The Dark Star - Hillcliffe Pt. 01

The broadcaster began reading the news headlines at the top of the hour.

His thought process interrupted by a slamming of a door, an angry exchange then the sound of broken glass only punctuated with further exchanges of vile expletives.

Sitting down, staring across the plate of food before him Felix sighed heavily. His own anger silently coursing through his age weakened body.

He hated living on the Hillcliffe Estate, he always had done.

***********

She had not noticed her hands still shaking until she attempted to place her key into the door.

Lisa Walters took a deep breath to compose herself. Breathing in the second-hand stench of marijuana that emanates from the flat next door to hers.

The little ginger whore no doubt numbing her senses ahead of an evening of debauchery at the hands of others. It had become painfully clear over the months since she had moved in how the skinny little wench earned her living. The procession of single males across the communal balcony that fronts the flats overlooking the car park for the flats was sign enough. The noises that passed through the wall from one bedroom to another at all times of the day confirmed Lisa's suspicions.

Finally turning the key in the door Lisa crashed into the short hallway of the two-bed flat where the four of them reside, her constant petitions to the council for a larger premises constantly falling on deaf ears.

"Where've you been?" Jayden angrily sneers as he pushes past her headed towards the open door.

"Wait a minute..." Lisa turns towards her son who is already on the balcony, dressed all in black, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head and carrying a full rucksack, the contents of which she has no idea. "...I've got food for you here."

"Already eaten Mum..." his expression is almost pained for no known reason. "...went Chicken Shop earlier."

Lisa steps aside conscious of the presence of Kelvin, Jayden's seemingly ever-present shadow, waiting patiently behind her in the hallway. Glancing to him he offers a weak smile of appreciation before heading out through the door.

"Wait... wait..." Lisa snarls "...how did you afford to buy Fried Chicken?"

Stood in the doorway now Lisa finds herself all but publicly dealing with the situation, their voices increasingly raised.

"Kelvin bought it," the disdain evident in his voice once more.

Lisa notes how Kelvin suddenly had a fixation with looking to the pristine white Nike trainers that adorn his feet so that she cannot see the look that adorns his face

"Did you take that twenty from my purse?" Her right forefinger stabs towards her eldest son, the realisation of the cost of one note raising her anger. "So, help me fucking god Kelvin I will...."

"You'll what Mum?" He deliberately goads her

Feeling a red mist descend Lisa grabs the top of the front door and harshly slams it shut to avoid further confrontation.

Her breath heavy, seething Lisa marches into the living area, flinging the bag of cold food onto the round dining table in the corner of the room.

"Everything alright Mum?" Markus her twelve-year-old offers, breaking his concentration away from the TV.

Lisa offered a weak smile; how could she expect him to comprehend. She could barely comprehend herself what had happened in the last hour.

"I'm good thanks baby..." she lied "...can you grab plates and sort yours and Raheem's dinner please."

In stark contrast to her exchange with Jayden Lisa watched as without question Markus heads to the kitchen for plates and diligently began setting the table at her request.

A half an hour later Lisa raised Raheem out of his highchair and sat him down amongst toys and other junk, including the empty boxes of chicken burgers that raised her hackles even further. On the dining table sat, two untouched medium kebabs, the remnants of Markus meal, mostly salad and half the chicken nuggets that had come at such a price.

"Look after your little brother will you..." Lisa requested to Markus. "I just need some fresh air"

Headed through the front door to the communal balcony, slipping her coat back on against the rapidly chilling night air Lisa picked a cigarette from a pack in her pocket. Placing the cigarette to her lips she lights up feeling the warmth of the flame from the lighter to her face. Inhaling deeply hoping in vain that the nicotine will go some way towards easing her anxiety.

After barely two drags from the cigarette, she hears a door open over her right shoulder.

Turning instinctively their eyes meet as he steps from the door of the little ginger sluts flat. He seems out of place to be requiring her services, noting first how smartly dressed he is as he buttons a long overcoat over his dark suit and shirt. As her gaze lingers, he flashes her an immediately disarming grin as he looks her up and down.

Lisa turns away embarrassed, immediately her gaze back out across the tower blocks residencies of the Hillcliffe. Drawing smoke deep into his lungs as she hears his footsteps head in the direction of the stairs that lead to all fifteen levels.

Watching as smoke billows out across the balcony as she exhales heavily Lisa stubs out the cigarette under her foot. Flipping open the packet of cigarettes noting only three remain she cannot resist and takes a second cigarette.

Sheltering the flame of the lighter against a cold wind which whips around the seventh floor of the building Lisa hears the sound as she barely catches a glimpse of a fast-falling large object from the corner of her eye.

The next thing she hears is the sickening thud and accompanying loud bang that echoes all around the Hillcliffe Estate followed in unison by the sound of glass smashing.

With a sickening trepidation Lisa looks over the edge of the balcony, her hands clutch the flaked paint of the metal rail as she compels herself to look over the balcony

She saw the young blonde girl first, stood there her hands to her face dumbfounded.

Only then does she witness the full horror. The broken body lay atop the hideously damaged silver saloon car, arms and legs contorted at sickening angles.

Lisa's scream fills the air.

She watches the blonde girl run.

Tears well in Lisa's eyes.

Tears spurred by terror.

Chapter Three; Andrew

Winter Omertà crossed the spacious bedroom running fingers through long dark curly hair before picking up the rose gold iPhone which sat vibrating on the mirror surface of the luxurious hotel suites dressing table.

Before taking the call, she watched as the tall male dressed immaculately once more in slim fit navy suit headed from the room.

'Withheld Number' the indication on the phone screen offering no clue as to who had called her three times in the last hour.

"Hello," she curtly offered.

"Hello Frosty."

She recognised his voice straight away.

"Hello yourself... stranger..." her tone warmed immediately as she first sat, then lay back on the dishevelled white sheets of the hotel bed, wrapping the sheer peach dressing gown around her supple olive-skinned naked body. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm looking for information."

"And there was me expecting that you'd be looking for a dinner date for the night followed by the most blown your mind has been for a long-time sweetheart."

"I'm serious Winter."

She could tell by his blunt tone that he was in no mood to rise to her gentle baiting.

"Ok... ok... what are you looking for info on?" Winter sat back forward from her relaxed position.

"I'm guessing were talking too gutter trash, but... any of your girls ever work with or have association to a gang called The Three's up on the Hillcliffe... run by a man named Marlon Pickford?"

"Fuck me..." Winter stood from the bed, pausing while running her finger through remnants of cocaine on the bed side table before rubbing her finger to her upper gum, "...You are being serious."

"I am... I believe they have something of interest to me."

"What you looking for handsome?" Winters mind worked on overdrive, processing possibilities at just the snippet of detail he had offered her. "Because you don't need me to tell you how much hot water you'll be bathing in pursuing this."

"I'm just looking for info... I've a proposal for Mr Pickford."

"Marlon Pickford ain't the negotiating type baby," Winter offered. "I got no girls work for me that have any association with the destitution over in that shit hole... reading between the lines you might not want to hear this but they usually ain't worth shit by time Marlon has spat them out."

"You can think of no one, not even anyone whose departed your stable ... I just need someone who'll talk... someone I can lean on."

Winter paused, in her mind she mentally ran through the names and faces of girls who had worked in the past for her predominantly high-end escort agency, Elite Escorts. She was just about to inform him there was nothing she could do to assist when the name and face came to her.

"You know what..."

"What?" he bluntly stated.

"There's one girl I can think of... local celebrity for infamy rather than anything else, she came to me around six months ago... I couldn't take her on because of the baggage... pretty little thing." Winter offered feeling the slight tingle of the cocaine to her gums.

"Who?"

"Last I heard..." Winter continued "...she was caught up in the Hillcliffe lifestyle. I had a client looking for..."

"Spare me her life story Winnie...who?"

"Goes by the name of Felicity," Winter confirmed.

"Felicity" he repeated back, "Sounds a little upper class for the Hillcliffe."

His mischievous chuckle made her smile.

"Only met her once... I'd say she'd be your type but then from my experience any girl can be your type"

Winters turn to raise a chuckle from what sounded like a tired man.

"You've never had the pleasure of my experience Winnie," his dry response as she stepped to the window overlooking the river through a thin white voile curtain.

"Nor would I want to... from what I've heard... not that you could even afford my platinum rates."

"Didn't know your girls gave feedback scores."

"They talk... they talk..." Winter shook her head ruefully, "Promise me something."

"What?"

"If you're going after him like I think you're going after him... then you'll consider your personal safety."

Winter did not personally know of any of the individuals who ruled or claimed to rule in the disorder and crime riddled area of the City, but she knew of reputations. Names whose horror stories preceded them, in the savage lawlessness of the Hillcliffe rumours were often heavily soaked in the brutal truth. Not a day seemed to pass without local news reports covering one sickening story or another of cruel consequence relating to the postcodes that fall under the stain on the City's reputation.

"I always play safe," she hears his far too cocky sentiment through the phone pressed to her ear.

"I'm serious," Winter scorned.

"So am I ...how do I contact this Felicity"

"I'll send you the details... assume this phone you're on is the smart variety" Winter set the phone to speaker setting as she scrolled through contacts efficiently and cut and paste the details. Releasing she could not send attachments to the withheld number. "I need your digits honey."

"I'll send them over... thank you Winter... it's appreciated."

"Good luck."

He did not respond to her as the line went dead on her.

Barely seconds later eleven digits on a WhatsApp message arrived from a contact with what appeared to be a grey cartoon dog profile pic.

Sending the details she had promised Winter set her phone back down before heading for a long relaxing shower.

**********

In the darkness Andy Grainger ascended the concrete staircase that had led from what constituted an open-air car park for the blocks of flats that had flanked him at ground level.

Reading graffiti tagged signs to check he was even at the Whitstone Tower in the first place he quickly realised that somewhat confusingly odd numbers were to the right of the landings as approached them and even numbers to the right.

Reaching the seventh floor hearing a commotion ahead of him just before two teens brushed passed him at haste as they took the stairs higher up in to the tower block, the thought of a sarcastic comment passed his mind, but he thought better of the needless confrontation that such a comment might provoke.

Stepping purposefully onto the balcony across the front of the flats he looked out across the heavily populated desolate looking surroundings, in the distance he hears a siren over the eclectic mix of heavy baseline filled music that invades his hearing from a multiple of different locations, dogs barking constantly, while somewhere nearer by a baby cries loudly.

Approaching the door of flat 719 he pauses, taking a deep breath to compose himself, to remind himself of the need for tact. Reminding himself of what is potentially at stake, and time is not his friend.

Andy gently taps his knuckles against the door. Waiting a moment before he hears movement the other side of the door

The door opens just a crack, a security chain snaps taught preventing the door fully opening, revealing the occupant only partially. He noted immediately her bright auburn hair, even in the dim light. Her skin is pale and black square framed glasses sit on the bridge of her petite nose.

"Andrew?" she meekly enquires.

"That's right."

The door closes an inch or so, he hears the chain scrape against the back of the door before the door opens wide with a heavy creak of its hinges.

She stands behind the door as he enters the damp smelling flat. There is a slight chill to the air as he steps across the threshold, clear of the door he hears the door creak once more as it closes.

Stepping aside she leads the way, his eyes cast over her body as she steps down the short narrow corridors and enters a bedroom, three light grey walls and a jade green feature wall behind a wooden frame double bed. The room lit only by flickering candlelight. A long shapeless black t-shirt sits just above her knees clings to her obviously slim frame, black nylons with a seam up the backs of her legs clad her lower body.

As he enters the bedroom she steps to the side of the bed and fishes a condom from a silver bowl on a bed side table. She removes her glasses and sets them down next to the bowl.

Turning he sets eyes on her petite face properly for the first time. He agrees with Winters appraisal, she has a pretty face even if it is a little gaunt, her pale green eyes offset by her auburn hair even in the flickering light of the candles positioned around the room. Dark red lipstick paints her thin lips.

"I'm not here for that," Andy immediately offers.

Her slightly nervous expression lingers towards one of confused uncertainty on hearing his words.

"Wh..what are you looking for then?" She stammers, her fingers toying with the silver wrapper of the condom.

"Information," he cuts straight to the chase.

"Information?" she meets his eye-line. "What information?

The little red head is plainly confused as Andy closes the bedroom door behind him leaning against a wall to his left-hand side as he keeps hers in his gaze.

"Your superiors... Marlon Pickford in particular... I understand he owns you... controls you Felicity."

A look of remorse passes her face before she immediately shakes her head, "I can't... you know you I can't possibly even..."

"I know all about him Felicity... I know his vile network... I can imagine the control under which he holds you and countless others."

Her head hangs low, she shakes her head.

"I know everything about him... except his location... that's where I need your help." Andy continued.

"You'll never find him...He moves around constantly..." she offers, "Deliberately... I... I've..."

Andy lets her speak. Patiently waiting being his initial tactic to press the girl for any information that can assist his urgent quest.

"I've only ever met him once... when I first started working for him... everything's anonymous."

Her hand grazes her right hip as Andy's mind passed to the sterile basic little web site that Winter had provided him the details for with a link direct to her details and means to schedule time in her company. Somewhat surprised by the level of sophistication involved, dubious immediately to use credit card details to pay for the booking. Wary of the need, and aware of the likely phishing of accounts behind the salubrious booking of Prostitutes.

"I'm guessing then that you don't see much of the sixty quid I paid for your time then?" Andy bluntly offered.

Her grimace spoke volumes.

"Around half," she whispered shamefully.

The use of the word 'around' was telling, reaching into the inside pocket of his overcoat he took the pre-counted roll of cash and flung it onto the bed.

"There's five hundred there... should keep you off your back for a bit... I just need your cooperation."

Her eyes dart to the roll of twenty-pound notes secured with an elastic band. She makes to reach for the money then stops.

"Five hundred isn't enough... if I betray him then...."

"Then what?" Andy pressed.

"You know my life won't be worth living... assuming he lets me live."

She is astute, Andy considers, looking back into her eyes which fix back on his. Something suggesting to him that prior to the sordid life she leads Felicity was worth far more than people would give her credit for. Winter had mentioned infamy in her past, he had not thought to enquire further, something he now regretted.

His intention had never been to underestimate her and what he was going to ask of her. His opening gambit had been a low offer and while he sensed her desperation as he cast his eye around the sparsely furnished room, in a pokey small flat situated in one of the most deprived areas of the City he realised it would take more, it did not bother him as it was not his cash in the first instance.

His hand slipping back into his jacket pocket he flung a second roll of cash down next to the first on the bed.

"Five hundred more... you can multiply what's on the bed by ten if I find what I'm looking for off the back of your assistance... and I promise not only my discretion put to keep you safe."

Andy knew he had to provide enough temptation to seriously test her resolve. Given her circumstances ten grand should be more than adequate. He could assure her of his discretion that he could be certain of, he was not out to draw attention to his clandestine movements, her safety he could not guarantee, he had to give the illusion that he could none the less.

Looking up to her she bites tentatively at her bottom lip, the flicker of candles casts shifting shadows over her face, but her eyes are not on him now as she hungrily stares at the two rolls of cash that sit on the light grey sheet pulled across the double mattress.

"I... but I don't even... I've no idea how to..."

Her stuttering words indicate her compliance she does not say as much but Andy Grainger senses he gains Felicity's trust, even if at a monetary price.

"There must be a chain of command..." Andy begins to outline what he seeks from her. "Someone you can go to who can go to him... there's only so many bolt holes where even Marlon Pickford can hide around this shit hole."

Felicity looks to him, fully attentive once more.

"Think of a need to go to him... set up a meeting... you don't have to attend... just let me know where he'll be," Andy concludes.

His plan is hardly detailed, its simplicity will either be its downfall or its making. Andy takes one last item from his pocket. A tiny slip of paper with the eleven numbers of his burner phone scribbled across it.

"Best number," he offers as she takes the piece of paper, unfolding between her slender fingers which still grip the small square condom.