Alaska Despatch

Northern lights. If you haven't seen them, well, I reckon I feel sorry for you. Such a sight makes me forget why we are here. Rogers finds my romantic take on our situation tiresome. Someday she will crack. For someone so passionate about what she does, she has a real lack of empathy for beauty and whimsy. For me there is an underlying melancholy to everything. I see it in the sudden shock of cold under a crystal clear night sky. The clean sharp ice of the air feels fresh and inhospitable all at once and that is the mixture of pleasure and sadness I need. It keeps me from becoming a machine from the work we do and even allows me tinge of pity when I look into the eyes of a vicious criminal. Right there under the events that brought that person to a point where Rogers and I bring their world of wrong crashing about their feet, right there is someone who began as someone's child. A small being with hopes, excitement, needs and wonderment. Even the biggest criminals needed their mother once upon a time.

I often think I should take on the case of Scarlett Rogers. Someone once held her close when she trembled with fear at the unknown. Someone sat her on their knee and told her tales to make her gasp and wonder. And yet, huddled on the floor is the sleuthing equivalent of a cold blooded ocean deep killer. I don't care, but it would be interesting to see the past that made the person. I do care, of course, when it means she snarls at me as I look up at the aurora borealis cloaking this northern  icy sky. Fair enough, it kind of wasted many days of staking out in a basic log hovel - but what a sight.

So, having followed many a tenuous lead to trace the diary of a well paying client, we have been clattering about this backward region of Alaska trying to find the man who had a vested interest in the contents of the diary. I had hoped this case would not be a simple chase of a jealous boyfriend, frantic to read all the gorey details of his lover's betrayal - I had not, however, imagined we would be quite so out of our depth and chasing down someone who would at best be considered a person to avoid. Frankly I fear for anyone who is connected to us. If 'he' discovers we are on his trail he is likely to stop at nothing to erase us from his path. Rogers, of course, feels no such fear and considers her indifference to his collosal reputation as her weapon. As though he could be taken down with one dismissive flick of her fringe. Deep down I don't doubt it. One snub from Rogers could dissarm a small army.

We drove deep into this wilderness for the second time after a false alarm which resulted in us returning to Anchorage with tails between legs (but which led to a highly interesting night for me as I became somewhat intertwined with the fate of a seductive woman I met in the general store, until her lumberjack came crashing into our night of boozy bliss. Luckily I had consumed enough whisky and wine so as to be anaesthetised to his fisty insults). Back on the trail we have been keeping a low profile so as to make our presence unknown to enemies and bears, unable even to light a small fire. We were to watch for our mark as he made his way to his unknown hideaway. All we knew was that he had to pass this point. We missed him because I was too consumed with trying to convince Rogers that the sky was beautiful. I hate these big international cases. I'm too broken and rusty for this shit. Why can't we get back to our simple roots. I hear from our secretary that an important case involving a stolen secret family recipe awaits us. Perfect.

For now we need help. Without Rogers agreement I am going to call my man at the company and get some 21st century surveillance on this goon.