Rapture Falls (6 page)

“You
’
r
e
awake”, the deep dark voice emanated from the armchair located to Baine’s right.

Baine swung his legs onto the floor and prepared to launch himself at the unknown figure, he neither knew the man nor cared to
, the temper of a calm man is difficult to raise and near impossible to subdue.

“Stay”, the man raised one hand with a tired withering look.

Only Baine’s anger prevented him from laughing out loud, but anger soon turned to disbelief as his body refused its inst
ructions and he remained seated,
only his mouth remained his own, “Let me the fuck up” he growled still unable to grasp or acknowledge the presence of a superior.

“Judging by your demeanor my son I probably think it best that you remain incapacitated for the time being”, the man
’
s tone was both soothing and hypnotic. “I do regret this I assure you, but unfortunately one with your temperament cannot be relied upon to behave in your own best interest”.

“What do you want with me” Baine hoped that he struck the right tone of submission, he eyes da
rted and his brain raced for any
advantage or opportunity.

The man stood, he towered across the room and seemed to occupy the
environment
effortlessly,
and the
light seemed to draw into him dimming the surroundings. “I am here my child, for you”, he
covered the rooms space toward the rear wall with a fluid ease and
leaned toward the window, hands drawn behind his back
in a stately fashion, “I bring you answers and salvation” he turned back toward the prone Baine eyes blazing, “All you have do is believe”.

             
DI McCullum
sat buried amongst an ever growing paperwork mountain, as well as the man
’
s broken body laid upon the oak desk alter
,
subsequent searches of the warehouse
had turned up a further two bodies. McCullum had been in this business long enough to recognise a couple of hired thugs when he fell across them, this revelation had thrown the first victims status into question. He had been pondering this when a colleague, in his head McCullum always used air quotes whenever he thought of his surrounding peers as colleagues, brought over a thick yellowing file on the dead man whose primary offences had predated the computerization era. His name was Jon Sinclair, a nasty piece of work in a nasty business, his record held many prosecutions but few convictions, the few charges that had stuck related mainly back to his early days as a young thug in the city, petty theft and shoplifting graduating to dealing and various assaults.
Sinclair had run various legitimate business that the serious crimes squad suspected of laundering the profits from Sinclair’s more shady operations. The two thugs were low rent criminals who were linked to Sinclair for several years, a check through the Inland Revenue showed that they were both employed as door staff at one of Sinclair’s clubs. Added to all of this a mans body had been pulled out of the dark water at Cardiff Bay, it looked an obvious suicide as a note had been found in a car registered to a Tony Beck left by the side of the bay, a search of the body had turned up a
n empty
sodden wallet
save only for two items,
a Tony
Beck photo ID drivers license
and a white business card, damaged from the water but the na
me “
Baine” and mobile number were still just about legible
.

McCullum rubbed his hands across his face massaging his head attempting to shake off the growing tiredness,
he had been raised within a hard single parent household by a widowed mother. His
father was still alive but after
he
had
walked out he had ceased to exist to his family, his mother was a strong shouldered woman who had raised her family on the sweat of her brow and the convictions of her faith. Growing up in a small poor town called Pembroke Dock in Southern Wales, the area did not lend itself to any emotions other than those of getting out, industry was scant and jobs were hard to come by, his mother had sacrificed her money and her health in order to send him
on an escape route
away to college, university and eventually the police academy. His professional ascent had been steep and arduous, he had attacked his career with a
furious intensity
that none of his colleagues could match, he had risen through the ranks at the expense of friends and relationships
driven to succeed for a broken mother and to spite an absent father.
H
e leant back in his chair with his hands on top of his head f
eeling anchored by his malaise.

T
he office was fairly deserted, McCullum’s desk was religiously organized in stark contrast to that of his associates, his attention was drawn to another detective, DC Arwel Thomas stood by the office window, an expression of
heavy
depression plastered across his face.
Something in the young mans
demeanor
pricked at McCullum’s senses and these were
the
senses that he trusted implicitly, he rose and walked over to window. Thomas did not react to his approach lost as he was in his own thoughts, a heavy wave of sadness radiated from him.

“
You o
k son?”
McCullum enquired gently so as not to break to
the young
detective’s
thoughts and cause the man to withdraw back into himself.

“
Do you ever feel that your life is not your own, that your choices are not yours to make, that everything has been planned and laid out before you?”

McCullum immediately felt embarrassed by his preconceptions of all of his colleagues, the young detective was obviously intelligent and articulate, he now felt genuinely interested.

“I thought that it was harmless you know, I thought that it was meaningless
, that it wouldn’t matter, stupid, stupid, stupid!” each stupid was punctuated with a clenched fist thump to the side of the young mans head

“I’ve had many a choice come back to take a chunk out of my backside” he offered
, becoming concerned
.

Thomas opened the large window and closed his eyes against the gentle breeze that buffeted his face,

“I tried you
fight it you
know Sir, I really did, I thought.., I felt…,”

Thomas sighed the heaviest sigh that McCullum had ever heard
, the air seemed to exude from the depths of the y
oung mans heart. “
It’s my fault
Sir”.

McCullum snapped to attention as the conversation turned into a professional avenue, he kept his tone neutral and his voice soft, “What son, what
’s
your fault?”

“There on my desk”, Thomas pointed absently behind him toward
a small cubical, McCullum walked briskly over,
he scoured the well kept desk, he
noticed
a
photo of Beck
, the suicide victim. This photo however was different from the others that he had seen since the body was fished out of the cold black water. This one
contained not just T
ony Beck but also a young woman, h
er hands were thrown around the older man in a happy and loving embrace
, father and daughter.

“
This?”
McCullum
asked

As he turned back to Thomas he was horrified to see the young detective straddling the open window, perched upon the
opening, one leg
already outside, he swung the other over to
hang
beside it, his hands both gripped the window frame behind him as he
hoisted himself
up
in
to
the cold air. He threw a broken look back toward McCullum, “I really did try
to fight it
Sir”
.
 

McCullum was already sprinting across the room the look in Thomas’ eyes instantly told him that there was time to call out, as it turned out there was no time for anything else either.
McCollum’s
hands
only had time to grasp
at thin air as the young detective propelled himself from the fourth floor office window
.
The screams from the street below echoed up through the open window, McCullum stood motionless and unblinking as the events sudden and violent turn sank in
, his mind however was already processing the conversation with an analytical detachment.

             
The world was young and immature, the landscape was empty but burden with possibilities, this was an artist’s blank canvas pregnant with potential. Baine drifted above this adolescent world, he viewed without interaction, the Tall Mans
presence
accompanied him as he floated through the vacant scenery. The earth was lush and green, the colours were vibrant and
flourishing, the grass seemed greener than Baine had ever seen before, trees twisted in the light breeze of a gloriously sunny day.

“This is a time of birth”, the Tall Mans voice resonated in his mind. “A time of new, and before”, the Tall Mans voice held barely suppressed traces of bitterness.

Baine drifted toward a glowing horizon, the setting was indistinguishable as a country or even a continent
. A gathering came into view, six figures were lined three on either side of a shimmering dome of light that radiated warmth even into the hot suns day.

“Memories my dear boy”
, the Tall Mans voice for the first time seemed to approach a sense of humanistic quality
. “This is a time and energy that I visit in my haunts and dreams, a time of love and loyalty, of peace and wonder. We stood tall on this earth and strode upon its surface feeling the tremble heralding our approach, we were warriors that served and sat at his right hand before…, before he fashioned them from lifeless clay and breathed his
life
into their putrid form
”, the anger was unmistakable now as the Tall Man spat his thoughts into Baines head.