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    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeApr 25th 2010 edited
     
    She came into the apartment after a light knock on the door. I thought it was only the land lady, so I didn’t worry too much about how my room looked. As I turned, instead of the land lady there was a young woman. When I saw her I made some quick effort to straighten my desk which, I suddenly realized was quite cluttered. She asked if I was the detective which the sign on my door referred to.

    “Yes ma’am I am.” I said, turning to look at her with my notebook in hand. Her voice seemed to falter slightly, but she obviously had control of herself.

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. Perhaps it would be best if I took my business elsewhere.”


    She seemed a little unsure about the way my apartment looked. I admit that I’m not the tidiest person you’re ever going to run into, but at least there was a chair for her. I shoved some things off the back of a chair onto the floor and offered her a seat. As soon as I was sure she wouldn’t run out the door if I sat down, I sat. It had been quite a while since I had had any clients and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything to scare her off.

    “Now, what is your name?”

    “My name is Glenn Farthing. My father was recently...”

    “And how old are you Miss Farthing?”

    “I am nineteen. My father is a…”

    “Ah, excuse me a moment.” I said quickly. When she walked in I had been writing a list of the animals I was going to feed for Mrs. Quintet and I had just remembered about the dog. I could see her leaning in to read what I wrote as I scribbled down: Don’t forget to feed the dog.

    “Sorry about that, how can I help you Miss Farthing?”

    “My father is an inventor. He and I lived together until yesterday evening when I got home and found that my father wasn’t in his laboratory. He hasn’t let me in his laboratory for a month now and wouldn’t talk to me about what he was doing there. He never goes out when he’s working on a project, so I opened the door and found that the shop was completely empty, except for this golden ring my mother gave him.”

    I started taking quick notes now that she was actually telling me something.

    Glen Farthing, 19

    father kidnapped?

    ring only thing left

    “Miss Farthing where do you live?”

    “One-twenty-two South Baker Street.”

    “Where were you before you found that your father was missing?”

    “I was at school when it happened.”

    “What are you studying and at ah what school?” She seemed a little bit old to be going to school.

    “I am attending the London Academy I am studying to be a horse trainer.”

    “Oh! One minute.” I remembered that I needed to buy more food for the cat.

    “Miss, why are you studying to be a horse trainer?”

    “Because I like doing it.”

    “Oh.” She had said that very matter- of-factly and like she didn’t want me to ask any more questions in that direction.

    “You said your mother gave your father the ring. What is your mother’s name?”

    “Her name was Roseland.”

    “Was?”

    “Yes.” She said. I cleared my throat, I didn’t like getting into this sticky stuff, especially when I was trying to keep a client.

    “What is your father’s name then?”

    “His name is Edward.”

    “His age?”

    “Forty-two.”

    “Were you and your father very close?”

    “This last month he wouldn’t let me anywhere near what he was doing, whereas, when he was working on his last project, he asked for my help quite often. This last month I haven’t had much contact with him except to slip him his meals through the door.”

    “Miss Farthing, I hate to bring this up at a time like this, but how much are you willing to pay me?”

    “I don’t know yet. I’ll try to let you know soon.”

    “Was there any one customer coming around the shop more often than the others?”

    “Last week there was a man, Ronald Growm, who was coming more often, but the last day he came he and my father had an argument. I haven’t seen him since.”

    “May I see the ring that was left in the laboratory please?”

    “Of course.”

    “Miss, did you ever see your father fidgeting with the ring when he was wearing it?”

    “Well, no.”

    I took the ring from her outstretched hand. I looked at it for a moment then rubbed my fingers along the outside of it. A small piece of paper slid out from the inside of the ring. On one side it said: Onitsuka. On the other side it said: Don’t regret forgetting. It was obviously a very ancient piece of paper.
    Now I had a list of notes:

    Glen Farthing, 19

    Don’t forget to feed the dog

    father kidnapped?

    ring only thing left

    122 S. Baker St.

    Glen in school when happened

    L.A. horse trainer (because like)

    buy more food for cat

    gone (mother) Roseland

    father Edward 42

    doesn’t see father too often

    father (knowingly?) for Onitsuka

    No pay

    small paper in ring. threat?
  1.  

    Hmm ... how very strange ...

    Detectinacious Anemone

    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeApr 26th 2010
     
    :-D:-D:-D:-D
  2.  

    How exciting! *wiggles down more comfortably in her seat ready to read more.*

  3.  
    I LIKE much!
    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeMay 31st 2010
     
    Announcement:

    This story may change slightly to make two versions of it match. The changes will not be dramatic.

    -Announcer
  4.  

    I'd very much like to have more of this story to read... *hint hint*

    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeJul 12th 2010
     
    I am working on it, but after I write the next section I have to double check with my friend. The next thing posted will probably be the same part of the story from a different person's perspective. :)
    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeMay 17th 2011
     
    Glenn led the way to her home. She looked nervous as we walked down the street, and clutched her hand bag close. She showed me in, quickly closing the door behind us, as if she was afraid of being seen with me.

    “So,” I said, “where’s this laboratory?” We went into a small room in the back of the house. The counters, walls, ceiling, and cupboards were all blindingly white. I stood, blinking, until my eyes adjusted to the light and I saw that the room was empty, except for a steel waste basket in one corner. Since it was late she showed me out almost as soon as I had seen the house.


    The next morning after exchanging a few words with my land lady about the leak in the ceiling, I made my way to Glenn’s house. She was waiting for me when I arrived and gave me a look as if to say she thought I’d never arrive. It was only ten o’clock in the morning. People seem to look at me with an “you’re late” look no matter how early I am.

    “I’ve been waiting for you.” She said in a friendlier manner than her looks suggested it might be.

    “Ah yeah.” I said slowly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long, but I had some business to take care of. I only said I’d be here before noon.”

    “I know, but I have something to show you so it has seemed a rather long wait.”

    “Oh?”

    “Over here by the window. I noticed these marks in the dirt outside.”

    “Hmm.” Was all the response I gave. There were indeed boot marks, but the odd thing was that even though the dirt had obviously been broken there was no sign of where the person with the large feet had gone. The window in question led out to a small paved alleyway. There were a few feet of dirt between the base of the house and where the pavement started. This dirt was full of dry marks and the pavement right next to the dirt was completely clean. I looked all over the alley, but that was the only place with imprints.

    “I noticed that the boot marks seem to match the ones in my father’s laboratory.” Glenn told me.
    “What do you think?”

    “They certainly seem to be the same boots, but why is this the only place with marks? Perhaps there are some under a neighbor’s window. Shall we go look?”

    Glenn hesitated. I waited for her to gather her thoughts into words.
    “My neighbors...” She began. “They, well they aren’t normal.”

    “All the more reason for talking to them then, eh? Suppose you tell me some about them before we go talk?”

    “All right. The one over there down the street,” she said pointing down the alley, “he’s a black smith. He mostly deals with weapons and does his most intensive work in the middle of the night.”

    “Possibly for the coolness of night?”

    “Possibly. I don’t have much contact with my neighbors.”

    “ What about the ones across the street?”

    “The lady was an opera singer, the only thing I know about the son is that his name is Walter. I’ve visited them a couple of times, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to stay more than thirty minutes.”

    “Who should we talk to first?”

    “The black smith is closer. Isn’t he more likely to have seen something?”

    “Let’s go talk to him then.” I started walking toward the door, when Glenn stopped me.

    “Do you have a gun?”

    “Why?” I asked, rather confused.

    “He always answers the door with a gun.”

    “Do you mean he shoots anyone who comes near him, or that he just points a gun at you if you knock on his door?”

    We walked in silence until we had crossed the alley to the Blacksmith’s shop. Then she asked me the question I dread most.

    “What is your name?”

    “Er..., you can call me, uh, Robert.”


    When we knocked on the door of the blacksmith’s shop, there was a moment of such silence I was afraid Glenn would hear my heart beat and realize how nervous I was. I didn’t want to have my gun out when he answered the door, because he might take that as a threat. On the other hand I didn’t want to get shot just for knocking on the door at the wrong time. I kept my hand resting lightly on my small arm inside my coat pocket. The silence was ended abruptly when the door cracked just enough to let a gun muzzle through and a deep, rough voice said suspiciously,

    “Who are you? What do you want?”,

    I thought maybe he had been sleeping and we had disturbed him. I gathered my courage and finally took my detective license out of my pocket.

    “I’m a private detective and this is my client, your neighbor, Glenn Farthing. May we please ask you a few questions?”

    “I didn’t do anything.”

    “Yes sir, but you may have seen or heard something that may be of use to us. Would you mind letting us in, or at least opening the door a little more? It will be rather more simple to ask these questions when I’m talking to a person, not something that would blast my nose off if I said something it found offensive.”

    He allowed us to enter, and as soon as I stepped in I saw that he had quite the collection of weapons for sale. I glanced around while following the smith to a small workshop in the back of his building. There were shelves with tools stacked high on them and a reasonably sized table for working on. I began to look in interest at the arms, but was reminded of the situation by a withering glance from Glenn. The smith had started his work again, so I reminded him of the reason for our visit.

    “The reason for our visit is that we are hoping you can answer some questions for us.”

    “What kind of questions?”

    I thought for a moment going over my mental list to make sure I asked them in the right order.
    “Were you here the night of the 28th?”

    “Yes.” He answered letting his voice rise and fall like a u.

    “What were you doing between 7:00 and 11:00 o’clock pm?”

    “I was here, working.” His answers were as short as he could make them. I didn’t think we would be getting any free information from him.

    “What were you working on?”

    “The barrel for a gun.”

    “Aha...”, I was a little uneasy. There were so many guns around on shelves for display, that he could easily have reached five inches to either side and killed me on the spot. I decided to get this over with as soon as possible. If he was going to be unfriendly, I might as well be quick and get the questions out.

    “Did you notice anything unusual that night?”

    “I was working. I don’t look around much when I’m working.”

    “Did you hear anything? Maybe through the open window?”

    “I heard voices, and a chaise, but that ain’t strange.”

    “How often do you hear voices and a chaise in the middle of the night?”

    “Never.”

    “Well, thank you for your time sir. If you think of anything else that happened that night please let us know.” As we walked out the door, I noticed a case for dueling pistols. Only one pistol was there. I would have to keep that one in mind, I needed another. Suddenly, the smith seemed to be a different person. He came up eagerly and began telling me about the gun.

    “I’ve only made two”, he said. “I sold one a few weeks back. It’s small enough for a coat pocket, but still large enough to keep people in line.”

    “Maybe I’ll come back and take a closer look sometime”, I answered.

    As soon as Glenn and I were across the street I dared to breathe again. The smith’s shop had been a completely new experience for me. I hoped never to meet someone that cheerfully intimidating again.
    •  
      CommentAuthorTrenchcoat
    • CommentTimeMay 19th 2011 edited
     
    so's he a gunsmith or a blacksmith?

    Also. I don't quite trust our loyal first-person narrator anymore. *sad sniff* "You, um, can call me Robert" indeed.

    Also, word of advice Glenn? Don't go traipsing about merrily with strange men until you make certain that the name/credentials on their license match with the name/credentials they're verbally giving, at the very least.

    *needs more information before making pronouncements regarding the laboratory*
    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeMay 20th 2011
     
    That is excellent advice Trench.

    He's kind of both. I didn't say he only sells weapons, that's just what he has the most of.
    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeOct 9th 2011
     
    “Let’s go talk to the opera singer now.” I said.

    “Mrs. Liater.”

    “What?”

    “Her name is Mrs. Liater.”

    “Oh, all right then.”

    As we neared the door of Mrs. Liater’s house, I heard unusually loud opera music. I knocked on the door, sincerely hoping that this lady didn’t own a gun. After waiting a couple of minutes without receiving an answer, I knocked again, much louder than I had the first time. This time, we heard a bustle and then the door flew wide open and a rather large lady with an even larger smile opened the door to us. Immediately, even though I was still outside, the music was louder than I found quite comfortable. She cheerfully welcomed us in, and we found ourselves in a hallway that led into the room containing the source of the music. In the room were a few chairs, a record player and a table covered in old records. The lady placed herself in the chair nearest to the table and asked us to sit down, adding that “she just loved visitors”. Glenn sat, but I remained standing. I was entertaining hopes that this would not be a long visit.

    “This is wonderful! It has been so long since I had any visitors and I enjoy visiting so much!”

    “Of course.” I said in reply. I was taken by surprise and couldn’t think of anything else to say.

    “Mrs. Liater,” Glenn began, but she was interrupted the the same lady.

    “And Glenn, how good to see you, how you’ve grown. You know, I do believe that I haven’t seen you since you brought that plate of cookies during the holidays. It has been quite disappointing, especially for Walter. You always were a favorite with him. Speaking of Walter I just sent him to bring tea when you arrived. I do hope you’ll join us?”

    “Acctually,” I tried to say something, but she would finish her speech first. Mrs. Liater was kind, but she didn’t seem to know how to keep her company once she got it.

    “Of course you will stay for tea. I wouldn’t dream of letting you go. I’ll just have Walter bring some more plates and cups. Walter! Bring two more sets of dishes when you come dear, we have visitors.”

    Walter came in, his hair was a mousy brown, which some people think is unflattering, but it would have looked nice with his grey eyes if he had kept it cut and combed. As he was, carrying the tray of tea, he looked like a waiter who had had to wait an extra month for his wages. We asked Mrs. Liater much the same things as we had asked the Blacksmith, but she responded with questions that were completely unrelated, for instance,

    “Oh, I know, you’re from the Shakespear company and you’ve come to interview me!”

    It took a while to make her understand that we were talking about an actual kidnapping, not one from a play. “Also, we had not been sent by the Shakespear company, we were acting...no, performing....no, doing this on our own account.” After she understood all this, we took her through all the questions again, only to find that she had absolutely no useful information. Meanwhile Walter had sat, oblivious to everything else, staring at Glenn. I figured he probably didn’t know anything either. I was just trying to formulate a plan for exiting the house we had entered so easily, when Walter stood and excused himself. With alarming speed, he made for the back of the house. I looked to Mrs. Liater. She apparently hadn’t thought it unusual. I wanted to know what he was doing, but aside from being invited, there was no polite way to follow.

    “Mrs. Liater,” I said, “Does Walter live with you?” I was hopeful that she would go on talking about it the way she did with other topics. She did.

    “Oh, yes of course. I just couldn’t bear the thought of him going out into the cold world, so I have kept him here. He has a few friends, who I’ve never met, but they seem to be decent from what he says. He has such a delicate frame that I’m sure he wouldn’t last in the work place. Now that I think of it though, he does have a little work that he does with one of his friends.”

    “Oh? I would be interested to know more about this “job”.” I said, hoping I didn’t sound to pushy. He might have already left the house.

    “He can explain it all much better than I can. Why don’t you go find him while Ms. Farthing and I have a little chat?” She then ignored me as if I had already left, so I rose quickly and went to find Walter in the back room.

    I saw him when I stepped into the doorway, but he was still oblivious of my presence. He seemed to be hurriedly putting some papers and a few other items into a bag. I stepped farther in and he seemed to freeze in place.

    “Are you leaving?” I said in feigned surprise.

    “Y...y...yes, I have some...work to get done.” He seemed somewhat frightened of me, and while I didn’t want him to think I was going to kill him, I thought it would help speed up the process of this interrogation.

    “What is your ‘work’?” I asked. He didn’t seem like the type to do anything that might put a sliver in his finger.

    “I...uh...I...I’m not going to tell you.” He said it with a decisive nod of his head that seemed to say ‘there I’ve done it, now I don’t have to say anything more.’ I disagreed.

    “Well then, Walter, isn’t it? You have a couple of choices. I’ve noticed these sketches of Ms. Farthing that you have scattered all over this room. Maybe I should bring her back here?” At this his eyes attained the look of a frightened rabbit. “Maybe I should shoot that bag out of your hand with my gun? Or I could just get you out of my way right now. I have a license for my gun you know.” I was pretty sure that he would answer me now, so I asked again.

    “What is your work?”

    “I...well, I sell things to pawn shops.”

    “What kind of things?”

    “All kinds.”

    “Where do you get them? Have you been steeling?” I smiled as his face showed what was to come next.

    “I certainly have not! I never stole a thing in my life.” His voice was rather high pitched and therefore the sound of it when he was insulted was more than I could listen to with a straight face. I immediately changed the question.

    “How are you supplied with these things that you sell to pawn shops?” He set his jaw. I could see that without reinforcement my threats were empty. I walked across to him and grabbed his collar in my fist pulling him close to my face.

    “Tell me about your work.” I said, with what I hoped was an evil gleam in my eyes. I set him down so he wouldn’t be stammering in my face.

    “A friend of mine walks around the river and picks up things that he thinks will sell for a decent price. He brings them to me and I sell them to the shop.”

    “What are you selling today that you need to be in such a hurry?”

    “A pistol, I didn’t want my mother to find it and think it was a prop.”

    “May I see this pistol?” He dug through his bag and quickly handed it to me. It reminded me of something, but I couldn’t remember what. There was also one bullet missing. “Where did your friend find this pistol?”

    “In the river about a mile south of here.” Then I knew what it had reminded me of, but I had to be sure.

    “Walter, how much will the pawn shop pay you for this pistol?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “Good, then I will buy it.” I handed him some money, not really paying attention to the amount. Then turned and left him standing there. As I walked by Glenn, on my way to the door, I told her that I would come back soon. She wanted to protest to being left there alone with Mrs. Liater, but I didn’t give her time for that. Once I stepped out of the house, I ran to the Blacksmith’s shop and without stopping to think, I knocked. The door opened slightly and I pushed it the rest of the way, hurrying into the shop of a surprised blacksmith. I stopped at the display case of the duel pistol that I had previously admired and pulled the pistol I had bought the Walter out of my pocket. They were a set. I turned to the still surprised blacksmith and asked if he could remember who he sold the pistol from the river to.

    “Of course I remember. I sold it to Mr. Farthing on the 27th.” I was getting excited now. I began to speak more quickly.

    “On the night of the 29th did you hear anything that sounded like a gunshot while you were taking a break in your work?”

    “Maybe, there was a loud sound certainly, but there is no reason that it had to be a gunshot.”

    “Maybe not, except for this. Mr. Farthing bought that gun two nights before his disappearance. Then, the night that he disappeared, there was a loud noise like a gunshot. Then a while later a man finds this pistol that belonged to Mr Farthing lying in the river with one bullet missing. I’d like to buy the matching pistol.” I don’t know how much of what I said made sense to the Blacksmith, I had been telling it to myself more than to him. I bought the pistol and went off to get Glenn.

    I walked on the way back to the Liaters’ house. Making my way into the house, as I studied my new pistol, I nearly collided with Glenn. She had managed to convince Mrs. Liater to let her go and was coming out in search of me, when I appeared before her. She was livid at being left alone with Mrs. Liater for thirty minutes and was not inclined to listen to my explanation, so we walked back to her home in silence. I left Glenn, who was still rather upset, and went on to my apartment. There, I ate a small dinner and retired, wondering what we could do next.

    I rose early, thinking that if I were awake more of the day I might have a little more time for deduction in the evening. As I approached Glenn’s home, I hoped she would be in a more friendly frame of mind after a night’s rest. Stepping up to the door, I realized that the window next to it was broken and the door unlocked. “Glenn, I told you to keep your house locked!”, I mumbled in exasperation. She was so stubborn sometimes. I knocked on the door and waited for an answer. None came, so without further ado, I opened the door and went in. Glenn was not there, I only hoped that whoever had broken the window had come after Glenn left. I knew that was asking too much though. On the other hand, maybe she had also gotten up early and was on her way to my apartment, but if that was true, why hadn’t we met on the road? I wasn’t getting anywhere by standing here thinking up terrible things that could have happened to her. I needed find some breakfast, one always thinks better with a satisfied stomach.

    Walking home, grocery bag in hand, I felt uneasy. If someone had found Glenn, it was possible that they also knew where I was. I stopped at a bench on the side of the road. If said someone was waiting at my apartment, they weren’t going to take me by surprise. I ate hurriedly and pushed the empty grocery bag into my pocket. Feeling to make sure that my fire arm was properly located in my other pocket, I continued walking. Upon arriving at the apartment, I entered the main door. However, instead of turning to the left where my room was, I went right to the land lady’s office. She was in, and I proceeded to ask her couple of questions.

    “Good morning ma’am.”

    “Good morning Mr. Wallaby.”

    “Anyone come to rent the other room yet?”

    “Not yet, no.”

    “Do you know if anyone came in while I was out?”

    “Yes, a young man about your age came in asking for someone of your description.”

    “Did he stay?”

    “Of course. I let him into your room to wait.”

    I started, then did my best to respond calmly to the land lady.

    “Thank you, I’d better go speak to him then. Good morning.”

    “Good bye Mr. Wallaby.”



    I quickly stepped out of the office and closed the door with as little sound as I could. The man in my room was surely waiting for me. I would have a better chance of surviving if he didn’t know I was coming until the last minute. Drawing my weapon, I approached the door and fumbled with my shoes to remove them before stepping on the tile in front of my door. As I was reaching for the door handle, it turned and the door swung open to the inside. Without hesitation, I sprang across the doorway onto the man inside my apartment. We struggled for a moment in each other’s arms until I was pushed off. Preparing for another charge, I stumbled to catch my self after hearing him speak.

    “Calm down Dawson!”

    I knew that voice and more importantly I hadn’t told anyone my name ever since I had lived in that apartment.
  5.  

    Aha!  Now we know his true identity!  Mwahahaha!

    •  
      CommentAuthorCurly Que
    • CommentTimeJul 6th 2013
     
    “Cane?” I asked incredulously, “How did you find me?!”

    “Hush! I won’t talk here. Wait till we’re on the road.”

    “But-”

    “Onitsuka. And that’s all I’m telling you until you come with me.”

    It had been a few years, but Cane was still his old mysterious self. I knew that I wouldn’t get any more explanation until we were somewhere that no one could possibly overhear what he had to say. I could appreciate his caution, since it had kept me alive more than once, but I hoped that we would reach wherever we were going soon.

    We strode out of my apartment laughing together in order to give no hint of the circumstances to any outsider who might be watching. By the time we were safely into the countryside on the seat of Cane’s buggy I was a little calmer, but also anxious. Cane wouldn’t ask for help or ruin someone’s secret cover without reason. Especially when he had worked long and hard with that someone to create the secret cover.

    Robert Cane and I had worked together in an organization called Onitsuka. Originally, the group had been an undercover gang, helping to take down real threats from the criminal side, but when the man running Onitsuka died, a new man stepped up. Ronald Marnock had subtly changed Onitsuka until they were at the top of Scotland Yard’s list of dangerous gangs instead of at the bottom. When the change started, Cane and I worked together to get me out of Onitsuka to tell Scotland Yard everything we knew then, while he stayed and tried to make Onitsuka weaker from the inside. After that, I had acquired a detective license and started to earn some money for when Cane needed my help again.

    Finally, Cane stopped the buggy. There was nothing in sight except for the landscape.

    “Now I will explain.” He said. “Onitsuka has been working for some time on a project. As you may have heard, there have been rats reported to have shown up in certain wealthy houses in London. Most people haven’t paid close attention to those stories in the papers because they think of rats in the houses as normal, but these rats were placed there with a purpose. They are carrying a disease. Onitsuka has developed a system for convincing the families of these houses to pay large sums of money in order to have the rats exterminated and receive an antidote for the disease. Marnok had a chemist, a man named Farthing, working on these formulas. Farthing had been doing other smaller projects for Onitsuka because before his wife died she worked with the previous organization and he promised her to help them even after she was no longer able to, but he has continued to work for them after the change in management. He began this project in his own lab, however, after he discovered the reason for it, he became stubborn and Marnok had him moved to a lab in the main base. Farthing didn’t go without a struggle, he even fired a shot at Old Stringfellow. Farthing has refused to help Onitsuka produce more of the poison, so they took his daughter there to ‘convince’ him to continue his work. Marnok also said that if he spoke with Miss Farthing he’d be able to get quite a bit of monetary support from her.”

    “Oh, dear.”

    “What? I think that we need to get Farthing out of there before Marnok can get more supplies. We take a sample of the antidote to the Yard, and they can give it to the rest of the victims.”

    “No, I have to get Glenn...I mean Miss Farthing away from there. She’s my client. She hired me to find her father right after he disappeared, taken by Onitsuka despite his struggles. How would he get money out of her? She’s just a student at an equestrian school.”

    “Hmm. I don’t know. We need to get back there. Marnok sent me out looking for a man he can let into the know and who’s got experience. I thought we could pass you off as that man for a while. Once he let’s you in, you’ll talk to Miss Farthing about the money, find out what Marnok’s not telling me. Then, we’ll get the Farthings out of there.”

    “Right. How are you going to get me into Marnok’s trust may I ask?”

    “I’ve known you for how long? I tell him you were working inside Onitsuka before he took over, but that you weren’t taking the transition well and left while you could before anyone had taken control, continuing to work on your own while you were away. I tell him that I’ve known you for half my life and I trust you. Simple really, none of it’s a lie and it all makes you look good to him without actually being bad.”