Winston was on his way to the cafe to meet his darling girlfriend of just a week. As he walked down the busy streets images of the month before, flashed in his mind. Just before he had met the love of his life he had being plunged into a world of mystery.
It was a cold winter’s day and Winston was late for a job interview. He jumped into a cab, anxiously awaiting reaching his destination, all the while humming ‘Eye of the tiger’. He arrived at Bill and Toms Law Firm, just on time. He walked into the icy cold room for his interview with the major partner of the business, Bill. He seemed to like Winston and the interview was going swimmingly well. Ten minutes into the interview, Bill throws a stack of papers at Winston, “if you can complete this by tomorrow morning, you have got the job.” Winston expresses his extreme gratitude picks up the papers and leaves.
On his way out a man spills coffee on him, apologising profusely the man directs him to a near-by public toilet. The toilets looked seriously un-hygienic, having no choice Winston walks in. There was something mysterious about the dim lit walls, it reflected of a sort of green light, the type of atmosphere created in horror movies. It was dead quiet, with just the whispers of the hustle and bustle of the world above. “Well I might as well use the loo while I am down here”.
There is nothing strange about graffiti and random quotes and messages on the walls of a public toilet. Winston looked around taking in all the ‘ Johns’ for Jane’s forever’ and all the other obscene content on the walls. Now like i said there is nothing curious or strange about this, however, what Winston saw was a bit disturbing. On the lower part of the cubicle wall was a number scribbled, it looked as if it was scribbled in a hurry or while the person was in agony. Having studied law, Winston analysed things more than most people. He bent down to get a closer look, pulling out his cell phone to shine light onto it so that he could see it clearer. He angled the phone this way and that to rid that horrid shadow and green light effect. He got closer and closer, he squinted his eyes, until he got a better view. He fell back and hit the other side of the cubicle, staring at the wall with a look of pure terror on his face. The number was written in blood. Maybe it was just some emo or Goth who liked playing around with blood, or maybe it was fake blood. No it was not, and Winston knew this, he just tried to make up every sort of excuse possible in his head for this to be just some kind of a joke.
The blood was dry, but it was fairly recent, he knew this because it was still potent in smell, and not crusting the way blood normally did after been exposed to air for a long time. The number was scribbled in an act of desperation, you could see it, the lines were pressed but shaky. The last digit was cut off and from it finger prints leading to the door, was this person dragged away. He followed the movement of the finger marks, at the edge of the door the finger prints in blood, clutching the frame as if for dear life.
Winston’s heart beat accelerated, it was the only audible sound now. He took a picture of the number, the finger prints and all the other writing in the cubicle, he shoved his phone deep within his shirt pocket and buttoned up his jacket over it. He composed himself, trying to seem as normal as possible, he washed his hands and made his way out. Trying to keep an open mind, his logic was been questioned by himself. He knew better than to get involved in this, if it was anything to get involved into that is. Deep in thought, he made his way past the Law Firm building plotting his next move. Somebody watched him from the window above, wiping his hands, of spilt coffee.
Winston entered his pent house suite, having a rich daddy had its perks. Locking the door firmly behind him, he was becoming increasingly paranoid. He pulled out the cell phone and downloaded all the images onto his laptop foe better viewing. He spent three hours analysing each detail of the writings on the walls, but none seemed to be linked to the number of blood. He opened up the image of the number, there seemed to be no other clues. His only option was to do the obvious, call the number. His instinct came either from his brilliance at investigative law or from watching too many movies, but he knew better than calling from any of his private lines.
He could use a public phone, but he would have no reason to call that number, whoever was on the other side of the line would become suspicious. “I have got it”, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, wrote the number down and put it in his pocket. He switched his cell phone and laptop off and put it into his safe hidden behind the frame of his mum and dad. He got another cell phone, some gadget, his jacket, locked the door, and headed down to call a cab.
He pulled up in-front o ‘Life line insurance agency’ and walked in. He approached the extremely beautiful secretary who clearly had her eye on him from the moment he walked in. “Good afternoon miss, my car has just been stolen along with my wallet and cell phone. Is there some place private that I may be able to use a phone to call the cops and my family, please?” The women clearly heartbroken for Winston immediately got up and directed him to a room far down the corridor, “if you need anything please call me” she purred.
A she closed the door behind her Winston picked up the receiver and stuck a gadget into it. He knew the number of by heart, he was glad that he remembered it and would not have to pull out the piece of paper, it was too risky. Is hands trembled as he dialled the number. The phone rang once, there was a beep, he was uncertain if the beep was that of an answering machine or of the phone been picked up, he steadied himself. Winston was certain that he heard heavy breathing on the other side.
“Hi there I am Timothy Matthews calling from Life line insurance, would you be interested in securing the future of your family?” He was doing his best to keep up his fake southern accent. The breathing continued. He had to keep this up for at-least 30 seconds, that was all he needed. “Madam, Sir, is anyone there?” Still nothing, no response, he was dead certain that he had just entered into a game that would have him fighting for his life and possibly someone else’s.
10 seconds more, “I know that you have heard this before with countless pointless calls, but we really do offer something different. If you would just give me your approval and your details, I could fax or e-mail the details to you”. Perfect he had spoken for almost a minute, now for a clean escape, “I think I may have got the answering machine, I will be in touch again soon, I won’t rest until your life is covered. Goodbye.” He pulled out the gadget quickly, ruffled up his hair a bit and made his way back to reception.
He approaches the lovely young lady to say thank you. “Have you sorted everything out sir” she asked. “Yes thank you, my parents have sent a cab for me and the rest I will sort out later.” She hands him a piece of paper with her name and number written on it, “Please call me if you ever have time, for coffee or something.” Winston takes the paper, smiles and nods and heads back to the cab that he told to wait for him.
His next stop is at his best friend’s house, Lee. Lee is a technology whizz, he can create, disassemble and even hack into any equipment. Winston hands him the tiny gadget and asks him if he can track the location. Lee being a genius and a loyal person does not ask any questions, he does it with a smile, mainly because he knows how. The location pops up on screen, its way out of any developed part of the country, in-fact, no-one even knew that it existed. “Whoa Wins, why on earth do you know anyone who lives out there?” Winston straightens up. “I think the question is what that person is doing there”. Lee immediately gathers that Winston is playing detective and that this is not as clean cut as it appears to be. Although Lee is a “techno-nerd” he is also a master in 7 fighting types that originated in an ancient city of Japan. Winston knows that Lee can help him and protect him, they have always been partners, and Lee has never let him down. “Do you think that you could hack into that cell phone buddy?” Lee nods, and grins, of-course he can. A matter of seconds later, it as if they have the cell phone with them. Images, contact numbers, video clips, the entire cell phone network is now on Lee’s computer.
Winston tells him to open up the images, pictures of a girl with dark hair and pale skin opens up she is beautiful, her face without a trace of make-up. There are pictures of her dancing, smiling, eating and a picture of her tattoo. A beautiful butterfly on her right ankle, she is pointing to it in the picture, pulling her tongue at it. They keep going down all the images, as they progress the pictures turn to images of a green lit bathroom, of walls and corridors and then they become sordid.
A young girl is tied up to a chair her face cannot be seen, bruises and cuts on her body. The person taken the pictures has mistakenly put a hand in the shot. Winston tells Lee to zoom in onto the hand, it is clearly a female’s hand. This is not possible, someone is being tortured in the most gruesome ways, by a girl. Lee and Winston both look horrified, whatever are they going to do. The cops are not an option, they would investigate Winston and Lee before they accept the complaint.
They view all the pictures, no faces are revealed, just the girl’s body, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a vest, her feet bare. The dark room is dirty, it looks like a garden shed or cellar. Winston is convinced that the girl being tortured is the girl from the pictures. Lee notices something, the girl does not have the tattoo on her ankle, pictures of her have been taken from every angle, yet nothing. This is definitely not the same girl, even though her body and hair looks the same. Looking for some sort of sign, they notice that on her wrist is a tattoo, also of a butterfly, in-fact almost identical, to the one on the young girl’s ankle.
They zoom into it, it scratched out, scabs on her wrist, this was not done by her captor. “Lee, it looks as if she had tried to get rid of that tattoo in a fit of rage, how odd that they should both have similar tattoos.” They opened up the video clips, once again most of the videos were of a happy girl playing around having fun, and just like the images, they became violent. The girl tied up was begging her captor to let her go, all the videos had a girl with a distinctive evil cackle, clearly the person behind the camera.
They spent days analysing pictures and videos, looking for clues. Researching the people in her phone book trying to gain some insight into who she was or where they might find her. They could not take any drastic actions, finding her was definitely a must but they had to do this while covering all their basis. They knew that the evil women would not kill her, it was clear that some sort of vicious vendetta was being carried out here and the intent was purely torture.
Winston had to balance working at ‘Bill and Toms Law Firm’ with his undercover role of finding the missing girl. He had to put up a front, he could not risk Lee or himself being found out. It was evident that whoever was doing this had connections into his world, thus he was extra cautious. Lee spent all the time he could further analysing pictures. He found the picture of the number that sparked of this mystery. He picked up something that Winston did not; outside the door blurred in the background were the black stilettos of a woman with pale feet. He immediately dialled Winston’s number but it just rang.12
Winston snapped out of his reminiscing, he had arrived at the cafe. He felt awful about the secret life that he and Lee shared, he wished that he could tell his love about it, but he could not risk her getting involved in something as grotesque as this. He had only just met her by fate, he believed, but he knew that he was head over heels in love with her, he was certain that it was real.
He opened the door to enter the cafe, the loud sound of a women cackling sent shivers up his spine, he assured himself that he was imagining, there was no way possible that the lunatic was here. He wrestled with his emotions, it was as distinct as hers, no, that is enough he was here to spend time with his beloved. He walks up to the pretty lady sitting in the corner, he notices that her cell phone light is on, she was on the phone. “Ah damn love, I forgot my cell phone at home. Oh well you look lovely, I missed you.”
She smiles at him, leans over and gives him a kiss on his cheek. Her blonde hair, lightly tickles his face, she is beautiful. She has a lot of make-up on, Winston often wonders what she looks like without it, but he loves her none the less. As she returns to her seat she knocks over a knife by accident. It scrapes her fair ankle and falls down next to her ridiculously high black stilettos. She grabs her serviette and wipes out the dripping blood on her ankle, revealing a beautiful tattoo of a butterfly. Stuffing the bloodied serviette into her hand bag, she resumes her position and smiles sweetly at Winston.
