Cameron

Cameron trudges - hands shoved deep into his pockets, head bowed, lost in thought - up the long, winding path that led to the top of the hill. The evening sun has begun to set. Birds circle overhead, cawing and singing in the dying light.

He doesn't notice the man sitting on the bench, sucking on a toothpick. Not until he speaks.

"Hey."

Cameron ignores him.

"Hey. Hey, you. Stop."

"Huh?"

"Name's Vos. Detective Quentin Vos. Interpol."

He flashes Cameron his badge.

Cameron inspects it closely. Carefully. Looking for the signs. He knows a forgery. He's made plenty of them in his short twenty years.

It's real.

Cameron has seen them before.

"What do you want?"

"Are you Cameron Josepth? Son of Geoffrey Joseph? Heir to the Joseph Crime Family..."

Cameron tenses.

"Stop! Leave me out of this!... ... ... Please."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, kid. You see, there was an incident earlier this week. Old associates of your father's took a radio station hostage. Hijacked a live broadcast. Demanding that he come and join them... lead them once more. But... he never turned up. We managed to regain control of the tower. And made several arrests. Archer Grahams. Patrick Boyd. Peter Linstrom... And Arianna Joseph... Your mother."

"... ... ..."

"Their plans for triumphant return went up in smoke. Probably because their charismatic leader, the unifier of the operation, was not around to call the shots. No one has seen him. No one. For three years. He just... vanished. Without a trace. And that is terrifying."

"... ... ..."

"We haven't stopped looking for him. After all that time. We know he's still out there. Plotting his return. His next move. A canny, shrewd, devious man like that does not simply walk away, not without contingencies and next steps. That is why... I want you to tell me everything you know about him."

"Hah. Interpol must have a lot of time on its hands. Chasing ghosts. This conversation..."

"Hmm. Well, I guess that's just part of the job."

"It’s funny... The last time I saw him was three years ago."

"Three years ago?!"

"Yeah. It was right after the old man returned to the Verdant Club.”

"We did a raid on the Verdant Club... We missed him."

"I know... I saw that happen. I ... ... ... I was on my way back home... After ... after I told my father I wanted nothing more to do with him. Or his bloody legacy."

"I'm...sorry."

"For what? He is an evil man."

"He's your father."

"Father? Does a father prioritise extortion, interrogation, and racketeering over his son's eighth birthday? Does a father demand that his son kill someone on Father's Day and then call them a weakling—a disappointment when they can't pull the trigger? Beats them black and blue and tells them they are not a man... That they have no spine! That... that... .... .... ... He ran away. That night. Two of his deals went bad. One of his lieutenants, Ricky "Crimson" Drake, was shot and killed. Another, Eliza "Blue" Tate, made a power grab. Took over most of his territory."

"Yes. We’ve had dealings with the Tates in the past."

"... ... ... He always boasted that he was the strongest. The most powerful. That I should trust only in strength. In control. In dominance. So when, on that night, he left the Verdant with his tail between his legs, I asked why he was running. In the night. Like a coward. And he struck me for my insolence. He told me... he told me ... No leader is strong if they refuse to learn and grow from defeat. That he had failed to maximise the potential of his men, and it had cost him. That he was going away. And won't return until he is ready to lead an organisation that would listen to him without question. Without infighting, petty squabbles... without disloyalty. Disloyalty like mine... ... ... I ... ... ... I ended things. Said I wanted nothing more to do with him. And that I would never, NEVER be anything like him. A high and mighty fool who would rather have the love and devotion of sycophants and yes men than his own child. A weak man who hides behind dangerous criminals, playing Godfather and gangsters when he is merely Bugsy Malone... ... ... I was going to be strong on my own. Stronger than him. Stronger than anyone... ... ... On my own... ... ... Anyway... that was the last time I saw my old man. My mum too ... ... ... Since then, I've made good on my own. Doing things my way. I'm a lot less well off financially. I have to scrape and save to get by. But it's my money. Clean money. Not my family's blood money."

"Hmm... I’ve seen. We did run a background check on you. Nice little florists you have. Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy. If you hear anything, you’ll give me a call?"

Vos offers Cameron his card with a smile.

"... ... ... I don't know... ... ... Maybe... ... ... I am keeping out of my old man's affairs. And I'm a lot happier for it. Likely, he's doing the same thing. Besides... It's your job to find him. I don’t want to tread on your toes."

"Hah."