Good & Evil

Quinton Lockheed smiled as he admired the sweat that rolled down her back as she did her reps with the five-pound weights. Her bubbly personality under pressure made him admire even more. He wondered if she had noticed him, but that was not important. He liked being in the shadows. The gym was one of his favourite past times next to the thrill of winning a case in court. There was nothing like the rush of adrenaline when the verdict was handed down. The very next best thing would be watching the sweat roll down her ebony skin and fantasizing having her over for dinner or better yet breakfast.

Quinton was an enigma, a fire brand in front of doting jury, but an introvert. He loved people watching and always tried to psycho analyse them until he got close enough to prove himself right.

"Boss, focus and stop watching my client," Kevin, his personal trainer whispered. "She is out of your league boss. Girls like that roll with the movers and shakers in the society. Not with people like us."

"Shut up Kevin and spot me. A woman is a woman, no matter what."

He shut his eyes as his thoughts wandered. He knew he had been here before and felt a tremor run through his body as he let loose the reign on his thoughts. Lust mixed with excitement and a heady dose of mystery and his muscles tensed. The gym faded away from his sight and he could hear the rumbling thunder in the distant sky. The sound was loud enough to cover any twigs that snapped beneath his 180lb frame as he moved steadily towards his target.

Her house was at the end of the road and it seemed to be beckoning him inside. The wind blew the frilly pink curtains at the French windows. She was inside. She was waiting for him just as he had imagined countless times. He had scoped the residence for two weeks and knew that there were no dogs. The house had a sign that it stated it was monitored, but on his previous visits there had been no response when he probed its defences. He glanced at his watch. It was 3:15 a.m. and even the duppies were fast asleep. The glass on the back door made a crinkly sound as he hit the tape with the butt of his firearm. The door slid open noiselessly and the black shadow slipped inside like a cat across the tile. He approached the kitchen and noticed approvingly that it was clean and shining. The only sound in the room was the pounding of his heart. He inched towards her room. A trickle of sweat rolled down from his forehead to the sides of his neck and behind his ears. He could hear her gentle breathing as he stepped inside the room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her still form on the bed. Her back was to him and he could see the outline of her hips as her shorts seemed moulded to her body. He crept closer and his shaking hand reached out to caress her arm when she suddenly turned around and he was greeted with two firm and luscious…

"Clank!"

The sound of the weights being dropped by an enthusiastic man behind him snapped Quinton back from his dream world. He gazed at the dark chocolate form of the girl who he had been fantasizing about and licked the salt from his medium-sized reddish Munroe lips.

"Crap, I hope Kevin never saw that and think I was lusting," he mumbled as picked up his 50 lb weight. He welcomed the weight of the bar bells which pulled against his triceps and biceps and made his muscles tense.

"Fudge, Kevin, this is more than what we agreed." His voice strained with the effort that it took to lift the weight.

"Hey," Kevin chuckled. "If you can't manage your own weight then how are you going to make her feel worked? No wimp can take on Ramona and fail and expect to leave lasting impression."

"Kevin, I wasn't even thinking that at all. Can't a guy just admire a flower in the garden without thinking about pollination?"

"Quinton, come on we rolled at the clubs back in the days, I know the types of girls that you like."

Kevin replied with a silly grin on his face as Quinton puffed and lifted the weights.

"Many things have changed since then you idiot," Quinton fired back.

He concentrated on lifting even as his thoughts drifted away from the conversation. His life was complicated to say the least, but maybe someday he would be brave enough to talk about what he was going through to his friends.

Twelve hours earlier...

The tall, well-built man clad from head to toe in a black suit easily scaled the walls of 19 Skillington Drive. He moved light-footed and the beams of light never once touched his body. His breathing was controlled and steady, his piercing hazel eyes were focused as his gloved hands gripped the silenced berretta.

The marble tiles felt smooth beneath his moccasins. He took two steps at a time to climb the sweeping curved staircase. He could have moved about the house with his eyes closed because he had found the IP address for the security system and had studied the layout for weeks. A smile broke beneath the balaclava as he found the raised panel mahogany-stained bedroom door. The door was unlocked to his surprise. He could hear the soft whistling of snoring coming from within the room. The hinges did not squeak as he walked towards the king-sized bed and looked at his mark, sleeping peacefully with his mouth agape.

The muzzle of the berretta rose and from the street across the road the thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed ominously. It was almost as if someone upstairs was synchronising nature with the steady hands of an assassin.

He watched as the crimson spot on the forehead turned dark purple. His eyes shifted to the body beside his mark. Her white skin shone in the dim light and her pink nipples caught his attention.

Two for the price of one he thought.

Just as quietly as he came into the sprawling master bedroom, he left. Satisfied with the morning's work, the man climbed back over the back wall and disappeared down the gully that ran behind the house.

At 11 a.m. Quinton Lockheed sat beside his client in the number one courtroom in the supreme court. He could feel the steely stare of the lead detective at the side of his head. Quinton shuffled his files and leafed through his satchel, trying to avoid returning the stare on DSP Tashima Bent.

It wasn't his first case and Quinton Lockheed loved to destroy the prosecution's case in cross examination and watch the DSP change colour in the box. His questions were always like needles piercing the heart of anyone on the stand. However, today would be even more intense. Today would be a fight. The prosecution and the police thought that they had an airtight case. They would never know when and where he would attack. He was undefeated for a reason. He had no problems hitting below the belt even if there were no technical loops holes for him to exploit.

The only thing that was throwing him off his game was the glare from the DSP.

Why was she staring at him so intently? Why did she look so familiar? Then it hit him. A vision of entangled limbs and sweat touched his mind. It had been five years ago. It had been the night before a big case and they had shared one drink too many. She had told him how attractive she found him and feeling flattered he had let her inspect his body thoroughly. He smiled faintly at the memory of her handcuffed to his bed while he made her scream and shake. He grinned at her and winked as the memories of their affair surfaced in his mind. He remembered how insatiable she had been even after round two. However, one sexual encounter five years ago meant nothing to him. He had enjoyed it but never bothered to call her afterwards and promptly blocked her calls. No matter how efficiently the sergeant had cleaned his weapon she was just a drive by and not a relationship type of girl.

He wondered if Tashima Bent was the type of woman who would hold a grudge against a man who had 'hit it and quit it.'

"All rise," shouted the clerk of court and Quinton felt relieved from the thoughts floating around in his head.

The real show was about to begin.

Quinton looked at the Deputy Prosecutor and offered a wry smile. Quinton turned and touched the hand on the man that was standing in the dock behind him. The cratered and scarred face of his childhood friend barely cracked a smile in return. 'Jubba' Sinclair was the don of Mango Lane. The man had tentacles and affiliations to both political parties, but this time he was caught almost red handed. The star witness was trustworthy and reliable.

Quinton exhaled softly but deeply and straightened his tie.

"Shit," he whispered as he saw the judge walk into the room.

I'm screwed, Quinton thought as he swallowed hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Quinton Lockheed had walked away from the judge's daughter two years ago and it had made a stink. In the legal fraternity the rumour was that Judge Dread Ebanks would exact his revenge on the man who stole and broke his baby girl's heart. He avoided arguing cases in front of him until today. No sooner had the judge taken his seat than he began to scowl. His laser focus was on Quinton.

Quinton felt the heat of the judge's gaze and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Lockheed, please approach the bench."

After almost what seemed like an eternity, the judge amended his request.

"Oh, yes you too Mr Deputy Prosecutor," the judge mumbled.

Quinton breathed a sigh of relief. His youthful legs took forever to move. He knew Judge Dread hated him the question was how much would he be willing to go to punish Quinton?

"Good morning your honour," Quinton said as he stepped before the bench.

He watched his one-time father-in-law cover the microphone.

"Shut up Lockheed. I wish I could have you thrown in jail, but I have my reputation to uphold."

Quinton heard the snicker from his opponent who was enjoying the show.

"You shut up too," Judge Dread snarled. "Let's get the ground rules clear. No theatrics you two. Your reputations proceed you both. I know Lockheed is a fraud of a man, but a good advocate of the law. But if you two bring your childish behaviour into my courtroom, I will have you both removed."

"Yes, your honour," they replied in unison.

"Now, on to the matters of this case. I heard the main prosecution witness was killed last night and based on my knowledge; we have no case against your client Lockheed. So, for the sake of the jury we will proceed until the Prosecution advises the court and makes a motion for the suspension of proceedings against your client or until new evidence turns up. Between us, I know he will be back here. But it is for the law to take its course. Understand gentlemen?"

"Yes, Your Honour," they said in a subdued tone.

"Ok step back."

Five minutes later. Quinton made himself comfortable on the hard, wooden bench. He watched as the Deputy Prosecutor nodded towards DSP Bent and then flashed one of his trademarked smiles.

Quinton felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach.

"Mr Clerk of Court, please bring the jury up to speed from yesterday's proceedings," Judge Dread said in his booming baritone voice.

Quinton knew that the play acting of going through the motions of the law would result in his client going home today, but the common man did not know that the law was a blind ass.

The clerk nodded to the stenographer and she read from her notes before Judge Dread summed up the proceedings of the day before.

"Mr Prosecutor, over to you."

"Thank you, Your Honour."

The tall, gaunt man stood and shuffled from one leg to another.

"Your Honour, if it pleases the Court, we would like to call the chief prosecution witness, Ms Karissa Harrison."

Quinton gasped.

"Objection, Your Honour!" Quinton shouted.

"I am befuddled Your Honour; this name appears nowhere in our files."

"Maybe, if you did your homework, you would have noticed the name instead of pumping iron."

"At least, I am not living at a house of horizontal refreshments," Quinton snapped back.

"Gentlemen, order!" the judge shouted.

"Your Honour my apologies, but this witness was not divulged in the discovery process by the Prosecution. I will not allow my client to be denied justice by the Crown hiding information!" Quinton shouted and stood to his full height.

He made eye contact with the jury foreman and watched as the man nodded. The corners of Quinton's lips were tempted to break a smile, but he was too astonished to even think about smiling.

"Your Honour, I need not remind you that the accused has links to international network of crime and acting upon the advice of the police the crown has taken steps to put the chief witness in the Witness Protection Programme," Deputy Prosecutor replied.

"Objection, Your Honour, the Crown is attempting enter into evidence and mislead the jury about matters that my client is not on trial for!" Quinton shouted

"Gentlemen, we are not sitting at the market haggling for customers over fish. We are in the highest court of the land. Objection sustained. The jury will disregard the last comments," Judge Dread said softly.

"Apologies Your Honour, let me rephrase, we have not changed the witness, but…we created an assumed name for the records."

"Your Honour," Quinton said as he leapt from his seat on the bench. "How can we believe the Crown? They have lied to the court and made an egregious mockery of not only you my Lord, but the honourable men and women of the Jury. How do we know that anything that have been filed is the truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Quinton, control yourself and stop posturing for the Jury. If it pleases the Court your honour, we may have to conduct this portion of the procedures in camera and recall the jury when we have dealt with some matters of law," The DPP said calmly.

"Your honour, grounds have been laid for an appeal and it is a matter of the courts record and we could have the court reporter to read what my learned opponent said a few moments earlier," Quinton stated from the top of the bench.

"Lockheed, are you threatening my judgement, and would you bring the proceedings into disrepute, because of your need to grandstand? Listen to me young man, my patience is wearing thin with you."

Quinton, frowned.

"My apologies my Lord, but…"

"No buts Lockheed. Mr Foreman and members of the jury, we will have a ten-minute recess while we discuss some matters of the law. Clerk of the Court, please escort the jury back to the jury room."

"Your honour. I must inform you that the chief witness died according to an announcement on the radio this morning. The Crown is indeed making a fool of these proceedings and the law."

"Quinton Lockheed, shut up before I have you locked up for contempt of Court."

"Your Lordship, it is public knowledge Your Honour…"

"Bailiff, please take this man into custody," Judge Dread said firmly.

"With all pleasure," DSP Tashima Bent replied with a smirk.

"Your Worship," Quinton stuttered.

The detective grabbed Quinton's arm and whispered, "You lied, we have kept that detail from the press Quinton and only someone who was involved on the inside of the case would have known that detail. Come, its a cell for you Lockheed."

Quinton knew that he had planted the poison in the minds of the Jury and so did not mind cooling off in the office for the bailiffs. However, the thought of being locked up with other criminals made his bladder feel weak. He was a tough guy but he knew what happened in those lockups. He had enough clients who were fine and healthy one day and after being locked up for a few hours ended up leaving in a body bag or worse. Sometimes what they experienced left a mark on their souls and they were never the same again. He didn't want the same fate. He had to figure a way out of his predicament.

"Tashima, you can't really lock me up and you know that. My ex-father-in-law just wants to blow off some steam and you know that too. This is just a part of the play and we just finished scene three, act one.

"Quinton Lockheed, I've waited years to have you strip searched and I am not going to let your hazel eyes beguile me this time."

Tashima guided him towards the holding area in the bowels of the building. The stench of rancid sweat mixed with urine invaded Quinton's nostrils.

"Tashima, I'm a member of the court, you can't do this to me," Quinton spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. He was almost ready to beg.

"Shut up prisoner, your muscles are turning to mush now, where is that silver tongue of yours now counsellor? Don't you think I deserved better after our little incident a few years back? Instead, you used my innocence against me Quinton. Well, it's payback."