Diamonds and Deviants

Legends, myths, folk tales - every nation has them, even the relatively new ones, nations that are less than a millennia old, less than half a millennia old.
Vampires have become the most common, varying stories that came across the vast oceans with the new settlers. Witches, werewolves, hob-goblins and trolls are there too, nestling in amongst the tales of hardship, loneliness, hunger and strife. It wasn’t enough that the settlers in a new land had new, natural hazards to overcome; they had to battle old ones from the old country too. The vampires, witches and werewolves travelled along with them in their minds, their hearts and their fears.
Stories of hardworking people trying to make a new life for themselves in the new, exciting, dangerous but ultimately rewarding land were peppered with tales of temptation, the devil handing out prosperity too easily for the price of a soul gave adequate warning against laziness, drove a spike of terror into the hearts of communities that wished their lives were just that little bit easier or that all their dreams could come true right now.

What? You thought that the idea of instant gratification was a new concept? Not even close.

Those tales were understandable - fables of temptation and the ultimate turnaround of a fallen sinner redeemed at last by the love and devotion of a family and a community who put their trust in hard work and men of God.
A community once divided by greed, brought back together by the clever defeat of the Prince of Temptation, Old Hob, The Devil - the eternal struggle of good over evil.
What of other tales? What of the myths dragged with pilgrims and settlers from the old countries? What purpose do they serve? Why do men perpetuate those tales?
Blood sucking vampires, men turned to beasts of the field by the light of the full moon, goblins, witches, faeries, trolls, giants, dwarves? Why do these stories persist? If it isn’t for a useful and instructional moralistic tale, is it then because there might be a basis in fact?
Did those creatures really once exist? Were they eradicated by vigilant humans or did the creatures just learn to hide their existence better? Did they learn to use man’s growing disbelief that he was lower down the food chain than he would like? Did they - do they use his unwavering faith in the advances of science against him? The scientific fact that explained why a victim of tuberculosis when dug up, disinterred, exhumed, looked plump and healthier in death than they had at their last in life. The natural processes of decomposition forces blood from orifices such as the mouth where the blood vessels are closer to the skin’s surface to make it seem as though the corpse had somehow been reanimated to claim other victims and feed on their blood?
Then man’s inventive and macabre imagination, coupled with his desire to be scared, gave stories of werewolves, forever enslaved by the moon, forced by the monthly phenomena into murderous, frivolous killing sprees. Did those creatures really only exist in man’s warped imagination? His eternal fear that one day he could revert to the savagery of days long since gone, times when it really was kill or be killed. When man had only tooth and claw to rely on rather than his inventive nature and advanced weaponry - before he even had the idea of propulsion, slings and rocks, bows and arrows, cannon and rocket.
Man has advanced up that food chain, killed everything he feared, done away with the animals that could kill him, drove them deep into the forest, the ever decreasing forest and jungle, to make absolutely certain that he can sleep easy in his bed. Man has no predator now, only other men.
Or did those ancient predators evolve? The predators of old, those that are human based or could pass for human with a little genetic manipulation, interbreeding with humans over the centuries to bring their features more in line with what was acceptable. Did the mythical, legendary and creatures of folk tales ever exist? No? Are you sure?
Just because vampires, werewolves, witches and goblins are told of in fairy stories, told to children doesn’t make them less real. If they existed once, they may still exist; they may just have become wise to man’s destructive nature, become better at camouflage and disguise.
Would a predator really show itself to its victim if the victim had the means to kill it? What sense does that make?
If a zebra had the means to slaughter the lion, would the lion ever allow the zebra to know of its existence? The answer to that of course, is no.
It suits the predators of man to allow the belief in his own ultimate supremacy. Vampires, vulnerable by day, would be winked out of existence. Werewolves, susceptible to precious metal, would be gone in the blink of an eye. Disbelief is the weapon of choice for the mythical creatures and if vampires and werewolves exist, how many other creatures do too?

Visitors to the apartment would probably wonder at a few things. The fully automated security blinds on all the windows for one thing. Why would an apartment need such high security, so high up above the rest of the city? Even the windows that didn't have a balcony had the shutters. The visitor would possibly assume paranoia - or perhaps the more fanciful would imagine a vampire that sought protection from the daylight hours. Then the lack of any foodstuffs, cooking implements etc may encourage another fleeting notion of vampiric occupation.
The apartment was scrupulously tidy, almost as though the owner didn’t live there much. Again, once it has been thought of, ‘vampire’ could spring to mind as a likely reason.
The aforementioned visitor would be wrong in all of their assumptions. The owner of the apartment was not a vampire and was certainly not paranoid.
Apart from the fact that the apartment was very much lived in, used and loved, it also never received visitors. Not one. Never.
The mail was delivered to a secure box in the foyer and the apartment was cleaned thoroughly by a trusted and well vetted employee of the building’s maintenance firm. The cleaning service was expensive as cleaning goes but it was an opt-in or out service so no-one had cause for complaint.
As an additional service, all visitors were screened and checked. If the occupant had neglected to give the name of any visitor, then even if the visitor had been regularly allowed in for years previously, if there was no name on the list, then there was no admittance.
The Security Guy had slipped up only once and before his shift had ended, he was replaced.
“If the name’s not down, they’re not getting in” was the unofficial motto.
If there was paranoia to be assumed, then it was right there, where the choice of the building had been made. Anyone living in the building wanted and paid for the ultimate in absolute security.
It took a while to get to know everyone in the building but the security firm prided itself on being the very best. No effort was too large or too small. Even the pampered pooches were recognised and referred to by name. But more than that, the Security Guy had to be intuitive too.
A hangover? Security Guy would speak quietly, if at all.
A funeral? Security Guy offered respectful condolence or dignified silence, a black armband and on the one occasion, a tissue and a shoulder to lean on.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, was too much trouble for Security Guy but the occupants also knew that they would never be allowed to debase, humiliate or take advantage of the Security Guy. They were expected to have more class than that. And yes, it did come as a complete shock when that point was rammed home.
The playboy that argued with the Security Guy because his three guests, two beautiful women and his best friend - a regular and recognised visitor, had been turned away found that his lease was terminated. The lawyers found that the lease, signed by dear ol’ dad was airtight. Dear ol’ dad had to negotiate a new lease for the apartment that excluded his playboy son from even making visits to the building - he was pleased to do so.
The aging, petulant diva (not in a good way) film star also found out just how binding the lease was. When she tried to insist that her Teacup Papillion was taken outside by the Security Guy ‘for a tinkle‘, she found herself a new apartment - the very next day.
The Security Guys were respectful, polite and very well paid. They took their job seriously because the firm was the one that those in the trade aspired to work for. It was the pinnacle of security work, the height of an outstanding career.
When they became tired of being on the road, getting shot at for presidents and presidente, sick of the demanding film stars and rock gods, the move to make was to snag a post at ‘Crystal Securities - Clearly a Cut Above‘. It was a career move that meant good health benefits, a decent pension scheme (optional) and self-respect. Sure, the hours were long and unsociable and there were the dangers of armed robberies too, especially back in the early days. There was also the worry of rival firms trying to muscle in on the classier action. All the disadvantages were compensated for and outweighed by the benefits. The armed robberies happened so infrequently that it had almost become one of the things they warn about and train for ‘just in case’.
Unfortunately, the danger of a rival firm trying to take over was all too real. Until that kind of firm got the message and moved on to try other, less able security firms, the Security Guys had to be on full alert at all times.
They’d get the hint, sooner or later, one way or another but until they did, if that situation occurred, it was a case of all leave cancelled and all hands on deck.
But at the end of the day, the employees knew which side their bread was buttered. Crystal Securities looked after its employees and they repaid with loyalty.

The occupant of the penthouse suite, (the one with the full-on security shutters, remember) strolled down the stairs in a long, elegant black gown. She wore her dark brunette hair loose and it cascaded down her back in what seemed like jewelled, silken hanks with flashes of mahogany and red sifted in. Her hair had a deep and healthy shine that drew admiring glances from men and women alike and she had been approached by more than one hair care product manufacturer to pose as their hair girl. She had, of course, declined every offer.
She was athletic and when wearing clothes that were cut to cling to her curves, her musculature could be seen if an observer could tear his gaze from her mesmerising dark eyes. Of all her physical qualities, her eyes were the feature that held attention and kept drawing the admirer back. Some described her eyes as hypnotic, spellbinding, compelling and she always played on her best features. Her eye make-up was dark and dramatic, she was playing them up this evening.

“Good evening, Miss Diamond,” the Security Guy said.
“Good evening Mike. I wonder if you could scare up a taxi for me please?”
Her smile was genuine and she knew very well that Mike had a thing for her, but as long as he kept it hidden and never ever tried to make anything more of it, he was a valuable member of the building’s staff and she was fine with that.
“Of course, Miss Diamond.”
He pressed a button under the desk to alert the other Security Guy outside.
She stood a little way from the desk that Mike sat behind until she was informed that a taxi was waiting for her. She didn’t want to give Mike any wrong impressions of friendship. He knew the score and didn’t try to engage her in conversation as she waited.
“Your taxi, Miss Diamond,” Mike said. “Have a good evening.”
She thanked him and went outside. She heard him greet another resident as she left the building. He used the exact same tone as he had with her. She smiled, Mike was a professional.
He probably didn’t realise but her opinion of him was the only one that mattered. He was employed by the security firm that she owned. Miss Diamond was the one who had dreamed up the concept of a building with the security so high that even the mice were screened. She wanted ultimate security in her home and when she couldn’t find a company that lived up to the high standards that she required, she made one.

The taxi arrived at the hotel that she had asked to be taken to. It wasn’t the exact location she needed but she wanted to make whoever it was that was tailing her, work for it.
She slipped past the concierge with a nod and a smile and went to the elevators. She selected three different floors when the doors closed.
When the doors opened for the second time, on floor nineteen, she punched the buttons for another two floors and stepped out of the elevator. She walked to the end of the corridor and turned left towards the rear of the building. There was a fire escape there but instead of slipping through that door, she took advantage of another door starting to open on her left. She pushed the door open wide, barged past a very surprised couple and went through their room to the window. The view was wonderful - if you like a high rise vista of another hotel in front of you and an alley filled with trash cans below. She opened the window, ignoring the shouts of anger from the disgruntled couple. She slipped off her shoes as she leaned out of the window to look down into the alley then she turned to throw a few hundred dollar bills on the bed. She winked at the bemused and still angry couple and then she put a forefinger to her lips. “Shhhh!” she said and she leaped out of the window. She heard the shouts of outrage turn to alarm as she dropped. She heard the window close behind her and then she heard nothing but the wind rushing past her ears.
Miss Diamond, wealthy heiress, philanthropist, single, beautiful and a very enigmatic young woman stepped from the trash-strewn alley as though it was a mansion. She walked a few more blocks, making certain that she had lost her pursuer and then went to her real destination.
The charity ball at the Waldorf would benefit tremendously from her excellent humour that evening.
The one that had attempted to tail her would not. His body - or most of it - would never be discovered. Her only regret was that she hadn’t figured out who or what he was.