the door beeped. And alarms started ringing all over. None of us had expected this. I had to think quickly, and we decided to make a run for it. As we turned round the corner, we crashed into a stretcher trolley, and careened off towards the ledge, and into the glass pane.

Now picture a scene from an action movie, wherein an old man and a young girl are saved by a suave hero with an understated air of calm, and the trio come crashing down from the second floor of a hospital, stacked on a bed-on-wheels, miraculously landing with fullest poise neatly in the midst of a dozen awestruck bystanders on the road.

And that’s exactly what didn’t happen. Numerous shards of glass hurtled downwards, shimmering in the light and tinkling onto the ground. Amidst the chaos that ensued, Christie and I were tossed into an alley, as the body bag bounced and came to a halt nearby, while the bed veered off into the distance, carrying the old man with it.

As I tried to recover from the shock, Christie received a text message that seemed to greatly relieve her.

“It’s my mom. She asked whether I’ve picked up my dad’s toddy from the Lofty Skull yet. I guess I probably didn’t hear her right. Can you believe that?”, she tittered, pleasantly amused. “But thanks for your help anyways. Bye!” And she tottered off happily, leaving me still gaping in bewilderment.

I began to trudge slowly, reflecting on the day’s surreal occurrences, when my eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of the bed from the hospital, toppled over sideways, and the old man trying to cross the road without much luck. Too shocked to speak, I helped him without uttering a word. And it was in the middle of this road that the bike smashed into me.

…

And that’s why he couldn’t technically be called an onlooker. Because he couldn’t look! Come to think of it, I have no idea how he managed to dodge the accident and escape unscathed anyway. I looked up to the spot where I last saw him. He was gone. When I came to, I hobbled over to help the girl, visibly in pain, get back up. As she turned over, I was taken aback to see her face. It was Christie.

“Oh, hi. Are you alright? Look I’m really, really sorry--”, I stammered.

“Lorry? No, silly. I came in a bike. That one, over there, see?”, she said, quizzically, pointing to where the mangled remains of her bike lay.

“Umm. Ok. I really wish I could do something to make up for what I’ve done. At the very least, allow me pay for your medical expenses—“

“You noticed my lenses? Cool! Don’t they make me look pretty?”, she asked, gazing at me intently.

“Yes, you really do have pretty eyes”, I fumbled, digging into my pockets to take out my wallet. But I was unable to find it. After conducting a second thorough examination, I managed to pull out a crumpled up piece of paper from one of them. As I turned it over, I saw that it had three words hastily scrawled upon it. I was equally amused and appalled as I read what they said – Optical Implants Corporation. Or, acronymically --

O.I.C.

The Lost Key - Part IV

I rushed to the spot where she lay.

"Lily? LILY?", I asked, shaking her frantically.

But she seemed too frail. Chris came over and helped carry her outside. Once we got into the safety of the car, I tried to wake Lily up again, refusing to believe my eyes.

As I sat beside her, holding her hands, I was lost in her memories. The day we first met. They way she smiled even though she didn't want to. Her laugh. There was something about the way she got angry, too. And the way she cried. But those moments were gone forever. Nothing could bring them back.

And then the millions of things I wished I'd told her when I still had the chance began rushing to my head.

In the meantime, the leader of the team in black tried to help our understanding of the situation. He introduced himself as Mike. He was an undercover agent who worked for Area 51. He went on to explain how Luke had hacked into the database of Project Sandstorm, thus giving him access to highly classified information about the Lost Key, as well as on me. And that was how he was able to trace my every move.

But I had lost interest by now. Nothing seemed to matter anymore --

And then Chris put his hand on my shoulder. The three of us had been through all of life's up's and down's. And he understood me well. Better than me, and almost as well as her.

As I drew myself away, my hands felt something in Lily's pocket. I took it out. It was the package. It was badly crumpled up now. On it, were written just two words, in Lily's handwriting-

For you.

I turned it over to see what was inside. The moment I opened it, I could see that it was a powdery substance. But due to my carelessness, it slipped from my hand, and the entire contents were spilt- upon Lily. I quickly tried to collect some of it back, but it was too late.

For, suddenly, all of it had disappeared magically. And the place where it was became aglow with fluorescence. Something was happening. Chris looked at me and I saw that we were equally clueless about the unnatural phenomenon taking place.

And then, unbelievably, Lily's hand twitched. I rubbed my eyes. I must have been hallucinating. And then it happened again. It was subtle yet noticeable. And slowly, Lily rose. Then she hugged me, and started crying. And for the first time in many years, so did I.

As she wiped a tear off her cheek, she managed a smile-

"So, what did I miss?", she asked jokingly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary", Chris grinned.

And she hugged him too, still sniffing.

"So what was in the package?", I asked.

"Well, it was a gift from my mother. It contains nothing. But has the ability to transform to whatever the bearer really wants, as long as he doesn't want to use it."

Mike and the others came over to witness the miracle, but at the exact same moment, Chris had a flash of insight-

"The riddle -- it's supposed to mean something. Mark as equal each and every sine. Of course! The Trinity Dunes. The angle each dune makes to the normal is equal. Now it seems so obvious."

"Yeah, except, not for 'normal' people like us", Lily said jokingly.

I chuckled too, but quickly tried to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

Apparently, it was not too distant, and our only hope was too head straight towards the place.

"Just a minute", Chris said. And he went back into the caves for some reason. When he came back, he had a flaskful of the red liquid with him. "This ought to come in handy for my experiments", he said.

Upon reaching the place, we realised that it was quite, um, deserted. We did a bit of digging around, and stumbled upon an ancient sundial. It bore Mayan characteristics, but seemed too advanced for its time (pun unintended).

"Do you notice anything special about it?", I asked.

"Nope. It seems pretty ordinary to me", Chris replied.

"Then it must have something to do with sundials in general"

"Thats it! The sundial reaches its peak at noon. And then it starts decreasing -- running out of sands of time. It makes sense now", Lily said.

And it did. So we ripped off the attachment on its 12 o' clock position, and saw a metallic disc underneath.

Having no clue as to how we were supposed to proceed, I looked at Chris, hoping he knew something I didn't. Apparently, he did. He opened his flask, and began gently pouring its contents on it. I watched as it effervesced. But that was it. Nothing happened after that.

"Hmm, that's strange. The Elixir is supposed to dissolve all metals. I guess its missing something", Chris said, perplexed.

Lily and I looked at him in silence. And then --

"What's with the grin?", he asked.

"By any chance, is it supposed to contain porcelain?", I asked.

"Let me check."

And he flipped open his PDA, looking for information on the web.

"By golly, it does! How did you know??", he exclaimed.

I just reached into my pockets. And there it was- the missing piece of the puzzle- the cup. I put a piece of it in the concoction, and watched as it turned from red to vermillion, and then to a beautiful crimson.

I decanted the liquid once again. And this time, the metal quickly vaporised.

"Nature's true form- sublime", Lily smiled.

And the ground beneath us split apart to reveal a staircase. We made our way slowly into its depths. Once we reached the bottom, we saw a chamber. And there it was -- adroitly crafted, ornately studded, and safely hidden among the rubble for centuries --

The Lost Key.

the end

The Lost Key - Part III

As the plane screeched to a halt on the runway, I was still lost in thought. Looking back at all that had happened- The dream. The signs. The shootouts. All the time fighting the adrenaline rush. Excited. And scared. It was beginning to get overwhelming now.

"Sid? SID?", said Lily, waving her hand in front of my eyes in an attempt to grab my attention, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine", I lied.
She wanted to say something, but chose to have her feelings heard by simply giving me the look through the corner of her eyes.

We were interrupted by Chris, who by now had nearly finished unloading the luggage, calling out to us.

As we entered the city, the first thing I noticed was that it was among the best places I'd ever seen. Every aspect of the city reflected their rich culture in one way or the other. The buildings, the streetlamps, and most importantly- the people. Bustling about on the dusty streets, there were people of all occupations, and personalities. Some looked busy. Others cordial. Some dressed in plain white. Others in vibrant splendor. Some laughing. And some sitting quietly in the corner.

Chris managed to spark off a conversation with one of the men, someone who was hooded in black, and glanced suspiciously towards my general direction once in a while. Chris knew roughly where the place was situated, and was inquiring about how to get there. The man recommended that we travel by car, as the roads were pretty rough for a traveler. It was accompanied with a warning to stay away from the place, as legend foretold of grave dangers for those seeking the treasure. Chris then thanked him for the information, and they shook hands as we parted. The hooded figure hurried off into the crowd.

We began our journey towards the Lost Point. As we reached closer, the skies seemed to get murkier, but maybe it was just me.

Upon reaching the place, we were amazed to see the majestic works of art carved on the ornate doors of the structure. I was astounded. And speechless.

I was still gaping at the architectural wonder, when both Lily and Chris indicated that it was time we entered the caverns. As we made our way through the winding maze, it was apparent that numerous attempts had been made to look for the lost treasure. There were marks on the walls and a few of the structural trinkets looked damaged.

As we got deeper into the cave, it became more difficult to breath. We noticed a few arcane symbols and runic figures on the walls in a few places. It seemed like words written in an ancient language in an attempt to convey a message- a warning, perhaps. And suddenly, we reached a dead end.

"This is it", Chris remarked "The place that all adventurers have come to and failed to find any treasure for centuries"
"Let's hope we have better luck than them", I said, breathing deeply.

We started looking around for anything that could hint us towards what to do next. After what seemed like hours of futile effort, Lily stumbled upon something.

"Look at this", she said, pointing towards something drawn on one of the walls.

Among the many symbols that we came across, this one was different- it was exactly the same as the one on the Key. Suddenly, I felt a surge of excitement flow through me. I hurriedly took out the key, and confirmed that the symbols matched.

But we had no idea how to proceed from there. We tried pressing on the symbol, tapping the wall for a secret brick, and even made the Key and the wall coincide exactly, but to no avail. Just as I was about to give up, Lily made another astonishing discovery. Most of the symbols seemed to be facing towards the east, north or south. This was the only one that faced west.

"Brilliant! But what could that signify?", Chris asked.
"I don't know. Maybe we should see what it's looking at", she replied.

And we tried to look for any aberrant feature on the wall directly opposite to it. There was nothing except a few simple shapes etched on it- squares, circles, and the like. We tried to make something happen with the new set of symbols, but it seemed hopeless.

And then, in a spark of genius, Lily said, "The riddle!"

"What about it?", I asked.
"The first line- it translates to- when you need to cross the line"
"Well, haven't we already?"
"No, you silly. The line! The one on the wall. Cross it out. Do it now!"

And we rummaged for a sharp object, and made a cut across the line, crossing it out. In a few seconds, the adjacent wall caved in, revealing a secret passage.

"Lily, you're a genius!", Chris exclaimed.
She looked at me and we just exchanged a brief smile.

And then we proceeded towards the secret passage.

"Very clever, but I'm afraid this is as far as you'll get", a sharp, cutting voice spoke.

We turned around, and were shocked to see who the voice belonged to- Luke. I wondered how he managed to track us down, but my question was answered immediately, as I saw the man in the hood who gave us directions to the place, standing in the background.

"Now be good kids, and hand over the Key to me", he said, coolly.
"No way!", Lily said, eyes bloodshot with anger.
"How sweet, but unfortunately, I get to decide what you can or cannot do", he said, forcefully grabbing the Key from my hands.

We watched helplessly as he approached the massive gates of the chamber, and began unlocking it with the Key. But he couldn't.

"Is this some kind of a joke?", he raged. "This is not the right Key. Tell me where you are hiding the real one"
"Honestly, this is the Key. The one I saw in the Dream", I said, shaken aback.
"Do you think I'm a fool?"
"Well, you definitely look like one", I wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, I gave him a cold stare.

He ripped something from the wall and flung it in disgust. It bounced off the wall, and landed into what seemed like a pail of reddish potion. It then started bubbling, and within seconds, it had dissolved completely.

"That must be the Elixir of Quathemuc", Chris whispered into my ear, "it can dissolve any metal known to man, and has many other magical properties"

"The boy lies. Lock them up until he decides to tell the truth", Luke hollered.

His henchmen tugged at us forcefully, and began dragging us towards the exit. As they reached the end, we saw a group of people clad in black overalls making their way in. Before anyone could react, they opened fire on the thugs, and we crouched for cover. Luke and his men took out their guns as well, and there was an exchange of bullets.

"Go. We'll cover you", said one of the men.

And we dashed towards the exit. I looked back to see what was going on in the melée. I heard a muffled gunshot. And watched as a body gracefully fell towards the floor in slow-motion.

Lily was dead.

to be continued

The Lost Key - Part II

We found ourselves in a desolate area. It had a contemporary feel, as well as a rustic charm, at the same time. Chris was driving. He was our good friend. Emanating an aura of calmness, he was simply a genius. He knew something was amiss for a while now. And when he got to know that the heat was on, he came to our place right away.

"Nice timing", I said.

He simply smiled.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here??", Lily asked.

"I'm sorry I had to keep you in the dark, dear, but I assure you, that soon, it'll all be clear"

So once we got to his room, I began narrating my story to both of them. Although I could not remember everything clearly, I told as much as I could remember from the dream-

"I was walking in a garden, surrounded by lush greenery and beautiful flowers. A light drizzle was pouring intermittently, the entire experience being truly surreal, as a whole. Just as I began admiring the beauty of nature, the clouds suddenly parted, the garden disappeared, and I found myself in the middle of a desert.

I walked around for what seemed like hours, looking for any form of life, and more importantly, for any signs of water. As the little remaining energy was drained out of me, I collapsed into the sands.

As the light before my eyes slowly began to fade, an old man seemed to materialise out of the dust. I looked up at him, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun, and then he spoke-

When you are forced to overstep the line,

And you start running out of the sands of time,

Mark as equal each and every sign,

To reveal nature's true form- sublime.

And then he turned into a crow, and soared away into the distance"

Then I summarised what had transpired during the day. Apparently the guy chasing me was a guy named Luke, a renowned hacker and a criminal mastermind. When I finished, Chris asked me to show him the Key. I took it out from my pocket and let him examine it.

"You see this?", he asked, drawing our attention to some sort of mythical creature etched onto the key, "this is the symbol for Xia'n, one of the Gods that the Mayans worshipped- it's a Raven- and that's what you saw in the dream"

"Everything you've told me hints towards the Lost Point. Legend has it that there exists a place deep in the Mayan lands, that is said to contain unforetold treasure. He who seeks to find it, will realise that his efforts shall bear no fruit, unless God himself conspires to hand it over. Xia'n had been banished from the land for trying to oppose the law that had stood the test of time for eons."

"This place is now somewhere in the middle of Phoenix Islands. But the exact location has remained a mystery ever since. Now all we have to do is figure out what the old man's riddle means."

Lily, who was good with puzzles, tried to analyze all that she had heard. After a few silent minutes, she said, beaming-

"Well I may be wrong, but I think I know what it means"

"Go ahead, tell us", I said, hopeful that she had some solid theory.

"Well the first line probably refers to the fact that you were forced into this situation, out of your home. The second line says that you are short on time, which is true because that Luke guy is out to get you. The remaining parts just say that you must consider all the clues, and pay equal attention to all details, to reach the treasure you are looking for!"

"Good theory, I said, but can it really be that simple?", I asked, skeptically.

"Well it's your best bet", Chris interrupted.

After a moment of silence, he saw that we all passively agreed.

"So I guess Phoenix Isles it is. Let's make a start", Chris said.

"Are you serious? You wanna go chasing after some unknown treasure based on some random dream I had?", I asked, still shocked.

"Well, technically, it's not random" he replied, with a smile.

At that point I knew exactly what he meant, and we set off on his chartered plane to Mexico.

to be continued

The Lost Key - Part I

The moment I woke up, I knew something was wrong. I looked around the room for a clue. There were books lying strewn across the floor. The table lamp was still on. My laptop had gone into sleep mode. There were signs of a frantic search for something. But I couldn't remember what it was, and whether or not it was found.

Lily was still asleep. The curtains were half-drawn, and the sun's rays gently kissed her face. I felt like I could look at her all day.

And then there was a shuffle of footsteps. Loud noises came from the hallway outside. Someone seemed to be shouting out orders in a foreign language. And then it hit me. The dream. Something told me to believe my instincts. I had to react quickly. So I woke Lily up, who was oblivious to the situation at hand, and protested-

"What happened? Are you OK? Where are we going?"

But there was no time to explain. I stuffed some of my essentials into my pockets, the others into my backpack, and we rushed towards the fire exit, that led up to the roof.

And at that exact moment, there was a sound of a door breaking. And through the corner of my eye, I could see a handful of people with guns.

"They're getting away!", one of them said.

"Dont let them!", said the other. (Guess who's the smart one. Hint- Neither)

And they opened fire. One of the bullets narrowly grazed past my jeans. But we managed to make it out alive. Atop the roof, there seemed to be nowhere to go. The main road on three sides, and rows of buildings on the other. And then the craziest idea occured to me-

"Jump", I said.

"What? Have you gone insane?"

"Just do it..there's no other choice"

And we both decided to jump to the adjacent roof. She went first. Although was terrified, she managed to make a sketchy landing. I was about to jump next. But then I stopped. The cabin on the roof-top. The door was still ajar. I ran in, opened the cupboard, and searched through the clothes.

And there it was- the Key.

I kept it in my pocket, and made a run for my life. By this time the gunmen caught up with us, and my leap of faith was interrupted by a gunshot- this time it was my hand. I felt a strong numbing pain, but there was no time to lose. So I jumped across. And we both dashed for the exit.

We ran down the stairs, three at a time.

"What the hell is going on here?", Lily asked.

"I'll explain later, honey, trust me", I replied.

She nodded her head, but didn't seem to be satisfied.

Once we reached the ground floor, we saw that there were guards all around. Just when I was about to give up hope-

"In here!", she shouted, pointing towards the ladies' toilet.

Now on any other day, I wouldn't have agreed. But today was definitely not 'any other day'. So I followed her inside. On the way, I saw an empty cup of tea.

I knew I'd seen it somewhere. Either way I knew it was one of the pieces of the puzzle, so I pocketed that as well.

She ran in, and grabbed what seemed to be a small uneven package from under the sink. Then she clambered out the window, and beckoned me to come.

So we both jumped outside, and were about to decide what to do next, when we heard footsteps in the distance- the gunmen were hot on our heels.

Just as all hope seemed to be lost, a black Mustang GT screeched to a halt near us.

"Get in" the driver of the car said.

And we did just as asked, zooming off into the distance, leaving the henchmen in the dust.

to be continued

Traces of Desire

"Thanks a lot”, she said.

"You’re welcome”, I replied.

And that smile told me something I had never realized before- she knew me much better than I thought she ever would.

Temple of Xengil: Chapter Two

The Undead Horde

Ginskaur had the power of the Orb now. It slowly transformed his mind and body. He began to think evil, and started growing into a heartless beast. He used the Orb to raise the dead. Zombies, Ghouls, Skeletons, Banshees- all at his command. A large army of the Undead, set out to destroy life at Xengil. Spreading death and destruction, the horde and their leader, Ginskaur, who now called himself Wrrjht, were heading towards Leon- the home of the dragon Krayl, a mythical beast that was undoubtedly the most powerful monster on our planet. When coupled with the power of the Orb, Wrrjht could become undefeatable. The only way to rouse the beast was to used the horn of Yeijig, placed safely in the hands of Lord Fyyr, ruler of Yeijig.

Wrrjht’s marched towards Yeijig. He killed anyone who came in his way, asking his minions to do his bidding, not having to dirty his hands. He spread darkness along his path. Some innocent dwellers were converted to the Undead, and Wrrjht’s force became larger still.

I watched helplessly as the townsfolk writhed in pain as the life was sucked out of them before my very eyes. We headed to Naindil, home of the wise sage Dristi, to ask for help. We had no army, and had to find a way to control the might of Wrrjht. The path was a long and time-consuming one, but we had no choice. I went with a handful of my soldiers who managed to survive. By the time we reached the place, Wrrjht had reached Yeijig. A mighty battle was fought. The soldiers had to muster a lot of courage to face monsters like that, who could suck the life out of them in seconds. Thousands were killed, but there was no stopping him. Lord Fyyr was killed in battle. Wrrjht obtained the horn of Yeijig. It seemed like there was no stopping him now. Perhaps no mortal could face his army of the dead.

But there was hope.

“In the caves of Sipov, there lies a crossbow yet unfound. Legend has it that it is the only weapon that can be used to counter the dead. If you are able to locate it, you may stand a chance.”, the wise Dristi said.

“Then we must set forth immediately, Sire”, said Francis.
“Yes, as quickly as we can”, said I.

And we ventured towards Sipov in search of hope, for the fate of mankind depended on it. But we did not have much time…

to be continued

Temple of Xengil: Chapter One

The Orb of Darkness

Xengil- a land of peace and harmony, built single-handedly by Lord Glynser. He had two sons, Ginskaur and Gliknaur. On his death bed, he passed down the throne to his younger son, Gliknaur, and also appointed him guardian of the Temple, the place where the mysterious casket was kept, and was asked to defend it well.Ginskaur was given command of the army. He was unhappy, for he was the older brother. He sought revenge. Things were calm for a while, but probably not for long…

“An army approaches, Sire. They are at the adjoining city of Gloyt”, the minister said.
“And who is their leader, Craitt?”
“I’m afraid it’s your brother Ginskaur”
A silence followed.
“The soothsayer was right… Those that form a part of thee, shall be the ones to part”, I sighed, “We must protect the casket at all costs. Ask the general to prepare for battle. We must defend the temple”.

Some of our warriors still remained loyal. Craitt reached the general’s quarters.

“General Fransic, Lord Gliknaur has ordered that the army be prepared for battle”
“Why? Did Ginskaur--??”
“Yes”, he said coldly.

So the army was prepared and stationed at the temple. Hundreds of archers to secure the towers, and thousands of other infantry were ready to take on the enemy. Ginskaur was approaching. He was here to take the casket, and was not going back empty handed. A long battle ensued. He used large battering rams, and catapults to take down the walls. Our archers used their advantage of range to neutralize them, but he would not hold back. Our arrows were fast depleting in number, but they were very effective- we cut through their shields and pierced through their armor, while being well defended by the walls. Both of us were technologically level, and neither had the upper-hand in terms of numbers. He bore through the walls, and our Swordsmen took down as many as they could, with some help from the towers and knights. Our knights were quickly killed by his spears- something we did not have in our arsenal. Many of our swordsmen were lost in battle. Then Fransic had an idea. He set all arrows ablaze, and we fired burning arrows. It helped to some extent, but even with General Fransic’s best efforts, our army was dwindling. We had no option but to flee. The battle was lost.

Ginskaur made his way into the temple. He rotated the dials carefully, and entered the chamber that opened. We saw him approach the casket with malice. He opened it to find the most amazing sphere ever made. The Orb of Darkness was finally Ginskaur’s. He lifted it with joy, and could feel the power surging through his veins already. He was all powerful now. There was no hope for mankind anymore…

to be continued

Mission: Nanozilla™ - Part Three

I met Lucy on my way out. She smiled that beautiful smile that cleared all my worries for the next few hours. She was a new recruit. This was her first mission. She seemed nervous at first, but heck, she was a girl-it was understandable. But despite that fact, having made to the team was definitely a commendable feat. She was in the Chemical Warfare Department. She told me that Luke was in search of the stolen money. She had disabled all of Hacker’s minions in the building with our proprietary SLoW gas- short for Sleeping, Laughing and Weeping gas (perhaps their next component would be NOS and then they would call it… let me guess- SLoW NOSe).

But Hacker had a separate chamber. He was unaffected by the gas and was taking a nap. That hog. Now was the time to get him. I gave Lucy my stun gun and lowered her into his chamber using a rope. But I was jolted by a sudden loud noise- the security alarm. Luke probably dropped the stylus of the PDA- my PDA, triggering off the alarm. What a klutz. We had to wrap up our work soon. Hacker woke up, much to the surprise of poor Lucy. He tried to release the naobots, but I had initiated the self-destruct sequence. We did not have much time left. I had to react fast. I triggered an explosion at the power generator using my Grenade Launcher, switched on my night-vision goggles, and in the darkness, glided downwards to where Lucy was and knocked Hacker out with my Micro Uzi. That was certainly going to leave a dent on it. I checked on the others. Luke had the money with him now. Rudolf had our aircraft ready. We took our fugitive in and we moved out of the place- not a moment too soon- the shards of the Prism flew skywards the instant we took off the land. The nanobots were blown to smithereens. We called the cops- Hacker was arrested. We were given the next week off.

As for Lucy, she appeared to be quite impressed, for there were feet flailing and tongues rolling for the rest of the night.

end

Mission: Nanozilla™ - Part Two

It may require some explanation as to why I had a transceiver chip in the first place, and secondly, why I would risk getting killed mercilessly. The reason is that I am Chris, SDD (Sophisticated Device Development) Branch of the Intelligence Department of Erasier(don’t ask). We are a team dedicated to terror prevention, and we like to make the world a better place… nah, it’s just for the cash, that’s just our motto (I still think “We put the ‘D’ in Duh” would have been better). I did not like to have my devices handled by others, so I did the work personally. We had to maintain a low profile among civilians (which is like impossible when there are lots of babes around), we moved out in our private helicopter. I checked my laptop, and the tracker pointed eastwards, apparently he was making his way to the Prism- a natural structure made of gigantic ice shards.

We entered the place and asked Rudolf to monitor the entrance and also warn us of any other possible threats. He had a pair of the most amazing eyes, earning him the place of Forensic Inspector. Hacker’s hideout was and amazing piece of architecture, but I hadn’t much time to ponder upon that thought further. The place was intricately developed, and we had to split up to improve our chances of success. I handed Luke my PDA, disinclined, but knew that it would only help precipitate our scouting. I still had my trusty coder watch- that was all I required. I located a vent and went in (pun unintended), knowing that I was the only one small enough to fit in. The chamber predictably led me to the nanite storage chamber. I flipped open my watch. It took my programming knowledge about twenty seconds to bring the nanobots under my control, and I also disabled all the security cameras. I now had to check on the progress of my teammates.

to be continued

Mission: Nanozilla™ - Part One

There was a gunshot. All eyes turned to that direction. He wanted money, and did not mind killing off a few useless people to achieve his goal… just to lighten up the mood a little. He had ‘obtained’ the blueprints for one of the most anticipated advancements in the field of science and technology- nanites. Nanites, or nanobots, as they are commonly known, are robots of the height of one billionth of a metre. Pretty cute, but deadly in the wrong hands. Being virtually invisible, they could be used to perform tasks with little or no detectability. Apparently his motive was to… yeah, yeah… take over the world. Terrorism still is the quickest way to mint money. At least that’s what our friend James ‘Hacker’ thought.

So he took hostage at the Glass Sphere- the prime location for the rich and affluent ‘enthusiasts’ who… took time off their busy schedules to be there, just for the heck of it. The entire process was pretty much routine and textbook-style- he barged in, took hostage, threatened to kill, and gained instant fame as the world watched live what his demands were on television. He wanted (for some reason) two billion dollars. As the police negotiations failed, the Centre had no option but to hand over the money. In minutes, a large briefcase with crisp notes was brought in, and Hacker had it counted by his sidekick Jude. As he was about to leave, I attached a transceiver chip onto the money. My job was done… for now.

to be continued

The Last Lap : Episode Three (New)

FEBRUARY 6, 2006 | TNR GARAGE | MOSCOW
I felt much refreshed this morning. Our team contacted TNR manager Robert. He gave us permission to see the garage. The team had asked S.W.A.T. chief Argon for backup. We looked for Rocky, but apparently somebody tipped him off. He ran away, the coward. But that was not exactly a problem. All race drivers had to have a skin cell transmuted to a GPS chip. I called my old friend, Blake, head at Covert Ops, Interpol. He was more than happy to help track him down. We corresponded with him via radio, and he traced him to a London suburb. We moved into our chopper, and cruised to London in minutes.

FEBRUARY 5, 2006 | RT LANE | LONDON
We found Rocky hiding in his apartment. I wanted to pull out my TX-800 sniper and finish him off... but I was hired to arrest him - not assassinate him. We barged in from the front door. He quickly scuffled for a hand grenade, launched it at us, and jumped off the 3rd floor ledge. By the time the smoke cleared, we saw him speeding away in his car - an RL Xtreme - 2835 cc , 499 kgm , 189 bhp @ 7000 rpm. A car to kill for. The others got into their cars and were on his tail. I followed him on my Ducati PZ-999. He saw me gaining in and shot at my bike with an assault rifle. But I had a bullet-proof bike. I only had my handgun. I shot at his fuel tank. His fuel was dripping, but he kept driving. He moved off the freeway to Parker Street. I shot at his tyre. His car stalled. We stopped by his car to arrest him. He came out with his hands up. And then he suddenly took Jessica hostage. I was furious, but helpless. Josh tried to negotiate, but to no avail. He wanted a helicopter and demanded to be free from police arrest. We contacted chief. A chopper came hovering above us, and he moved towards the door. He opened the door to-

*THUD*

I rammed an exhaust pipe into the back of his head. I had taken advantage of the darkness. I hated all this slow nonsense. I meant business, and I meant fast.
Rocky was knocked out.
Jessica was safe and in my arms again.
And the world was a happier place.

end

The Last Lap : Episode Three (Original)

FEBRUARY 6, 2006 | TNR GARAGE | MOSCOW
I felt much refreshed this morning. Our team contacted TNR manager Robert. He gave us permission to see the garage. The team had asked S.W.A.T. chief Argon for backup. We looked for Rocky, but apparently somebody tipped him off. He ran away, the coward. But that was not exactly a problem. All race drivers had to have a skin cell transmuted to a GPS chip. I called my old friend, Blake, head at Covert Ops, Interpol. He was more than happy to help track him down. We corresponded with him via radio, and he traced him to a London suburb. We moved into our chopper, and cruised to London in minutes.

FEBRUARY 5, 2006 | RT LANE | LONDON
We located Rocky's car. An RL Xtreme - 2835 cc , 499 kgm , 189 bhp @ 7000 rpm. It meant that the chase would be fun. We had three cars in all, and were hot at his trail. The fool had nowhere to go. He turned left , then right, then left again, but so did we. This was obviously not going to be able to save him. He moved off the freeway to Parker Street. I had a hunch that he would take a diversion towards the harbour. I asked the other two cars to cover the exits, and I followed him, at 280 km/h. Sweet. And then, he moved towards the dock. It was a routine job now- Code eight-six. The three of us blocked all his paths, and flashed high beam in synchronization. He was blinded and surprised simultaneously, rammed into a pavement, and his car stalled. It was off to the clink for him.

As for me... it was like any other week at the office.

end

The Last Lap : Episode Two +

FEBRUARY 5, 2006 | GAMMA HQ | CANADA
At the Gamma Head-Quarters, Josh miraculously located the mangled remains of Smith's car on his laptop. He ordered it online, and in we got to work. Josh worked on the car for about forty minutes, but in vain. Outside, Jessica and I were discussing key points of the case. She suddenly paused for a while. I felt her hands hold mine. She looked into my eyes and drew nearer to k-

"Holy Saints! Karbon, come in! ", Josh exclaimed.
"What is it? Did you find something big? "
"No."
"Then why the hell did you call me ?? "
"I found something small.... real small. ", he said, and pointed at the drivers headrest.

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a rail gun, about the size of an ant. I took it to my lab hastily for further investigation. It was a dual-sided electromagnetic rail gun, known in the industry as DER gun. It could fire two shots at once, at the speed of a hundred kilometers a second, using particle accelerator technology. But it was a nano DER gun. I checked the car for more insight. In minutes, I realised that this device was the brain-chlid of a genius, an evil genius, of course, but a genius nonetheless. On particle was fired at Smith's neck, and the other, at the brake fluid system. So that Smith was disabled, and his car veered off course, and it had to seem like an accident. But it was murder, and I wanted to locate him. I went to Jessica's house, where she analysed the gun. Using DNA analysis, in minutes, she identified the killer as Rocky, Smith's team-mate. He was jealous of Smith's success and wanted revenge. I wanted to report to Alfred, but-

"Not now", she said, "we have unfinished business". And she bolted the bedroom door from within.

to be continued

The Last Lap : Episode One

JANUARY 7, 2006 | NASCAR CIRCUIT | USA
Pro Race driver Smith leads the final lap and his team-mate Rocky follows at a close second. Team TNR look set for a one-two finish. Then, Smith suddenly loses control and rams into a tyre wall at top speed. He sustains severe neck and spine injuries and is rushed to Thomas Hospital where he is declared dead. Doctors conduct a post-mortem and no foul play is suspected. It goes down as a fatal car accident. The nation mourns and his name invokes respect for the sport world-wide.

FEBRUARY 4, 2006 | MK LABS | USA
Dr. Milton does a second post-mortem and locates large concentrations of Electro-Magnetic radiation near the back of his neck. He moves forward for a closer look, and is amazed to see a fine pore. He is amazed at his discovery, and then stumbles on another amazing discovery- this pore cuts right accross his neck, and another pore is visible on the opposite side of his neck. He calls Head Invstigator Albert, who immediately assigns Team Gamma on the mission. The team, consisting of Jessica, top Macro Biologist, Josh, retired Race Engineer, and Agent Karbon - Nano-Particulate expert (me). The team starts work immediately.

to be continued