by Ian Jones
Gilbey whistled softly.
‘Wow, that was a long speech! But a good one. And it makes a lot of sense.’
‘Well ok. And I want to get some payback for Rita. So, how do we do this, do we get up to the plant?’
‘Let me go first, I’ll call you ok? Right now we don’t have any idea who we can trust, so let me keep this casual. Where are you staying, not the motel?’
‘No, not the motel.’
Gilbey held up a hand.
‘You know what? Don’t tell me, just in case. But I’ll call you, ok?’
‘Do it.’
They checked each other’s mobile numbers, and Gilbey looked at his watch, then slid out the booth. He reached forward and the two men shook hands.
‘Let’s go to work,’ he said, and left the diner.
Cane became properly aware of his newly elevated status when his mobile rang. It was Hunter, he had some news.
‘Say, you at the plant Mr Cane?’
‘Yes I am,’ Cane replied cautiously. He was at the plant as requested, busy doing nothing; sitting drinking coffee in the enormous canteen while everyone else was hard at work.
‘Right, well I just got a call. Gilbey is there. Right now. I’m sending a couple of guys ok? So if you see him, act all friendly. I’m dealing with it.’
‘Er … ok, right, yes I will. And what about Smith?’
‘Nothing so far. No sign. He ain’t at the Radisson, no surprise there. But Gilbey is nosing around, he was close to the girl. I got to take care of it.’
‘Right.’
Cane hung up. Normally Hunter barely spoke to him, and when he did it was always with disdain. Yesterday that call would have gone to Abel. Suddenly he didn’t feel so useless anymore. He was important. He puffed his chest out and looked all around. This would be good for him, he could feel valued again. Maybe he could get one of the big houses. He’d been made a thousand promises, none of them ever fulfilled. Well, it looked like that was all about to change, at long last. He smiled to himself. What he should do is prove himself further, make himself look even better, he just needed the opportunity.
John got the call close to two hours later. He had been trying hard to stay off the radar, basically hiding out at the Radisson keeping out the way, stewing. He didn’t want to be spotted before they had something to work on. Hiding out in plain sight was all very well but in this town he had no idea who or what was good or what was bad. He called Patrick, who was working on getting Collis out, there were some politics involved as usual, red tape to get through but it would be achieved. Soon after that his phone rang. Gilbey had something. John needed to get his ass up to the plant. Tell the gate man he had a meeting with Rob, security manager.
John went quickly over to the car and fired it up, then drove down past the rock and turned left up the hill. As usual there was hardly anyone around and those that were took no notice. He checked frequently but he wasn’t being followed.
At the gate he passed on the instructions that he was there to see Rob. The guard took his time making the call, but eventually raised the barrier and waved John through, told him where to park for the security office. He saw Gilbey’s tired Harley standing forlornly and parked up next to a shiny white SUV with BRP SECURITY written across the bottom of the doors and then walked in through a glass entrance. It was a short corridor with doors on either side. He could see Gilbey in the left hand room so he knocked and opened the door. He was in a small office, Gilbey sitting in a chair in front of a desk, behind sat a man with bright red hair, who stood up when John came in. They introduced themselves and shook hands.
‘Let’s go next door,’ Rob said, and they filed back out across the corridor into the room opposite.
Inside there were racks with DVD recorders on, and a long bench with several lines of monitors above. They were all active showing different areas of the huge plant, the pictures changing all the time. It was a good quality system in full colour. Everything was fully automated, there were several chairs in front of the bench but nobody in the room, there was no need. Rob walked over and sat down and inserted a DVD into a machine then pressed a button. He produced a tablet and started scrolling through menus and then one of the screens above blurred into life.
The guard hut came into view, looking along the barrier. A big dirty white panel van arrived, slowed then stopped at the line. Both the driver and passenger were clearly visible but they kept their faces hidden, the camera was perfectly set and obviously the men had been told. Rob pressed a button and the picture changed, now a shot of the entire front of the van. But clearly both men inside knew all about the cameras. They wore baseball caps and kept their heads lowered and turned the whole time. At no point did either camera show their faces.
‘You need to have a word with the fucking gate guy,’ growled Gilbey.
Rob nodded.
‘Not sure this helps Gilbey,’ John said.
Gilbey smiled grimly.
‘Rob wasn’t here when the detectives who pulled you in came calling. They spoke to the gate, and they got this disk. The guy they dealt with wasn’t the most helpful. But Rob was one of the smart asses who designed all this shit and knows every inch of this place, check it out.
Rob changed the DVD and worked the tablet again. Now the view was of a long loading bay; with two big trucks reversed up, fork lifts and people moving around. Rob fiddled with the complicated controls and the picture ran forward. A van appeared under the camera, moving away, the same dirty white one from earlier. It drove the length of the bay and pulled in, turning all the way around then reversing toward a single door visible at the far end. It was possible to make out the shape of two men inside. The van stopped. The passenger door opened and a man got out. Tall and thin, mobile phone glued to his ear. Nodding and talking. Then gesturing to the driver who also got out. No baseball cap now. Face not clear but a mop of blonde curly hair, shorter and wider than the other man. They disappeared around the back of the van. The door was obscured. Rob used the remote again and the time ticked past faster. Four minutes, and then the van could be seen to move around, rocking slightly on its springs, then the man with the curly hair appeared, moving fast. He jumped into the driver’s seat and pulled away.
Rob stopped the player.
‘I’ve spoken to the Odessa PD. A Detective Slater is on his way.’
John nodded.
‘That’s good, he’s pretty smart. Do either of you recognise them?’ he asked.
Both men shook their heads.
‘She was bundled inside. The tall guy must have been in the back of the van with her,’ Gilbey said.
‘I’d like to help more, I’m going to check the internal footage. That door leads into the VIP suite and there aren’t any cameras in there for obvious reasons,’ Rob told them.
‘Thanks Rob,’ Gilbey replied.
‘Yeah, thanks a lot. Slater will be interested for sure,’ John told him.
They walked out and said goodbye to Rob in the corridor. Gilbey went outside first, while John shook Rob’s hand again. He let go and turned, and saw a red pick-up immediately outside the now open door. Gilbey was already through. Automatically he pushed Rob backwards and ducked down and hurled himself out the door. Two men. Both wearing pale grey polo shirts. Both holding Beretta handguns. One was furthest from John, but closest to Gilbey. He had his gun raised high, pointing at Gilbey’s head. The other man was grinning and walking around. Both jumped when John came barrelling out the door.
He aimed straight for the nearest man. They had parked very close to the door, and now that decision was working against them. John made the couple of metres gap in less than a single second, rising up fast. He knocked the gun away and planted a solid right hand punch straight into the other man’s throat, with his left pulling down hard on the polo shirt. John heard a faint thump to his left, but concentrated on the man in front of him who was falling backwards and hit the ground, choking. John picked the gun up and whirled around to help Gilbey.
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It wasn’t needed. The surprise of John’s arrival had been enough. Gilbey had delivered a devastating blow to the man’s face, broken jaw, teeth everywhere, then had followed it with another which shattered his nose, the man was crumpled on the ground in front of the pick-up, there was an impressive amount of blood.
Two down, in less than a couple of seconds.
John straightened up. Gilbey looked at him.
‘Mine’s alive, how’s yours doing. I saw the throat punch. Animal.’
‘He’s still with us.’
Gilbey picked up the other Beretta. Rob appeared at the doorway.
‘Jesus Gilbey,’ he started, but was interrupted.
‘We didn’t start this ok? But it’s over now. You might want to edit whatever cameras you got here before that detective shows up,’ Gilbey told him, then stopped suddenly, staring. He marched over to Rob then grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him clear off the ground.
‘Who did you tell you fucking snake?’
Rob was twisting from side to side.
‘What?’
‘Who did you call? You must have got on the horn straight away you fucker.’
‘I didn’t! I didn’t call anyone Gilbey? Jesus! I have been with you, and why would I?’
‘Well someone did!’
‘Gilbey, it wasn’t me. Christ, this plant employs over a thousand people! I didn’t call anyone. Look, I helped didn’t I? I found the other camera! I could have just shown you the gate. Shit that’s all the cops have, I didn’t need to do anything!’
‘He’s right Gilbey,’ John told him. ‘Put him down.’
Gilbey dropped Rob, then attempted to straighten out the other man’s shirt.
‘Jesus Gilbey …’ Rob croaked.
Gilbey wasn’t about to apologise. Rob looked at the men lying on the ground, aware he had been very close to joining them.
‘It’s ok, we’ll tidy up,’ said John. ‘Maybe ask the gate to just let us through.’
‘Yeah, ok, ok. Jesus.’ Rob disappeared fast back into the building.
John knelt down. His guy was breathing, but uncomfortably. He was holding his throat and wheezing.
‘Just relax,’ John told him. ‘You’ll be ok.’
Then he took the man’s right hand and laid in flat on the ground, and stamped repeatedly on it, grinding his heel, making all the bones splinter. The man shrieked. John then casually broke his other arm. Gilbey watched, eyebrows raised, and repeated the actions exactly on his man, with similar results.
‘Let’s get them in the back of the truck, dump them somewhere,’ Gilbey said. ‘We can’t leave them hanging around here.’
John nodded, and together they lifted the two sobbing men into the back of the pick-up.
‘Ok, I’ll get rid of them. You go lie low, let’s meet up later ok,’ Gilbey told him, the old soldier’s natural authority coming through. John was happy to hear it.
‘When you say get rid …’ he asked.
‘It’s a figure of speech. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine. Just nowhere near us. And they’ll get medical help.’
John searched the two men quickly. They didn’t make any attempt to try to stop him, just lay there whimpering. No ID, a couple of hundred dollars and a mobile each. He handed everything to Gilbey.
‘Right, keep your phone on. I’ll talk to you later,’ Gilbey said and climbed into the cab. He started up and drove slowly away. John watched him go, then looked around. He was at the bottom corner of the plant, a straight line to the gate. He couldn’t see any windows overlooking but that didn’t mean they hadn’t attracted some attention. He wondered whether he should go and apologise to Rob again, but decided against it. Better to not bring attention to himself or anything that had happened. Gilbey had been wrong but John understood it completely.
They needed to be sure of everything. Today could go either way.
Chapter Seventeen
William Franklin Cane; nee Cage was not having a bad day, certainly the best in a long, long time. He was striding around the plant being the man and enjoying it. Hunter, of all people had gone to him, asked him for help. He would surely now have the credibility he had been lacking.
But he wasn’t used to feeling like this, and his judgement was not what it normally was, now he was about to make a decision that would change everything for him forever. It had been straightforward for him to find out Gilbey was in the security office, just a simple matter of deduction. He had found a discrete place to watch near the helicopter, and had seen the Regulators arrive. Cane didn’t enjoy violence, but it seemed to have become part of his everyday life. It had looked like business as usual and then what happens? John Smith. Flying out of the door and the next thing both Regulators are on the ground. Open-mouthed at the speed and audacity Cane watched Gilbey drive off and Smith stand looking around. He took out his phone and found Hunter’s number.
And that’s when he had a thought. Maybe Hunter wasn’t needed. Maybe there was another way, a way that would mean he was never underestimated again.
Perhaps it was the proximity of the helicopter. Or maybe the fact that he was now being regarded differently, at last. Or possibly bravado brought on by the fact he had a Colt 45 in his jacket pocket. The gun had belonged to his father, and was the only thing he owned of his. He kept good care of it, and had fired it a couple of times at the gun club. He had decided to carry it only recently, as the situation seemed to be on such a downward spiral, and was glad he had it now. Today was the day Barlow had said. Any issues with today was what he was most upset about. Well, Cane could completely resolve that problem, and he would be properly regarded for ever after. The plan grew in his mind, it was simple, fool proof. Actually, he admitted to himself, it wasn’t really his idea, Barlow had done something similar some years ago dealing with the former mayor, and it had been extremely effective. It would be perfect now. He wondered what Barlow would say to him, and what Abel would say, or especially Hunter. They would be lost for words, and Barlow’s gratitude would be endless.
The decision was made, and scrolling through the list of numbers he made an urgent call on the mobile, and then hurried around the building, keeping out of sight, guessing he had only minutes to get to where he needed to be.
He could do this. He would show the others what he was made of. He took the Colt out his jacket and felt the weight. The security office was in the front corner of the plant, with a square single story building alongside which butted out at right angles that housed the power and comms rooms. Cane approached the building from behind knowing he couldn’t be seen and then carefully made his way around it until he was peering round the corner toward the security entrance. The door to the office was right in front of him at the far end of the low building, there were vehicles parked along the wall. John Smith was just getting into his car.
Behind him Cane heard the helicopter whining as it was started.
Everything was in place. Everything that he had instructed was happening. Now, he was in charge and it was time to show everyone what he could do. He moved forward just as Smith was closing the door. He held out the Colt, and tapped hard on the glass. Smith’s head spun round and stared at him.
Smith smiled. What the hell? What was he smiling at?
Cane cocked the pistol and gestured to him to get out the car, which Smith did, and stood perfectly still next to the open door.
This is too easy thought Cane, although the smiling was niggling at him.
‘Have you got a gun?’ he asked.
Smith nodded and withdrew the Beretta he had taken just a few minutes before from the back of his trousers. He held it out straight in front of him, then dropped it into the footwell inside the car.
‘Let’s go, this way,’ Cane ordered, pointing quickly, keeping the gun fixed on Smith, who closed the car door. They moved back around the building and headed straight over toward the helicopter, which was standing with the rotor blades spinning in idle mode. The pilot, a heavy man in h
is fifties with dyed black hair in a quiff, who could make good cash appearing as Elvis in Vegas, was standing by the open rear door, watching as Cane hurried Smith across the grass. Smith looked at him and then climbed inside and sat down on the back seat; Cane followed him in and sat in the corner by the door, still with the gun aimed at Smith. The pilot slammed the door closed and walked around to climb in the front. He strapped in and pulled on a headset, speaking rapidly into the microphone under his chin. Then he twisted on the throttle and raised the collective. The rotors spun faster and they began to lift straight up in the air, then the pilot moved the cyclic and the nose dipped and they turned hard and headed east, still climbing.
