Chapter 2

Mitsuko Nakagawa, F.I.B. agent, walks up the driveway of this typical terraced house in East Dulwich, South London. She is a troubled woman. Five years into her career, and she just does not feel that she is getting the respect that she deserves. A chain of thoughts kicked into gear last night when Tim, the guy who joined only six months ago got promoted up to team leader. Now he is the one in charge of missions, assigned an assistant. Mitsuko, after just five years, is still just an assistant. Not only that, but the investigations he is now being assigned have gone up a security level. Mitsuko, is still at the joke level. She can’t understand why. All she wants is to be taken seriously. She knows that if she gets away from the shitty assignments, then perhaps she will be taken seriously. Until then, she is just as much a joke as the witnesses that she interviews. 

Right now, she has business to attend to. Approaching the front door, she rings the doorbell. She then steps back ten carefully measured steps and counts in her head to ten. Upon that number, she tenses up, then her eyes snap open as she charges, leaping into a flying kick. The door stands little chance against this onslaught, the lock wrenched out of the wood. But there is resistance, the door unable to open completely misdirecting Mitsuko’s continued momentum into the wall on the side. A mug hits the floor, its contents spilling across the laminate flooring with its ‘V’ groove and textured laminate covering for that real effect. The liquid will seep into the cracks, causing the laminate to start breaking apart, particularly in respect to its position, the continual warming up and cooling down whenever the door is opened. What perhaps should be more of note is the fact that this already is in motion. But that’s not Mitusko’s concern. The hand that dropped the mug is still hanging out from the doorway. Mitsuko is quick to compose herself, despite struggling to get to her gun. She screams “FREEZE! F.I.B.!” as loudly as she can in a bid to intimidate. 

The door is forcefully pushed back, the man in his dressing gown is hardly in a happy mood. “Mitsuko! It’s the hallway!”

Mitsuko replaces her gun. “I’m pleased to see you, too.”

“Then don’t point guns at people. That’s the fifth door you’ve got through this week. It’s Monday.”

“Fuck yourself.”

“That’s called masturbation.”

Mitsuko may well have vented, but there is still a lot of frustration stored up. She can’t deal with people talking back, right now. She decides to hit below the belt. “You still seeing aliens?” This is less a question, more a verbal sneer at her partner, Hemmingway. 

“I’m seeing stars.”

Mitsuko heads into the kitchen. “Mine’s a cup of tea.” This is a routine that has been going on for the last couple of years, ever since Mitsuko got paired up with Hemmingway, her team leader. If she manages to get a promotion, she’d be sad to lose him as a partner. She doesn’t actually know if she likes him enough to be a friend. But right now, he’s all she’s got. On those rare occasions when she attempts to make friends, for some reason, they never respond to her calls. 

Hemmingway joins Mitsuko in the kitchen, who already has the kettle boiling, two mugs out. She turns to face him. “Doors are a load of bollocks anyway, Hemmingway. If you could draw loads of bollocks in the air and join them all up, you would get doors,” she says, drawing in the air.

“Some simple respect. Is that too much to ask? Cigarette, I need a cigarette.” He roots through an overflowing ashtray, pulling out the dog-ends with the most tobacco in them to create a new cigarette. 

“You don’t ask for respect, you earn it. Otherwise it’s just politeful ignorance. My dad was a slag. He didn’t ask for that honour, he earned it. He never just went up to people and asked them to sleep with them. Where was the cash compensation for them? No. He worked hard at it. Like me, I’ve been stuck in this shitty position for years now, and it doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere. I’ve got no respect, see? We’re on these shitty missions, week after week and it’s been wearing me down. But I have a plan. I need to work harder, gain more respect. Get noticed, and move on up. Respect is never simple. Otherwise you just come across as desperate. It’s only a door. I’ll fix it later.”

“I want it fixed now. It’s hardly secure. Either that or just leave. I’ve got really important matters to be attending to right now, and I don’t need you pissing about.”

“You want this place secure? I’ll make it air tight. Got any clingfilm?”

The phone rings. Before Hemmingway has so much as a chance, Mitsuko goes straight over and answers it. She makes no move to hand it over to him. As she talks, Hemmingway searches for excuses to get her out of the house, as soon as possible. This is just not the time, but without being blunt, there is never any way to hint where Mitsuko is concerned. Even then she will often not respond. But it’s not just that Hemmingway has more important matters to attend to, it’s the door that’s worrying him. With the lock broken, it’s an easy escape route. He’s got a few hours before that becomes a major concern, but he will not rest easy until that problem is sorted. Mitsuko puts the phone down.

“We’re wanted at H.Q.”

A small part of Hemmingway always gets excited whenever this happens. “Ooh! Aliens?!”

Mitsuko just rolls her eyes. This is one of the little quirks that she’s had to get used to with her partner. He’s always been a bit of a conspiracy nut and she believes one of the reasons he always looks like he hasn’t slept is because he’s been up all night watching out for any UFO’s. A little reality check is called for, she reasons. ”The last five investigations we have been on have been as follows. A suspicious looking condom floating in Regent’s Canal; A teenager with acne on his back; Another teenager with his earring in the wrong ear claiming he was not gay; The old lady who believed she was God as she could control hundreds of people through her TV, despite saving her game at regular intervals. And the internal investigation as to why the hell do people want to work at the F.I.B., personally headed by myself. Yes. It probably is another alien. Someone, no doubt has seen a hippo at the zoo. God knows, people are ignorant enough these days.”

Hemmingway knows differently. It’s good to be sceptical on occasion, but one day she’ll know the truth. “They’re out there, you know. Watching us. From up there.” For emphasis, he looks and points upwards.

Mitsuko can’t resist. “They’re not on the ceiling, are they?” she says cheekily. “That’s a bugger to clean, that is. You have to stand on a chair and everything. Especially if there’s slime. Dirty buggers.” The effect of her teasing is ruined, however when there is a loud thump from upstairs, causing her to jump. “You know, I might just be prepared to believe you.”

“No, it’s just Annette. My new girlfriend. I call her Annette Baguette, because she gets a nice meaty filling. I’d better go and tell her we’re leaving.”

Hemmingway heads upstairs, leaving Mitsuko cleaning her gun and messing up his clean kitchen. They know at HQ that Hemmingway is currently indisposed and needs to be left alone from all other matters. It might mean that Mitsuko gets a bit of an unofficial holiday, but that can be blamed on just a rare quiet time. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this. He’ll just have to go in, find out what’s so important and squirm out of it. If he can get a locksmith to come along and get a neighbour to be there for the guy, then he might be able to get away with it all. Annette can’t know. The rest of the house is secure, just as long as he gets back before nightfall.

Going into the bedroom, Annette is still in bed. Even though he’s disturbed her from her slumber, she still looks intensely beautiful. This is something that Hemmingway has always struggled with. “Annette? Honey? Listen, I’m going to go now. Business calls. You couldn’t clingfilm the house, could you?”

Annette is deeply upset at this news. “You… You don’t like me anymore? Is that it? Is that why you’re leaving?”

“No. I have to work. I…”

“Tell me that you love me.”

Hemmingway is feeling extremely guilty. Annette is right. He’s leaving her, rejecting her, ripping her heart and soul out. A battle begins as reason and logic kicks in to combat the guilt. He can’t allow himself to get so worked up over himself. He has to stay strong. “I… Listen…”

“Say it!!”

“Annette… I…”

But this is not the correct response for Annette. Hemmingway stops and holds his hands to his head as if there is suddenly huge pressure there. He turns around. Curtains are blowing furiously from an open window. He turns around again. There is a child standing on the bed in the space Annette occupied. That damn child. It certainly was not part of the bargain, but seems to be an inextricable part of Annette, there always at the wrong moments. The Child raises a hand and points past Hemmingway. He turns around. With her hair forward, covering her face, Annette is lying face down on the floor, pulling herself towards Hemmingway. He stumbles backwards onto the bed. The Child has gone. On the ceiling above him are the words ‘Love Me’, written in blood. Annette has climbed onto the bed. Hemmingway is frozen in fear. She reaches towards his chest and into it. She takes hold of his heart and pulls it out. He falls backwards, grabs random clothes chucked on the floor and runs screaming from the room. Annette casually combs her hair back into place.

Outside the door, Hemmingway leans back against the wall, his heart pumping hard as if wanting to jump out of his body. His heart! Placing his hand to his chest, he can feel its presence. Just another optical illusion. All he knows is that this needs to be sorted out as soon as possible.