Nighthawk

Perhaps it was her instincts that told her not to move. Sudden jumps would startle the target and she’d have to start from scratch or give up entirely. Then again, she just knew this would happen. If her instincts were that good she would have turned around and left straight away. God knows she wouldn’t have actually taken pictures. What business was any of this of hers?

The hand on Julia’s shoulder was firm but not squeezing. That was nice. From what she had seen in films she should have been clubbed around the head to an instant blackout.

‘Come on. Please.’ The man’s voice sounded almost apologetic, although somehow as though it wasn’t Julia he was apologising to. As he helped her up she couldn’t help but laugh at his appearance: bald, sunglasses, earpiece, dark suit – everything she expected.

‘I’m gonna have to take that too of course.’

‘But my Nighthawk...’

‘I don’t know what that is.’ He unhooked the camera from around Julia’s neck and examined it for a second. He would have looked through the recent snaps to find out exactly what she had seen but he’d be damned if he knew how to work it. Instead he held the camera by the lens, took Julia by the arm, and led her from the rooftop. She was unsure what hurt more.

‘So, what’s your name?’

The question bounced off the security guard’s bald head.

‘Well mine’s Julia. Shit!’ She meant to give a fake name; one of the many lies she had concocted to save herself from the mess she was in. It didn’t help that she was already holding out a homemade business card but she couldn’t miss a chance to introduce herself as the “Photographe de Nature”. The man took it wordlessly and continued to urge her towards the apartment front. As they left, Julia looked hopefully towards the skies above Regent’s Park for one last chance to see her wayward Nighthawk flitting about that it might impossibly find its comrades.

They went around the back of the prestigious apartment building, which overlooks the park, and into the back door of another. Whilst in the alleyway, Julia passed the car from which the subjects of her first injudicious photo had emerged. Earlier, when trying to track the erratic movements of the Nighthawk, Julia had noticed a girl with short, dark hair get out of the expensive Bentley with much security hard by. Strange enough that such attention was being paid to a girl dressed in the crumpled white shirt and black tie of an agency waitress, it became even more salacious when none other than the Mayor of London climbed out of the other side. Julia had watched wide-eyed as the Mayor circled the Bentley and pulled the waitress close to him. How could she not take a photo? Not for blackmail or anything but surely something like this is in the public interest. Right?

Julia had taken more and more photos from her rooftop perch, her Nighthawk darting in and out of her mind. The Mayor and his waitress had picked an apartment that she could just about see through the window of. She had adjusted her position and edged closer to the lip of the roof. She saw the Mayor pull the waitress towards him by her tie and whisper something in her ear. He then pushed her towards another room before pulling a black book out of his jacket pocket. He scribbled in it quickly before throwing it on a coffee table and following the waitress. Never had Julia had a better chance to test out the power of her Sigma OS lens. Her immersion in getting a legible shot of the black book is probably why she hadn’t noticed a shining head looking up at her from the alleyway.

Julia now sat alone in that very same room. The black book was conspicuously missing – as was just about all sound. She fiddled with her phone and the memory card from her camera before having the sudden idea to hide the card in her bra. She had removed it earlier as soon as she had heard the heavy metal door to the rooftop open behind her because maybe her instincts work after all. Her favourite security guard came in with another bigger, balder guard. They both ignored her and knocked on the door to her left. Before long the Mayor stepped out. Julia managed to catch a quick glimpse of the waitress, no, waiter sitting on the bed with his shirt unbuttoned. The Mayor, red from either annoyance or exertion, sat in an ornate chair opposite her as his security took their positions either side of him.

‘Name.’

‘Ruby.’ Lie. Nailed it.

‘How did you get on the roof?’

‘Oh, I just flirted with the manager a little.’ Lie. The janitor is her cousin and lets her up often to look for birds.

‘What’s your publication?’

‘I was featured in BirdLife once.’ Lie.

The Mayor leant back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He was tired of all these journalists thinking they were so witty. He had half a mind to really lose his temper this time but maybe there’s something to gain from this one.

‘Who do you work for?’

‘The Post Office.’ True! ‘Look I was just taking pictures of birds and I heard of this Nighthawk and they’re rare but not really rare common actually but rare here know what I mean and I didn’t think I’d see anyone doin’ somethin’ like this here especially at this time though I guess it’s easier to sneak around during...’

‘Quiet.’

The Mayor beckoned Julia’s captor closer and whispered in his ear. The security guard then promptly left the room. No one said anything until he had returned. All that could be heard was the shifting on the bed in the next room.

‘Look, Ruby, I’m sure that I can trust in your discretion on what you think you may have seen here today. After all, you’re not one to risk prying into other people’s business, are you?’

Ruby shook her head vigorously. She noticed a change in the Mayor’s eyes as he looked her up and down. She didn’t understand what he was trying to see in two pairs of leggings and a parka.

‘Unfortunately, this clumsy man has broken your camera. Barry?’

Barry – apparently – pulled out a hefty, sealed envelope and handed it to Julia.

‘Please, use this to get yourself a new camera and phone. That lens seemed expensive.’

‘What’s wrong with my phone?’

Barry took her phone.

‘Oh.’

The other security guard then bade Julia stand up and began to escort her from the apartment. She looked back and saw that the black book had reappeared in the Mayor’s lap. He was writing in it as he said to Julia:

‘I hope next we meet is under much happier circumstances.’

The door slammed shut behind her.

‘Twenty grand!?’

Julia just swayed coquettishly whilst sipping on her cocktail.

‘Bet you didn’t even get any good pics, either. Just blurry shots of the back a’ heads.’

‘Ah but I did get a good shot... Four Patrons, please... I got the best shot!’

‘Don’t tell me he’s buggerin’ ‘im.’

Julia was out celebrating her newfound wealth with Darren. All rounds were on her, apparently, but Darren still made sure he was paying for half. He’s the only one Julia bothers to talk to from work, even though he doesn’t give a shit about birds. The tequilas arrived and Julia grabbed one before turning back to Darren.

‘I know where he’s gonna be next!’

‘Oh no...’

‘We can catch him at it again!’

‘The fuck is “we”?’

‘Come ooonn.’ Julia and Darren both did a shot of tequila. Julia immediately reached for another but Darren stopped her. She groaned loudly.

‘Look, I’ve already thought it all out. I can’t go again ‘cos that’s way too obvious...’

‘Yeah, but...’

‘And you won’t even catch him with same person, either. There were loads of names in the book; they’re all right there in the photo.

‘Julia, I’m just...’

‘But if it turns out to just be coffee then we haven’t risked anything. There’s probably loads of people taking pictures of him.

Darren looked pained. Julia had never seen him so mentally stressed before and was understandably worried. She left the shot of tequila alone and held his face with both hands.

‘Think about what you could do with the money. Tell me you’re not having a blast right now.’

Darren gave what Julia reckoned was the heavy sigh of assent. She continued to hold him and looked at her own reflection flashing on his glasses. He stared back and Julia could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. How long had they been like this?

‘Oh yeah, it’s Ruby now.’

Julia quickly turned from Darren and downed her second shot of tequila. She started swaying in time with the music, waving her arms at Darren as she backed up purposefully towards the dancefloor and the gyrating hips of a stranger. Not her usual move but that’s okay, Ruby is sexier and more confident than Julia. Darren rolled his eyes and concentrated on his own drink.

Julia woke up with most of her hair stuck to the side of her face and most of her face stuck to the toilet seat. At first she didn’t recognise the bathroom she was in but, then again, it’s not often you see your own bathroom from this angle. She looked around and found Darren slumped against the bathtub. His hair was terribly matted and he had sick down his shirt which, in all likelihood, wasn’t his. His glasses were also hanging off his nose, broken. She smiled... a lot.

Darren was awoken by a shirt being thrown at his head. When he pulled it off he could just about see Julia wrapped in a towel, bent over the sink. She was armed with two cotton pads and was going to furious war with her own face.

‘Get up and get out, I need a shower. You can go after then we have to get moving. We need a new camera.’ She threw down the cotton pads, looked at Darren, and a mad grin spread across her face.

‘Operation Nighthawk begins!’

When Julia found out, she had screamed so much that her manager had to temporarily close the branch. She had been holding out hope that the only reason she couldn’t reach Darren was because they had taken his phone like they did hers. Even now, despite the report, she still called his number every half hour. They said it was a mugging. They suggested he probably shouldn’t have tried to fight back. Julia suggested they shut their fucking mouths.

It was a month later that Julia wondered out loud into her vodka whether or not she should go to the press with her memory card. Darren was right, though, her photos really weren’t all that incriminating. Still, it was easier to plot an impossible revenge than it was to accept that Darren’s death was her fault.

When her phone started ringing she took another sip of her vodka and groaned. Phone calls were so much easier to ignore before she got this Apple Watch. She would answer this one, though, because her manager wouldn’t usually call her on a withheld number and she needed something to break up the silence.

‘Yes?’

‘Good morning, Ruby. It’s Barry...’

That damned business card.

‘Our friend would like to know if you were able to find a suitable camera. Perhaps you would like to meet with him.’

Julia stopped breathing. Could Darren have talked about her plan? Or maybe the Mayor had a fetish for fucking hopeless people. She looked over at the broken pair of glasses on her bedside table. It was a chance. Julia gave a heavy sigh.

‘Say when,’ she said, ‘I’ll put it in my book.’