“They say a normal man can’t go more than 11 days without sleep.”
Frank lightly placed his half empty whisky glass on the coaster and turned his head to look at the scrawny man beside him. “They also say one minute can totally fuck up your life—forever. I’m guessing this might be it. Now whaddya want Carl.”
“A man just drops dead after 11 days of no sleep. You’re really not normal, Frank.” Carl grumbled, his eyes glued on the shelves filled with liquor bottles.
Frank heaved a sigh. The conversation started with fifteen minutes of silence; he had run out of patience way before it started. “Quit dancing around the subject, and tell me what you want or I’m leaving.”
“Name’s not Carl. It’s Jonathan.” Carl turned his head slightly to meet Frank’s eyes.
“Well, I’m not the one that gave a fake business card when we first met. Get on with whatever already.” Frank picked up the whisky glass, gulped down the remaining contents, and then slammed glass back down on the coaster.
“Alright, Frank. No need to pop a vein.” Carl placed a memory stick on the bar’s counter, still with his hand placed on top of it.
To a normal person, what Carl did may have looked something like a sleight of hand. But Frank knew—it was more than just a trick.
“Few reports inside the stick. The case is smaller in scale, but our forensic experts shows the same readings as 17 years ago,” Carl reported. “Red Death incident. If you know what I mean.”
“I know!” Frank slammed his fist on the polished table wood. Carl didn’t have to remind him about it.
Frank jerked off the memory stick off Carl’s hands. “Where’s the scene at?”
“China. Guangzhou to be exact. Details are in the stick.” Carl coughed.
“Don’t bullshit with me Carl. I have a family here.” Frank stood up, placing the memory stick back on the bar’s counter. He strode for the door, but a man, or what looks like a human a couple of heads above his height, blocked his exit.
Carl came up behind him, tugged at his sleeve. “This one’s big. You never know until you see it. Keep it. It was meant for you.”
“Alright.” A drop of sweat fell from Frank’s wrinkled forehead. He knew the stick was already in his pocket from the moment Carl left his seat.
“Make this your last one Frank.” Carl waved his hands once. “After this, we’re done. As always, don’t carelessly drop it. Whatever’s in Aur, stays in Aur.” He disappeared into a mist as if he was never there. The humanoid that blocked his way also faded out of existence, at least that’s what it looked like to Frank.
Not one patron glanced at the sudden disappearances. Even with almost two decades worth of experience, Frank still had trouble accepting the reality of it all.
The heavy door in front of Frank opened itself as if knowing his intentions. It was misty outside and the putrid smell of urine reached his nose. He looked around to see where the smell came from.The body of a patron, fat, unshaved, wrinkled clothes, laid down unconscious on the wet sidewalk pavement.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Frank chose his steps carefully to avoid meeting any part of the man passed out in front of the door. “Lazy drunk,” he murmured, then walked across the empty street to get to the car on the passenger’s side.
The doors were locked. Frank saw the man on the driver’s side blanked out, just staring at the speedometer. His hair was unkempt, his face unshaven, and the bags under his eyes clearly defined.
“Alan, don’t give me this bullshit and open the door. I don’t need this kind of shit from you right now.” Frank raised his voice.
Alan flinched and moved his sight to Frank. “I can feel it, man. I can feel it. A whole lot of shit’s abouta happen. And that thing—that thing he gave you. Just throw it out or trash it or something. Trust me, Frank.”
Frank kicked the door, adding another dent to the numerous dents. “Alan, you goddamn open this door right now, or I’m about to rip off this door and rip your ass.”
The doors of the car clicked open. Frank got in, slamming the door shut. The car drove off as soon as the belt clicked.
“Frank, you know my hunches are always damn right? I have a hunch this is going to be bad man. It’s gonna be real bad man.” Alan whimpered.
“Well, there’s no other choice ain’t there.” Frank sighed. He would do anything just to find a clue about the Red Death incident.
“There’s always a choice, Frank. You don’t gotta do this.” Alan paused, ”The last one was bad. We almost died. This time… you wanna die?!”
“Shut up. This one is probably going to be the last anyways so quit ye’r bickering.” Frank couldn’t argue with Alan any longer. He knew Alan’s hunches were always on the mark, yet that’s exactly why he was so keen on pursuing this lead. It was for certain this mission from Carl is not what it seems.
***
Police station, captain’s office. Frank sat down opposite the captain. He squirmed around the chair trying to find a comfortable spot, eventually giving up. The chairs themselves were designed to be as uncomfortable as possible to be as intimidating as possible.
“Captain” He grumbled, not too happy with waiting a whole five minutes squirming around the seat.
A few more minutes passed by watching the captain read reports on the desk cluttered with coffee mugs, pencils, and stacks of coffee stained papers or what looks to be reports.
“Captain Emmerson” He grumbled even louder.
“Goddammit Frank, just close the case” said the captain, voice laced with irritation.
Frank rolled his eyes, bracing himself for the usual barrage of insults and shouting. The job wasn’t important to him; it was just a means to keep himself fed while he searched for answers for 17 goddamn years. But this time, the barrage never came.
"Ian Huang, 35 years old, working at a warehouse just outside of downtown. The lead went cold as soon as our undercovers got near him. Those same undercovers went MIA," said the captain, handing Frank a stack of coffee-stained reports and binders. "Everything we know is here. Read it. Frank, please. You’re our best. Those men were good people."
"Captain, you know I’m busy—" Frank began, but the captain cut him off.
"Frank. It’s been 17 goddamn years. Just take this one, and you won’t have to do any other cases for a year."
"Alright, I’ll bite. Any more details on our suspect, or is the priority just to save our men?" Frank asked, looking clearly uninterested.
The captain glared at him. "Both. Can you do it?"
"I wouldn’t do this if you weren’t such a soft captain," Frank said, standing up and letting the stack of reports and binders fall to the floor. He headed toward the door.
"What the fuck! I just cleaned my office yesterday," the captain complained, his voice elevated.
"Quit bickering and blame yourself. You know I don’t read your crappy reports," Frank snickered.
"One more thing. The gang operates in two locations: one in Hong Kong and one in Guangzhou. Take your pick," said the captain as he walked around the desk to pick up the clutter.
Frank grinned at the mention of Guangzhou. It could have been a coincidence for all he cared, but it didn’t matter. It was just one more thing confirming his motivation to go there. After 17 goddamn years, maybe something interesting would finally be dug up. This hunch he felt was the biggest one in a long time.