CHAPTER NINE - HELLO... IS ANYBODY THERE?

And now what everyone's been waiting for.  (If your name's Fred Everyone that is.)  Chapter nine of my future best-selling novel awaits you.  (Hey, a man's gotta have dreams!)

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Chapter Nine:


"Ooh... what happened?" said Gloria, as she came round to find Ted kneeling at her side and holding her hand.  His rolled up jacket cushioned the back of her head, easing her discomfort somewhat.

"You fainted," said Ted.  "I guess the shock of seeing me in Ted's office was too much for you.  I'm Ben... Ted's brother... his twin obviously."

"Yeah, I remember seeing you at the funeral, and you've been by to visit Ted a few times in the past.  You're right... seeing you here... it immediately made me think you were Ted... who else would I expect to see in his office but him?" she said.

"I guess context is everything," said Ted.  "If you'd seen me out in the street, you'd have assumed I was Ted's twin, not his ghost."

"Talking of spirits, I need a drink.  There's a bottle of Scotch and a couple of glasses in the bottom drawer of that file cabinet," said Gloria.  "Pour me one, willya?"

Ted complied, and also poured one for himself.  The fact that the bottle had been purchased two months back and was still mostly full testified to the fact that Ted wasn't much of a drinker.  He only imbibed with a single glass when he was celebrating something - like the renewal of his TV show.  Gloria took a sip and sighed.  "Ah, that's better.  What are you doing here anyway... Ben, was it?"  He nodded as she continued.  "Everybody's busy on set at the moment, auditioning for Ted's permanent replacement.  Hey, you should apply for the job.  If you're half the natural that Ted was, you'll be a shoe-in."

"I'm just collecting a few things for Mary," said Ted, repeating the lie.  Then he decided to take a gamble.  He knew that Gloria was loyal to Ted, but would that loyalty extend to Ben too?  Now was the time to find out.  "I've also borrowed a few files to help me try and find Ted's killers.  I'll copy them and get them back to you," he said, watching her keenly to see if her expression would match her response.

"There's no need.  I copied everything onto some USBs.  They're in my purse in the next office.  Help me to my feet and I'll get them for you."  Ted did as he was bid, and Gloria steadied herself for a moment, finding her balance.  "I must have banged my head - I've got a splitting headache.  C'mon, follow me."  She led Ted into her office and extracted several USB sticks linked together on a keyring from her purse.  "Here," she said, "best of luck in your quest... if you need any help, let me know.  Better put these files back before you go though.  If the head honchos find them missing, I could lose my job."

"I'll leave the case," said Ted, "I don't need it... only bought it today for coming here."

"Keep in touch," said Gloria, smiling.  Remember what I said... if you need any help..."

"I'll bear it in mind," he said, and smiled back.  Then he was gone before Gloria could say anything else.

******

Outside, Ted breathed in the evening air and felt a sense of relief.  Now, at last, he felt like he'd made a positive start in his mission after an interminable two weeks of inactivity.  He'd review his files and see if he could determine the most obvious suspects who'd want him dead and who'd be prepared to do something about it.  Suddenly, shards of concrete shattered on the wall at the side of his head, and he heard the faint sound of the silenced shot that was responsible.  Someone was shooting at him!  Ducking back into the doorway, he crouched, then carefully and quickly took a look out into the street.  No one.  Wait a minute though, there had been something, something that had made a subliminal impression... something that wasn't quite right in the street scene he'd just looked at.  Taking another quick look he saw what it was.  Further along on the other side of the road was a side street, and just inside the opening he could see a man's reflection in the shop window opposite the wall he leant against.  He must remember not to make that mistake himself, he mused, if he was ever in the position of hiding around a corner from someone.  Ted thought quickly.  There was a multiplex movie theatre  a few storefronts along which would be an ideal place to lose himself and shake his attacker.  He was in luck, as just at that moment a truck appeared, and he stepped out onto the street as it drew level, knowing that it would conceal him from the shooter's view.  Reaching the entrance of the cinema, he went in and asked for a ticket to whatever was about to start.  "They've all started," said the ticket seller, "but screen eight has only been running for five minutes."  Ted didn't even ask what was showing.  "Screen eight it is then," he said, and paying for his ticket, he made his way into the darkened auditorium where, hopefully, he would be safe from pursuit.

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As he took a seat in the middle section of the screening room, he suppressed a groan of dismay at what met his eyes on the screen.  It was the latest blockbuster superhero extravaganza and Ted just couldn't stand superhero movies.  "Kids-stuff," he muttered, and almost thought he'd be better taking his chances out on the street.  Guys flying about in their underpants and shooting lasers from their eyes just wasn't his thing - he much preferred stories more grounded in reality, like war movies and westerns.  Mind you, he considered, maybe there wasn't such a gulf between fantasy and so-called reality as he thought.  After all, in most war movies America seemingly won World War II single-handed, while the Allies were relegated to a minor supporting role.  Audie Murphy was apparently America's secret weapon, being the most decorated US soldier in the conflict, off-screen as well as on.  The main role of the Brits was to sit around drinking tea, mop their brows and salute one another, all the while saying "Jolly good show, old chap!" and "Stiff upper lip, pip-pip!"  As for westerns, Randolph Scott and Alan Ladd wore tailored shirts with padded shoulders, and sported short back and sides haircuts.  Okay, so perhaps they weren't that realistic after all, but at least people didn't wear capes and fly through walls.  Well, except when John Wayne punched them through one, but no capes were involved.  He realised he was in danger of losing this argument with himself if he sat there much longer, so he decided to leave.  He'd been off the street for around twenty minutes so it should be safe to venture outside now he decided, getting up and heading for the exit.  As he pushed through the doors, he wished he could call upon the services of a superhero at that moment, but he knew that there were some things that ordinary, non-superpowered beings had to do for themselves.

****** 

Ted had been going through his files for five hours now and his head was throbbing and his eyes bleary, but he had a result.  On the screen of his laptop was the face of Angelo Benedetto, an Italian 'businessman' with serious mob connections.  He'd been behind a large percentage of crime in the city, from prostitution to drug dealing, and the illegal supply of guns and ammunition to half the criminal population from New York to New Orleans.  As well as his  felonious activities he also ran several legit enterprises, behind which he could pose as a respectable entrepreneur, and through which he no doubt laundered money from his more shady operations.  Ted had exposed him on "On The Spot" three years earlier, which had led to Benedetto doing a two year stretch in sing-sing and his operations being seriously compromised.  It should've been at least twenty years, but he had the best lawyers available, who managed to persuade the jury that Angelo had been deceived by dishonest employees, who'd abused his trust and involved themselves in dishonest 'transactions' without Benedetto's knowledge or sanction.  However, the buck stops with the boss, and he was found guilty on some more minor charges, but the court was lenient with him.  Ted had intended to investigate the judge who tried the case, because he seemed to bend over backwards in Benedetto's favour when directing the jury on certain points of law, but other matters had prevented him from ever getting around to it.  One day perhaps, but not today.

Today was for bigger fish, and that fish's name was Angelo.

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Okay, peeps, that's chapter nine over with, hope you're looking forward to chapter ten.  I know I am!  (I'd better start thinking about what it's going to contain.)

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