Hidden Depths

Chapter 15 - Guardian

The next day, Rich found himself sitting on a bench with Gazza, Karl, Siobhan, Vanisha and a load of guests who were too old, drunk or fat to escape the club before the police bashed the doors down.  As they had expected to arrest a large number of people in the raid, the police and prosecution service had arranged for a special Sunday opening of the courts. 

The Chief of Police was not in the court himself, but the reporters who were watching the proceedings knew that it was his influence that had brought such unusually swift justice about.  Only a few days earlier, their papers had still been ridiculing the police for their bungling efforts to arrest Ratko.  The public beating that he had given so many of Paris' finest had caused much embarrassment, but the Chief had turned it around in record time by smashing an illicit nightclub full of wealthy members of Parisian high society.  The police found no evidence of prostitution, but the reporters didn't let the facts get in the way of such a salacious story and pictures of fat, wealthy businessmen next to foxy images of Siobhan and Vanisha filled the front pages.

Kappa Karl and Grievous Gazza were the first up to face sentencing, and Rich learned that they'd both been caught by the Gendarmes on their way into the club.  They were unfortunate enough to have chosen the same entrance to the Catacombs as the police, and had been promptly picked up and thrown into the back of a van. 

Unsurprisingly, Gazza had tried to fight his way to freedom and had punched, kicked, bitten, slapped and spat himself into more trouble than he had ever known.  Although Karl gave himself up peacefully, he had been carrying his illegal butterfly knife at the time, so he was treated to the same arresting experience as his bruised and battered best friend.

They were both just old enough to be tried as adults and, as each of them had previous juvenile convictions for all manner of violent crimes, the judge sent them down for years.  As Rich had made up a whole new identity for himself, he was not hugely surprised when the police found he had no criminal record. But, as he had basically done the same job as Kappa and Grievous, he expected to receive a similar sentence.

So it was with equal surprise and relief that Rich found he was not to be sentenced but released into the custody of a man he had never heard of.  The judge recognised that Rich was a minor, had been exploited by the criminal mastermind, Nikolai Ivanovich, and was near brainwashed by a combination of designer drugs and false befriending that would not be out of place within a quasi-religious cult.

Rich learned that the judge had already identified an upstanding member of the community to be his guardian. He would ensure that Rich was provided with every opportunity to recover from his ordeal before reaching full maturity at the age of eighteen.  The judge asked the guardian to approach the bench and a man stood up in the back row.  Half expecting to see Nikolai in disguise, Rich turned to catch a glimpse of a smartly-dressed man who wouldn't have been out of place as a guest at the club.

The judge greeted him as an equal and they had a brief conversation in hushed tones.  Whatever they were saying, it was clear from all of the nodding going on that they were furiously agreeing with each other and, following a spell of particularly lively consensus, the judge turned to Rich and told him that he was free to leave.  Rich's new, state-appointed father figure turned from the judge and walked back down the aisle.  He paused when he reached Rich, who got the impression he was supposed to stand up, and the two of them walked through the double wooden doors and out of the courtroom.

The man introduced himself as Patrice Rahman, and, after Rich watched him spend an age completing a pillar of paperwork, they left the court building and walked over to his car.  It was not as flash as Nikolai's, but the fact that it came with a driver indicated that Patrice wasn't short of cash.

Inside, Patrice explained who he was and how he had helped the police search the tunnels for the Wonderlust Club.  He told Rich that he had heard rumours of a young wunderkind who, although not yet fifteen, could instantly mimic and even improve the moves of any fighting style he encountered.  When he heard how Rich was an orphaned fellow Muslim, who was most likely to be put into a childcare system that would undoubtedly stifle or even punish him for his talents, Patrice decided that he must step in.  Rich wanted to trust the guy but was suspicious of anyone who would put themselves out to such an extent for a complete stranger. 

'Well, I am grateful and thanks for getting me off the hook and all that,' Rich said, 'but seriously, I can look after myself. I really don't need mothering.'

Patrice laughed heartily at Rich's comment. 'And I really don't need some moody teenager hanging around and getting in the way of my work!  No, no, you'll stay with me for the summer while I make arrangements.  But in a few months you'll be going to a place that will embrace your skills and help you make up for the time you lost while you developed them.'

'What do you mean lost time?' Rich asked. 'What have I been missing out on?' 

Patrice smiled as they pulled through the automatic gates of his enormous out of town mansion.

'Your education, of course, Richard, you need to catch up.  An old friend of mine will be very interested in your unique talents and if he can pull some strings, which I'm sure he can, within a few short months you'll be heading off to one of the world's top boarding schools.'