The Blackthorn Syndicate

Chapter 5 - Esmeralda

While my mother's hobby had been gardening, I had found my creativity to lie in the kitchen. When I was not busy studying or reading, I had enjoyed helping Mrs. Johansson in the kitchen, who had played a pivotal role in nurturing my love for baking.

That is where I found myself after my father had left for work. The kitchen here was much bigger than what Mrs.Johansson had. My mother wasn't exactly someone who enjoyed cooking, the task had been left to the numerous house help. Maybe that was why I had no memory of her here.

The day had been spent in loneliness. I had already unpacked my meagre belongings and put them away. I had also taken the time to make note of anything I might require. Once the task was accomplished I roamed around the house taking in everything.

I had snooped in my fathers office, rearranged some books in the library while talking to the maid gently dusting the leather sofa. I had then gone out to stroll in the garden, talking to the kind gardener.

My boredom reached its peak by 4 pm and that is when I decided to go to the kitchen and make a pie for dessert after supper. The cook, a girl no more than 20, had been welcoming as I set up my work station at the counter beside hers.

She told me all the gossip happening around town and offered to show me around, which I had accepted.

I helped her set the table in the dining area and by the time it was ten minutes past seven the table was already set.

I sat patiently waiting for my father, the radio in the corner of the room playing the news report. While today had been lonely she knew tomorrow would be better. Her father would bring the brochure for the programs offered by Oxford University and she can get everything in order to start the next semester.

She would make friends, meet new people and the bitterness that the war left behind would be forgotten.

Her mind went back to the news report from the radio,

'A mass grave found in one of the construction sites near the Royal Docks has raised alarms. The place seems to be a dumping ground for the recent rise in gang violence. Out of the total twenty bodies, twelve show signs of complete decomposition while the eight that seem to be dumped recently are completely mutilated. Police are still in the process of identifying the victims and alerting their families. An investigation is underway to identify the perpetrators and take legal action.'

I knew the war would have ever lasting effects and gang violence was going to be one of those but hearing about it made me sick. Did human life hold such little value?

How could someone kill another let alone mutilate them.

My eyes went to the clock and stilled. It was three minutes past quarter to seven. For some reason I felt anxiety bloom within me, my father was very punctual.

I tried to ebb it away, afterall it had been six years since I last lived with him and it was probably the recent news report that was feeding her anxiety. Things changed, he was probably in traffic or perhaps he had more work than usual.

I got up and turned the radio off, busying myself with fixing the napkins or the hem of the table cloth, avoiding the clock but for some reason my eyes always drifted to it. At half past seven I could not take it any longer.

I was about to get up for a walk when I heard a car nearby.

I breathed out a sigh of relief as I walked out of the dining room. Just as I reached the foyer the front door opened. As expected my father walked in, unexpectedly, he was followed by a man.

I stop abruptly going to the man standing behind my father. He was around 6ft tall with a body that spoke years of physical labor. His square jawline is accentuated by a thick, stubble beard, giving him a rugged and intimidating appearance. His black hair is short and neatly groomed. Despite looking in his late twenties or early thirties, streaks of white are evident in his hair.