The Lunatic Fringe Chapter One

The Darkness of One

The pool hall was filled with the foul odour of tobacco and the smoke from cigars and cigarettes hung in the air like ghosts that haunted every single one of those present.  Through the dark, smoke filled room there were many groups, sitting in their own territories as they huddled together and talked amongst themselves in a way that seemed almost comical to any uneducated observer of the scene.  There was something strange about the atmosphere.  It seemed almost as if the people did not fit into the scene.  Many of those present seemed to have been taken from some upper class coffee shop or restaurant and placed in the middle of a completely alien environment.  Yet strangely each of them somehow seemed at home where they were.  The trained eye would have seen, beneath their expensive suit coats and smoking jackets, that each of them possessed their own shining automatic hand guns held close to them like some memento of a loved one they never wanted to forget.

Suspicious looks passed between members of the separate groups, returned by looks even more threatening and dangerous.  Talk was low and almost at a whisper and the scene resembled something like a wake after the funeral of a close friend who knew many but valued few.

At the door at the top of the stairs that led to the pool hall there stood a bulky man in a black suit, guarding the entire scene from those whose eyes were not meant to see the strange gathering.  His name was Michael but those familiar with the pool hall called him The Wall for obvious reasons.  It was across The Wall that a shadow was now cast from the stairway light outside and without so much as a grunt The Wall stepped back to let the man and his entourage enter.  As the doorway became silhouetted by the new arrivals’ silhouettes, all eyes fell upon the tall, handsome young figure who entered with his four friends and the talk turned to low murmuring.

Dressed in a black three piece suit and long flowing black leather coat, he seemed almost like the figure of death itself apart from his handsome features and neat, slicked back black hair.  As he walked into the pool hall it seemed to all there that he moved in slow motion, every movement, every gesture and look was taken in and observed by those present while a state of fear and paranoia swept across all like a devastating tidal wave.  Behind him the figures of four other men dressed in the same fashion surveyed the room with eagle eyes while they followed their master.  The man’s name was Dorian, the most feared of assassins and the wealthiest of those under the employ of the drug lord Richard Mason.  Legend had it that he was single-handedly responsible for bringing Richard Mason to power as the most powerful drug lord of Australia and had ever since been Richard’s right hand man.

As he made his way across the pool hall, all around him watched on in awe, an awe that was almost drowned out by fear of the thirty year old.  In the far corner of the dark old hall was the table reserved for Dorian’s presence.  It was a V shaped leather couch placed against the corner wall, large enough to seat them all comfortably with a low antique oak coffee table before it.  Like spectres they floated across to the corner and seated themselves as slowly the conversations all began again and the people employed by Richard in the many different fields of the drug business relaxed a little.  Still, there was a new tension in the air with the knowledge of Dorian’s presence that seemed to almost take on a physical appearance in its power.

Dorian sat in the middle of the entourage, in the very corner and at the centre of the V, with his arms spread out over the back of the couch as he surveyed those present.  Both men and women seemed far too perfect to be real.  Perhaps it was the darkness or even the smoke that created the phenomenon but everybody present seemed perfect.  Paradise.  Dorian smiled to himself as he sucked in the general atmosphere of the place they called The Slash for reasons long since forgotten by most.  He loved the atmosphere and the strange feeling of uneasiness that always haunted the hall.  Up on the second floor of an old building in the middle of Brisbane city, it seemed the last place people would gather to discuss the administration of a drug business but at the same time it strangely seemed perfect.

The silence of the moment was broken finally by the man to Dorian’s right.  His name was Samiel and he was five years younger than Dorian.  He stroked his goatee as he turned to Dorian and spoke, his words floating into the air like birds freed from a cage to fly where they pleased.  Dorian caught half of the freed words and frowned, turning to Samiel.

“Excuse me?” His voice was smooth, deep and seductive.  It was as rich as thickened cream in its resonance and covered all that surrounded it with a delicious coating of irresistibility.

“I was wondering where Richard was sending you this time.” Samiel repeated, his voice like a scratched record compared to Dorian’s.  He seemed almost ashamed to speak after hearing Dorians delicious voice flowing from deep within.  For a moment Dorian stayed silent, watching the young woman who had just entered the hall.  Her hair was black and long, tied back in a ponytail and she wore a perfect, long flowing black dress, which clung to her perfect figure as if it was a part of her inner soul desperate to once again be one with her inner beauty instead of being a part of her external radiance.  Then he finally spoke, his eyes still on the woman called Christina.

“Barcaldine.” He said absently. “I’m driving to Barcaldine to kill a turncoat now under witness protection. Her name’s Venus.”

“Venus? How old is this Goddess?” Cassius spoke up from Dorian’s left with a voice that was distinguished and educated yet somehow homely in its timbre.

Christina seemed to float across the room, parting the clouds of cigarette smoke as if she were an angel flowing through the clouds of heaven, her beauty adding to the illusion that Dorian’s eyes beheld with awe.  Then, upon flowing through the smoke, she appeared before the others like an apparition and nearly startled them, as they had not paid much attention to what was occurring around them in the circus that was the pool hall.  Now all eyes were fixed on her as Dorian answered Cassius but remained with his eyes and attention on the beauty that stood before him.

“Nobody knows.” He answered while standing to greet Christina, taking her delicate right hand in his and kissing it with the gentlest of touches, which sent a shiver down her spine.  It felt as though Dorian’s soul had leapt from his lips and into her, hugging her soul with a love far deeper than anything words could describe, before returning back up her spine and into Dorian once more.  Their eyes were fixed on one another as the entourage of Dorian took their cue and left the couch to mingle with the others in the pool hall, not daring to ask more questions about Venus, quashing the inevitable curiosity that an assignment always gave them.  Christina sat to Dorian’s right and not for one moment did their eyes leave one another, reflecting the light of their soul within and showing the other how much joy the union of their souls was.  After a few moments of simply watching each other without a word of greeting spoken between them, Christina finally broke the silence.

“Nobody knows what?” Her voice was smooth, coated with the sweetness of honey, filling all who heard it with a desire to hear it once more.  She was like a drug that not even the strongest of people could resist and worst of all she was Dorian’s one weakness.  Dorian sighed before answering, afraid of what Christina might say of such a mysterious yet important case.  Although an angel in her external appearance, deep within laid the darkest of demons that even Dorian was afraid of.  She too was a trained killer and could be far more ruthless than Dorian at times.

“I’ve been ordered to kill a turncoat.” The words drifted across to Christina and each one was like an alarm ringing in her ears, screaming to her of the dangers that lay ahead.  Often she had feared that Dorian would one day die in the line of duty but now that the words ‘nobody knows’ and ‘ordered to kill’ had been combined she smelt danger as if death itself had manifest itself into words. “A witness protection coward. Her new name’s Venus. Apparently, from what we have found out from our Police sources, she worked for Richard for some time and then turned to the Police with some information to do with Richard’s movements over the last few years. They’ve placed her on the witness protection program. Strangely we have no idea who she is but we know where she is and that her new name is Venus.”

“You have no idea who she is?” Christina’s disbelief was evident in her tone of voice and Dorian immediately felt the fear there that so rarely came from Christina.

“Christina, Richard’s lost several female senior level officials and quite a few low level ones in the last year in fatal accidents and it’s nearly impossible to discover which ones are fake and which ones are real. The point is that we know she is female and her new name is Venus. She lives in Barcaldine. Apparently Richard received several tip-offs from our men on the inside. She handed over some information that helped the Police in their investigations of our business dealings. Whoever she is, she betrayed us. She must die. All they got was a name and a place. That’s all I need.”

There was a long moment of silence as Dorian watched Christina’s face change from fear to confusion, her mind taking in all of the words but unable to register them as truth.  There was something deep within the whole idea that bothered her.  Something deep inside attacked her in an attempt to warn her of the dangers, almost as if the thought was a bat desperately trying to find its way out of a cave that had collapsed and trapped it within.  After a moment collecting her thoughts she spoke.

“Barcaldine? In far north Queensland? How exactly do you propose to make your way there?”

“Richard has bought me a brand new Land Cruiser. The Federal Police have no idea we own it. I’m safe as long as Venus is an easy target.”

“Dorian.” Christina sighed as she reached across and placed her hand on his face, stroking it with her delicate fingers. “Without you this whole network will seem like an empty void. You are these people’s leader. Without you Richard is nothing and you know that.”

“Richard is the most powerful man in this country, Christina. I highly doubt he needs me any more.”

“Maybe that’s what he thinks.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in shock as he heard Christina’s comment and he realised the weight behind such a suggestion.  Those few words had struck him with the force of a thousand insults.

“Christina, what exactly are you suggesting?” Around him the once atmospheric smoke now seemed like a constricting blanket trying to strangle him with its dense greyness.  It was almost as if the horrible thought had manifest itself before Dorian to haunt him until the moment he departed from the pool hall.  In fact Dorian was afraid that even then the smoke would still follow him.

“You are a powerful man, Dorian, and the people love you. Isn’t it possible, just possible, that Richard wants you out of the way so that you pose no threat to his leadership?” She paused for a moment to let the words sink in before continuing. “He sends you out to track down this woman, Venus, and while on the way back, after conveniently killing off this traitor, you are involved in an unfortunate accident planned by an eager man desperate to be in Richard’s good books; a man doing Richard a favour so that he can go one more rung up the ladder.” She shrugged and looked out over the pool hall at the many who had gathered to talk and network with one another. “It’s just a thought, Dorian. I love you. I’m just being your guardian angel.”

Dorian was silent, the suggestion too horrific even to consider.  Yet it all seemed so perfectly true.  Paranoia had kept him alive for so long and now even Christina was beginning to inject the poison of suspicion into the veins of his psyche.  Richard had been his closest friend for many years and now a woman he had know for less time but loved with all of his soul had suggested that Richard was planning his downfall for no reason other than to have complete control over the entire network.  In the enclosed space of the pool hall Dorian felt the fear and tension surrounding him like a rope ready to hang him.  The tension was becoming far too great for his liking and now that Christina had suggested a routine kill was a plot to kill him the paranoia was increased at least tenfold.  He had killed many in his day and what was left of his conscience was too weak to override the darkness within but to think about his closest friend wanting to kill him was out of the question.  If it were true, he was prepared for the event.  As his mind processed the options and even the motives behind Christina’s sudden warning he let out a laugh and saw Christina’s beautiful face fill with disbelief.  With the dark spectre of death such a horrific option before him, Christina found it incredible that Dorian could find the time to laugh.

“Christina, even if it were true, there is no way anybody could kill me. They all fear me too much.”

“Not the young ones.” She protested.

“Especially the young ones.” Looking across the hall at the bar he saw a young man no older than twenty dressed in a three-piece black suit.  He was handsome and his penetrating eyes were fixed on Christina.  Ever so slowly the man’s eyes moved to Dorian to see his threatening glare. “Let me prove a point to you, Christina. I’m not usually one for senseless displays of violence for the sake of proving a point but on this occasion that man has just overstepped the boundary.” Dorian stood and kept his glare on the young man at the bar.  Almost in mimicry the man stood in return and as if by reflex all around stepped back leaving nothing but the cloud of cigarette smoke between them.  The man’s face showed no fear but instead held a naive look of superiority.  Almost as if the angel of death itself had stood to challenge the young man, his face slowly changed to an expression of fear and regret for the silent challenge he had given to Dorian.  There before him, across the smoke filled hall, the dark, tall and broad shouldered figure of Dorian loomed with his hand on the butt of one of his two automatic handguns.  Before the challenge was even made audible the man had turned and run for the exit, knowing that his future with the network was over and that he would forever be branded a coward.  Better a coward, he thought as he ran down the stairs after almost colliding with The Wall, than dead.

Dorian sat again with a smile of satisfaction across his handsome face.  Christina simply sighed at the pointless exhibition of power that Dorian had displayed for her benefit.  He stared into her eyes once more as she struggled not to smile back but finally broke and let her true feelings of blind love show.

“I’m just worried for your safety, Dorian.” She admitted.

“Christina, I am a killer. I’m a cold-hearted bastard and the only place for affection that I have in my life is with you. Now you just worry about your behind and I will worry about mine. Agreed?”

“Excuse me sir.” A young man interrupted and immediately Dorian’s face transformed to a look of anger that can only be expressed by one as supernaturally powerful and evil as Dorian.

“Leave us alone.” The voice that came from Dorian was not a warning but an order that sounded like it had been issued not from a mortal mouth but from the depths of hell itself.

“Sir, it’s just that your vehicle is ready in the basement. Richard asked me to tell you.”

Dorian looked up at the young man dressed in a designer suit and snared angrily.  Before the man could even think about leaving Dorian was on his feet and had him by the lapels of his suit coat.  Pulling the man so close that his breath felt like the fires of hell against the young man’s face he glared into his eyes.

“Are you deaf?” Dorian’s booming voice echoed as the entire room seemed to cringe with the sound of his voice.  Even the smoke seemed too afraid to come near him.  His towering figure seemed like the angel of death made flesh as it glared down at the frightened young man who had moments earlier felt as if he were an important person in the scheme of things.  Now he felt as if he were about to die simply from the glare of Dorian. “I asked you to leave me alone.” With a violent shove he pushed the man back over a nearby table, sending glasses smashing to the floor with the young man’s body. “If I ever come across you near me again I swear I will do worse than that. Now beat it you worthless kid.”

“You really are out to prove your manhood today, aren’t you?” Christina asked as she stood and took Dorian’s right arm in her left. “Shall I walk you to your new Land Cruiser?”  Dorian composed himself again after his senseless display of aggression and smiled.

“I would expect nothing less from a lady as graceful as you.” He said rather proudly as their eyes met in a loving gaze.  Together they seemed almost to float across the room like two dark Angels of Death ready to bring deliverance to any soul in their path.

The Land Cruiser was hidden in the darkness of the basement car park, its body glistening and pronouncing to all that it was new and unused.  Like the loyal horse of a brave knight in shining armour, the car stood loyally awaiting its owner, ready to ride into battle.  Deep racing green.  It almost blended into the black darkness, watching the two killers arm in arm proudly talking of the kill ahead.  A man handed Dorian the keys and promptly departed to leave the two for their farewells in private.  Close by, a fluorescent light flickered, adding to the already tense atmosphere of the dark car park.  Yet neither of them was afraid.  Not a soul would dare touch them, not even the federal police dared to come too close; for they were treated like immortals.  Through their reputation they had created a barrier through which nobody dared to crash unless they were stupid or suicidal.

Standing before the Land Cruiser, Dorian admired the beauty of the new vehicle and smiled with admiration.  Gently he let Christina’s arm slip from his and left her, to approach the vehicle.  Turning back to her, he laughed.

“Not bad for a coffin, wouldn’t you say?” He asked with a sly grin.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

There followed an awkward silence as Dorian looked down at the cement floor and Christina simply stared at his handsome figure.  Then, very slowly, she approached him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, looking deep into his perfect eyes.  Their lips met in a gentle yet passionate kiss that expressed far more than any words could ever say.

“Goodbye.” Was all Christina said as her arms slipped away from his shoulders and she quietly retreated back into the darkness until it had swallowed her up like a hungry beast that craved her beauty.

“Goodbye.” Dorian whispered once she had gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the knowledge that he had several days of travelling ahead of him.  As always, their farewells were intimate yet brief, like the rainbow of colours that come to decorate a short sun-shower.

Now, with Christina gone, he turned his mind totally to his work, knowing that any distractions could mean death.  Although he hated the country life, Dorian knew that the trip into central northern Queensland was a necessary part of the process of governing a powerful drug network such as the one he had helped create.  Giving it no further thought, he jumped into the Land Cruiser and drove out into the light of day.

The streets were filled with young men and women making their way to and fro without much thought for others about them, passing each other without as much as a glance or a smile of greeting.  Each had their minds on what they believed to be important, ignoring the concerns of the others who believed their concerns just as important or perhaps even worse.  Within the air conditioned comfort of his Land Cruiser he watched the people pass as if in slow motion, taking in their every move and seeing in each face an expression that described far greater than any other form of expression their emotional state and their health of mind and body all at once.  Each expression was different and yet each said the same thing.  Each face cried out to be freed from the oppression of the city life and, as if knowing that Dorian’s vehicle was leaving, the souls within seemed to yearn to be a part of his journey.  Dorian knew better, however.  His journey was into the beautiful freedom of the vast countryside but his destination and his mission were far too grave for even the darkest of those who passed to join.  With the Pool Hall left behind and only the open road ahead, Dorian’s mind turned to Venus and the inevitability of their meeting.  Like a dark horse carrying the grim reaper, the Land Cruiser was on its journey to bring about the death of an innocent.  The traveller within was lost in a world of greed, death and power that not even the kindest and gentlest of souls could save him from.

Gradually the scenery changed from the crowded streets of the city of Brisbane to the outer suburbs filled with modern houses and perfectly kept gardens paving the way to the great Matilda Highway like Centurions guarding the way to the place of a great emperor.  Gradually and almost so subtly that the change was unnoticeable, the nature of the people and the fellow drivers along the road changed.  People had smiles upon their faces and walked with a spring in the stride as if they were happy just to stroll along and enjoy the magnificent blue sky and scenery of their surroundings.  The cars drove with more control, obeying the speed limit and not a single horn could be heard.  The further from his beloved city lifestyle he went, the worse it became until it bothered him so much he slipped a CD into the stereo and turned the sound up, listening to Jazz as the music flowed about him like waves of audible pleasure.  Gradually he began to relax, tapping his fingers against the wheel to the beat of the tunes.  Yet, the further away he was from Brisbane the more alone he felt.  It was almost as if some strange supernatural force was at work destroying all behind him and deep within there grew a feeling, an intuition that he would never again see those he had left.  As disturbing as this instinct was, he left it alone and watched as the surrounding landscape gradually changed to farms and beautiful country scenery.  Immersing himself in the Jazz, he let all of his fears and anxieties go and focussed entirely on the music.  It was the genesis of a long journey, a journey into innocence.