Posted by: Andrew Skelton | 30/05/2011

Converging Verticals and the case of the running out of steam

It was a rainy day, the type of rainy day that stopped a guy from venturing from his office, the type that brought out the nefarious types, the types that paid my wages. I was sitting in my office, slowly tracing the outlines of a past case in the dust when in she walked. You know the type, the type of broad that turn head,the type that locomotives were named after. Of all the offices, in all the towns, she had to walk into mine.

Her perfume, an overpowering mixture of oil and charcoal, made my head swim. She was talking to me but her words were lost on me. She said she needed me to take a journey, I’d have to pay my own way but the good news was it was a short journey. Her deep husky voice mesmerising me, said I had to follow someone. From the off, I knew this wasn’t going to be my normal type of case. I donned my faithful hat, pulled it low down over my head and set off into the gloom.

My first lead came from an old contact, south of the big smoke, Furness and me went way back, back as far as either of us would care to remember. The information I got was good but it only got me so far, I was going to have to call in more favours, I sure hope this broad would appreciate how far I was going to have to go.

Next some one I hadn’t seen for 20 years, an old trouper who we refered to as the Big D, 123 was still dressed in the same green I’d seen him in last, wearing the military insignia he was entitled to. He said he could take us to the end of the line but no further.

I’d got where I needed to be, I’d been to the end of the line, but I still hadn’t seen what I needed to see. D123 took us back as far as was possible but said we’d need to see one of his contacts.

The hairs on the back on the back of my neck were on edge as I spotted our connection. I recognized them straigh away; play it cool, i told myself and no-one will get hurt. Sure enough as the Yeoman handed us over to our next connection, I played my poker face, giving nothing away.

All dressed in yellow, Rocket, was the type to turn any heads, the type of style that went back. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world.. she had to walk into mine( oh I’ve already done that line, mind you it is a very good line!). I was putty in her hands… where ever she wanted to go.. all I could do was follow. Before I knew it, I was back where I started.. none the wiser but happier for the ride.

Grand Central Railway hadn’t disappointed, and I was sure I’d return… play it again sam!


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