The Writers Guild Presents: 5/2/2014

Chapter 4 : Looking for a Reason

Michael feels like he is in a rut.

For a week now, when by this time he thought he would have some information, all he has done is go through his father's computer and notes and has found absolutely nothing. Not to mention the fact that he has fallen asleep three times at his father's desk poring over files.

"What am I expecting though?" He asks himself, "Dad was an accountant, not some FBI agent. Surprised I haven't fallen asleep again already."

This was the eighth night that Michael has spent at his mom's house. He tells her it is to make sure that she is going to be alright, but it is just one lie on top of another.

Once again Michael asks himself why he is doing this. He is not a cop and it seems to be obvious that they would have gotten ten times farther than where he is now. But he knows that if he put this in police hands that they would ask his mother about it eventually.

She broke down and cried when Michael had told her about his father's death. Then she didn't speak for two days afterwards. What would she do if he told her his father was murdered?

Michael puts his head in his hands. Another night wasted going through business reports.

I should have gotten that name, Michael says aloud, basically to no one but himself.

Jeanette had listened to him tell the story of finding his father. She, just like he thought, told him to go to the police, that he couldn't do anything to help except do that. When she finally realized that Michael was dead set on finding the killer, she suggested finding who his father was having lunch with the day that he died. That, of course, didn't get very far.

The restaurant wouldn't let Michael see the video footage without a warrant, even if it was his father on camera, and the secretary at his father's office had the name listed as 'confidential'. Even she didn't know who it was he was meeting.

Michael, for better sense of the word, is becoming paranoid. It seems to him that no one wants him to find his father's killer, like the entire universe is against him. But he's too hard headed to pay attention to the universe.

So Michael just sits at his father's desk, thinking.

I've covered all of the bases. All the stuff from Dad's office is picture frames and knick knacks that made him when I was a kid, all that his files have given me are paper cuts and a headache and I've gone over every inch of his computer-

And suddenly it is like two wires just connect together.

With a new enthusiasm, Michael wheels himself over to his father's computer and frantically begins to search for the word "Calendar".

"I'm an idiot," Michael tells himself as he searches. "I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot."

His father was a good accountant, he never bragged about it but people always told him he was. He worked for a firm uptown but he freelanced for other businesses all over the city so he always kept a calendar to keep track of meetings.

Michael makes a mental note to kick himself for not thinking of this sooner.

He quickly clicks on the small icon once he finds it and sees the display of the month. There, on the day of April 6th, read: "Meeting with Carson Smalls, White Knoll Industries."

"Yes!" Michael whispers, careful not to wake his mother across the hall.

He didn't feel like he was in a rut anymore.

Siwang groaned softly as she sat up in bed only to feel wires and sensors clamped to her arm hold her back.

”What in the…” She groaned before feeling a bead something hot and wet slither down her face. Taking a deep breath she caught the coppery smell of blood and looked up to see an inhuman face standing over her. Worryingly she realised that it was terrifying familiar and fear once held back rose to her throat before terminating in a scream. With a cackle the figure leapt down off the end of the bed onto her chest and produced an obsidian knife before slamming the blade into where the arrow had pierced her chest only hours before.

Spluttering and struggling Siwang kicked out onto to feel a hand on her arm, the contact snapping back to reality. The face she saw made her sigh in relief, the man holding her arm was Romeo her partner in crime and not the devilish owl man from her nightmares.

“Man that looked like a bad dream.” Romeo stated, “It was touch and go for a moment especially when you’re stitches opened up again.”

“Wait what?” Siwang gasped before feeling her head. “Is there blood on my face?” She asked.

”No blood only sweat.” Romeo answered in a concerned voice. “You looked like you were fighting something in you’re dreams.”

“It was nothing, just a monster.” Siwang answered. “So what about the archer from the crash site? Did they find anything that can tell the police who the shooter was?”

“Nothing yet.” Romeo answered. “Bocanegra has his moles and corrupt cops listening in and placed some of his best men outside to guard you. He was furious when Choyce told him about the Dragon Eel’s ambush on the security van.” He stopped as the sound of a scuffle erupted outside before falling through the door as two women tumbled in. Siwang recognised both of them; the tall Italian woman was Juliet, Romeo’s partner and fellow assassin, the other was Helen, one of her select group of ‘acolytes’ a group of undercover officers working to take down Bocanegra.

“Not that I care but I caught this one trying to sneak in.” Juliet hissed as she held a recurved knife again Helen’s neck. “She says she knows you.”

“That’s ‘Kerry’ my roommate.” Siwang sighed. “Release her!” Juliet rolled her eyes before backing off and letting Helen stand.

“Oh god when I heard…are you okay ‘Maggie’?” Helen asked as she rushed over and hugged Siwang.

“I had an arrow through me chest.” Siwang deadpanned. “I’ll be fine. Guys can we have a few minutes without the overzealous guards please.”

“We'll be outside.” Romeo grunted before leading Juliet away. As the door closed Helen released Siwang and shot a nervous glance to the exit. “You know that’s Juliet Montoya, she’s wanted in eight countries for thirteen assassinations.”

“I guessed, you didn't come here to tell me that though.” Siwang stated.

“We got a sample of the arrow head, fletching and string.” Helen stated. “The head is carbon fibre nothing odd about that but the fletching isn’t artificial it comes from an Oriental Honey Buzzard. Deposits on the feather suggest it was kept in an urban environment on a high rise building.”

“Such as Macau.” Siwang sighed. “And the string was organic silk from the Nephila spider.”

“You've seen this before.” Helen said. “Is this the man you were talking about, the Dragon Eel’s main enforcer, Weaver something right?”

“Potentially although the Weaver from my childhood would be pushing forty five, maybe even fifty and the figure I saw moved like a young man.” Siwang answered. “Keep an eye on James, his family has history with the Dragon Eel.”

“Anything else?”

“My stitches came open earlier this evening. The doctors may have removed trace mineral samples from the wound. If you can get them back to ‘the Church’ and do a test for volcanic glass.” Siwang ordered. “I'm not convinced that what I encountered wasn't a dream.”

**

Detective James Grady sighed and un-holstered his sidearm as he saw the ajar door to his apartment. With the day he was having he half hoped that the intruder was still inside. It was days like this that made a man pugnacious and trigger happy. Silently he nudged the door open and instantly caught the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Taking two deep breaths he kicked open the door to see a willowy Asian woman standing naked save for a pair of golden silk bangles wrapped around her wrists.

“You must be James.” She purred not noticing the gun trained on her.

“And you must be trespassing.” James answered. “Get dressed and put your hands above your head.”

“American arrogance,” The woman stated, her accent sounding like chirping birds, “it’s such a turn off. Luckily you have your father’s looks. You're sister on the other hand…”

“So you’re who they sent.” James spluttered as the woman turned off the shower. Lowering his gun he threw her clothes at her, the speed of the flying garments causing a pair of knives clattering to the floor. “What does the Dragon Eel want and why should I give it to him?”

“The master wants the wanita.” The woman explained as she pulled on a set of golden bikini briefs and a matching brassiere. “You're father made an agreement with the Dragon Eel. He granted the Lou Fan custody of the wanita and in return Grady Snr would create a man who would clear the stage for the Dragon Eel’s empire to expand into the Americas.”

“I know what my father did, his role in creating Boccanegra.” James spat as the woman slid a bronze tank top over her bra. “Why is it so important now?”

“The agreement ended when your father died. We gave you time to mourn but now the Dragon Eel wants what is his.” The woman stated as James levelled his pistol at her. “I wouldn’t,” she purred, “if I don’t return back to Weaver in the next hour he’ll blow up a school tomorrow morning.”

“So what do you want from me?!” James snarled as the woman pulled a short skirt on and slipped her feet into a pair of stiletto heels.

“Either kill the wanita or give her as tribute to Weaver.” The woman answered. “In return we will destroy the evidence of this and any deal your family had made with us.”

“That easy huh?” James asked. “Maya is in hospital from an arrow wound and I have evidence to convict her of several murders. I know the Eel has officials in his back pocket. You whip up some extradition papers and she’s yours.”

“Then make it happen.” The woman hissed as she trotted out of the bathroom. “Or people start dying.”