Under a Steel-Grey Sky - Chapter Two

Under a Steel-Grey Sky

Chapter Two
By Michael Bennett


Seeing the woman come around the corner, the man just behind her, he realised that the guy seemed instinctively to know the best course of action to protect her. He wondered what was going to happen, or just who they were, as his deeper police instincts over-rode his hard crust of belligerence.
This time, to his amusement, was a reversal of the situation in the diner. She was the one wearing a gruff mask, the bodyguard looking more calm, almost smiling toward him. He guessed that a decision had been reached despite, or maybe because of, his behaviour inside.
As they walked up silently, he figured he might as well play his part in this act, and opened how it seemed he was supposed to. 'So, what's the game, girly? Why've you sought me out, in a cop diner of all places? If you were trying to keep a low profile for whatever this is, you kinda sucked at it.'

Taking a step closer and looking at him evenly, she put a hand out toward Fighting Man and said quickly, “I would have dropped by your ...hovel, Mr Turner, but it looked like I'm not the only one interested in you right now. So, here we are” as she was handed two envelopes, “and here you are. I'd like to hire you to investigate the matter, and the men, inside this. Call me this evening, once you've looked it over. My personal, private, number is in there. The other envelope.. Consider that a down-payment for your services.” Turning on her heel, she glanced back and said “I'll wait for your call to hear your preliminary thoughts.”

As she began to walk away, Fighting Man something in Japanese, causing her to lose colour in her face. Turning around slowly, she added with a tinge of desperation, the gruff mask cracking for a second “ - and don't let your other watcher catch you with that, or find it. I haven't the foggiest who that is, and had no desire to reveal the fact I was attempting to meet with you. There will be a rather messy undercurrent of violence here, and I don't know ...well, everything I could reveal, is in there. Goodbye for now, Mister Turner.” She turned again, letting her guard lead the way. Pauly watched silently, opening the smaller envelope, and almost yelped at the amount of bills stuffed inside. Must've been at least 2 and a half grand in $100 bills, at least. All that just to read a few pieces of paper?

Giving her a little time to get away, Pauly smoked two of his cigarettes, pacing the alley, giving the matter some thought. About halfway through the second one, his inner detective won out again, as he knew it would. He'd find a hotel and crash there for at least the night. A swanky, upscale one. She certainly gave him enough to be able to do that. He'd have to find a pawnshop that did under the counter deals, since he hadn't Old Nancy, his well worn revolver. He didn't think it'd be the smartest idea to go back for her, in case the person watching his place was still there.

Walking through the alley, Pauly spotted a taxi, and hailed it. Getting in, he told the driver where he wanted to go. Letting the city blur past silently, he again fell to thinking, wondering just what she was on about with all the talk of violence and undercurrents. And just why had she come to him? Obviously she couldn't go to the cops, so she clearly wasn't the most upstanding of citizens... And the bodyguard was most likely Yakuza.

But aside from the guard, and the fact she sought him out ('why me' floating through his brain again), brought 2 possible angles, at least that he could nut out. Either she was telling the truth, and didn't know exactly who she could trust, which meant he was holding something that could bring a massive storm down on him. Or she was feeding him a massive line, which could have the same result.

As he pulled up to the hotel, having gotten a functioning, if inelegant looking, handgun and some fresh clothes and a few other things and stuffed them into a bag, he realised grudgingly that he'd taken the bait, and would see this through to whatever end it lead to, even before getting to his room, to read what she'd wanted him to look into.

Once the concierge had shown him into the swanky hotel room, and he'd scoffed down on a room service order that cost more than any meal he'd ever eaten, he kicked off his shoes and sat down to read the file. He wasn't sure if it was a spun story, what actually happened, what she thought was fact, or some mix of the 3. But he'd taken her money, so he would at least investigate it to a surface level. After a couple of hours, more than a few beers, and almost 2 packets of cigarettes, he'd memorised it in it's entirety.

After a mostly restful night in the most comfortable bed he'd ever known to have existed, he figured out what his next move would be over a stacked breakfast. It was just smart to know all angles of a case, to have all the sides you possibly could, before moving. He was lucky that he was able to investigate, as opposed to being dumped in a sudden crisis or event, which had happened rather often while on the force, so long ago. The instincts were still there, even if he wasn't.

Which is why he knew what his next move would be, though he didn't know how it would go.
He knew it was time to face his old partner. It was the only strong link he had, the only possible source he had to get more information about the case he'd taken on, and the woman who dragged him into it.

Reluctantly walking into his old precinct, he noticed that the general buzz was greater, seemed more intense, than he once knew. He wasn't the sharpest guy in the world, but he knew when something was up. And he knew, again because of instincts, that it was tied to what he was now investigating. He'd have to play this one close to his chest. Very close.

It was then that he heard a voice shout, across the room. At him. His partner had spotted him, and was beckoning. The first thing he noticed, aside from the familiar deep rumble of his voice, was that he'd been promoted to Captain.