Date: Wed, 15 Aug 2001 21:29:13 +0100 From: ben erikson Subject: The Bergman Files:The Trouble with Eddie (Part One) The Bergman Files No.1: The trouble with Eddie (Part 1) A story by Ben Erikson Dark enough, granted. Dark enough and strewn enough with garbage, that's for sure. Good cover then, I'd give him that. But even so, not really good. Not a really good place to hide out. No exit, for one. No escape route. Bad choice then, all things considered. I'd picked him up two blocks north of here hanging outside a deli he'd been seen at three or four times before. That in itself showed his inexperience. He might be street-smart but plenty things you only learned through training and years spent out there. I'd even had time to finish off my latte watching him from the cafe table and comparing him mentally with his photograph. He'd made no attempt to check for anyone following and lead me straight here about ten minutes ago, his plastic carrier bag hanging down with fruit from the deli. He was a good sneak thief, I'd grant him that. No fuss, no nerves, just went right ahead and calmly filled his bag as if he'd paid inside and walking off, no hurry. No hurry and no turning round the two blocks to this basement. I'd just finished making a quick survey of the building, found there was no other exit, all the time working out how to play this. I'd been hired to find him, take him back was all. A kid. No rough stuff; should be easy. So far so good. He was better looking in the flesh than his photo. His skin more golden, somehow healthier. Maybe it was all that forbidden fruit. His hair didn't look too healthy though, like it needed a good wash. Still, if jet-black curls were your thing, and they were definitely my thing, one of them, then you could overlook that, maybe get to wash them some yourself. He was thinner too, though seemed well enough for it and tallish for his age. He was 15 years old according to my information but looked a year or two younger. He had a long thin nose, black eyes and was standing in front of me now, the knife, quite a serious knife, pointing at my belly. "You fuck off right now, mister, you don't get hurt!" I hated knives. Someone had tried to stick one in me once. More than once. "OK, kid." I said, backing off a foot to get the distance right. He'd come in way too close waving that knife around. Someone could get hurt. I wanted the distance right for me. "Look, why don't you put the blade away, we talk, yeah?" "Fuck you, man. Who the fuck are you anyway?" We were talking already. Old pals. He waggled the knife unconvincingly, not ready to stick it in me, his feet wrong, his hand position wrong, his eyes all wrong. Something in his voice. I took it off him, mostly using speed. He stood there a little shocked, rubbing his wrist. I'd only used a quarter power, less, but the pressure point I'd hit would be very sore for a few minutes yet which was good, take his mind off the situation, not give him any time to think of any other smart moves or any dumb ones come to that. I tossed the knife into a pile of junk in the corner, let that sink in. That I wasn't going to turn it round on him. That he could go fetch if he really thought it worth a try. He looked with a certain amount of venom and ...well, contempt, I think. I had a plane to catch that afternoon so wanted this done and dusted. "You're Eddie and your father hired me to find you and take you back to him. You know what I'm talking about so don't even bother to..." "Step-father." He spat the words at me. "That bastard is not my father!" "OK. Step-father. Whatever. Let's go, OK? You behave and I'll buy us breakfast on the way or do you only eat fruit?" He stood there rubbing his wrist, considering his options. He didn't have any options. "You let me go, mister, I let you suck my dick." He turned his rubbing attentions from wrist to the front of his pants. I'd already noticed the bulge. I was kind of expecting it after the knife thing, not that he'd be turned on by the violence, but the adrenaline, the pumping rush, it had to come out someplace and it was usually the same place, especially with a 15 year old boy. I wondered if he'd noticed mine. I'd had an erection since I started following him, watching his tight little ass swing along in his three-sizes-too-small running shorts. It wasn't very professional and I wasn't about to let it stop me doing my job. I had two thousand dollars riding on this kid, his safe delivery. I could get a stiff dick anytime I wanted, 2 big ones, as it were, was something else again. "How about you suck mine?" Just to throw him a little, make him think a bit. "That what it take?" Threw me right back. I waited a beat for effect. "What about your friends?" I asked. I'd heard the movement just after I'd taken the blade off him, somewhere behind him, behind some oil drums slightly to his left. I'd been thinking about it since then. No 15 year old ate that many bananas and anyway I hadn't seen the bag of fruit since outside on the street. It had seemed odd to me that he'd stashed it someplace. What was I supposed to think? That the man from Del Monte had said "Fuck you!" "You touch them, you're dead mister. I kill you myself." "Yeah. Whilst I'm doing up my pants, I suppose." He glared at me. "Come on, fellas. Let's see y'all. Let's all be friends." Eddie turned round and nodded gravely behind him and the figures of two much smaller, younger boys emerged shyly at his signal. One was 12 or so, short and if not exactly running to fat, then jogging there for sure. He had a worried look and a fleshy, rounded backside that already seemed a size too big for him. The other was younger still, about 6. Small and thin and dark and grave. They both of them had, like Eddie, a beautiful light gold skin but dirtier, more frayed and the same dark hair, though straighter. "You going to introduce us, Eddie?" He glared at me some more then nodded briefly at the little one and then the one in the middle. "This is Tito and this is Joseph." "Hi" I said. "I'm Mike. Mike Bergman. I'm a private detective. I'm not going to hurt you, you understand. You're not in any trouble." "What you know, mister?" Eddie again. "What you know about trouble? You got ID?" "As it happens, yes I have." I said. I wasn't about to get it out. The only thing I wanted to get out now was my hardon but I'd need my hands free if they tried to run, which is what I expected them to do any moment. 3 against 1, you're bound to have a chance. Especially if the1 has his dick in his hand. I didn't really want to ask except it was something I might need to know. "What trouble?" Eddie fell silent; his defiant, contemptuous gaze dropping for the first time. He glanced at Joseph and little Tito who both looked up at him waiting for his next move. He'd either try to drag this out or get it over quick. The getting over quick meant getting out of here either with me or, preferably, from his point of view, without me. If they made a run, I'd grab Eddie, let the others go. As far as I knew, there was no two grand for handing in their ass. Maybe he'd just leave it; come quietly; have breakfast on me and sort out whatever with his dad. His stepdad. I didn't want him to drag this out; get me involved in his domestic problems. "We're together." he said at last. "I'm not leaving them." "I don't see you got much choice here, Eddie. What trouble?" He glared at me again. "Look son, you hide these guys, you feed them, you pull a knife you don't know how to use protecting them. What's going on? What's the deal, kid?" "How much he pay you? How much? How much my ass worth?" I let that go. His cock was still crowing through his pants and so was mine; doing its' little red rooster act. "If he finds me again, he sell me to his friends. You know? To fuck my ass. These two are next, he's already got his people sniffing round them, giving them weed, some beers - same thing he did with me, man. You could be one of them, all I know." It didn't completely surprise me. I'd disliked my client, Eddie's step-father, from the moment he swaggered into my downtown office. I didn't like his aftershave, his suit, gold watch, his machismo. I'd liked very much the way he'd signed the cheque there and then, the way it hadn't bounced and the way he hadn't flinched at my five hundred dollars a day expenses in advance. It was almost twice what I normally charged but, like I said, I didn't like his aftershave. I'd had to leave a window open overnight. So no; all in all it didn't surprise me what Eddie said. One more scumbag with the money to pass himself off as merely trash. I looked at Eddie, trying to keep my eyes on his face, his upper body at least. I looked at Joseph, worried and not coping very well and I looked at little Tito, his calm, grave features taking in everything and understanding God knows how much, how little. "Oh, shit!" I'd have to cancel the flight back to LA. Take some time to think this over, sort it out with the child protection people, call in a favour here and there with some of the local cops I knew, get the rundown on Eddie senior. Like I said: "Oh shit!" ***** The hotel wasn't the smartest in town, not the most comfortable but for me there was nowhere more secure. I hadn't needed to do the usual routine checks - sightlines, emergency exits, all the rest, although I always did them anyway. It was owned and run by my old parter on the job; Barry Montana. We'd been young detectives together in New York, mostly Vice. Barry had been busted out for taking dirty money off a low rank mob no-hoper. Nothing they could prove and politics kept it from the courts anyway but Barry was required to fold his badge. He moved to Oakland, opened his hotel within the year. It wasn't pension money that's for sure. Either way, I couldn't ask for a more secure hang out when I was in town and he never failed to make rooms available to me. I'd fixed to get the kids some burgers, fries and shakes. Fuck the healthy all-fruit diet. They ate them in the room and I understood why it was called fast food. I'd never seen it move so fast from plate to stomach. I rang down to Carrie in the kitchen, ordered up some more. "We need to talk." I said, stating the obvious. I'd had to do a bit of talking already back in the basement; lay down some ground rules. Rule number one was no running away although Eddie had negotiated hard to establish their "right" to run away in exchange for the understanding that they would not, in fact, do so. They had huddled together, whispering in Spanish, a langauge I was quite fluent in, although I wasn't about to let them know that. They had turned to face me with serious expressions and Eddie, their spokesman, gave his word that they would come quietly. I'd been ready for the bust-out as soon as we got outside the door but it never came and here we were, wiping off our lips with paper napkins. Like I said, so far, so good. "I don't want to talk" Eddie said to Joseph in Spanish "I want to fuck." Both of them threw themselves across the double bed laughing like hyenas. Tito looked on unmoved. "Hey, guys. Come on, you know I don't speak Spanish. What's going on?" My hard was going on, that was for sure. So was Eddie's. He twisted onto his knees and with some difficulty, scrunched down his too-tight shorts at the back revealing a behind of perfect proportion, shapely, firm and not too big. He bent forward, squirming round provocatively. This was getting slightly out of hand; there might be time for this later once the two little ones were out of the picture but I hadn't expected what happened next. Little ol' Joe let out a delighted squeal and pulled in turn at his jeans, got them round his knees. His penis stood up like a thick Spanish chorizo, short in length but ready for poking, red and hot and sticky at the end. He had a surprisingly bushy mass of black pubic hair.Without any delay he got onto Eddie's ass and stuck it in with some force, jerking himself forwards. In a second he was buried in Eddie's asshole his pubes rubbing against the older boy's buttocks. Eddie let out a grateful scream and bucked under the force of the entry. With two or three thrusts Joseph got his stumpy little cock in the final inch and groaned in pleasure as his balls hit into Eddie's rump. He shot his load of hot spunk and lay there a minute paddling in it. Eddie raised himself, popping Joe's sausage out his ass with a final grunt. I had the distinct impression they'd done this before. I mean, what had I done? Given them a grotty Big-Mac-substitute and suddenly it was like some out-take from a Pasolini fuck-fest. I was going to have to watch this scene, it was way too fast for my liking. I'd have liked it slower, much slower; re-wind, pause, press play. Re-wind... Carrie knocked on the door with the refreshments. Good timing! It looked like these kids were going to need all the refreshing they could get. I pushed a giggling Eddie and Joe into the bathroom to clean up whilst Tito sat demurely on the bed. "Sorry, Mike." she said. "We can't spare any more burgers and shit, these chorizo's do?" TO BE CONTINUED...