Before The Dawn

CHAPTER FOUR

An old man was seated in front of a monitor staring at the screen. He was in a white gown and a pair of glasses. He was puzzled, ever since the time he took up the job, he had never seen such kind of horror before. The body was in a terrific state, the heart was missing, yet there was no cut, neither was there an operation performed on it. He was the kind that didn’t give in to the existence of black magic, and yet, his scientific knowledge couldn’t explain what he just saw. He relaxed, leaning his back on the chair, he tried applying every knowledge to solve the mystery, but he couldn’t, or perhaps science has no explanation for things like that. The clunky sound of the door disrupted his thoughts.

“This place is a total s**t!” Conan said as he forced his entry into the laboratory of the coroner.

“Conan, you are the last thing I expect here” David chuckled

“a thing? That’s ridiculous! How could you call me a thing?”

“What’s a mannequin Conan?” David asked

“Mannequin is a thing, what about it?” Conan responded

“Fine Conan, we are just mannequins with lives. Which means you are just a thing with life”

“Enough of your philosophy, what do we have David?”

David adjusted his glasses and walked toward the drawers, input a code and draw out the body of Stephen on an operating table. He switched the lamp above for proper visibility and Conan stood in folded arms.

“Who we have here doesn’t have liver and a heart?” David began with weary countenance and looked up at Conan for any perplexed mood before continuing.

“There is no other person’s imprint on his body, and that tells us it’s a suicide, the print on the knife accentuate that also. But one thing is confusing”

“What doctor?” Conan inquired

“He could have survived with the way the knife thrust in, but he died.”

“Maybe he’s suffering from hemorrhage! Low blood clotting!” Conan added.

“You may be right, and that may explain why he died. But what about the mystery behind the extraction of the liver and the heart?” David inquired, “Even I don’t have any scientific proof except that some kind of magic was used.” He furthered. Conan moved closer to the body, withdrew his glasses from his pocket and examined the grotesque on the table, there was no cut on the body except the cut of the knife, yet the liver and heart were missing. He withdrew his gaze from the body and directed his concentration back to David

“What’s the way forward?” he asked

“we’ll need another victims to confirm my theory!” David replied

“What? Do you hope for another incident!” Conan exclaimed, his husky voice splashed fear in David and he trembled

“No Conan! Just that the killer will not stop with one victim!” David affirmed with a witty smile. Conan scooted towards the door, his feet dragging on the floor and the flow of the blood in his veins were visible, accentuating his angry mood. He turned at David with a scornful look, he could have wet his pants if he met the look on Conan’s face, but he was backing him.

“Has Jackson been here?” Conan asked and David shook his head in response.

“I’ll send him to you when he’s around then for the copies of the info with you. Get a full report before then!”

“Okay Conan, I’ll do just that”

“Not Conan doctor, it’s detective Conan” Conan objected and David stared for long at him.

“Will you make the correction before I leave?” he furthered.

“Okay detective Conan, I’ll send you the files via Jackson sir!” David said and the door slammed, separating the hero and the villain.

Conan marched along the blue corridor of the State Intelligence Service of Chesterfield, his black tie dangled from his neck, and his protruded belly was no better of a compliment of his posture. His haggy face was disfigured with the moustache that overgrew its boundary. As much as he was lively, he was a sort of jerk, dreary when drunk and lively when not. He entered his office, one not befitting a deputy director of the consortium. His secretary was not on seat and he had no idea how his schedules for the day were. He moved toward the coffee machine, filled the mug and thereafter found comfort on the sofa not far from it.

The headlines in the newspapers were annoying, they had ridiculed the intelligence agency for long, and another opportunity had surfaced to write their hate against the agency. He bothered not the contents in the papers, he only fixed his concentration on his coffee.

His morning was already a spoilt one, from the abrupt end of his honeymoon, to the suicide of a young man and his experience at the coroner’s office. They had not put smile on his face, but sober. He walked toward the sait on the venetian blind staring at the vastness of the cosmos. He had no idea where to begin the investigation, no suspect, but could there be suspect when it’s suicide? That was only the assumption from the crime scene. Then the coroner said something different, a kind of unexplainable mystery which explained it was a murder with no suspect. He was baffled, and lost in thought, the coffee was drooling out of the cup to the floor, yet he didn’t know.

“Oh my God Conan! The coffee is pouring out of the cup” Linda snapped, bringing him back from his oneirism.

“Oh! I didn’t know” he exclaimed, bending to wipe off the little that marred his Louis Vuitton shoe. “where have you been? Shouldn’t you prepare my morning coffee?” he furthered but his secretary feigned indifference, and gave his a disgustful stare.

“Oh! I’m sorry Linda” he apologized as he opened up the file handed over to him. He opened his mouth aghast when he read it, his hands trembled and teeth gritted against one another making an obscure sound. “why would you do this beautiful Linda?”

“Don’t beautiful me again, never will I let you manipulate me again.” She replied, tears meandered down her cheeks, marring her beautiful face. “whether you approve my resignation or not, I’m leaving for good” she sobbed, proceeding toward the door.

“Linda!!!” he called again, but a door slammed against its frame was what he got as a response.