Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) by Peter Carroll Page B
Authors: Peter Carroll
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blood in my veins seemed to thicken and solidify as I watched. A disturbing, grinding noise turned out to be coming from my teeth and my eyes widened to the saucer proportions of a cartoon character.
I should have bloody-well known better. Stupid, arrogant, dick. I'd gotten away with my exploits so often that I became blasé, undercooked my preparations and failed to think through scenarios.
The video was entitled 'What's the magic word sonny?'. Someone on the train took out their smartphone and videoed my exploits once the crowd started singing the eponymous refrain. I should have waited for a one-on-one situation! What was I thinking about conducting my business in front of an audience? Hubris, that's what did it. I mean, what the actual fuck was I going to do about this?
I could try and track down the person who posted it, find some way to persuade them to delete it. Shit idea. The fucking thing had already scored four hundred likes and been shared sixty-five times. Fingers crossed, no-one who knew me would find it before I could sort out some kind of plan.
If a cop or one of the MIT team got onto this I would have to answer a whole shitpile of difficult questions. Clements would identify me for sure, I never made any attempt to hide my face from him. The lorry driver might be dead, but me and Garry definitely abducted and scared the living crap out of him, before this Citizen V murdered him. With enough effort and the right motivation, the forensics guys would likely discover some minute scrap of incriminating evidence to confirm that. Witnesses might have seen me trip Jacobs, particularly when prompted with photos of me: the woman who walked past, for instance. If I didn't have an alibi for the time he was killed...
I scrolled down the comments and my heart stopped. Not metaphorically. It actually stopped, along with my breathing, vision and any sense of perspective. I was fucked. Well and truly shafted!
Fifteen comments down, someone called Moondogvomit666 proclaimed:
'I no this fucker! Hes a copper. Arested me once. Works out of Hackney. Citizin Vagina - a total cunt!'
Replies alternating between 'LOL!' and 'bullshit!' followed on.
There were two saving graces. Moondogvomit666, whoever he was, failed to name me explicitly and, since his post, many more comments followed on. As a result, his revelation was hidden four pages back. It really needed looking for, so this might buy me some time.
Why hadn't I thought of a phone? I made sure the train didn't have any CCTV on board but patently failed to think about the rest of the modern world. It's not as if I'm some kind of technophobic Luddite. I use this technology myself every day. I know my way around a computer and I've got an iPhone for god's sake. Hubris. Fucking hubris, that's what did it.
I needed to think, to get out of the house. I shouted to my wife that I was going out to get a few beers to drink with the game later.
Driving out into the early evening, my mind spun web after web of possibilities. The streets were filled with people oblivious to my predicament and I tried to think how I might escape it.
***
Bobby 'Bubba' Harvey found working for the Corantelli family to be a pretty satisfying experience. Sure, Leo could be a bit of a dick at times but it was easy to ignore his petulance for what it was. In general, they treated him well, paid handsomely and allowed him to enjoy the status and violence that came with his role.
Bubba spent years working as a doorman. He gained Carlo Corantelli's attention one evening while dealing with some particularly unpleasant drunks in a very forceful but controlled manner. The club involved happened to be Carlo's most prestigious and it mattered that such things were handled appropriately. Very soon Bubba graduated to Chief of Security for Leo.
The incident in Cardoza's tarnished his reputation with the old man a little. Leo was ok about it. After all, he ordered Bubba to 'kindly fuck off and
I should have bloody-well known better. Stupid, arrogant, dick. I'd gotten away with my exploits so often that I became blasé, undercooked my preparations and failed to think through scenarios.
The video was entitled 'What's the magic word sonny?'. Someone on the train took out their smartphone and videoed my exploits once the crowd started singing the eponymous refrain. I should have waited for a one-on-one situation! What was I thinking about conducting my business in front of an audience? Hubris, that's what did it. I mean, what the actual fuck was I going to do about this?
I could try and track down the person who posted it, find some way to persuade them to delete it. Shit idea. The fucking thing had already scored four hundred likes and been shared sixty-five times. Fingers crossed, no-one who knew me would find it before I could sort out some kind of plan.
If a cop or one of the MIT team got onto this I would have to answer a whole shitpile of difficult questions. Clements would identify me for sure, I never made any attempt to hide my face from him. The lorry driver might be dead, but me and Garry definitely abducted and scared the living crap out of him, before this Citizen V murdered him. With enough effort and the right motivation, the forensics guys would likely discover some minute scrap of incriminating evidence to confirm that. Witnesses might have seen me trip Jacobs, particularly when prompted with photos of me: the woman who walked past, for instance. If I didn't have an alibi for the time he was killed...
I scrolled down the comments and my heart stopped. Not metaphorically. It actually stopped, along with my breathing, vision and any sense of perspective. I was fucked. Well and truly shafted!
Fifteen comments down, someone called Moondogvomit666 proclaimed:
'I no this fucker! Hes a copper. Arested me once. Works out of Hackney. Citizin Vagina - a total cunt!'
Replies alternating between 'LOL!' and 'bullshit!' followed on.
There were two saving graces. Moondogvomit666, whoever he was, failed to name me explicitly and, since his post, many more comments followed on. As a result, his revelation was hidden four pages back. It really needed looking for, so this might buy me some time.
Why hadn't I thought of a phone? I made sure the train didn't have any CCTV on board but patently failed to think about the rest of the modern world. It's not as if I'm some kind of technophobic Luddite. I use this technology myself every day. I know my way around a computer and I've got an iPhone for god's sake. Hubris. Fucking hubris, that's what did it.
I needed to think, to get out of the house. I shouted to my wife that I was going out to get a few beers to drink with the game later.
Driving out into the early evening, my mind spun web after web of possibilities. The streets were filled with people oblivious to my predicament and I tried to think how I might escape it.
***
Bobby 'Bubba' Harvey found working for the Corantelli family to be a pretty satisfying experience. Sure, Leo could be a bit of a dick at times but it was easy to ignore his petulance for what it was. In general, they treated him well, paid handsomely and allowed him to enjoy the status and violence that came with his role.
Bubba spent years working as a doorman. He gained Carlo Corantelli's attention one evening while dealing with some particularly unpleasant drunks in a very forceful but controlled manner. The club involved happened to be Carlo's most prestigious and it mattered that such things were handled appropriately. Very soon Bubba graduated to Chief of Security for Leo.
The incident in Cardoza's tarnished his reputation with the old man a little. Leo was ok about it. After all, he ordered Bubba to 'kindly fuck off and
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