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CHAPTER Twenty-Four
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The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE“Are you sure you’ve got the right spot?” Jimmy said, glancing at his watch.“Yeah,” said Rick, a tall, bulky guy with close cropped ginger hair. He stubbed out his cigarette and put his hands in the pockets of his grey hoodie. “He always makes you wait, he’s worse than a dealer that way.”They were standing on a dark corner in the back streets of Shoreditch. Rick glanced up and down the road then lit another cigarette.Jimmy had met Rick through Alfie. Quite predictably, Alfie had taken the piss the minute Jimmy asked him if he knew anyone who was into hardcore magic, the really dangerous stuff? When he’d had his fun, Alfie introduced Jimmy to Rick. Jimmy explained to Rick that he was looking for someone called ‘the Tailor of the True Cloth.’“I think you’ll need Vince for that,” Rick had said. “Have you heard of him?”Jimmy shook his head. “No.”“Some people call him the ‘Mystic Yardie,’ but never to his face. Other people call him ‘The Baron,’ after Baron
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXJimmy didn’t know Peckham well, it was a part of London he’d never been to. In fact, he never really went south of the river Thames. It had taken him all night to find the shebeen.It was in the basement of an abandoned warehouse, at the bottom of a set of concrete steps that stank of piss. He pushed open the battered steel fire door and peered inside.He saw nothing, at first, it was so dark. But he could hear muttering voices, the clink of glasses and the scraping of chairs. He wondered if we would find Vince here, or whether this would be another fruitless search.As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Jimmy saw a tall, lean figure, with shoulder length dreads, sitting alone with his back to the far wall. Vince didn’t see Jimmy as he entered the drinking den, a long thin room with a rubble strewn floor, littered with a collection of near broken furniture. Dim figures sat about makeshift tables and an obese bar man stood behind a ramshackle bar.Vince looked up as
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENVince was late. But Jimmy expected that. He didn’t know Deptford at all. It was south of the river, between Greenwich and Blackheath, the poor cousin to those well to do areas. It was supposed to be up and coming, shedding its reputation for being rough as arseholes, but Jimmy couldn’t see any difference.He felt vulnerable and out of place as he loitered at the top of the high street. The laptop, with the last surviving copy of the footage, felt unnaturally heavy in its shoulder bag. It bumped his hip as he checked his watch for the hundredth time.Finally, Vince sauntered into view and greeted Jimmy with a simple nod. He stood at the top of the street and tilted his head at odd angles, as though he was trying to see or hear things that Jimmy couldn’t.“So, does this Tailor have a shop around here?” Jimmy asked.Vince shook his head. “The Tailor has no fixed address. He manifests all over the city.”“So why pick a shithole like this?”Vince gave Jimmy anoth
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Eight
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTThe closer Jimmy got to the door, the older and more marked with age it seemed. He was afraid to knock in case he put his hand through it. He reached up to the top section and rapped tentatively. Nothing happened so he knocked a little louder.After a long pause he heard shuffling footsteps behind the door and the upper section finally opened. A short, elderly man with a long face, a little like a bloodhound’s, stood behind the door.“Can I help you?” said the man, in a gentle, almost feminine voice.“Erm . . . Is this where the Tailor is?”“Tailor?”“ . . . of the True Cloth.”“What does the sign say?”“The sign? Oh you mean this?” Jimmy pointed to the large metal scissors above the door. “Well it doesn’t say anything really, there are no words on it or anything.”The elderly man raised an eyebrow.“Oh wait, it’s like one of those medieval signs isn’t it? Right I get you. Look, I’ve not really started off on the right foot here. What I really meant to sa
The Final Cut CHAPTER Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINETen days later, Jimmy felt just as awkward on the streets of Deptford. It wasn’t that he still thought the place a dump, with its cheesy discount stores and its raucous collection of winos. It was more that he was carrying a briefcase containing hundreds of thousands of pounds, from the sale of Sam’s apartment. The estate agent had advised him to hold out for a higher price, but Jimmy had needed a quick sale, so he’d settled.Without Vince, Jimmy wasn’t sure he could find the alley again. He couldn’t do any of that voodoo stuff that Vince had done, drawing on the ground in flour and ash. He didn’t have any of that weird leaf smoke to inhale either. He was just going to have to wing it and hope he could remember enough to get back to the Tailor.Jimmy moved up the high street to the spot where he last found the alley, doing his best to replicate what Vince had done, dancing in a half-hearted manner. He chanted:“Ouvrie, Ouvrie, Open for me ALL-EE-AY!” under his b
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTYThe ancient walls sloped upwards on either side of Jimmy. Ahead lay the wooden door and the metal sign. The air tasted more exotic than he remembered, but it didn’t smell as old. Jimmy had the sense of having crossed a threshold. He’d entered the city beneath the city of his own volition. There was no going back. He’d committed himself to a course of action and had to accept whatever came after this.The sound of his feet on the cobblestones sounded muted the closer he got to the door, as though coming from a long way away. He lifted his hand to knock but the top section was opened before he could.The short elderly man peered out at him. “We’ve been expecting you for a while now,” he said.“Yeah, I err, had a bit of trouble finding the place again.”“We’d almost given up on seeing you.”“You’re not the easiest place to find.”“There are many good reasons for that.”The elderly man opened the rest of the door and motioned, with a gracious bow, for Jimmy to come i
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-One
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONEThe Tailor lifted the cover on the dummy and reached underneath. Jimmy couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but his quick, dextrous fingers seemed to be unpicking something.“The robe is unfinished in one area, as befits the material I was working with,” said the Tailor. “I can only apologise about that, but I’m afraid it couldn’t be avoided. I’ll explain why in good time.”The Tailor produced a long thin thread from under the cover. It was multi-coloured and appeared to be glowing, or perhaps shining would be a more appropriate term. The pattern on the slender thread seemed to be moving and constantly changing, almost as if it were alive.“Just as the entire history of the universe can be learned from a single molecule, if you know how to read it. So the history of a whole garment can be found in a single thread. Now, in order to open your eyes, I’m going to have to ask you to close them.”Jimmy shut his eyes as the Tailor moved behind him. He felt the Tailo
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOJimmy took hold of the thread and pulled it off his eyelids.“The footage . . . it’s the story. It’s thousands of years old.”“Yes it is. Like all good fiction it has changed and adapted itself to the latest medium. The story has slowly evolved so it can most effectively prey on the select few who encounter it. The type of twisted individuals who seek out such material.”“You haven’t explained about the ending though. Why would the story keep going just because it was open ended? I like open endings.”“That might be your biggest problem as a film maker. A story without an ending lacks the proper shape or form, it insults its audience and plagues their mind because it lacks resolution.”“Real life doesn’t have any resolution or neat endings.”“Fiction isn’t real life,” said the Tailor, as though he were explaining something to a child. “When you tell a story you are setting a contract with your audience. You don’t say to them ‘Let me tell you something that hap
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The Final Cut CHAPTER Forty
CHAPTER FORTYJimmy couldn’t stop shivering, not just from the chill air, but from everything he’d been through. He wanted to cry, but was afraid he’d lose himself to hysteria. His chest wheezed as his asthma threatened to return.He knew at some point he’d have to climb down from the table and explore the tiny space. He wouldn’t find a way out otherwise, if there was a way out. At the moment though, all he wanted to do was hug his knees and rock gently back and forth.The darkness that surrounded the tiny area was thick, black and seemingly absolute. Beyond it were beings more dangerous than Jimmy could comprehend.He had no idea what to do if he couldn’t find a way out. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He never did. He wasn’t a great finisher or completer, he needed Sam for that. He was an initiator. He launched into the things on impulse without a thought for where they might go or how they might end.It all came down to endings yet again. It always did. It wasn’t supposed to
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Nine
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINEJimmy darted behind one table and then another, trying to get as far away from the Anunnaki as possible, but nothing stopped their advance. Eventually he pushed himself up against a wall and sunk down into a squat with his arms over his head, naked and vulnerable, wearing only his boxers.The Anunnaki pushed right past him as though he wasn’t there. They were interested only in Mr Isimud. They fell on him in a blurred and shadowy mass. Jimmy pulled himself up and sat on the edge of a table.It was impossible to look directly at the massive scrum of Anunnaki surrounding Isimud. To try and take it in hurt not only Jimmy’s eyes, but also his soul.Jimmy turned away and tried to block out first Isimud’s screams and then the sounds of rending and tearing. The Anunnaki began to separate into smaller mobs each carrying a different Isimud, kicking and thrashing in their grip.Jimmy’s eyes couldn’t process the mass huddle of Anunnaki that had fallen on Isimud. The sight
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Eight
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTMelissa’s body went into convulsions. Her jaw hung open and started to spasm. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and an agonising moan escaped from her throat. Her torso shook as her body went into shock and a torrent of blood spilled from her wound, pouring over the edge of the table and onto Jimmy’s feet.Jimmy gripped Melissa’s shoulder as the blade squirmed in his hands, trying to shrug off the form it was currently holding. It looked like an image on a TV with bad reception, crackling in and out of shape. This ruptured Melissa’s organs and caused her to cough up more blood.Melissa threw her head back and stopped shaking, her breath barely perceptible. The robe around her shoulders started to liquefy and soak into her pores. Her skin was absorbing it, becoming one with the Tailor’s handiwork.As the robe merged with her flesh, and then her bones, Melissa’s body began to change. Her breasts disappeared and chest hairs sprouted in their place. Her leg
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENJimmy was no longer in the cinema, or anywhere in London.He was in a giant underground space that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. In places it looked like a cellar or a basement, in others a catacomb or a vault. In every area of the space there were people tied to operating tables, stone slabs and sacrificial altars with blurry Anunnaki buzzing round them, destroying and tormenting their flesh.Jimmy was looking at the whole landscape of a murderous story that had no end. It was a limitless cartography of pain, showing every victim the story had ever taken, all suffering side by side. The atmosphere was like that of a charnel house, on a scale that Jimmy’s mind just couldn’t process. The air was so thick with human agony you could choke on it. Jimmy pulled the robe up around himself like a small child who pulls the blankets over his face, in the dead of night.The hem of the robe had joined itself to the fabric of the story. There was no differ
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXThe Isimud that stood before Jimmy, was not the man he’d seen in his vision. He was relaxed genial, and quite unbelievably charismatic. Like the Tailor he had the air of a man who does one thing so well that it brings him a great deal of power and influence, and nothing is more charismatic than that.He also seemed to be filled with genuine anticipation. He was practically rubbing his hands together. This unnerved Jimmy more than anything. Something sinister lurked behind his anticipation, something more frightening than the maliciousness that played about his smile.“”Sometime towards the middle of the year 623 BC,” Isimud continued. “Sin-shar-ishkun, one of the last Assyrian kings, led a large army into Babylonia to crush the rebel Babylonian forces led by King Nabopolassar. To begin with, the battle went in the Assyrian’s favour and Nabopolassar’s forces were routed. Then Sin-shar-ishkun’s chariot followed his troops right up to the battle’s front, where he met
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVEJimmy passed through into a small, shabby cinema. To his immediate right were about six rows of raked seats with two further rows of seats in front of them. The seats were worn and threadbare and the screen at the front was grubby and smeared with dirt.The floor was even stickier and the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke was stronger. There were about ten men in the cinema, mostly sitting by themselves, but a few sat next to each other. One of the men had his hands down another’s trousers.On the screen, a large black woman was tied to a stained mattress. Two white men, in loin cloths and Ku Klux Klan hoods, stood over her. The woman was screaming at the men, calling them racist bastards. One of the men left and returned with an industrial sander that he applied to her nipple.The woman bellowed in pain and anguish. The hand held camera moved closer, blood and viscera spattered the lens.So this was the type of establishment Isimud was running. A private club
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Four
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURJimmy marched out of the shop, up the cobbled alley and out onto the high street. He came to a mini cab office, pushed open the glass door and walked into the waiting room. There was cracked linoleum on the floor and faded blue paint on the walls, the skirting board was scuffed. The whole place seemed dirty, run down and neglected. A bored black guy with a big afro sat behind a grimy window that opened onto the despatch office.“Help you?” the guy said without looking up.“I’d like a cab please,” said Jimmy. His voice sounded odd to him, as though it were a chorus of voices all speaking in unison. He was many characters speaking at once.It occurred to Jimmy that he was connecting with the world around him through a filter of myth. People talk about getting immersed in a story, but they have no idea what that really means. Jimmy knew what it meant; he was clothed in a story. Everything he said, and everything he touched turned to fiction.“Where you going?” sai
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE“Can I put it on now? Jimmy said. The Tailor nodded. Jimmy removed his clothes and the Tailor placed the robe around his shoulders.It didn’t feel like anything he’d ever worn before. The robe wasn’t heavy as such, it just had the grave weight of a terrible tale about tragic events. It didn’t feel like fabric against his skin, it had the substance of stories, as though there was now a barrier of fiction standing between him and the world and Jimmy could rewrite himself endlessly, changing the way he was perceived and how he interacted with everything around him.The elderly man wheeled out a full length mirror and placed it in front of Jimmy. The robe in the reflection was even more difficult to look at and even busier to the eye.“Does it really look like that on me?” said Jimmy. “It seems larger and formless, like it’s growing all the time.”“That’s because stories are only mirrored by other stories,” said the Tailor. “What you’re seeing is every other story
The Final Cut CHAPTER Thirty-Two
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOJimmy took hold of the thread and pulled it off his eyelids.“The footage . . . it’s the story. It’s thousands of years old.”“Yes it is. Like all good fiction it has changed and adapted itself to the latest medium. The story has slowly evolved so it can most effectively prey on the select few who encounter it. The type of twisted individuals who seek out such material.”“You haven’t explained about the ending though. Why would the story keep going just because it was open ended? I like open endings.”“That might be your biggest problem as a film maker. A story without an ending lacks the proper shape or form, it insults its audience and plagues their mind because it lacks resolution.”“Real life doesn’t have any resolution or neat endings.”“Fiction isn’t real life,” said the Tailor, as though he were explaining something to a child. “When you tell a story you are setting a contract with your audience. You don’t say to them ‘Let me tell you something that hap
