Blackshaft – 1-05 – Lines part 4 – Season Finale

Blackshaft – 1-05 – Lines part 4 – Season Finale
(Adults Only. Copyright@Rama. 2013)


St Ignatious. Principle’s Office. Day.

Susan Corralli looking at the desk and couldn’t get the picture out of her head; Caroline Wyatt’s legs spread wide as that black… teacher was… She could picture his bare buttocks as they thrust. Then there were the sounds. The deep, gutteral sounds. They thought they were being quiet but they were grunting like animals. Animals aren’t quiet. As Miss… No, as the WHORE defiled this office and spat on everything that was right and had been built up over the years. Susan was NOT racist. But there were limits. Being friends is fine, being work colleagues as well, but what sh had seen and heard happening in this office, on this desk…? No. The whore was not born black, her mother was obviously not born black, her father was not born black. She could hear the treacherous sounds from the so-called principle in her head as she stood there.
“Okay,” Caroline Wyatt said. “Two weeks, not a problem.”
Susan looked at the white traitor behind the desk. She even looked different now. Wyatt wore her hair down and Susan noticed the cleavage on show now. The woman was dressing sluttier. Her body language was looser as well as her language with the odd profanity slipping in. She had noticed how Caroline Wyatt was letting things go. The students’ language as well was looser. And in front of the Principle who refused to acknowledge it. It had happened again this morning as she followed Wyatt coming in. Some of the supposed young ladies were talking about sex and using words they shouldn’t have. Wyatt simply smiled and walked straight passed them. It was almost like she was supporting them when she smiled. The thought made her feel sick.
“I’ll see about getting a temp.” Susan said.
Caroline Wyatt sat back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a good chance to give some of the girls some work experience.”
Susan swallowed, horrified by what they might see or hear. “I really think–”
“Don’t worry, the place’ll still be here when you get back.” Caroline smiled. “We’ll try not to destroy it too much. So go. Enjoy your vacation.”
‘Try not to destroy it too much,’ she heard and Susan felt like screaming it was too late but that would have made the slutty whore suspicious. She needed to get away from here and tell people. Tell the trust who helped fund this place what was happening. Susan slowly forced a smile on her face. “Okay.” she said. “Thanks.”
Caroline leant her elbows on the desk and smiled again. “You’re young.” she said. “Have fun. get drunk, get laid. To quote the song ‘Enjoy Yourself, it later than you think’!”
“Yes… Miss Wyatt.” Susan said, forcing each word out.
“In fact, it near the end of the term.” Caroline added. “We’re just kicking our heels right now. So when you finish today, just start it tomorrow and take an extra week.”
“An extra week?” Susan asked.
“An extra week. Don’t say I’m not good to you.”
“Thank you.” the secretary said flatly.
“Oh, and could you update the files on Isabella Brunelli. She’s left us.”
“Left us?”
“Apparently there was some family trouble. They’ve moved back to Sicily. And when you get back to your desk, could you give Mr Jameson a call. I’d like to see him.”
Susan felt the sick feeling return as she saw the slight smile on Caroline Wyatt’s face. She also noticed the whore’s breathing seeming increase at the mention of his name. “Yes, Miss Wyatt.” she said and walked back to her desk.
She put the call out, feeling ill at mentioning his name, and updated the Brunelli file. Then waited with a sense of dread. She saw the door open and he walked in. The fucking nigger had an attitude in his walk as he came in. He pointed to the door of the principle’s office and she nodded with a fake smile. Just keep up the act, Susan told herself as he pushed the door open and stood there. The smile on his face was wide. She could say it then. FUCKING. NIGGER. With the FUCKING WHORE.
Susan Corralli let the false smile drop as she watched the FUCKING NIGGER step inside and slowly close the door….



*



Two weeks later.

Howard Poulson’s Apartment. Kitchen. Evening.

“The case is dead.” Detective Howard Poulson said into the cell phone as he folded the slice of buttered bread over. “Open but effectively dead. We can’t find them. Any of them.”
“I suppose they must have run.” IronRod said from the other end.
“I suppose.” Poulson said, sniffing at the simmering sauce in the pot on the stove. “Are we ever going to find them?” the detective asked, dropping some more basil leaves in.
“One of life’s great questions. Who knows?”
Poulson looked at the newspaper. The headline simply read; TEFLON TESINO KILLED.



Two weeks ago.

Apartment on Millar Way. Morning.

The door crashed open, the lock finally smashing out of the wood of the frame. Police officers in body armour poured through. “POLICE!” the lead officer yelled. He flattened himself against the wall, keeping the semi-automatic rifle trained ahead of him as more armed officers started sweeping through the apartment.
“Clear!” one called out.
“ARMED POLICE!”
Another door crashes open.
“Clear!”
“Clear!”
Yet another is smashed open.
“ARMED POLICE!”
“Clear!”
Detective Howard Poulson gripped his handgun as he listened to the repeated calls of ‘clear’ while he stood waiting. He looked over to the huddled figures of the commander of the SWAT unit and the Commissioner as they were looking over a map of the building.
“There’s no-one in there.” an officer in body armour said walking out of the apartment. “Nothing.” he added.
“Boss?” Poulson called over to the Commissioner who was looking over.
“Your call.” Commissioner Jane Greggs said.
“Okay,” Poulson holstered his weapon and walked into the apartment past the now relaxed armed officers. He whistled as he saw the place. Spacious, with a panoramic view of the city. The furniture was cream and white and looked expensive. As did the pictures on the walls, all original paintings or numbered, signed prints. “I thought these assholes were college kids?” he said amazed.
“That’s what their ages say.” Commissioner Gregg said from behind him. “You sure we got the right place?” she asked. “Cos if you’re information is wrong, you’re pay’ll be getting reduced for the next twenty years.”
“It’s correct.” Poulson said. “Seven different sources pin-point this place.”
“And it’s owned by Carlo Bructanni?”
“It’s the address he gave the last three times he was arrested. The place legally belongs to Masimo Brunelli.”
Gregg shook her head. “Brunelli? And the Bructannis?”
“The rest of the familes are going to be pissed.”
Commissioner Jane Gregg could only smile as she thought of the chance she finally had. All the years the five familes had been running crime in the city and she could only watch as suspects walked from courts or witnesses suddenly forget their own names never mind statements. This might be the perfect chance. “Tear it apart,” she said. “All of it.” All she needed was one little thing that could tear them apart. The bank robberies had done plenty of damage by removing their cash resources. There had even been incidents were mob enforcers had gone to collect ‘insurance’ only to be given their own treatment. “FIND ME SOMETHING!” she yelled to the officers as they paired off into separate rooms.




Two weeks later.

Howard Poulson’s Apartment. Kitchen. Evening.

“Lot of bodies have been turning up.” he said.
“Have they?” IronRod replied flatly. Poulson could swear he could hear the grin. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Not catching up on the news?”
“Nah.”




Two weeks ago.

Apartment on Millar Way. Morning.

“Detective!”
Poulson stopped going through the drawer in the walk-in wardrobe and went through to where the voice had called from. The bedroom was as plush and rich-looking as the rest of the apartment. The mob like to show off the money, he thought. “You found something?” he said walking up to the young uniformed officer who called him.
The officer stepped back and Poulson smiled as he saw the contents of the bottom of chest of drawers. Three shotguns and some rubber masks. Green Gremlin, Dark Avenger and a clown. The masks were all used in the robberies.
“Well?” Commissioner Gregg asked breathlessly looking in.
“Here.” Poulson said and Gregg walked in.
She looked at the open drawer with the guns and the masks and smiled.