Jack Rank Short Story Chapter One: Mission Again

1.

MISSION AGAIN

Jack Rank stepped out of his new, gleaming red Ferrari with elegance as he parked it smoothly in the dark, damp and rotting so-called “car park” (which was really more of a disgusting room cleared away with a few hastily marked lines every here and there) that the apartment block provided for guests. Or rather, the car park that had been provided for guests: this apartment block had been deserted for so many years now; the fear of rodent infestation must be the only reason the government had not yet demolished the site.  And a rightly feared speculation too, in Jack’s opinion, as there really was a huge rat infestation that now populated the apartment block along with him.

The huge population of dirty, filthy rodents, all of which had been dubbed imaginatively by Jack as “The Rats”, had a huge network of tunnels that worked right through each wall of each floor through the entire building. Every wall except for the ones that surrounded Jack’s room, which was most likely just as filthy as every other room in the apartment by now, only scattered entirely with empty chips packets and aging food scraps rather than old, layered dust blankets. Jack hated The Rats, and The Rats hated Jack. There was a large level of animosity and conflict between the two and they had a rather long history, even a quietly battled war that had carried on a week before Jack had decided to end it and ended up getting the message through to The Rats that they were to leave him alone by holding a family of seven rodents hostage for two nights. Jack liked to think that The Rats and he had a certain understanding between each other. This was also the reason Jack’s walls were completely tunnel-free.

Jack shut the door of the Ferrari and the satisfying thud of the door locking itself into place met his ears as he turned his back on the car and made for the rusty steel door that held the horrible smelling carpet covered stairs behind it. Jack did not bother locking the car; no one ever came in to this place. His employees would know how to contact him if they truly had a worthy job of Jack’s time and no mortal would ever have any kind of motivation to enter such a filthy, run down place like this. If anyone did end up stealing the car, however, it wouldn’t make a difference to Jack at all. The huge sack of money that was his loot for the night Jack had slumped over his back was enough to buy him three hundred Ferrari’s, so he wasn’t fussed. With so much money, Jack often had the urge to pack up and move to a quality apartment elsewhere, be treated properly and have proper living conditions. But then he reminded himself of the reasons he had locked himself away in this run-down, horrible place in the beginning: it was cut off, no one would ever disturb, nor track him down here and Jack also knew the place, meaning that if he needed to make a quick get-away in the unlikely situation of someone with a position of power in law discovering his presence, Jack could choose over nineteen different secret exits he knew of to escape. Plus, Jack would have a chance of setting The Rats on whoever intruded which was something he would like to see. As he passed through the door, Jack caught sight of the faded sign hanging overhead the first flight of stairs that read “Sundance Apartments” which almost made him laugh. Almost. But the fact that this place was the exact opposite of a “Sundance Paradise” was not enough to make Jack emit emotions of amusement.

He grabbed the railing and launched himself into a light jog up the crumbling steps that sent filthy clouds of dust puffing up into the air behind him with each step. On the ninth floor, Jack left the steps behind him and rammed into another rusty steel door which yielded and granted him access to a thoroughly gloomy corridor lined with many doors on either side. Kicking a squeaking rat aside with a strong boot, Jack made his way over to the third door on the right and pushed it open. Here was his room; the only place in this building that held light of any kind. The aging roof was still strong enough to hold and as such was still whole enough to stop any rays of daylight penetrating it. No electricity ran through this place anymore. Whether this was because The Rats had chewed their way through all the cables but this room or because most of the power had been shut down when the apartment became deserted, Jack did not know, nor car. A large light positioned roughly in the centre of the ceiling illuminated the whole room which was scattered with empty chip packaging’s, lolly wrappings, faded magazines, games, movies and other things that Jack had carelessly discarded into the slowly rising mass of junk he had. The four things he kept clear of junk in the place was the couch, for sitting and sleeping on, the television, the far left hand corner, which was where he kept all his sacks of money and other rewards or treasures (which was now so crowded even that place was rather messy too), and the small coffee table that sat next to the couch which held only the black phone he used for “house” calls. Jack had a wireless phone. But he did not like it much. He did not like phones much at all. The only reason he had a phone in here was because anyone and everyone wanting to employ him for a mission or a target in exchange for money or another kind of treasure would have to contact him through that phone.

Yes, Jack was filthy rich, but he could not get enough of the money. He was a wanted man and Jack could tell that one day, he was going to be caught and his luck would run out. Which was why he was secluded in a horrible, rodent infested apartment block. Though not even he knew why he did not buy incredibly expensive clothes. Jack’s simple jeans, red hoodie and black shirt were all he ever wore. No socks, no shoes, no footwear of any kind. Nothing.

Jack sighed to himself at the mess of his room and hurled his sack of money into the pile of other riches over in the far left hand corner and let himself collapse onto the couch, lying back and yawning. Just when he was about to get comfortable and had let his mind drift to naming every different types of pizza he could think of again (this was one of his favourite hobbies for a reason not even he knew), the phone beside him rang loudly. The phone always rang loudly. It was so loud, Jack would use it as an alarm if he could, and had use for an alarm. It was so loud, the phone vibrated in its holder so violently it almost fell out every time it rang. Rolling his eyes at the sound of it, Jack flipped himself up on his knees, grabbed the phone and clicked the answer button. He took his time, getting himself settled back into the couch before pressing it to his ear though.

“Yeah?” he asked. Jack didn’t do introductions.

“I have a job for you, Rank.” Came a raspy, familiar voice. Jack sat up.

“Hey, Urender!” He said with a mocking sense of happiness. “Great to hear from you again!”

“I don’t like this any more than you do, Rank.” He said darkly.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jack replied, dropping the act. “What do you want, where and how much are ya gonna gimme?”

“I’m not telling you what I have in mind over a phone.” Urender said to Jack and he could hear the grinding of teeth on the other end. “Be at the park behind Milson Road tomorrow at ten.”

“And how much are you going to give me?” Jack asked, pressing on the matter that he felt was most important. There was a short pause, then the answer.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.” He said.

“Deal.” Jack said simply, and hung up.