El QuimiPop ASESINO anda Suelto!!


Panic in Sesame Neighbourhood

based on a postume novel by Alexander Rodin

By Jetfire (18/07/1998)

Running, it was a running Monday, more or less as running as it can be a runing day in Barcelona at the end of XX century. That day it rose a grey mist, more likely to contamination that to an atmosferic fenomenon.

Alien to this last situation, the two estroboskopikal heroes woke up, as any given monday, eyereuseus and half asleep.
Riiing! The awakener sounded very insistently did half an hour until Harris found chancla, moment at which the impact of the same one against the awakener concluded the life utility of the same one.
Jack, in its house, fought with maquinilla to shave. The insistent humming of the device put the agent, that, hung as it were, was incapable to maintain the vibrant tool with a hand, the result nervous were several cuts in the face, after which the agent decided 'hide' electrical small device by the window of the bath. Perfectly dresses (that is to say, com the same clothes grasientas that had had been the two last weeks) went out. They lived in 2 leaned villas door with door, reason why they were in the stairs.

- Good morning Jack!

- Good morning Harris!

They lowered by the stairs and they directed to red golf gti more down parked meters. While they walked, Jack shot a cocaine tin squashed tail, that hit against the wheel of a car in movement. An explosion put in guard the 2 agents, who, quick, unholstered their arms, verified once again that their nerves had betrayed to them, since such explosion was the tire burst by the tin. The car went to explode to a lamppost; the crane of the Racc would have work that morning.

They seated in the car and Jack put the key in the contact. The roar caused by the tubarro of the automobile caused the fright of the old women that walked then by the street, that slipped of the walking one and gave of noses against paving stones of the sidewalk, another case more for the dentist of the social security. Quickly, and without watching after the rear-view one, Jack it left the seat of parking and accelerated the car, both agents started up towards the police station… passing before by the bar of the corner, to take carajillo.

Una vez llegando tarde al trabajo, no importaba que fuera media o una hora, así que llegaron a la Tasca Manolo, donde les esperaba un carajillo cargado, como cada mañana.
Once arriving late at the work, it did not matter that outside one hour mediates or, so they arrived at the Tasca Manolo, where waited for carajillo to them loaded, like each morning. Manolo, when seeing them to enter, kept all the glasses from crystal that was in the bar and it prepared the two cognac cups with coffee and the typical bowl to them with pistachios. Both agents seated in the bar, and both agents took off the hats. Both agents smiled when seeing the prepared carajillos, and both agents took individual pistachos the unisonous one.

- That is Manolo? Jack Asked.
-, Very well good, just as yesterday, just as always.
- That so Madrid yesterday?
- Fatal, he lost again and above Raul injured itself
- Haw Haw Haw -laughed Harris- already is about to to you well to play so dirty.
- To that Raul ja taught I to him I play of legs... with iron toes haw haw haw

Both agents were put to laugh sonorous while all the clients of the bar turned themselves to watch that caused such scandal (that without considering that was in a bar where most of people was of Madrid)

On TV, an interruption in the program of the morning was giving place to a last minute news;
- ' Action Man has returned to the demon path in the city with his superbike, till now all the traffic agents have done all their best for catching him, but he always escapes from them, we will continue reporting '.

Both agents stopped seeing the images of the helicopter on tv on the pursuit.
- ' Bastard! '- , Jack said, - ' this guy drives worse than Irvine, we will have to give a few lessons of city driving to the pitufos in order that they can catch him of a prostitute time '. -
- Jaw jaw jaw!, - both agents laughed sonorously while they were leaving the coffee cups on the table.

They threw the 300 skins to Manolo, with so bad fortune that they hit against a glass that he had forgotten to gather of the bar and they burst it.

They left the bar and they raised the car, properly parked on the sidewalk, and they were directed towards the police station.

Already in the police station, they left its raincoats on its tables and they seated to read the information, in summary, seated to hoped that it rained a case of the sky.
- “Ken, bring us some coffees”, said Harris.
- “Yeeees”, sounded the voice of ken from the other side of the office. Already with the coffee on the table, he appeared the commissioner with a folder in the hand.
- “Boys, were hoping to you, I have a case for you”.
- “Goood” replaced the detectives in unison.
- ' Whore work? Jack asked.
- 'Murder and multiple multilation? , Harris said.
- “Multiple Death and violations with animals of by means” it crossed-examine Jack.
- “Nonboys, are to investigate the death of a yonki”, said the commissioner.
- “Oh”, talked back disillusioned Harris
- “to joder, that does those of homicides, that that stops receive”
- “we are right to think that there is something but, Jack”, said the commissioner
- “ because? ”, the agents said. -
that so if do a neuronal effort and you read the report, that stops that is? The commissioner left to the report upon the table and went, leaving both detectives watching it as if outside a rare tiny beast (the report, not the commissioner).
- “ Whatever páges it has? ”, it said to Harris watching the report as if an alien one was.
- “8”, replaced Jack, both agents were watched
- “Too many”, said in unison.
- “Ken, make us a summary of the report while we go toooo…”, said Harris
- “Tooo. to investigate a case of health, now we return”, said Jack while the raincoats were put.

They left the premises and they went to the Dunkin' Donuts that, strategically, somebody had placed near the police station before. After to have tasted all pastries of the premises (after showing its credentials (false) as inspectors of food sanity)volvieron to their writing-desks, where the read the summary of 10 lines that had prepared them Ken.

Basically the dead was a yonki, apparently by overdose, that had been found between sweepings bags in the Real Seat. Another case more. They were prepared to leave. Loaded arms, well. Bullets very well, well. Paste for 'unt' to somebody, well. Donut in the pocket, either, and finally, a sweated sock in case the things were put ugly (at the time of interrogating to somebody), or. Jack and Harris were ready to leave.

The Real seat was next to the police station, 2 streets more down, but it did not prevent the agents to take to the red car, dice the roar caused by big tube of the vehicle, was essential that the baddies heard to them before they arrived, was a measurement of psychological pressure... although. thinking it better, simply was that such roar they liked them.

The policeman that guarded the location began to be very. The detectives of the case towards 2 hours that they would have to have arrived. He bothered to him to have to keep the scene from the crime, his was to patrol by the streets in search of illegal immigrants.
The roar caused by a red car cleared to him of its absorventes thoughts. The red car went directly with speed towards him.
It removed his weapon, its body was put in tension and it was prepared to shoot. Immediately, the red car restrained skidding and it was located to his height.
Jack and Harris left the smoky car with a smile profidén.
- Look as it is possible to be skidded in this paving stone ground? Harris said.
- You are right, I must a carajillo to you. Jack responded.
Both detectives turned themselves towards the agent, who kept the weapon while saying in little voice between teeth something on his mothers.
- Already was hour! it said.
- Ehh, if, good, were much traffic, where was the body?
- Right here, the agent said indicating towards a corner of the seat.

The corner formed by 2 buildings was the destined one so that a pair of green containers of the sweepings had their place. There, after the police cord, it was painted in chalk the personal position of the corpse when dying, as well as several effects. Jack scrutinized with its glance the seat, that to those hours in the morning was practically empty, while Harris transferred the police tape and watched the chalk at great length.

- That it suggests to you, Jack?
Jack was turned and watched, - not, it is some species of test of spots?
- I see a butterfly with a blind person of shitting itself.
- bets are accepted, said Harris. You that you think that he was doing when he died, agent?
- Maaaaan, died of overdose, I say I that still I would have shoots in the arm no?
- I believe that was being crushed it, Jack said
- How, the agent asked. - Man, very sure that porno makes this magazine here but? Harris said.
- Very weelll... Jack removed to one greased notebook and a pen model ' Colombó, we have yonki of excrement that after shooting itself becomes straws...
- Correct, the magazine will be had left porno like test. Harris removed a stock market from black sweepings and put the magazine inside.

The agent, astonished of the shrewdness of the agents, removed his notebook and said:
- here they have the declarations of the people who found the corpse.
It passed the notepad to Jack, that read it superficially.
- Like always, nobody has seen nothing.... except the corpse.
Jack gave the pad to the agent, opened the container but next to the chalk and it put inside. It closed the container on the inside.
- Uuuuhhhh I am the ghost of the yonkiiiii !!! - said from within
- Haw haw haw haw haw!!! - laughed Harris, the policeman became ashamed and such spectacle and retired of the scene.
- Big cunt!! look that we have here! - Jack in the container said.
- Yes? - Harris asked
- A few grams of... of cocaine! - it was heard from within.
- It goes. they already took in appearing, - said Harris while it examined the burner pertaining to the bastard yonki.
- We see that so it is, Jack said while it opened the container. - Harris ignited pitillo with the burner of the dead and kept it in the pocket.
- Here no longer we have nothing to do, we needed to see the corpse.
- To these hours already it will have examined it the doctor death - talked back Jack while he left the container.
- Agent, take care that they take the personal effects of the dead to digital tracks.
- Yes Sir, - said the agent, that he removed the walkie and he began to say things.
Jack took golf, gave a steering wheel blow and it was placed facing the street. Harris entered and the car left flying towards its following destiny.

El instituto anatómico forense estaba situado en el hospital clínico, así que Jack dirigió el coche Ramblas arriba.
Durante el trayecto y como aparecido de la nada, una fulgurante moto roja se cruzó por su camino.
- ¡Nadie me adelanta y menos una moto de mierda! gritó Jack.
Jack notaba el sedoso contacto del volante deportivo y los 110 caballos bajo su control cuando decidió darle su merecido al motorista. Pisó a fondo.
La energía de su pie se transmitió como un reloj suizo al elástico motor, que, en respuesta a sus deseos, aumentó vertiginosamente la velocidad.
Por el retrovisor, Jack vió que un coche patrulla de la guardia urbana también perseguía al motorista.
Ambos agentes sonrieron mientras el golf aumentaba la velocidad.
- A... M..., dijo Harris mientras miraba a la moto... esas siglas me suenan...
- Ese logo... ¡Es Action Man en su supermoto!!
- A por él! grito Jack mientras hundía (aún más) el pie del acelerador.
El estruendo provocado por la repentina subida de revoluciones del coche sobresaltó al motorista, que miró para atrás y aceleró el ritmo.

Unos cuantos metros más arriba estaba la Plaza de Catalunya, sumida en pleno atasco.
Action Man lo vió muy claro  y se encaminó hacia la ancha acera, con intención de amilanar a sus perseguidores... poco sabía quienes eran quien lo perseguían.
Un hilillo de baba caía por la barbilla de Jack cuando éste subió a la acera del paseo llevándose por delante una de las típicas paradas de flores de las ramblas, el coche de la guardia urbana siguió la persecución por la calzada, deteniéndose tras el atasco.
El motorista empezó a tirar cosas al coche que lo perseguía, una pistola... nada, un cuchillo... nada algo más contundente, pensó, y sacó un ladrillo que, tras darle al coche, aplastó un palomo que inocentemente estaba comiendo por ahí... nada.
Action man puso a prueba su imaginación (y su super-moto) e usó la alta tecnología de que esta disponía. Rápidamente, fijó el blanco de los hiper-ultra-misiles-secretos en el golf rojo y disparó el arma. El misil surcó el aire rápidamente e inició la trayectoria de impacto.
Jack, experto al volante, encaminó el coche hacia un banco de abrillantador de zapatos y justo en el instante del impacto, la rueda delantera izquierda tocó la suela de metal del banco, con lo que logró poner el coche sobre su dos ruedas derechas, pasando el misil por debajo del coche. El misil impactó contra la puerta del recién reconstruido Liceo y la tremenda explosión inició un incendio.

Un volantazo y el coche volvía a estar sobre las cuatro ruedas, listo para reanudar la persecución.
El incidente con el misil había dado unos metros de ventaja a Action Man, pero no los suficientes.
El golf se puso a la altura de la moto y Harris sacó el bate de béisbol por la ventanilla, con clara intención de dar.
La parada de metro de Catalunya salvó por unos instantes a Action Man, obligando al golf a esquivarla a la izquierda y la moto a la derecha.
Action Man sacó una palanca de metal y entabló combate de esgrima con Harris.
En el fragor del combate, Harris le pegó al manillar de la moto, que, desviada de su trayectoria en el asfalto, fué a petar contra el monumento en forma de escalera.
Jack y Harris sonrieron mientras vieron por el retrovisor cómo explosionaba la moto. Action Man pudo escapar antes de que llegara la guardia urbana.

Sin más novedad que unos cuantos semáforos en rojo, los agentes llegaron al Hospital Clínico.
Aparcaron el coche en el parque adjunto y entraron en el edificio.
Conocían bien el camino, puesto que antes de llegar al puesto de detectives, habían sido siempre los encargados de trasladar los cuerpos al depósito.
Entraron en las frías dependecias del depósito, donde un celador leía una revista.
- Buenos días, dijeron al unísono los agentes
- Buenos días, respondió el celador... ¿que desean?
- Queremos ver al yonki de esta noche, aquí tiene sus datos. Le enseñaron el número de expediente.
El celador pulsó un botón del interfono, que respondió:
- ¿Si?
- Forense, dos agentes le esperan para ver el cadáver XJ-681
- De acuerdo, ahora vengo, sonó por el interfono.

Unos momentos de espera y el forense apareció por la puerta de su despacho.
- ¡Hombre! ¡Pero si son Jack y Harris! Encantado de veros muchachos,
Jack y Harris sonrieron, hacía muchos años que conocían al forense.
- O sea que os han enchufao el yonko de esta noche.. para mi es muy claro.. muerte por sobredosis.
- Si, pero hay algunas cosas que hay que aclarar, dijo Jack
- Vale, acompáñenme, caballeros.
El forense se encaminó hacia la sala de neveras, seguido por Jack y Harris.
Llegaron a la altura del cadáver, el forense pulsó un botón y apareció de la inmensa nevera una cama con el cuerpo.
Harris quitó la sábana blanca y miró al cadaver.
- Exacto, como habíamos apuntado... ¿cómo explica esa erección del miembro?
- Bueno, alguien dijo alguna vez que un chute con cocaína es como un orgasmo... quien sabe, el cuerpo es un enigma y...
- Ya, pero aquí dice que el cuerpo fué encontrado con la chorra en la mano, interrumpió Jack, que estaba leyendo el informe del forense.
- Nosotros opinamos que se la estaba cascando cuando murió, encontramos una revista porno en el lugar de los hechos. Dijo Harris.
- ¿Podría ser que hubiera muerto como consecuencia de una taquicardia provocada por la dosis de coca y el esfuerzo de cascarsela? Preguntó Jack.
- Todo el mundo sabe que cuando vas drogao no se te levanta fácilmente, dijo el forense, - podría ser.
- Y el tamaño del miembro... este tío prometía.
- Es cierto, tiene una chorra enorme... ¿no podríamos hacer un transplante? dijo el Forense
Jack y Harris se miraron y sonrieron.
- Nosotros ya vamos 'bien equipados' dijeron al unísono.
- Doctor, ¿nos puede hacer un favor?
- Sí, claro, cómo no...
- ¿Puede examinar esta coca?, preguntó Jack al tiempo que le mostraba al forense el paquetito que había encontrado en el contenedor.
- Un momento, dijo el forense mientras cogía el paquetito y se encaminaba al laboratorio.
- ¿Que crees? Preguntó Jack a Harris
- Que este tío no era un yonko normal, mira,
- Joder vaya trancazo, es realmente una polla enorme.
- No idiota, mira la revista.
- Joder.. ¡pero si es este tío! ¡se está trabajando a una rubia con unas tetas explosivas!
- Este tío era actor porno, y por alguna razón se decidió chutar.
- Mira, tiene pocas marcas de agujeros en el brazo... era un yonki novel, dijo Jack.




Psicohistorias | Capítulo 2 >>




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