Marty
Marty grabbed his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder. He headed towards the front door, stopping to grab his car keys before heading out. He slammed the front door shut and glanced back at to check that the door had closed. The lights on the white, ten-year-old BMW parked outside briefly flashed as he pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the vehicle. He opened the driver’s side door, took his bag off of his shoulder and threw it onto the passenger seat. Next, he hopped into the driver’s seat and closed the door.
“What do I feel like listening to today?” he thought, as he started the engine, turned the stereo on and leafed through the CDs in his glovebox. His hand settled on an old Tupac album, he pulled it out, opened it up and inserted the silver disc into the slot on the dashboard.
“California love…” came the vocals in a slightly synthetic way. Suddenly the car started vibrating as the beat kicked in. Marty drove the car down the mansion estate drive and out on the road towards the gym.
*
He was driving down the high street halfway through listening to Life Goes On when he saw a commotion up in front. There were two guys in the middle of the road squaring up to each other. Marty slowed down to a stop and stared at them trying to figure out what was going on. It was clear to him from the way that the cars were positioned that one had cut the other up and they were now arguing about it. The taller of the two guys suddenly pulled out a knife and threatened the shorter of the two. Marty sprang into action, jumped out of the car and ran towards the men.
“What on earth’s going on here?” he said casually, “Look I suggest you drop that knife, you don’t want to make the situation worse.” With that, the aggressor with the knife turned towards him and said, “It’s none of your business. Me an’ this chap over ‘ere are just havin’ a friendly discussion.” The shorter of the two suddenly mumbled something causing the guy with the knife to lash out at him. The short man had been expecting an attack and easily sidestepped out of danger. The aggressor was about to take a second swing when Marty grabbed him, swung him around and brought his closed fist down hard onto the knifeman’s arm; the knife clattered harmlessly to the ground. Before the aggressor could react he was already tumbling towards the asphalt. Marty jumped on him and held him in restraint.
“Get off,” the knifeman shrieked in pain.
“Call the police,” Marty shouted at the short man, “I don’t know how long I can restrain him for.” He wrapped his large arms around the man and placed him into a headlock. By now other drivers had stopped, someone had run over to assist Marty. The short man now recovered his senses, retrieved his phone from his jeans pocket and made the call.
*
Marty drove through the mansion gates, up the driveway and parked in his bay at the back of the building. His unused gym equipment was still sat on the passenger seat. A clean pressed shirt and suit were suspended from a hanger in the rear of the car; he reached over and grabbed them.
“I’ll get cleaned up inside,” he thought, whilst exiting and locking his car. “I’ve got to look my best for Miss Aliyah.”
*
Marty was stood towards the back of the room assessing the guests intently. It was natural for him to be uneasy, it was his training; assess the threats first and above all protect the principal. His eyes scanned the room intently concentrating his scrutiny on those guests who were unfamiliar to him. His eyes fixed on an unkempt man in a cheap-looking suit.
“This guy doesn’t belong here,” he thought. “He’s probably some journo.”
“Hey Marty,” Aliyah called out to him, “Do you know if Comtesse de Clermont-Blanc has arrived yet?”
He looked over at her and said, “No miss, I don’t believe she has.” He turned his head back to where he had been looking, but the man had disappeared.
*
It was the early hours when he took his last sip of brandy, the guests had long since gone. He was sat in a small staff room with James, the butler.
“So you’ve no idea who that chap was?” he said to his drinking companion.
“None whatsoever,” James replied.
“Strange. OK, well that’s me done, thanks for the drink,” he said placing his empty glass onto the table and standing up. I’ll be off now.”
He felt uneasy as he walked back to his lodgings in the mansion estate, he couldn’t shake the thought that the man was trouble. He had reached his front door when he decided to turn around and head back towards the mansion. Something didn’t feel right.
*
He stopped and strained his eyes to see through the darkness.
“There it is again,” he thought, staring at the small light bobbing around one of the ground floor windows. He quickly picked up his pace and headed towards it. As he got closer he could see a dark figure climbing out the window. He broke into a sprint across the lawn, his ears were filled with the sound of rushing wind. The man had just squeezed through the window when Marty pounced on him.
“Oh no you don’t mate,” Marty said as he restrained the man with a wristlock. “Don’t struggle, it will only make it worse,” he said, tightening his grip.
The man let out a yelp and stopped struggling, he had decided he was no match for a man of Marty’s size.
*
Marty paused for a moment at the door before knocking.
“Who is it?” the young lady’s voice inquired.
“Miss, it’s me, Marty.”
“Marty, please go away, I don’t want to see anyone.”
“Miss, I have some news for you, can I talk to you, please.” The young lady opened the door and peered around. Marty could see that she had been crying.
“It’s about the necklace, Miss, I caught someone last night.”
“What?” she said astonished.
“They had stolen the necklace. At the moment the police have the thief and the necklace, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to wear it for a while.”
“Oh Marty,” she said flinging the door open and embracing him. “You’re the best!”