Date: Sat, 15 Jun 2002 17:03:22 +0100 (BST) From: ben erikson Subject: The Bergman Files Nr 3 Chapter 2 The Bergman Files No. 3 The Gospel According to Luke or Pithecanthropus Erectus A story by Ben Erikson Chapter 2 I sat on the edge of the broken sofa and cradled the filthy mug of black coffee. There was no milk in the fridge; plenty of fizzy drinks in day-glo colours, some dried up old pieces of pizza and a half-empty jar of already mouldy mayonnaise, but no milk. Nothing, in fact, of any serious nutritional value whatsoever. I'd have to mention that when the time was right. Luke sprawled on his back next to me, his knees up in the air, his bare toes twiddling against my trousers. He was wearing nothing but a pair of filthy underpants that might have once been white but were now mostly grey. He seemed completely unembarrassed that I could see the yellow stains in front, could glimpse from time to time his tiny, unformed balls through a gaping hole underneath, a flash of his penis whenever he reached forward to zap the TV channel. I'd brought some tools, of course. Not the hammer - that was unexpected and wouldn't have been much use; not my style in any case. I mean real tools, professional tools; the kind a really serious burglar would use. The kind of get-into-anywhere-in-thirty-seconds-flat type of tool. I had a selection of them at home I'd picked up from a number of really serious burglars of my acquaintance along with a headful of tips on how to use them best, conceal their use, all that. As it happens the kit I'd brought along (and OK, yes, I was itching to try it out), I'd gotten off an old CIA contact from way back and boy did they have some quality gear. Miniature cordless drills, that kind of thing. Not that I was looking, of course. At his little nuts. In the end, the little spoilsport opened up an inch as far as the chains would allow, just as I was reaching my itchy fingers inside my jacket; my set of hi-tech picks, a really neat package too. A lot of thought went into putting that package together. Good ol' Langley. He stood to one side, mostly hidden, but still I could make out that he was pale and thin and nervous as hell. His eyes were wide but he didn't speak. "Luke?" I said. I hadn't seen him in four years and wondered if he'd recognise me although I was hoping he would - I'd been close as an uncle for a couple of years, acting as go-between for his parents. Still he said nothing. "Your Dad in Luke? It's me. Mike. Mike Bergman. Remember me? I'm a friend of your parents...I used to see you over at..." "Kirk?" "Sorry?" "Kirk. My Dad." "Yeah, Kirk. He around? I need to talk to him." "Go away." He tried to shut the door but I'd made sure my foot was in place the second he'd opened up. Give me an inch and...yeah, OK, you can complete that one yourselves. Probably he didn't realise. That there was a hole in his undies. "Listen Luke. Let me in, man. I've come to see Kirk. You remember me?" "Yeah. You and Maddy." Clearly a family on first name terms although quite what he meant by "you and Maddy" I didn't know. There was an awkward silence. Suddenly he tried again to push the door but pretty soon gave up. Smart kid. "You can't come in. Go away." The last thing I needed was a shouting match in this neighbourhood - I'd already attracted a couple of interested stares on the way up here. "OK, kiddo. " I said. "You win. But tell Kirk that Mike Bergman needs to talk to him. I'll come back one night he's in...when's he goin' to be...?" I deliberately pulled my foot away and Luke took the opportunity offered to slam the door shut. Like I said, smart kid. I gave him ten minutes then got the picks out. I'd used the time with the door ajar to count the locks and chains inside, register the makes as far as possible. You think little Luke's the only smartie on the block? I slipped inside to the re-assuring razzmattaz of WWF gorrillas acting tough on TV, but badly. I'd taken three and a half minutes to get access. It took me twenty minutes later on to piece everything back together again from the inside, something only the most considerate or professional of burglars would have ever contemplated doing. Or maybe he knew all along. Knew exactly what I was seeing when he reached across to zap back from the adverts. ************************************************************* He still hadn't seen me though I was only a couple of yards away. He hadn't heard me over the din of the grunts and fakery on the box. The light wasn't good in here - the TV screen the only light in fact. The smell wasn't that good either. Luke jumped a little up and down on the sofa gurgling in excitement at the primate display in the ring, grunting in empathy, urging his favourites on. I'd have to get this right. "Luke" I began as quietly as I could and still be heard above the din. "Don't shout out or anything. Don't be alarmed, it's only me. I'm sorry barging in like this but it's important." He'd spun round letting out a little shriek and looking terrified, then bewildered. "How did you get in? What d'you want? My Dad's here. I'm not alone, you know." "Don't you mean Kirk?" "Get out. My dad's here." "Luke. Listen, kid. You know me, right? I'm your friend, yeah?" "Mr Bergman?" "Yeah. Mike." "How did you...?" "Trade secret, son. Not exactly rocket science either." He was still pretty wound up by my spooky entrance. "Kirk's not here is he?" He looked to the TV briefly, completely undone and unaware how his every gesture was giving himself away. "He'll be back soon. Due back now. Any minute." Almost as if he were trying to convince himself. "Frankly, Luke, my friend, I don't believe you know when Kirk's due back. I don't think you've seen him for some days now. That right? I don't think he'd let you live like this. I know that your mother wouldn't." "Yes she would." "How long you been alone here?" He went all quiet. "Go away." he mumbled. "Just go." he turned back to the screen and sat stock still, watching but not seeing anything at all through the tears that had started down his face. "You got any coffee, man?" He didn't answer for a few seconds, swallowed first. "Kirk's got some. Help yourself. It's in the kitchen through there." "Yeah." I said. "Don't get up now, I'll find some. Thanks. You OK?" He thought about this. "I remember you now. You and Maddy." He glared at me. "Got any milk?" He glared some more. "Milk's for kids" he said. "Milk's for babies." "Milk's for coffee" I said and wandered off to find a fridge. *************************************************************** He was 10 years old and slim and pale with short, gingerish hair that ended in a rat's tail down his neck. His face was covered in freckles and he had small, perfect teeth which he showed when he smiled and lovely light green eyes that danced with life. And now he lay against me with his head resting on my shoulder, his skinny arms around me in a loose embrace. He put his mouth towards my face and belched softly for a third time. His diet for these past three days was pizza and some gaseous, chemically-enhanced fizzy lime drink. He smiled with all his teeth at once, showing me the greenish tinge inside his mouth left over from the coloured sugar-water and belched again then giggled like a 5 year old. I slipped him easily over my knee and gave his bottom the lightest of smacks before setting him squarely on my knee. He was laughing now at the fact that his cock had popped out from the slit in his worn out underpants. He quickly put it back and looked at me slyly to see if I'd noticed. "Nothing I've not seen before." I said. "No you've not!" I grinned at him. "Only every time you bend over to change channels. Look!" "Oh, that!" he said, examining the hole in his underwear. "Yes, that." "And another thing - when did you last have a shower? I don't mean to be rude or anything but this whole apartment fairly stinks and, to be honest Luke, you're not exactly Mr Clean yourself, right?" He squirmed away from me a bit and it looked for a second like he'd go into a sulk. He surprised me with what he did next. He reached his legs up and wriggled free of his pants. I got a grandstand view of his rear end poking up in the air until he'd finally disentangled himself. "OK. Come on - me first though!" I didn't know exactly what he had in mind here but I didn't need to be asked twice. I got up and followed him into the bathroom. He was already standing over the toilet splashing merrily into the bowl. "I'm just having a pee first" he said unnecessarily. I went over to the tiny shower stall and got the water going - little more than a miserable trickle and not exactly steaming hot either but sufficient for cleaning up little boys I reckoned. "Go on" he said, joining me in front of the torn shower curtain. "Get undressed!" This was a new departure and one I hadn't exactly anticipated. Actually, I hesitated a little. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Luke." I said. "I don't know what Kirk would think if he walked in and anyway, I know your Mo...I know Maddy would have a fit if she thought that you were in the..." "No she wouldn't!" He was quite indignant know. "I thought you were her friend? I thought you knew her?" "Um..." "We always do this. Me and Maddy. Me and Kirk. Maddy and Kirk. All of us...used to anyways..." He looked at me slyly. "Unless you got something to hide" he said. "Like what?" This conversation was getting increasingly bizarre. I wondered if I'd really shaken off the effects of the weed. He giggled happily. "Oh...I don't know. Maybe you've got a stupid tattoo...or your dickies only this big!" He made a gesture with finger and thumb showing a two inch gap, no more. "We'll see about that!" I said, lifting him into the spray and giving his behind another playful slap. He had a very cute body himself with a short, stubby penis that seemed to grow half-erect at the slightest cause, like right now feeling my hand on his bare backside. He began fondling himself with both hands and beamed up at me with the water beginning to do its work on his dirt streaked body. I'd found some soap and began working on him. I was ready to let him be if that was what he wanted but at the same time I needed to get him relaxed and talking; relaxed enough to give me the low-down on Kirk's movements for one, his current domestic arangements; maybe an indication of exactly when he was likely to show up. That was when the banging started; the banging on the door. **************************************************************** I cradled Luke in my arms. He was naked but for the towel I'd got around him. I rubbed him and whispered sweetly into his ear, brushed the teartracks off his little face, calmed him down. This was one scared kid and that was something I hated more than anything, something that always sent me into revolt, brought out my bad side, so to speak; meaning, I suppose, my good side, conventional morality being what it is. Anyway, I empathised; I'd been one scared kid myself one time. More than once. I'd left Luke in the shower and gone to answer the door. His reaction to the hard knocks told me straight away it wasn't Kirk. I'd questioned him briefly but he'd said he didn't know who it could be. Sworn to it. Whoever was knocking didn't realise that most of the locks and security chains were laid out on the floor waiting to be replaced after my little bit of B&E earlier on. They could have probably pushed the door in if they'd had a mind to. I opened up an inch. Two young men; tough looking, streetwise neighbourhood guys. They had an assurance about them that belied their years - maybe 18. They were very familiar to me - not the individuals; the type. Except I knew enough not to judge by type; I wanted to let them reveal to me exactly what they were without my own personal prejudices kicking in and screwing up my judgement. I took some deep breaths, let my mind go someplace far away, turn on its axis, fly off towards the rumble of a distant subway train. "Kirk in?" "No" I said. "Man, that's a shame. A real shame." The other one, the one behind giggled; got a swift elbow in the ribs for it. He seemed high on something and I knew right away he'd be no trouble, would be too, too slow for one thing. I figured they both were carrying. "Can I help you?" "I don't think so." "I could pass on a message" "You seeing Kirk?" "I could pass on a message?" "You some fucking paperboy as well?" "As well?" "As well as a cop" I didn't answer. "Man, I can smell cop at..." "OK, OK. Kirk's not here. Were looking for him, yeah. If you know anything about his whereabouts you would be doing the whole community relations with the department a lot of good as well as yourselves, you talk to us. Fact is he's disappeared. We need to know where to start looking - and we're not interested in what you're selling him, what he's buying. We just want to talk to him is all." It wasn't bad for improvisation; for on-the-spur-of-the-moment total crap. They stared at me as if I was from another planet. Planet "politically correct asshole" maybe. The one at the back spoke up now. "Man, fuck you, man. Fuck you an' your community relation. Fuck that, man. You wanna buy, you buy from us, man. Fuck you." "That's quite a sales pitch" I said. "Fuck you man!" This was number one again. He drifted back out onto the balcony, drawing a finger across his throat with one hand and hitching up his T-shirt to reveal the gun down his pants with the other. "Paperboy!" he said. ********************************************** I cradled Luke in arms, settled him. "You sure?" I asked. Sure he didn't know what all that had been about; who apart from me was looking for Kirk, and why. "Yeah" "Truth? Yeah?" "Gospel" he said. "OK" I said. I squeezed him some more, kissed him once, lightly, on the top of his head and set him on his feet. "Let's find you some clean pants" I said. To be continued...