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The Troubling Spy
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Aug-20-2011 06:34
While Vulkie was walking up a stairwell from a warehouse, she heard a mouse crawling under it. She slowly put her hand in her pocket and felt the cold iron of her trusted Colt, which had belonged originally to her father, but had been passed on to her when he died. Vulkie took the Colt .38 out of her pocket and aimed it at the door she was facing, when she reached the top of the stairwell. She took one glance downstairs, to make sure nobody had followed her.
"This is it... no turning around anymore," Vulkie murmered, while she held her other hand on the doorknob and twisted it around. As she carefully entered the room, her heels clicked on the wooden floor. "There goes my secret entrance," Vulkie thought.
At the first glance, the room seemed empty. A small chest was placed against the left corner of the room, a desk and a leather chair were in the middle of the room. A window to her right, full of dirty dust and a telephone on the desk. As she walked towards the desk, the telephone began to ring. She looked carefully around, making sure nobody was in the room, shut the door, and quickly paced towards the telephone, picking it up by the time it had rang four times.
"So... I'm at your office. And now what?" Vulkie said to the other person on the line. "......." Only silence remained for a few moments, and then a voice told her what was going to happen now that she was in there. "Turn the chair around, slowly..." a voice said. Vulkie placed the phone on the desk, and extended her arm over the desk, to reach the chair and turn it around. The next thing she saw was horrifying. A man in a sharp three piece suit, his face all scarred, with a missing lower jaw!
Vulkie once more picked the phone up, only to hear, "You are now going to pay the consequences, my dear Miss Nouson. You have five seconds left, to leave this room. I hope you die peacefully." The person on the other line hung up.
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Replies |
M. Lacrimosa
Thespian
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Aug-26-2011 22:13
Los Angeles. A city that never sleeps. Busy day and night with every kind of worker, from illegal prostitution, to good cops rounding up drug dealers. Marc sat down in the busy diner in the early hours of the day. It was in late fall and the weather in California had begun to get colder. Which was fine with Marc. He like the wearing the heavy coats with his suits. They made him look bigger and badder than he really was. He stared at the headlines in the daily paper as he sipped his coffee. At the instant he sipped it, he nearly spit it out. Not only because it was hot and he had not thought about it, but also because of the victim in the paper. Vulkie. It had been quite a while since he had spoke with her. He thought back. "Man." He thought. "It's been close to a year." He read on about how she had been attacked while working on a case with some secret villain. Every private detective has a reputation. Whether its a big rep, or a little local rep. Vulkie's name made it all the way out in L.A.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out dollar and left it on the table and ran outside to the nearest payphone, which was being occupied by someone. He reached and grabbed the phone out of the man's hand. "I'll call you back," Marc said, into the mouth piece. And then he hung up. "Hey buddy," the guys snapped, "what gives? Huh?"
"Oh shut it," Marc snapped back as he reached placed a nickel into the coin slot. "Hello? Operator? Yes, connect me to the NY General Hospital please? Thank you." The line rang twice and a receptionist answered the phone. "I'm looking for a patient there by the name of Vulkie." Marc said quickly. The man that he had taken the phone from was still standing next to him. The man tried to do the same thing Marc did but Marc moved out of the way, and pushed him a way. The nurse connected him to the phone line which rang almost 10 times. About the time Marc was going to hang up, a voice answered the phone.
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M. Lacrimosa
Thespian
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Aug-26-2011 22:16
Vulkie's voice sounded groggy. Probably from all the pain medications she was one.
"Vulkie, thank God you're alive!" Marc exclaimed.
"Who is this?"
"This is Marc. Lacrimosa. From New York."
"Marc? Oh! Marc! Where are you?"
"I'm in Los Angeles. I just saw your name in the paper. You're reputation as a P.I. is bigger than I thought. You're famous even out here-"
"L.A.? Why so far?
"I'll explain later. But I'm leaving tomorrow morning to come up there. I'll be there in three days tops." Marc said.
He hung up the phone before she could reply. He walked quickly to his car and went back to his cheap little apartment, packed his clothes and left for the train station.
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M. Lacrimosa
Thespian
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Aug-30-2011 21:18
He made it to the train station in record timing, running to the desk where he could get tickets for the morning train to New York. "I'm leaving the bags here, and I need you to watch them. I'm in a hurry and I'll be back just before the morning train," he told the girl behind the desk.
"Sir, you can't just leave your bags," She started to protest.
"Ok. So you'll watch them for me." He said quickly. He tossed his suit case behind the desk and left quickly. He ran to his office. His new office. He moved out to California nearly six months ago, and got a job as an investigator the for the D.A. He was now making more money than he had as his own private investigator.
Marc slammed his office open, grabbed his gun, and his suit jacket that was hanging up on his coat rack, and then walked into his bosses office; District Attorney Matthew Jones.
"Mr. Jones," Marc began, "I have a friend in New York who was just attacked the other day. I have to take a few days off and go up there and help her out. Is that going to be ok?"
"Marc you've only worked for me a few months," he started.
"Mr. Jones, you don't understand, she has helped me before and I intend to repay that favor and help her out."
"Marc, you have one week. Then I need you back out here."
"Fine," Marc said. He got up and left. He spent the rest of the day doing useless nothings. That night, he went back to the train station and slept. The next morning he boarded the train and left for New York.
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Aug-31-2011 08:25
It was two days after the accident. Vulkie picked up her fork and looked disgusted towards the plate of food, if you can even call it food already, that was placed in front of her. “I’m so not eating this…” Vulkie said, while she used her fork to get a piece of her vegetables. She curiously looked at it, when she noticed a dark figure standing in the door opening.
“Marc Lacrimosa. Long time no see, my old friend. What the blazes are you doing here? I thought you went to California a few months ago. I still vividly remember that goodbye party you threw. Just make me never EVER drink vodka anymore…” Vulkie said, while she placed her fork down on the plate and made a gentle smile on her face.
“You don’t remember me calling two days ago anymore?” Marc said, while he lighted a cigarette. A nurse made a futile attempt to let Marc not light the cigarette, but he just brushed her off. “I’ll open a window sweetheart, just let me and Miss Nouson alone for a few minutes..” Marc said to the nurse. The nurse, a young lady in her mid 20’s, blushed and quickly paced away, to another patient probably.
“So… Why don’t you start from the beginning. The only thing I got, was that you managed to get blasted away and it almost cost your leg” Marc began, while he pointed towards her leg.
“It all started a few months ago… I can still remember the newspaper that was lying in front of me. “Poland taken by Germans. What country is next?”. Briefly, it involved some details, but what annoyed me, was a small letter that came with my newspaper. It said to meet a certain person, at the date I got injured, at the exact location that I got hurt. It wasn’t a coincidence Marc… This was a serious murder attempt, but I really don’t know by whom. It was signed by S. Schinkkopf. I can only guess the S stands for Sigmund or Simone… It has to be German, I’m sure of it!” Vulkie said to Marc.
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Aug-31-2011 08:25
“You know what, I’ll go to the Hall of Records, pay a little visit there and see what I can find out about this S. Schinkkopf” Marc said, while he wrote the name down on his notepad. “You mind if I take a look at the letter? It’s probably still in your apartment or your office, right?” Marc asked. “It’s still in my apartment. Take the key, and while you’re there, look behind my bookcase. It has a secret entry behind it, which you can trigger by pushing your finger on top of the right corner of it. It goes down towards a basement. I got some guns stashed there, just in case. Take whatever you need. I suppose that while you work at the D.A.’s office, you don’t get supplied with such great guns…” Vulkie said to Marc.
Marc swiftly opened his jacket and showed her the new gun he got supplied with. “Nice, that’s a genuine Colt M1917 revolver. I always dreamt of having one of those!” Vulkie exclaimed, while she turned the gun into her palm and carefully tried to see how it would look if she owned such a gun.
“Anyways, I’ll stop by your apartment first, to pick up the letter and eventual back-up guns. Then, I’m off to the Hall of Records.” Marc said. As he left, Vulkie shouted : “I’m leaving the hospital tomorrow. The plaster cast is going off and I can go home again!” Marc smiled by the thought of that…
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M. Lacrimosa
Thespian
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Sep-2-2011 22:16
The first stop Marc made was to rent out a small hotel room for the week he'd be there. He locked the door when he closed his bedroom door. Then he set his suitcase on his bed and opened it. On top of his clothes sat his newest set of "toys". Two nickel steel pearl plated M1911 Colt .45 automatics and their holsters. Marc put on the holsters and put his coat on over them. Once his guns were holstered, his coat buttoned, and everything was set, Marc looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a lawyer, ready to go to court. Only he was armed heavily.
His next stop was to Vulkie's office. Her office was kept clean. The papers on her desk were neat and organized, where as his office was a mess. Like any typical man, papers were scattered everywhere, he had an empty coffee cup on is desk with a coffee stain at the bottom, and of course in his drawer he kept his favorite bottle of gin.
He looked around. It wasn't long before he found the letter. It was typed. Marc pulled out Vulkie's finger print dusting kit, and put on a light coat of the powder to look for prints. No luck. He held the paper up and sniffed it. The faint smell of gasoline filled his nostrils. The culprit and rinsed the not in gas.
Sure enough, as Vulkie had told him, the note was singed by S. Schinkkopf. That name wasn't unfamiliar nor was it familiar. "I've heard that before...I think.." he said to himself.
Then his third stop was was to the Hall of Records. A large building with any type of personal record you can find. The problem was looking for the name. Millions of names filled the room he was in.
Marc searched and searched. Just before giving up, he found the name. Simone Schinkkopf. Her picture was right next to her name. She was wanted by the federal government too. Her profile read that she was first generation German-American working for the White House. She was caught selling secrets to the Nazis in Germany. She beat the rap when she was arrested for it.
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M. Lacrimosa
Thespian
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Sep-2-2011 22:28
It seemed as though Vulkie had arrested someone related not too long ago. A close relative who was charged with 1st degree murder and sentenced to life in prison. That would explain why she wanted some kind of revenge. Marc knew it had to go deeper than that. But what? A simple murder? That couldn't be the whole story.
Marc searched for a name of the relative but couldn't find it. Vulkie would know if she could remember. But he didn't want to keep questioning her. Especially when she was doped up on morphine for pain like she was now.
"Vulkie," Marc whispered, "What happened?"
His thoughts drifted off and told him to dig deeper for more information than just a name. No name was found. But Marc did find that the relative was more than someone close. It was the lover. The name was blacked out but Marc knew it had to be a Mr. Schinkkopf. He was born in Germany and moved to New York when he was 6 years old. He became a gangster during prohibition, and ended up doing some side work with Luciano in the 20s.
Marc kept reading for what seemed like days, but it had only been two hours. Schinkkopf had been a supporter of the Nazis himself. Then there was an area on his record that was blocked out. No one could read it. Right after that, Marc saw Vulkie's name, and then more blacked out lines. That could only mean one thing.
Marc closed the folder, filed it back into his appropriate position, and left. He walked out side to the nearest payphone and got a hold of Vulkie who was still in the hospital.
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Sep-5-2011 21:07
“Wait, can you repeat that?” Vulkie asked to Marc. “It seems you’ve arrested someone not too long ago and put that person away for life. You testified against this person, and the judge eventually found that person guilty.” Marc said. “It’s all in a file I’ve read at the Hall of Records. It was dated a few days after Poland was taken…” Marc added.
“Let me remember…. Oh, yes. It was a certain person who had mob connections. But what you say, about your theory he is a Mr. Schinkkopf, I’m not so sure of that. I thought his name was Ludovich, George Ludovich. But it could be he is related with that S. Schinkkopf. Which reminds me, did you found out her first name?” Vulkie asked. “You’re never gonna believe this…” Marc said, “It seems that this Simone, that’s her first name by the way, Schinkkopf was selling government secrets to Germany, to advance their “Third Reich”, as they seem to call it.”
“My god…” Vulkie thought, “I’ve stumbled onto a hornet’s nest and now the consequences are mine…”. “Marc, you still there? Listen. I need you to escort me, right away, out of this hospital! I don’t care what the doctors say, I need to get out of this place, to a secure location. If this Schinkkopf lady has ties with them, you can bet I’ll be assassinated in no time if she’d like to. And she’s already had two days to plan a big event for me, because it’s been all over the newspapers.” Vulkie said, while she looked towards her door of the room. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there in 20 minutes max!” Marc said and he hung the receiver of the payphone up. Vulkie called a nurse in and asked for her jacket, which was hung up on a coat stand. She carefully felt in her pockets and was relieved that her trusted revolver was still in the pocket she had placed it before she was blasted away. She placed the gun under her bedcovers, just to be sure to have it in reach.
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Sep-5-2011 21:10
*** 15 minutes later ***
The clock in her room was ticking slowly, all that was there was silence. Suddenly, a person grabbed the doorknob and carefully twisted it around to open the door. Vulkie readied her revolver and aimed at the door…. but it was Marc that entered the room. “Thank god it’s you…” Vulkie said relieved, while looking at him. Marc had never seen Vulkie so scared. She was a tough cookie, a bit emotional on the side, but she could handle herself. But this affair… it seemed to have taken it’s toll on her.
“Let’s get you out of here, right away..” Marc said, while he grabbed a wheelchair and carefully placed Vulkie in it. As the duo reached the car, Marc opened the door. “You also got a new Buick?” Vulkie said, while she raised an eyebrow. “The company gave me some money, just in case. I also got some of my own. I err…. made some customizations to it. For instance, it has a better engine with a whole lot of more MPH. It also has bulletproof windows and a bulletproof body, to ensure no one can hurt us from the outside. And as a final piece, it has inflatable tires, which can ensure a safe getaway from our “eventual” shooters.” Marc said and gave a small smile.
(cont.)
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Vulkie3
Haynes
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Sep-5-2011 21:11
“I wish I thought of all those things earlier. The insurance company won’t reimburse me sometimes, and you know why that is…” Vulkie said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She probably didn’t do it on purpose, but most cars ended up worse than her in the end. Marc got Vulkie into the car and locked it, just in case, while he brought the wheelchair back. From all of a sudden, a motorcycle passed by and a brick was thrown towards the car. It bounced away from the car, ending up at the driver’s side. As Marc returned, he noticed the brick and the small damage it had done. The brick had a note with it. Marc got into the car, gave the brick towards Vulkie and drove the car. As Vulkie read the letter, her hands trembled. “What? What’s in it?” Marc said, looking worried at her. Vulkie showed the letter to him, with the only words on it : “Death is inevitable” .
“So, what are we going to do now?” Marc asked Vulkie. The only thing that came out of her mouth was : “I don’t know Marc… I really don’t know”…
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