The Bloodline Curse

By Kabir Kumar

The Bloodline curse portrays the story of Brock Sanders, a smart engineer working in a fictional US city. His peaceful life is abruptly shaken by the arrival of his notorious brother who is responsible for a monstrous crime. The bloodline curse attempts to provide the reader with a sense of insecurity and makes the reader question the reliability of even the most passive and humble characters. It goes on to prove time and again that even the people whom you think you know and trust unquestionably can turn out to be your biggest foes in disguise. With that being said, WHO CAN YOU TRUST?

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Sep 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9789388081771

Book preview

Prologue

It’s a cloudy evening in Scarlet City. In the heart of the city exists an area called Central Avenue. At 5:30 pm, the area is crowded heavily and nothing seems unusual. Among the thousands of people of all ages, wandering around in the lively area is a man who is walking rather briskly. He is wearing an army green shirt with a brown belt and black pants and black Oxford shoes. A shiny, leather black overcoat sets this person apart from the rest of the crowd. He has black average-length hair with green eyes and neither a beard nor a moustache.

This man walks up the white broad stairs leading to the front glass entrance of a skyscraper. At the entrance, people are being asked for identification by two uniformed security men. This man approaches the guards and is stopped.

Identification please sir, asks the security man in a humble tone. The man reaches into his overcoat and a moment later, takes out a piece of white folded paper. He hands this paper over to the security man. A few seconds is enough for him to deduce that this man has been summoned by the director himself. He hands the paper back to the man.

You are clear to proceed sir. The reception is right in front of you and please allow me to welcome you to the Scarlet Investigation Agency Mr. Sanders.

Thank you Mr. Clifford, replies Sanders, having read the guard’s name on the name tag of his uniform. Sanders walks in where he finds himself being frisked by security.

I’m afraid we don’t allow firearms inside sir, says the frisking guy, taking out a 9-mm pistol from Sanders’ inner overcoat pocket.

That’s fine by me, says Sanders. Where should I leave it then? Sanders is directed towards a belongings counter to his immediate left. Having issued a token against his deposited pistol, he makes his way to the front desk, behind which a lady in white formals welcomes him. Having handed over the same paper to the lady, Sanders waits while the receptionist places a phone call to verify the document. The wait is not too long though, as just a few seconds later, he is requested to take the elevators on his right to the 9th floor. Sanders walks into an idle elevator and rides up to the 9th floor as instructed. After getting off, he looks both ways along a long corridor where he sees another woman sitting in a cabin located just outside a door, working on the computer. Sanders approaches her.

Good Morning sir, how may I help you? asks the lady as soon as she takes notice of Sanders.

Good morning. My name is Brock Sanders and I’m here for my appointment with Mr. Fletcher.

Of course, Mr. Sanders. I remember seeing your name in the directory. Please make your way through the door, says the lady, pointing towards it just behind her cabin. Thanking the lady, Brock makes his way to the door and he gently knocks on the door three times. Come in, is heard through the door. Brock slowly opens the door ajar to find himself in a spacious room with glass windows overlooking the city in a spectacular view. In front of him is a wooden desk with two chairs in front of it and one behind, on which, a man in a black blazer is seen typing on the keyboard. The man looks up at Brock.

Yes sir? asks the man.

Good morning sir. My name is Brock Sanders and I’m here for...

Ah, Mr. Sanders. I was expecting you. Please have a seat, interrupts the man, standing up. Brock walks up to the chairs, shaking the man’s hand before seating himself. The man sits down as well.

My name is Alan Fletcher and I am the director here at the SIA. I’m glad that you could take some time out of your busy schedule Mr. Sanders.

Not at all Mr. Fletcher. On the contrary, it is quite an honor to meet the director of such an esteemed agency himself.

I appreciate your kind words Mr. Sanders, replies Alan. Would you like some coffee?

No, no sir. That’s quite all right. I’m not the caffeine kind of guy.

A cup of tea then?

That will do sir. Thank You. Alan presses a button on the landline kept on his table and places the order for two teas. Minutes later, a server comes in and places the two cups of tea on the table along with white and brown sugar sachets. Both men add their own sugars and take a sip.

Mr. Sanders, the reason I requested your presence today was to discuss a matter of utmost importance with you.

Is that so? Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued. What sort of matter would you require MY opinion on?

Let’s just say that I have found intelligence on a certain person; a person whom you know.

Really? Who is it? Alan takes a pause before speaking.

It’s your brother, Gunther Sanders. Brock’s curious face transforms into a serious one.

Gunther? He’s here? In this city?

Yes Mr. Sanders. Alan opens one of his desk drawers and takes out a beige-colored folder and places it on the table. He opens the folder and inside, are some documents along with a photograph. Alan grabs the photo and places it in front of Brock. This was captured by a traffic camera on the 25th interstate highway yesterday. Brock grabs the photo to verify it and stares at it with utmost disgust. The photograph shows a bald man with a goatee, at the driver’s seat of a black car. On the top right corner of the photo are the date and time written; 15th August 2016, 5:23:49 PM. Brock sets the photograph on the table trying to process it all.

Judging by your reaction, I’d say that this brings back unpleasant memories. Am I right Mr. Sanders?

Yes, you are. I haven’t seen him for the past 19 years. I had just managed to put him and his existence behind me and focus on my career but this brings it all back.

I apologize Mr. Sanders. That was not my intention.

I know Mr. Fletcher. Well, how can I help you with this?

I just wanted to ask you a few questions about him and his history. We’re extremely concerned by his arrival. He’s not in the second place in our most wanted criminals list for nothing Mr. Sanders. He has committed heinous crimes and with absolute precision.

You do not need to remind me of his crimes Mr. Fletcher. I do read the newspapers. I know about his abilities and exactly why he hasn’t been caught even now.

Yes Mr. Sanders, I’m sure you do and I’m also certain that you would not mind providing me with a bit of information on him in case you have it. Am I right?

Absolutely Mr. Fletcher. What is it that you want to know?

I would like to know from you if you know where he might be in Scarlet City. Do you know whom he might be in touch with?

I’m afraid I don’t.

You said that you haven’t seen him for 19 years. When and where did you last see him?

Back when we were kids. I’ll never forget that day. I had just hopped off my school bus and was walking home. But as soon as I turned up at the front yard, I saw flames engulf my house. Gunther was just standing in the yard, staring at the house, not even moving a muscle as he watched our parents burn to death inside. It was later that I came to know that he had locked them both inside their room and had set the place on fire with the help of kerosene oil.

I’m sorry Mr. Sanders. What happened then?

The firemen arrived minutes later but were too late in putting out the fires. All they could save were the charred bodies of mom and dad. Nothing more.

Again, I apologize Mr. Sanders. I can stop if it is uncomfortable for you.

No, no Mr. Fletcher. I’m alright. Please continue.

Alright then. What happened to Gunther?

Gunther ran away as soon as the firemen arrived and that was the last I ever saw of him. I ended in foster care myself until I was eighteen and started living and working on my own.

And he never contacted you after that?

I would’ve remembered Mr. Fletcher. The men discuss other things including relatives, friends and people that the two brothers had had in common in their brief childhood together. None of it was useful in determining Gunther’s whereabouts or plans. After around 15 minutes, both gentlemen call it an end. Both stand up and shake hands.

Thank you for your time Mr. Sanders.

It was no problem Mr. Fletcher. And please, call me Brock. He heads out of the office and returns to the ground floor to collect his pistol. Putting it back into his pocket, Brock heads out of the building and into a nearby cafe. He sits there for an hour, not ordering anything. Brock, then finally decides to head home. Taking the metro to his area, he walks to the Carter building from the metro station in about 10 minutes. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, Brock walks up to apartment 306. Just before taking his keys out, Brock notices that the door lock is already open with the door slightly ajar. He reaches for the pistol in his pocket and cocks it. He then slowly opens the door into the dark apartment. Not switching on any lights, Brock closes the door behind him and keeps his guard up, watching every corner. He uses the moonlight coming in from a window to navigate his way around as best as he can.

Long time no see comes a low-pitched voice from within the apartment. Brock swiftly turns around and scans the area, unable to see anyone.

Who are you? yells Brock, still confused. Suddenly, a black figure walks out of a dark corner of the apartment. Brock, upon seeing this man, quickly points his pistol towards him. This man’s face is not visible due to the hood of the jacket he’s wearing. Who are you and what do you want from me?

You don’t recognize me? That’s a shame! But in your defense, it has been quite some time since we last saw each other. The man steps into the moonlight in front of the window and slowly pulls the hood back. Brock is overcome with terror and fright upon seeing this man’s face…

The First Encounter

Gunther? asks Brock, not being able to believe what he is seeing.

Yes, it sure has been a long time, hasn’t it? How have you been?

How did you...? How did you find this place?

Let’s not waste time on these trivial matters Brock. I’ve got my source, that’s all you need to know. There is a moment of silence. Gunther continues to stare at Brock while Brock has his pistol still pointed at him.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now. How dare you show your pathetic face to me again after what you did that day, nineteen years ago? Just looking at you makes me want to kill you.

Calm down Brock. I just want to have a word with you for a moment. Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret.

You’ve sure got the balls to threaten me when you yourself are staring down the barrel of your own death. All these years must have made you paranoid or something, huh?

Perhaps I have made my share of mistakes, I’ll agree to that but this isn’t one of them. You think that I’m in danger when in reality, it’s the other way around.

What the hell do you mean by that? Not uttering a single word, Gunther sighs. He maintains his calm and composed posture. Gunther is a man who can be calm even when his own life is in danger.

I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to you while you’ve got that gun raised. Why don’t you put it down and then we can have a polite discussion, huh? What do you say?

I say, that you’ve completely lost your mind. Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth?

Yes, I am but unfortunately, you’re not. We’ve wasted too much time and we’ve gotten nowhere. I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice. Guys? A few seconds later, a third man comes out of another dark corner, pointing a pistol at Brock.

So, you’re not alone, are you? But what you don’t seem to know is that I was enrolled in the military for a few years. I can take you both down, no problem.

Oh, I know you can. That’s why I came prepared. Another man slowly walks in from another room, taking aim with his pistol at Brock, followed by two more men, all of them carrying pistols.

The men surround Brock, all of them aiming at him. Come on Brock. Not even your military training will get you out of this. Plus, these guys are professionals; they don’t flinch, even against an ex-soldier. Just throw your gun to me and I’ll tell my men to stand down. Come on, I just want to talk to you, that’s all!

Brock was furious but giving vent to his hatred now would have him killed. Brock slowly lowers his arms and tosses the gun to Gunther who catches it and places it into his own jacket pocket.

That’s better, now isn’t it? Gunther looks at his men and nods his head. The guns are lowered. Listen to me Brock, you need to get out of Scarlet City as fast as possible.

And why would I do that?

Because I’m telling you to. Listen to me and you’ll get to keep your life. Just pack your stuff and get out of this city now, do you hear me?

I heard you loud and clear but what makes you think I’ll just up and leave my job here, let alone my friends?

Jobs and friends come and go Brock, life doesn’t. It’s too precious a gift to lose prematurely and trust me, you WILL lose it if you don’t listen to me now. I understand that it’s a little difficult to trust me in the given circumstances but...

A little? A LITTLE? You BURNED down our home WITH OUR PARENTS STILL INSIDE!! You’re nothing more than a cold-hearted murderer. You’ve literally buried our family name deep into the ground. But I’m not like you. I still have my respect with me and I’m not going to throw it down the gutter like you did. There is another moment of silence. Gunther thinks deeply.

You’re still too naïve Brock. You still don’t know who all are living as common citizens in your very own city and you don’t know the activities going on in it either.

Oh yeah, and you do?

A lot better than you. It wasn’t just fortune which allowed you to live a decent life even after that tragedy. You’ve always had someone beside you all your life.

And what the hell does that mean? questioned Brock not fully comprehending the meaning.

One of Gunther’s men immediately walks up to him and whispers something to him in his ear. Gunther nods his head to him.

I wish I could stay longer but I can’t. We WILL meet again Brock. Maybe then you’ll be in a better mood to listen. Gunther starts to walk towards the door while one of his men pulls it open. All four of Gunther’s men exit the apartment, leaving only the two brothers. If you value your life, you’ll do as I say, said Gunther while exiting the apartment. Just before leaving, Gunther tosses Brock’s pistol back to him and finally disappears into the night. At first, Brock thinks of giving him a chase but decides against it as he recalls Gunther’s men along with him. Finally switching on the hall lights and illuminating the apartment, Brock sits back on his couch and places the gun on a small glass top table next to him. He spends a few minutes just sitting in his chair, thinking before finally turning in for the night.

Brock gets up at 8 the following morning, takes a shower, puts on a new white shirt, black pants, a brown belt, socks and black shoes and has his breakfast of a sunny side-up egg with two pieces of toast. Placing his pistol in his inner coat pocket, Brock leaves the apartment for the subway station. Boarding the metro, it takes Brock exactly twenty minutes to reach his stop, the Industrial Area. After getting off, he walks the sidewalks for a few minutes until finally coming at the main entrance of a tall skyscraper. It is the ‘Cyber Technologies’ building, which Brock enters after showing his ID to a guard stationed outside. Making his way to a laboratory on the ground floor itself, Brock is greeted with ‘Good Morning sir’ by multiple people in white coats. Brock finally strikes up a conversation with a young man in his mid-twenties.

Good Morning sir says the man.

Good Morning Simon. How was your date last night?

It was pretty good sir. We went to a high-end restaurant and didn’t have to pay anything either since my uncle owns that restaurant.

Well, well, well. You’re certainly enjoying yourself these days, aren’t you?

I try every now and then sir says Simon, chuckling.

That’s good Simon. Leisure is just as important as work.

Very true sir. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.

Tell me what?

I proposed to Linda last night sir and she said ‘yes’.

You should’ve opened with that Simon says Brock in an energetic and pleased tone. Congratulations.

Thank you, sir!

So, planned any dates yet?

Not yet sir but most likely we’ll decide them pretty soon.

I’m glad Simon. Regardless of when you guys get married, I’m sincerely hoping an invitation.

OF COURSE, sir! Of course, you’ll get an invitation. In fact, you’ll be the first one to get it sir, personally delivered by me.

Well, I’ll be waiting. Now, enough of chatter, we’ve got some serious work ahead of us Simon.

That we do sir.

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