Wil Baxter claimed his dreams had connections with the stars. He heard voices, or perhaps the personal thoughts of the countless twinkling dots in the night sky. Voices came and went at regular intervals, speaking a language of which he could make no comparison. They would suddenly grow in volume, then diminish as if coming and going at an incredible rate. In the end, he realised that he didn’t hear the stars, but something rapidly moving either within or just outside of earth’s atmosphere.
It remained a mystery that he’d have to ponder later. Moisture formed beads on the rear windows of the limousine. His employer, Ernest Meissner, insisted that he ride in the vehicle. Mr Meissner also insisted on leaving a guard near Will’s home, along with a personal body guard who accompanied him at all times. His employer grinned at the time, claiming it was for his protection. Instead, he had become the crime lord’s prisoner.
Wil sighed, watching the empty factory units pass by. Meissner chose this area for the seclusion. Although he operated out of Sydney, the man had powerful ties with eastern Europe. He operated a number of charities and rubbed shoulders with politicians and celebrities. The German immigrant had a finger in most illegal endeavours too. Since Wil started working for the man, he had come to hear of some of them; guns, prostitution, and drugs. He knew of the latter, as he had to create newer saleable designer drugs.
Casting his eyes aside he took in his beaded reflection on the window. Rings permanently resided under his brown eyes and his black hair had begun to thin, making him appear almost a decade older than his thirty years. A manicured beard covered his lower jaw already beginning to show a fleck of grey. None of this occurred from taking any of the designer drugs. He lived under constant pressure.
Meissner could act as his closest friend, taking him out to restaurants and giving Wil the company of one of his hookers. He could also turn without warning when the smallest of things went wrong.
Wil adjusted his tie, happy with the way it contrasted against his white shirt, within the gap made by his dark suit. At least Meissner’s money enabled him to dress better. He knew not to ask himself “why did I take Meissner’s job?” The answer? Simple; money. People regarded him as a brilliant chemist, yet he couldn’t get better employment than a corner pharmacy. When Meissner came into the shop and offered him a chance to earn literally ten times as much money, Wil leapt at the chance.
A girl with long blond hair and fur coat nestled into his shoulder. He had no affection nor connection with her. Meissner decided that she should accompany him to and from work; at least for a couple of days. She looked attractive, but he didn’t want a paid girl. By Meissner’s reckoning, the girl was a perk for his employer and a gift for a friend. Every couple of days, a new one would arrive at his door to replace the previous one.