Tales of Shane Ireland, Elf Detective: SHANE IRELAND, ELF DETECTIVE, #1

Author has North American and International Rights. Copyright 2017@Writers Guild of America, East Inc,

Cover Art by John Brasheer

Illustrations by Miguel Yurrita wwwmiguelyurrita.com

All rights reserved by author. Any reproduction or copying of this story without the expressed permission of the author is prohibited. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination.

Author’s Notes

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and

events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or living persons is coincidental.

Dedication

I would like to give a very special thanks to my friend Barry for his long-suffering proof reading and friendship.

I dedicate these stories to Bill, Deke, Jim and our Tuesday night gaming group. Thank you for the inspiration and laughs.

I have combined the first three Shane Ireland tales together and added additional commentary where necessary.

Shane first appeared in Sum Yung Gye (pronounced Guy), a short novella. He is a Private Investigator who lives on the shady side of life. Hope you enjoy his adventures.

––––––––

For new readers of the series there are a few points that I'd like you to know. In the not too distance future, scientists feared a worldwide pandemic and feverishly worked on a serum that not only would vaccinate people against the disease, but would help prolong their lives. The testing was not complete when an outbreak of plague erupted in China. Fearing the worst and hoping for the best, doctors in America rushed to produce the vaccine as the plague spread worldwide. In a panic, the world government made vaccination mandatory.

What happened next was a cure and part disaster, but quarter of those receiving who took the serum changed. Oh, the medical gurus tried to explain the Great Accident away; they said deep down in our DNA elves, dwarves, orcs and trolls of mythology had always been there. Still, that didn’t explain why a small portion of people now had powers, magic powers. Those who had the ability to use magic were rare though.

The second event was that national currencies became archaic. People used International Credits or just plain creds. For financial transactions, USB sticks, wands with reader-chips or other storage devices with credits were often used like old-fashioned credit cards, the perfect cashless society.  Yes, a gold and silver still worked, but everyday commerce evolved to reader-credits.

How it all began

Book One

Beginnings: Sum Yung Gye (Guy)

Chapter The Crew

My name is Shane Ireland. I am an elf. My story begins on a rainy night in Portland. Seems every night in Portland is rainy. I got a call earlier in the day from a gangster named Squirrel. Squirrel is a provider, providing whatever people wanted. In this case it was three other guys for a job and me.

So what kind of gig, Squirrel? I said and took another sip of malt whiskey. It helped me pass the time when it was raining.

A grab, he said. I don’t know anything more about it. You want it or not?

I was temporarily low on funds and said, Sure, I’ll take it.

Good, get over to the Red Tail Bar and ask for a Ms. Edmunds party; she‘ll give you the rest of the story. So I drove my ZR850 Suzuki over to the Red Tail Bar. It was a nicer joint located in a middle class neighborhood near the river. I parked beside a huge old Harley. It had Troll written all over it. I mean nobody, but a troll could ride the damn thing: it was huge.

The doorman stopped me.

The Edmunds party, I said.

The Edmunds party is inside and to the back. I thanked him and went inside. Fifty or so people were inside listening to a singer. She was awful, but the patrons didn’t care, they were there to forget. It was a forgetting kind of a place. At the rear I saw two bulky men in suits and figured that must be my room.

Apparently, I was the last of our group to arrive. Inside, I found two humans and a troll. The troll was big even for a mutant, eight feet tall and built like a bridge support. I didn’t see an ounce of fat on him so I knew who the muscle in the crew was.

With him was a human mage, a wizard, wearing a Stetson and a duster like some character out of an old spaghetti western. Turned out wizard and troll were brothers—go figure. But since the Great Sickness, when a medical lab working on a pandemic vaccine goofed, a good fourth of the human race became mutants. I became an elf with a power, but I’ll get into that later.  Our fourth member looked like a metro sexual to me dressed to the nines. His suit cost more than my apartment’s yearly rent and his looks were a striking mixture of Euro-Asian with the best of both continents. He greeted me first and said his name was Nigel Smith hyphen something, something.

Hey, pointy ear, the troll said, "Names Sven, brother’s Bob, we’re the Olsen’s.

Not being shy, I said, Hey back, I’m Shane. I do a little private investigation.

Bob Olsen stuck out his hand and said, Battle mage.  

The Englishmen said, Ditto.

Sven shifted his weight. I saw the bulge of his 50-caliber pistol underneath his arm. Sven seemed to be on a mission, searching for something behind the bar and talking to me appeared low on his priorities. Besides Sven did not speak much.

After about ten minutes, an attractive woman in a designer business suit came in flanked by some serious muscle, ten of them. They had ex-military, corporate security, written all over them. One of her chaperons handed her four credit chips and a pad, which she set up on a table. I speculated how many it would take to subdue the Troll, maybe six guards that left the rest of us with four.

Good evening, gentleman. I’m Ms. Edmunds. Just for coming to hear my proposal, I have 500 credits for you each: and should you decide to take the contract, each of you will receive 1000 credits now and another 1000 on completion. Is this satisfactory? She waited for each of us to give our consent.

She continued, This is a simple grab operation. Your target is the son of a corporate executive. Currently, he is a student at one of the city’s private high schools. These are the only details I will give you until you accept the commission. You have five minutes to give me your answer gentlemen.

Finished Ms. Edmunds and her muscle departed. We waited until the door closed. I turned to Bob Olsen, the normal brother. What do think? I said.

It sounds easy, but why the big secrecy? Bob said turning to his brother. Sven, what do you think? The mountain looked at us.

We can do it, he said.

I’m in, the Englishman said. I could use the funds and four of us can handle a teenager. I didn’t have anything to add, so I nodded.

Our debate ended and Bob moved to the door and called, Ms. Edmunds.

She reentered and set up her pad as before. Thank you, gentlemen. Now I am authorized to answer your questions.

Bob took over and said, Where we can find the target?

Downtown most of the time, he hangs out with a want-to-be gang called the Blue Orcas runs by his girlfriend a hot number named Legs. I have an address for them.

Besides Legs, does she have a name? Bob said.

Lisa Curley’s father runs a couple of night spots. Any more questions? She looked at us. Hearing no objections, she turned to one of her ensembles; the man gave a credit chip to each of us, and one data chip with the boy’s name and picture.

My number is on the chip. Call me when you have the young man. Now, enjoy the use of the room for the next hour while I inform my employers. Good-night.

When the door closed, Bob took out his pad, and we gathered around to look at our meal ticket, Hiro Hiromaki. He was a teenager; about fifteen or sixteen, a slightly built, jet-black hair, and wore a private school uniform and beside him was a honey. You know the type hotter than a five-dollar pistol.

Where’s this address? I said to Bob who seemed to know his way around.

Warehouse district by the Columbia River. Let me make some calls, Bob said as we watched Sven open the door. Sven turned sideways and leaned out into the bar. Just then, a patron walked by Sven. HEY, Sven need food, Sven said. I laughed at the startled man who dropped his drink.

I, I don’t work here, the passer-by protested.

Get Sven FOOD, Sven said louder. Frightened, the man ran off to do the troll’s bidding. I thought good move genius.

Behind me, I heard Bob talking, Hello, who’s speaking? Bob has his pad on speaker.

Sergeant Hollings, desk sergeant third precinct.

Good evening Sergeant Hollings this is Bob Olsen here. How are you tonight? Say, I need some information if you have a moment.

How’s your dad taking retirement?

Not bad, he’s fishing in the Cascades enjoying himself. Sergeant Hollings, what can you tell me about the Blue Orcas? Bob asked.

"Punks mostly. They like fast motorcycles and clubbing.

I know the type Sergeant. Thanks. What can you tell me about a girl named Lisa Curley, goes by the name of Legs?

Bad news Bob, local Russian mob boss’ daughter. I’d stay clear if I were you. Bob’s face turned pale for a moment. It was bad news, very bad news.

Thanks, Sergeant Hollings, As Bob turned to the rest of us; Sven came back in carrying two pitchers. He set one down and proceeded to drink the other one a waitress following him in with glasses. From Bob’s face, I thought something a tad stronger was called for, but the beer would have to do.

Legs, or Lisa Curley, is the only daughter of Mad Ivan the Butcher. He runs the Russian Mafia on the west coast. We’re screwed, Bob said, and I drank more beer. Bob poured himself a glass.

The Englishman spoke up, I’ve got an idea, and left.

What do you think, Sven? I asked.

Burping loudly, Sven answered, Doesn’t sound too hard, let’s do it.

With that rousing endorsement, the three of us rose to leave for our funeral. But where’s the limey? We found him in the bar smooth talking a striking brunette. I thought it a hell of a time to pick up a girl. As I approached, she said, No, and swung at him. Nigel glided past her blow and continued to the next seat at the bar. The next customer was a busty blonde that sent my hormones a boiling. What was he up to?

The lad had no shame. He said, Hey, would you like to make 250 credits? She smiled and twirled her hair. Encouraged he continued, It doesn’t involve any sex. I want you to flirt with a guy. For a moment she seemed disappointed, but then she smiled.

Sure, 250 credits. I’m in. But what were we going to do with a knockout?

Nigel offered the blond his arm and beamed up at us, Shall we go, gentleman?

Outside Bob whistled up a cab and gave them the Blue Orcs warehouse address. I went over to my Suzuki and fired it up while Sven mounts the ancient Harley; I knew it was a Troll’s bike. Hey, I’m a detective. So off the five of us went into the night.

When the cab stopped, it was beside one of those old diners made from a train car. The neon sign on the side said ALL NIGHT in reddish letters. I parked and glanced across the street. The seedy building looked like a hundred other warehouse along the river, with an office in front, adorned with barbed wire along the roof and cameras on the edges. Nice place. A place you might want to bring a swat team with you. Next to it, on the curb were a couple of cars even a crack- head would not steal, but it was our address. The Blue Orcas must be hard pressed for cash.

Making a quick glance at the building, Sven dismounted his Harley and headed for the diner. Evidently, food was calling. As he passed me he said, I’ll watch from there.

Bob watched his sibling for a moment and then turned to our blonde, Why don’t you and Shane grab some coffee? This wouldn’t take a minute. She took my arm and smiled at me. Like most women, she found me attractive, that irresistible elfish charm I guess. Must be the ears. So I offered my arm to Misty, which was her name. Together we strolled in to the diner while Bob and Nigel crossed the street.

Inside, Sven found a stool big enough for a second-grade class to hold a dance recital and parked his carcass. Evidently, trolls frequented the place. Not surprising given the diner’s rustic environment. Misty and I choose a booth, I sat where I had a view of Bob, and I adjusted my com-link. We ordered coffee.

Outside, bold as brass, Bob walked right up to the building and tried the door. It opened and Bob entered. Nigel, for his part, took off around the corner trying to find the blind spot of the closed circuit cameras.

Going in, Bob whispered on the link. I watched but knew I wouldn’t see anything. Sven, on the other hand, concentrated on his eating; he had a dozen donuts and sipped a troll size coffee cup, looked like a pail to me. It takes a lot to fill him up.

Our waitress, when she sauntered over, did not seem fazed by a Troll, an Elf and a blonde sitting in the place. She acted like it happened all the time. Anything to eat? she asked. I was about to answer when my com-link squawked.

Hey lady, I’m sorry. I thought this was my room, Bob said. Trouble?

No, the gun’s not necessary: I’m leaving. Sven got up, tossing a credit chip to the waitress.

I told Misty to stay put and followed in Sven’s wake. Outside we saw Bob come hustling out. He was shaking his head. Damn crazy broad nearly killed me. How did I know they were coupling?

Strike one. Now what? I asked.

Try another place, Ms. Edmunds gave us a list of clubs the Orcas hang out at. We’ll just work our way down. We start with the Fancy Pants, Bob said. How’s the coffee?

It’s strong enough to raise the dead, I replied and added. If this is the main hangouts, one of us should stay here and watch, I suggested.

Sounds like you volunteered, the Englishman said. I’ll just retrieve the bait, and we will be off. Later Shane. I smiled and walked back in. It was going to be a long night.

By the time Nigel and Misty were ready Bob had called another cab, and in no time they were off to Fancy Pants. I went back into the diner, ordered eggs scrambled and toast. I had some calls of my own. I had connections too.

Later Bob told me when they arrived outside the Fancy Pants, a line of teenagers two blocks long stretched into the night. The music rolled down the street like an earthquake every time the doorman let another group in and lights flashed everywhere. Sven eyed the crowd for a moment, and decided to head straight for the front of the line with Bob, Misty, and Nigel in tow.

As Sven neared the door, his size was big enough to get the full attention of the two burly bouncers at the front of the line. Before either one could react, Sven smiled and undid the chain saying, Rock Star, need passes, now. To add emphasis, Sven patted his big revolver. Bob said that was when the bouncers’ eyes got big. Hey, I’d give him passes.

Surprised by Sven’s tactic they glanced around him and saw a well-dressed man, a gorgeous woman and a dude in a cowboy hat. Maybe he was a rock star? Recovering one bouncer asked, I didn’t get the names?

It was at this point Nigel came through, using that lovely English accent, I’m Sum Yung Guy, from Hong Kong, lead singer for the Nyen Pink Rock Shockers and this is my manager and lady! For a moment the stunned doormen did not know what to do but looking first at Guy, then the troll and the busty blonde, decided to go for it. The bouncer reached into his coat pocket and pulled out four gold badges with VIP Fancy Pants on them.

Welcome to the Fancy Pants Mr. Guy. Enjoy yourself. In the line teenagers, evidently awestruck by Nigel began taking photos with their personal pads. Nigel, now playing the part of Guy, walked in, hamming it up all the way. He was good at it and wearing Armani did not hurt.

Inside the place, Bob told me, it rocked. The noise was strong enough to vibrate you in place and the lights pulsed. A mass of teenagers clustered on the dance floor. If I had tried to pour out my drink, it’d never touched the floor. Searching for a thin raven-haired boy in this mob looked impossible.

Sven and Bob weren’t deterred by the mob. They split up Bob went left and Sven right; Nigel and Misty went to the bar where Nigel started holding court. Halfway around the dance floor, Sven eyed a group of five young men. One looked like Hiro, at twenty feet away. Sven moved in.

Once beside the kid, Sven reached out, spun him around and gave him a once over. Wrong guy, Sven said and turned to go.

One of his friends, fortified by Dutch courage, yelled, Trolls, they’re dumb as rocks. Sven spun and grabbed his head in one massive fist and without much effort smashed the lad’s head against the table, overturning and knocking the boy out. Witnessing the action three bouncers converged, but gauging Sven, they slowed their pace.

We don’t want any trouble, sir, said the first to arrive.

No trouble Sven leaving. The trio nodded, only too happy to step aside. Once outside where they could talk Bob asked, Try another?

Both nodded.

Club 21 proved to be another dry run. Again, Nigel played the rock star, warming up to the part. Several onlookers began texting and the legend of Sum Yung Guy and the band Nyen Pink Shock Rockers was born. Each time our intrepid detectives hit a club, and the legend of the Pink Rockers and Sum Yung Guy grew. After five more duds, they reached the Silk Club. It was a high-class joint.

How could you tell? For one, the muscle at the door wore tailored suits. For another, they would not let them in. Sven gave him his best pissed off look. No dice. Bob smiled and produced a credit chip. I have 200 reasons you should give us a VIP Pass and let us in.

The guard pocketed the chips and swung the door open, Welcome, Mr. Guy. Inside we hit the jackpot. Our mark was there and wrapped around him was his girlfriend, Legs. They were seated with six of the Blue Orcas.  The black and blue streaked hair was a dead giveaway, two of which needed a room.

Continuing to play his part to the hilt, Nigel, with Misty in tow, waltzed right up to their table and stuck out his fist. Hey, I am Sum Yung Guy, lead for the Nyen Pink Rockers. You look like some party animals. Let’s party! Bartender, a round for my table, Nigel shouted and sat down beside Hiro. Legs eyed daggers at Misty.

Bob took a seat at the table next to Guy and calmly verified it was Hiro with his data-pad. As for Sven, he found a spot along the wall next to a rough looking character with a bulge under his arm. The two nodded to one another, professional courtesy.

Bob called me with a quick heads up, Found the mark at the Silk. ‘Oops’, trouble. Get back to you. I did not want to hear oops from Bob, not when it looked like I might make those 2000 credits.

Slut, stop flirting with MY MAN, Legs said, knocking back her chair and standing up.

I have to give Misty credit: she did not know when to quit. She took on the dragon lady in her lair and shouted back, Bitch. With that Legs launched across the table and hit Misty right in the face, who reeled backwards.

Stop it! Hiro shouted, but Legs’ momentum carried her and the table over on top of our girl. Legs tried to pound Misty, but Misty fought back and grabbed a handful of hair. Legs went nuts. Clawing and screaming she attempted to stand and kick her, but the Misty held on and they both rolled on the floor.

While everyone else was enjoying the catfight, Bob scanned the room. He was struck by the number of tough, hard men along the edge of the crowd and they looked Russian. It dawned on him: this is one of Ivan’s bars we’re in trouble.

Hiro, for his part, tried to separate the two girls, but Legs slapped him hard. Don’t touch me! Legs said drawing a six-inch knife from her purse. At the sight of cold steel, our girl Misty took off and headed for Sven. I can’t say I blame her. I would have, too. Legs was in hot pursuit.

Sven quietly stood there both hands held out as our girl ducked under one of his arms and clutched his back. Legs advanced, swinging wildly at her and slashed Sven’s arm. A lesser being would have been ripped open, but not Sven.

His natural tough skin was barely scratched. He grabbed Legs knife hand and held her. You could have heard a pin drop.

In the silence, Nigel made his move, Hey Hiro, everyone, let’s blow this place and really party. It’s on me. It broke the tension. Four of the gang members and Hiro said, Yea, and followed Guy.

Bob took the cue and called a Limo-service asking them for a pick up ASAP. Next, he called me. Found our boy, Shane. Meets us at the Downtown Hilton and bring some party drugs, which I interpreted to bring knock-out drugs.

Meanwhile, Hiro gave Legs one last look as she tried to get around Sven to Misty. He appeared disgusted with her. That was a good sign.

At this junction, the big man sitting next to the Troll stood and moved toward Legs, Lisa Curley, all the while speaking Russian in rapid-fire fashion to her. Sven let go of Legs who took a swing at the man. He wrapped her up in a bear hug and took the knife from her.

At the door, Hiro hesitated and looked back in his girlfriend’s direction, but Bob prompted him, Come on, the Limo will be here in five minutes.

Hiro, my lad, hear that? Nigel said, wrapping his arm around him and guiding him toward the door, It’s party time!

Great let’s go, he said, looking back at Legs who was still struggling. You’re crazy Legs; we’re thru.

Sven and the big man smiled at each other. Sven nodded and followed the rest of the party out with Misty hugging his arm as if her life depended on it. Outside the Limo pulled up and Hiro, Bob, Nigel, Misty and company piled in. Sven followed on his bike.

Meanwhile, I decided I needed something bigger than my bike. So I called my friend Roger at a local Dok-In-the-Box and offered him a cool 200 credits for the ambulance. He said come get it and didn’t ask for his creds in advance. 

I got to the Hilton just in time to see a wobbly bunch of teenagers get out of the limo and stagger in. Bob had his hands full. Carefully, I filled a bag with enough sedatives to put down a dozen trolls and made my way to the room number Bob had given me.

When I arrived, I found two of the Blue Orcas dancing on the table and peeling clothes off, booze flowing and kids rocking out. Nigel greeted me like a long-lost brother. He hugged me and asked me to spread the good stuff around. I handed him some aspirins I’d crushed up for him, and so he pretended to snort them. To the others, I began handing out the candy. I knew