Bright Lights. #1 PT2- Dark Shadows Posted 19th Dec

Davidson sat on one of three metal framed chairs, folding his arms on the bare pine table he leaned forward resting his head and closed his eyes. The rest of the room lay in heavy shadow not that there was much to see, apart from the table and three chairs the only other item in the room was a battered standard lamp minus it’s shade and a working bulb. The windowless room had two doors, both closed ,one only visible by a darkening in the shadow which marked it’s recessed frame. The second directly opposite the first was etched in relief by a ribbon of light bleeding from the ill fitting door to frame. This half used, second hand light provided his only defence the enforced isolation that lurked within the suffocating darkness.
Turning his head he looked at the pencil thin band of tainted light. After barely a minute he looked away, guarding against the urge to push through the door and stand under the bright lights. Davidson so wanted to get out, but that door was not the way out, that door would only lead him in deeper.
It had been a little over an hour ago since he’d ended her last call yet it seemed much - much longer. It had ended badly, angrily for his part and he’d tossed the mobile phone into the cars glove box where it still lay now. The usual precautions had put him on the other side of that dark recessed door some twenty minutes later hesitating, he recalled his final thoughts as he raised his hand to the cold iron handle.
“What do I have to lose ?”
“Nothing much – not now” had been his silent answer.
Turning the handle he entered.
Two men, the first heavy, block set his unshaven chin contrasting against his bald head shinning with nervous moisture under the light of an old standard lamp, the other was taller, leaner, athletic looking and expensively groomed. Both sat at a small round bare wood table playing cards by the light of the old lamp. The shorter sweatier of the two turned towards him.
“You must be Davidson, I’m Samuals this is Jennings”
Instantly Davidson felt himself being assessed, height, weight attitude and aptitude. Was he friend or foe. At six one and fifteen stone he had never had a problem with self confidence. Others felt he invaded their personnel space and he understood that, at times he played on it to gain an advantage, a subtle sense of inferiority in the people he dealt with often served to make assignments easier. Here however the table’s were on the verge of being turned and he began to build his defences, readying himself for the expected assault. He closed the door by passing the handle between his hands behind his back and taking half a pace backwards. Never taking his eyes of the two men making the movement seem as casual as possible. So far he had not spoken a word in response to Samuals greeting.
Jennings stopped dealing and looked over at the new arrival, he seemed to sense Davidson’s inner preparation, turning back to the table a faint glint of amusement played across his eyes. Casually discarding cards he stood up, forcing the thin metal legs of the chair to screech across the hard bare floor. The painful noise filled the room completely, for a moment all three men were captured in the screeching sound. As it’s short dramatic life faded Davidson found Jennings had moved through the space between them and thrust out a hand, not in challenge as expected but in open greeting.
“So who’d you piss off”
The smile seemed genuine and the offered hand remained offered despite the uncomfortable length of time it stood between the two men. Finally Davidson reciprocated, accepting what he was sure was the façade of friendship.
“No one as far as I know, why’d you ask”
It was Samuals who answered.
“Before you came in we were trying to figure out who we’d upset to get stuck in this hole”
Jennings returned to the table and began to gather up the cards expertly shuffling them. His hands seems large and calloused but he handled the cards with a deft dexterity that held Davidsons eye. As Samuals took up his place at the table he asked.
“You smoke”
“No”
“So that’s two to you” he said to Jennings
“Two what”
Asked Davidson moving round the table to the third chair.
“Right guesses” Said Samuals
“Not Guesses” responded Jennings
Samuals continued without pausing.
“You see, my new friend here was the first to arrive in our little cell, he was here when I arrived, and he thinks we aren’t the first through here”.
“How’d you know that and why would it matter anyway?”
It was Jennings who answered, all the time shuffling the cards with repeated, practiced precision.
“When I arrived the room was empty except for this table, three chairs that lamp and this”
It occurred to Davidson that Jennings must have brought the cards with him, perhaps he expected to be here a while.
From the floor under the table Jennings produced a heavy glass ashtray, recently used and ash stained. There was a single extinguished butt, not fully smoked but snubbed out early.
“This was on the table and the thing was still smoking, like the person who was in here heard me coming and bolted through that door”
He gestured towards the opposing door to the one Davidson had walked through.
“OK so What !”
“So it wasn’t you that’s what. Neither me nor Samuals here smoke, one thing about non smokers is that they can smell a smoker from ten paces. Our friendly handshake just then confirmed you don’t smoke. Of course you could have changed clothes, showered and brushed your teeth. A little excessive but possible. But even so your hands are clean, no telltale stains.

Davidson realised Jennings was telling him all this as a warning, he was sharp, intelligent, observant and not at all worried about the reaction of his two new friends to his examination of them. For now he would have to play along Jennings had set himself up as head honcho before Davidson had arrived and Samuals seemed only to willing to follow his lead. He decided to move the question on.
“So that’s one, what was the other”
“That our little group was not the first, that there’d been a group of three before us, maybe three before them who knows”
Davidson turned to Samuals “How did you know my name?” His tone was deliberately neutral though the question was not.
Samual was thrown of balance by the sudden change in direction and spoke before considering his words.
“Jennings told me, he knew your name before you arrived”
Then he turned toward his self appointed leader and his demeanour changed, Samuals was not the tallest of the three men but he was bar far heaviest. His shoulders were broad, back flat and his neck appeared square, as if carved in a rough shaped but not quite finished, not yet smoothed of. In fact that term would suit him perfectly, roughed out but not quite smoothed of yet. Not a diamond in the rough more the anthracite and someone had just put a flame to it.
“How come you knew who he was, and you knew my name to, but we don’t know you. Who are you and why’d you know so much we don’t ?”

Jennings continued to deal his cards with barely an acknowledgment that Bryson had spoken. After a pause which would have seemed contrived even on a TV results show he spoke.

“How’d you get your instructions to this place?” The question seemed open, not directed at Bryson alone.

“By phone, I picked up a message which just had this location and that there’d be two others, all for the same job, what about you Davidson?”

“By text, I made the usual contact two days ago, I got a text this morning telling me where and when, nothing else, nothing about you two and no details”

Two days ago, that’s when things had started to go pear shaped. Isabella had started asking questions about his background, his job, even his plans for the future months ago, but he had always managed to evade detailed answers. Keeping in mind advice given years earlier.

“Paint your history with enough colour to make it real but mostly paint it grey”

Well Isabella had begun to scratch away at the grey bland veil he had covered his past with and wanted ansers to her questions he wasn’t able to give her. The one question he knew she was leading to and the one which came to the surface two days ago and again last night, the future! What did he want in his, and was it her?

He hadn’t been able to answer it, not two days ago not last night and not his morning. Her final call had been from the airport, she was going home, he’d lost her. He’d already received and answered the text accepting this job. Truth was he’d started to run away days ago when he’d called in. This morning she’d realised that he was never going to answer the question and she wasn’t staying around to ask it again, she valued herself more than hat.

Bryson interrupted Davidsons recollections by thrusting the question back at Jennings.

“So neither me, nor Davidson had any details about who else would be here, but you, you knew my name and his. What makes you so special that you get to know about us and who are you anyway? Did you arrange this? Is that how yu know?”

“Well speak up”

Jennings had continued to shuffle his cards with measure pace, he didn’t so much as lift his head in response to Bryson which seemed to anger him even more. Davidson watched Jennings and realised that shuffling the cards wasn’t just occupying his hands; it was a tool, a method of control. Jennings was using them almost like a metronome, pacing his answers, measuring out his response to every question. Davidson began to wonder what happened when the shuffling stopped.

Jennings finally responded.

“Firstly you gave your name; I didn’t need anybody to give it to me. The second you walked through that door your first words were what”

Bryson remembered clearly what he had said. He hadn’t wanted this job. He didn’t like working with strangers and felt out of his depth. He was good at what he did but preferred decision making to be someone else’s problem. The message he’d received gave no room for discussion and wasn’t open to interpretation. An address an exact time and one ine of instruction; don’t be early and don’t be late. He’d stood outside the door looking at his watch for a full two minutes thirty seconds before turning the handle. Surprised to find someone already there he had introduced himself by his real name before thinking.

But Jennings had shaken his hand and seemed OK about him being there.

“OK, OK so I gave you my name, it still doesn’t explain how you knew Davidsons.”

“Simple, I had two names, Bryson and Davidson. Nothing else. You being Bryson meant the next guy in had to be Davidson. Thats how I was able to tell you that a third person would join us and that he should be called Davidson. Of course we don’t know that this is Davidson because you never gave us the opportunity to ask him his name before giving him on, did you?”

Davidson tightened his grip of the chair back, an image flashed through his mind of fending off these two strangers like some comic book lion tamer, what he wouldn’t give for the comic book whip to go with it. He turned to Jennings saying.

“Very good Jennings, deflect attention, misdirect your opposition. Tell me, why are you acting like Bryson and me are the enemy here. I thought we’d been brought here to work together, unless you know different?”

Davidson waited for a reaction from Jennings. Watching the seated man slowly shuffling cards he could almost see the calculation behind the slow deliberate movements. Jennings was measuring his words impact on his two companions before he’d breathed life into them and set them free in the outside world, Davidson began to wonder just how many different scenarios had been played out in Jennings head and how many ways each had turned out. As he studied his opponent he was struck by something that disturbed him. Something about Jenings he recognised, not the man, he was sure he’d never set eyes on him before today. It was the guarded measured response, nothing real, nothing spontaneous or alive.Jennings was paiting his history right before their eyes, enough colour, enough substance that they had bought it but mostly grey, mostly ambiguous. Davidson realised that for Isabella this is how he had become. Calculating each word, each turn of phrase. Looking at Jennings he suddenly hated everything this stranger was and he knew in the deepest darkest places of himself that he had become the same.

Suddenly Bryson swung his heavy fist knocking the playing cards from Jennings and showering the room with them.

“Answer the damn question!”

Whatever number of scenarios Jennings had conjured up this was clearly one of them, the sudden attack by Bryson didn’t startle him or even interrupt his movement. To Davidson it all seemed pre-planned, rehearsed and choreographed. Bryson was to play his part but only as the fall guy.

As Bryson’s fist scattered the cards from Jennings left hand his right had already moved to grab the flailing wrist and continue the motion. Bryson may have begun the movement but now it was controlled by Jennings. Standing quickly he pulled Bryson over the table preventing the big man from using his extra size and weight. As table and man topped over, Jennings’ left hand neatly plucked the large ash tray of the moving surface and brought it down in one swift arching movement onto the back of Bryson’s now exposed skull.

This should have put him out, and clearly in Jennings’ scenario it had, for the first time Jennings looked to Davidson.

“hold him down”

Davidson didn’t move. He’d just realised he didn’t like Jennings and couldn’t see any reason to aid him in subduing Bryson.

Jennings tossed th ashtray at Davidson whilst continuing his backward motion dragging Bryson with him. Brysons’ wrist was twisted and bent back towards the crook of his elbow. As he lay face down on the hard floor Jennings raised the wrist and brought his full weight down to break both wrist and elbow. Bryson screamed, pain wrenching him back to full consciousness he began to rise, flailing with his thick arms he connected with the upright pole of the standard lamp. Grasping it he swing the lamp wildly. The three men disappeared into blackness as the single bulb exploded. For a split second complete silence consumed the small cell. No sight no sound, nothing. Then Bryson began to swing the lamp again, it swooshed through the air in front of Davidson. Slowly the swings became spaced out, each passing swoosh now followed by deep whimpering breaths. The pain of his injuries was beginning to weaken him and he knew if Davidson heard a second sound as the pole fizzed by him again. Footsteps accompanied each swing of the pole. Jennings was moving. Suddenly a door burst open and blinding light flashed into the room. Jennings was stood half in the doorway, his right arm extended into the next room the reach the light switch. He looked at Davidson then at Bryson before moving. Bryson hadn’t made it to his feet and knelt in the middle of the room swinging all around him, his face was the colour of fake pearls, his eyes were twisted with pain and fear whilst his jaw hung open, loose as if already lost to the rest of him. He swung the pole one last time, the effort forcing him to fall forward and release his only defence to hold up his body with the only good arm he had. He raised his head and looked directly at Davidson, he said nothing the question was in his eyes.

Then Jennings slammed his foot firmly into the back of Brysons neck forcing the big man down to the ground he turned to Davidson who had instinctively caught the heavy glass ashtray.

“Hit him now”

Jennings was no longer the calm dealer of cards who had sat at the now upturned table, spittle ran from the side of his mouth and there was a touch of madness in his eyes, the beast was out of its cage and Jennings seemed desperate to regain control of both himself and this situation.

Davidson still hadn’t moved, he held the ashtray by the deep bevelled rim and rubbed the smooth heavy crystal with his thumb. Jennings was within striking distance, head bowed, eyes fixed on Bryson. He really didn’t like Jennings. Taking half a step forward to gain more leverage Davidson swung hard, he connected firmly and heard the sickening grinding of bone being shattered followed by a long slow exhalation of a final breath.

Bryson was as innocent in all this as he was, Jennings seemed to be the only one of them with a grasp of their situation or even what that situation was. Bryson was an innocent with no more idea than he of what had placed them here or how to get out, to get back to their lives. Which is why he now lay on the floor, silent, motionless.

Jennings spun on Davidson, he seemed all too aware that the final blow could well have been aimed at him.

“It’s about bloody time, what took you so long he damn near got away from me. For a moment there I thought I had picked the wrong man”

Davidson threw the ashtray over in the corner, its landing ringing the small room like a church bell.
“What do you mean the wrong man, what the hell is all this about anyway?”

Jennings stepped across Brysons’ inert bulk and bent to feel the side of his neck.

“Good not dead anyway”

Turning back to Davidson he ignored the question, instead he said.

“Grab him and help me get him next door”

Davidson found he did as Jennings asked whilst silently cursing himself for it.

The second room was larger than the first and it too had one other door. This room was white, both in colour and in light.
White washed walls gleamed under rows of fluorescent lamps hung on small chains from the ceiling. On one side of the room a large chair; the kind you might find in a dentist office, sat amidst an array of adjustable lamps and moveable tables covered in white linen cloths. The two men carried in the silent Bryson and placed him in the chair. Davidson stood back as Jennings fastened Velcro cuffs around Brysons’ wrist, ankles and neck.

Jennings turned to Davidson and he noticed that the card dealer had returned. Calm and apparently composed, Jennings smoothed down his clothes, straightened his hair and walked past Davidson into the small dark room. He righted the table and arranged the chairs around it. As Davidson entered, Jennings moved to the corner and retrieved the dark stained ashtray. As he passed the open door he casually threw it in the direction of the restrained Bryson. It bounced and skidded noisily across the floor until it struck the case of the large chair. Bryson didn’t react to the noise or the impact.

Davidson had watched the ashtray dance across the floor and looked at the unconscious man.

“What did he do to deserve that?” he asked.

Jennings had picked up the old lamp and was attempting to get it to stand unaided. Giving up he dragged it to the corner and propped it there. Without turning he said in response:

“Nothing as far as I know – yet. All I know is it was decided he was a possible threat.”

“Threat to who?”

“Same people who pay us, same people who sent you the message to come here, same people sent me here and sent our friend in there here.”

Jennings moved around the room gathering up the playing cards, as he did he continued to talk.

“All I know is that he was becoming very attached to a woman, it’s always a woman you know. Anyhow, this particular woman had started asking questions about his past, what he did, what he had done and what he was planning to do.”

Davidsons’ heart began to race in his chest; everything Jennings had said had an eerie familiarity to it.

As Jennings finally rounded up all his cards he sat at the table in the now familiar pose. Davidson came and sat opposite him.

“How do you know all this and how are you so sure that you can do that to him without ever asking a single question?”

“The questions are about to start. As for how I know? Truth is I don’t. All I know is that the first person to walk through that door would be the mark and the second would be here to assist. Ten minute intervals and instructions not to be late. Simple.”

Davidsons’ message had been simple and precise, a fixed time and one instruction – do not be late. But he had been late. He had been on the phone to Isabella; her last call.

“Anyway,” said Jennings rising from his chair.

“Apparently the woman left the country this morning, she’s someone elses’ problem. Right now mine is to find out what lover boy in there discussed with her. Sit tight, this shouldn’t take long, then we can get out of here.”

Jennings went into the bright light and closed the door.

Davidson sat on one of the three metal framed chairs, folded his arms on the bare pine table, leaned forward resting his head and closed his eyes.

He had to get out of here, he had to get to Isabella first.

At least he knew where to look.