by Jake Cross
‘Watch the video,’ was all he said.
Toni turned the coffee table so that the TV and laptop faced away from Lazar, so they could watch without giving Lazar their backs. Nate knelt before the TV, but Toni remained standing, off to one side, so that her view of Lazar was unrestricted. The gun barrel never stopped pointing at him.
Nate fed the flash drive in the laptop. A list of folders popped up on both screens.
‘Oh look, the laptop’s fine,’ Toni said sarcastically. ‘It’s almost as if he wanted us in here.’
‘Keep that gun on him,’ Nate said.
‘I can’t be held responsible if something happens because he tried a cheeky move.’
‘Don’t think I don’t know that you want him to try that cheeky move.’
Knowing that Lazar would understand exactly what Nate meant by that, Toni winked at the police officer. Please try, she mouthed at him.
‘Third file down,’ Lazar said. ‘Then the second video in the list. I could go out for popcorn while you watch?’
Nate followed the instructions. A video started to play. Nate instantly knew what he was seeing. CCTV footage from inside HyperX. A certain night four years ago. Footage that had been stolen, according to the police. According to Lazar. But here the footage was.
Lazar watched them as they watched the screen.
It was hi-def video with timestamp but no audio. Location: the workshop, where Ryback’s three glossy Rolls-Royce Wraiths wait, wrapped in plastic. And here come the robbers: four machete-wielding men clad head-to-toe enter. They’re identical except for the hands: each wears different coloured gloves.
They enter behind two of Nate’s crew. Carl Webber, thirty-three, a tall white guy, someone who looks older than his years because he sweated the small stuff, said it kept him alert. Dead now in a living room. And Achala Kaushal, twenty-six, a handsome Indian lady who looks younger than her years because she was obsessed with make-up and the small stuff never intruded into her happy-go-lucky attitude to life. Dead now in a lake.
Nate knows the story, so he knows the missing guy, Agar, is already hiding under the table, because the video has started just after he heard the robbers coming his way. He will remain hidden until found, after the robbers have cannibalised the three cars. And when found, Agar will shoot one of the robbers dead in self-defence.
But that was the official version, as told by the police, as told to the police by Webber and Kaushal. As Nate watches, the four men in black and the security guards calmly walk in, and there are no raised machetes. The raiders carry them down low, hanging by their sides. The guards walk ahead, but unconcerned, not pushed, not forced, not rushed. In the centre of the floor, they all stop, and the two guards face their captors. Kaushal’s face is away from the camera, but Nate sees Webber’s mouth moving, and knows the six are talking. And then one of the men in black leans back, laughing. Webber slaps his own forehead. Kaushal covers her mouth, which was a habit Nate remembered: she didn’t like to show her oversized front teeth when she laughed.
Okay, so the raiders didn’t manhandle their prisoners in quite the way the official story had it. But here comes the part where they cannibalise the cars, and kick over a table, and one of them gets shot by Agar.
Nope. Agar isn’t under the table at all. He climbs out of one of the Wraiths and joins the group. More chatting. If ever you’ve gotta be robbed, these sweet guys are the one you want to do it.
Here, though, we get back on track as the robbers dismantle the cars. But with help from Webber, and not the coerced kind. Kaushal just watches and smokes a cigarette. Agar fidgets on his toes, like he’s got something on his mind.
But it’s not about stealing car parts to sell. What the men take out of the cars are beige-coloured packages about the size of house bricks. Drugs. Lots of drugs. These packages go into bags, and the bags get hauled outside. Afterwards, the car parts make the same journey and thus create a cover story. Throughout, Red Gloves chats to Kaushal and Webber, while Agar stands apart, still fidgeting.
When everyone is back at the party, White Gloves points at the camera and Blue Gloves gives a thumbs-up and leaves. This would be the guy who busted the CCTV and took the tape. More milling in the centre now, three guards facing three raiders with six feet between them. Agar’s still twitchy, but so is Green Gloves. He’s got his machete in his hand for some reason.
It’s done, and all that’s left are the goodbyes. Except, that’s not what happens, is it?
Green takes a step closer to Agar, but at that exact moment Agar pulls out his gun. Up it comes, quick, and Nate sees the muzzle-flash. Two shots aimed at the same area, the trunk, but Red Gloves drops to his knees after the first, so the second takes him in the face. Everyone jerks in shock.
Except Green Gloves, who clears up any wonder about why he’s holding his machete: he swings it hard at Agar, and it’s clear this isn’t just a reaction to his friend’s death. He’s had this planned for a minute or so.
Agar darts back, out of range, and the machete cleaves only air. And then Agar is running for the door. No-one knows it yet, of course, but that’s him gone for the next four years. Everyone else freezes for a second. Then both remaining living raiders look at the body, and then the door, and then each other, and Nate knows mouths are moving behind those balaclavas. Webber and Kaushal are just standing there in shock.
The raiders run, leaving their dead comrade on the floor. Right then, with what you could be forgiven for thinking was too coincidental to be coincidental timing, the picture dies, because this is the point at which the guy sent to fetch the tape pulls a wire or flicks a switch.
Lazar looked pleased with himself.
‘A drug-trafficking business,’ Nate said. ‘That’s what was going on with HyperX. Drugs get shipped from the branch in Dubai to England, hidden in luxury cars.’
Lazar nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. The guys who overhaul the cars are experts at hiding drugs so well that you have to strip the vehicles to get the stuff out. The cars slip through customs easily because it tends to be lone cars they suspect, not profitable, legit businesses. Plus, they’d have to pay for damages, so who really wants to take apart a half-million pound motor?’
‘But Ryback set-up his own place to be robbed. And he had my people in on it. Why? He wasn’t being paid enough?’
‘He gets a pittance compared to what HyperX’s owner in Dubai makes. And don’t ask me about her, okay? I only know she’s some reclusive businesswoman called Xiomara, hence the X. Ryback wasn’t happy with his cut of the business. That latest drugs run was worth ten figures and he gets six.’
‘Drugs,’ Nate snapped. ‘So that’s what my brother and the others died for?’
His anger was bubbling up, and only just kept in check when Lazar laughed. He felt Toni’s hand on his shoulder, as if she were trying to calm him.
Lazar said, ‘There are people out there who’d kill for the price of a pack of cigarettes, and this was about a lot more. Anyway, that wasn’t the reason people started to die. It was because everything was about to go belly-up.’
‘Because of Agar,’ Toni said. ‘We know all about Agar. We know he was captured in America, and threatened to tell the world the truth. Which we now know is about a big drugs operation. So, witnesses started to die. But the planned deaths started earlier, didn’t they? On that video, it didn’t look like something went wrong and a guy got shot.’
Lazar didn’t seem surprised by their knowledge. ‘I’m a cop. First thing I think in an armed robbery: insider job. And Ryback knew Xiomara would think that, too, so he had to make it look real.’
‘By having Agar kill one of the robbers?’ Nate said. ‘And then having one of the robbers retaliate and kill Agar. On the tape, the man with the machete wasn’t reacting to the death of one of his comrades. He was gearing up for it. It was planned from the start.’
‘Well spotted,’ Lazar said. ‘There’s no honour amongst thieves. Ryback would have been suspected by Xiomara even
if the robbery was genuine. This was the only way Ryback would avoid getting the truth tortured out of him. We picked Agar because he had a criminal record and was known to be hot-blooded. He was told to shoot one of the robbers after the job was done. And we told one of the robbers to kill Agar. Neither team knew about both plans. If someone from each side died, how could anyone suspect a set-up? Except that Agar got away.’
‘But you could have hidden the body,’ Toni said.
‘The cars were above board. They had insurance. With the police involved, Xiomara could get a pay-out to mellow her a little. And if Ryback suddenly got killed, the police would dig a little deeper, and he knew Xiomara wouldn’t want this. So Ryback stayed safe.’
‘Except he’s now dead,’ Nate said. ‘And your role in all this? Kill the investigation?’
Lazar nodded. ‘Reason I became a cop, my friend. From the start, I wanted to get on a rich bad guy’s inside and start earning. That might sound a bit clichéd, but I earned, didn’t I? There’s enough normal cops out there to keep the country from imploding. They could miss me. Ryback needed me. Armed robbery and a dead guy – nobody’s going to do a cursory investigation into this. I was needed for deflection.’
Nate said, ‘Ryback bought himself a team of robbers. Easy for him, I guess. But what about my people? How did you turn them?’
‘I wasn’t in on that, so I don’t know. You should have asked Ryback.’
‘So, Ryback decided to kill everyone who knew about it once Agar threatened to talk. But why me and my brother, when we knew nothing?’
Lazar laughed. Then he got all serious, but Nate could tell his serious expression was faked. He was trying not to laugh some more. ‘That would be called tying up loose ends.’
‘Why set me up to look like the killer, though? Why not just kill me?’
Lazar thought. A long time. Not to create a lie, Nate thought, but to carefully word his answer.
‘These people didn’t spontaneously combust. There had to be a killer,’ said Lazar.
‘But me? I’d need a motive. A whacked-out heroin junkie would have had more motive. It makes no sense, and that’s because you’re hiding something. What was my motive?’
‘Were you whacked out on heroin?’ Lazar said.
Nate had been avoiding asking his next question. Saving it for the end. He suspected the answer would explain everything that was still so puzzling about the whole episode.
‘Who was Ryback’s partner in this?’ Toni said. Nate looked at her. ‘He couldn’t have set all this up by himself. Who was he working with?’
Now Nate looked at Lazar. The man didn’t deny that Ryback had a partner. In fact, he seemed to confirm it when he said, ‘On the laptop. There’s a video called Truth.’
Nate found it with shaking, impatient fingers. Toni did not watch, never took her eyes off Lazar.
‘You’ll need the TV sound right up to max,’ Lazar said. ‘And watch and listen very carefully. And then get ready to apologise to me.’
A blue background. REMEMBER THESE WORDS in bold text popped up, filling the screen. The text vanished a second later. There was no sound other than the hiss of speakers turned up to full.
MOON appeared next. Big, bold, but smaller than the previous text. It vanished.
OCEAN. Smaller again.
‘What the hell is this?’ Toni said, flicking a glance at the screen.
‘Haven’t you worked it out yet?’ Lazar said, shaking his head.
Nate was puzzled, but he watched with fascination as more words appeared on the blue background, each smaller than the last. Eight words in and Nate had to lean closer to read them. Still no sound but the hissing of a million snakes.
Then, suddenly, a beast’s face appeared on the screen, filling it, some horned demon with jagged teeth, and it roared, and the noise was tremendous, shockingly so. Nate jerked back from the screen and swore. Even Toni jumped, and the gun flicked away from Lazar.
Even as it happened, Nate knew he had been tricked. He had seen such prank videos on the Internet before. Designed to get the prankster a laugh. But Lazar’s intention hadn’t been to get a laugh.
But he’d had an intention. Had planned it right from the start. His placement on the sofa allowed him to delve a hand into the seam between two cushions, and return a second later with a gun.
He raised it, no attempt to get up because that would take concentration that could be better spent on the shot. He continued to sit back, almost leisurely, and raised his hand and fired, casual but fast, like a man so confident in his aim and his invincibility that he believed all his troubles would go away following a couple of presses of the trigger. As if knowing that she would be too late, Toni’s gun lowered. Nate, sitting on his ass, acutely aware that he could do nothing, put up a defensive hand and turned his head away. It was all he could do, and he knew it would do no good.
Lazar’s gun clicked on empty.
‘Didn’t I tell you there was no gun that could kill us in here, Lazar?’ Toni said. From her pocket came the magazine for his pistol. She tossed it into his lap. He looked at it, sitting there on his crotch, then back up to see Toni’s gun aimed right at him.
‘You damn bitch. Damar screamed for his life, you know.’
She fired.
The gun clicked on empty.
Lazar reacted instantly. He grabbed the magazine and slammed it into his gun, but before he could aim the weapon, Toni fired again, and this time, instead of an impotent click, there was the boom of a powerful weapon doing its job correctly.
The bullet hit his raised hand, knocking it and the gun aside in a splatter of blood. He thumped back against the sofa. His eyes stared at them. His busted hand lay on the sofa, one shattered finger bent unnaturally under the back of his hand.
Her gun lowered to aim at his groin.
‘Say that again about Damar,’ she said.
‘He’s dead,’ Nate said. He got to his feet, staring at Lazar. He remembered the way Toni had laid in the van, busted arm bent under her. No way she could have been faking, because her arm would have been killing her. She would have shifted to make her arm comfortable. Same thing with Damar, back in the woods. Lazar, if playing possum, would not have let his finger come to rest like that.
Toni wasn’t convinced. Still aiming, she circled to one side, then stepped closer, aiming at the side of Lazar’s head. Lazar didn’t move.
‘Your damn bullet must have deflected off and into his body.’
Lazar didn’t move. Toni moved in front of him and looked into his wide eyes, still aiming that gun right at his face. And then she reached out and grabbed his jacket’s zip and yanked it down. Beneath, he wore a white T-shirt that was stained red. It had a small hole right where his heart would be.
‘You set him up,’ Nate said, angry. She lowered the gun.
On the TV and the laptop, the loud beast was still laughing. Nate pulled the cable that connected both devices and the noise died.
‘I left one chamber empty,’ Toni said, still staring at Lazar, as if finding it hard to believe that he was dead. ‘It was a trick to see what he’d do. And he tried to kill us.’
‘It wasn’t a damn test. You wanted him to go for the gun. So you could justify killing him. You wanted to shoot him.’
She looked at Nate finally. ‘I wanted to cut his throat.’
But Nate couldn’t take his eyes away from Lazar. From that blasted finger, bent under his hand. He thought about Damar lying unconscious in the woods.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, stepping close to Nate. ‘We didn’t get a name from him.’
He thought about Toni lying asleep in the van.
‘We take the video to the police. That clears you, surely,’ she said. A hand dropped onto his shoulder.
He thought about Lazar sitting dead on the sofa.
‘There will be evidence somewhere, and the police will find Ryback’s partner, and this Xiomara bitch. Hell, I’ll go to prison for you if someone has to. I don’t care
about prison. Are you listening to me?’
He wasn’t. A hot wave of dread came over him and he had to grab the coffee table to avoid falling over.
‘Nate? You hear? This could be what you need.’
‘I have to go,’ he said, and started for the door.
‘Where?’ Toni said. ‘The police?’
‘No,’ Nate said. ‘Atlantis.’
Halfway to ‘Atlantis’, he drew up at the kerb near a petrol station on a country road. Toni was asleep beside him, her mouth moving. When the car drew to a halt, the tiny jerk was enough to wake her. Her fingers went to her mouth.
‘You were chewing in your sleep,’ he said.
‘I dreamed of chocolate,’ she said. ‘Where are we?’
He pointed out the petrol station. The only two vehicles on the forecourt were a sandwich delivery van and a taxi. He told her to go inside and buy a map.
‘Pull into the forecourt, then.’
He said no: CCTV. The car they drove had been stolen from outside a pizza shop near Lazar’s flat and was probably already reported, since they had taken it when the owner, leaving the engine running, went inside to collect pizzas for delivery.
Lazar’s bag of cash was in the back seat, and he reached in and took a handful and gave it to her. Far too much for a map. She took it all, looked at it, and looked at the petrol station.
‘You seem… distant,’ she said. He said only that they needed the map, quickly. Didn’t look at her.
‘I have epilepsy,’ she said. ‘Partial seizures. Some medical student Damar knew called it Jacksonian March. Like you, he liked to Internet surf to find out what makes me tick. He was worried because I act out my dreams sometimes, and my right arm shivers, although that hasn’t happened since my shoulder dislocated. There’s the cure, eh?’ She laughed. It was forced. ‘But he didn’t worry about the rage inside me. He looked beyond that. You can’t, I know. Maybe my anger is tied to the epilepsy. But I don’t want you to worry that I’m dangerous… to you.’
