by R. D. Ronald
The bakery was as Sadiq had told him it would be. A large sandstone building with boarded-over windows. An unrecognisable ghosted outline was all that remained of the bakery’s wooden sign on the front. Decades of weather erosion had crumbled the sandstone below one corner of the heavy roof, which tilted down with the lack of support like a hat worn at a jaunty angle. Mangle drove the Nissan around the back to where he expected to find the detective.
A balding man with a middle-aged paunch stood beside a dark blue Subaru, greedily inhaling from a cigarette. He checked his watch as Mangle pulled up, and gave a cursory glance around the perimeter.
‘Mr Garrett, I presume,’ he said and flipped open a wallet displaying his detective’s badge.
‘You presume right,’ Mangle said.
Bryson nodded. ‘Let’s have the disks, then. You don’t want to keep Steiger waiting,’ he said, putting away his wallet.
‘First show me the blanks. If they aren’t exactly the same you can forget it.’
Bryson laughed and reached inside his jacket. Mangle stiffened and had to restrain himself from grabbing for the 9mm Colt that lay in the pocket of the driver’s door. He relaxed again when Bryson’s hand withdrew nothing other than five DVDs in a clear plastic envelope. The detective tossed them into the car. Mangle took them out and inspected them one by one, flipped them over and held them up beside the originals. Both sets were black on either side and had the same green triangle logo. He could see no differences.
‘How do I know he won’t check them before he hands over Tazeem?’
Bryson chuckled again and shook his head.
‘Where the hell would he think you had got more disks from? Do they look like something you could pick up in your local computer store?’
‘No, but …’
‘But nothing. Take the blanks and let’s get this over with,’ Bryson said impatiently, and flicked away his cigarette butt.
Mangle eyed detective Bryson with disdain. He realised time was of the essence, but should he really be speaking to someone about to go into a life-or-death situation in that manner? He turned the car around and drove away from the bakery. Bryson’s reflection continued to watch him in the rear-view mirror.
He skirted the road on the perimeter of the grounds and started down the track to the southern quadrant as Bryson had instructed on the phone. What had seemed like a bad idea at the time now seemed ludicrous, and he couldn’t believe he was going through with it; but now there was no alternative. If he drove off, then Tazeem would surely be killed, and for all he knew Steiger could have his own trap waiting to spring if Mangle attempted to back out of the deal.
He continued the slow approach, scanning around him for any evidence of vehicles or men with guns. It was useless, though: the deluge of abandoned properties meant that he could never conceivably know for certain if he were alone.
He pulled up at the end of the track. Mangle could see the logic in selecting this particular location amidst the morass of dejected real estate. The reinforced fence that had been erected to separate the esplanade from the industrial grounds was the only visible intervention against decline the area had seen in over a decade. It stood proudly at around fifteen feet and the original black paint still covered the majority of the steel. A cluster of buildings that had once housed restaurants and other small, tourist-attracting businesses lay a stone’s throw away on the south side of the perimeter fence. There could be people waiting inside, but they couldn’t get any closer without clearly being seen. Mangle checked his watch again. Steiger should be here already.
One more nervous glance around and he saw a car making its way along the track he’d driven down a few moments earlier. A black Mercedes with tinted windows crunched over the gravel and cracked asphalt on its lackadaisical approach.
Ermina turned in sharply and pulled up beside Bryson’s Subaru. In one hand he held a forgotten cigarette that had burned down in a cylindrical line of ash, and in the other was a phone, pressed tightly against his ear. If anything had gone wrong it was her phone that would have rung, so Ermina knew it must be an unrelated call. She got out, squared her shoulders and walked towards him, waiting for his call to end before she spoke. Ermina knew how to be careful.
‘I’m in the middle of something,’ the detective said into his phone. He glanced nervously at his watch, briefly at Ermina and then turned away, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. ‘I know you don’t call unless it’s urgent … A bit of a hole? What the hell does that mean? … Alright, look, I’ll set off now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
He turned back to face Ermina and held out the disks. She took them, watching Bryson for any hint of deception.
‘Thank you, Detective.’
He nodded and climbed back into his car.
‘I’ll talk to Steiger another time to arrange payment.’
‘Alright.’
‘Duty calls,’ he said stiffly, and drove off, his tyres scattering pebbles around her feet.
Feeling extremely pleased with herself, Ermina climbed back into her car. She’d hung around with that idiot Sadiq, waiting for an opportunity to elevate herself, and as soon as Jupiter arrived on the scene she knew she’d found it. But now, having been asked by his boss, Steiger, to perform tasks for him, Ermina felt she was on the rise again. Jupiter was just a stepping stone, as Sadiq had been before him. Ermina knew she was of higher quality, and therefore deserved – no, demanded – the highest quality in return. She smiled and started the engine, drove slowly around the bakery and began to turn back onto the deserted stretch of road.
The roar of another engine alerted Ermina a moment too late to the danger. The sudden impact, and the crash of broken glass all around her, the sound of buckling and twisting metal, were the last things Ermina heard before she blacked out.
‘Grab the disks,’ Raymond Burgess ordered as the back doors of the dark grey Humvee were flung open.
Even if Ermina were conscious, she wouldn’t have recognised the man and woman from the parking garage who Mohammed had had the misfortune of meeting a short time earlier. The man quickly walked around, tugged open the passenger door and picked up the disks that had spilled onto the floor during the collision. The woman reached through the broken driver’s side window and felt for a pulse.
‘She’s alive but out cold.’
‘Get rid of her anyway,’ Burgess said. ‘No loose ends.’
The woman deftly removed a black carbon steel Remington 1911 from a holster inside her jacket, and fired two shots point-blank into the base of Ermina’s skull. They climbed back into the waiting vehicle and sped away.
Steiger climbed out of the car, ended a phone call and walked towards the spot where Mangle stood waiting. The driver’s window rolled down a few inches, revealing Jupiter’s steely glare above the tinted glass.
‘Mr Garrett. I’ll forego the formality of a handshake.’ Steiger’s eyes flashed with the same confidence he’d exuded during their time playing poker, but the look didn’t betray any sign of malevolence. Hope fluttered briefly within Mangle.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ Mangle said. ‘I want to see Tazeem.’ Steiger motioned to the car, the electronic lock was released and Tazeem stumbled cautiously out from the back seat.
‘That’s far enough,’ Steiger said when Tazeem had crossed roughly half the distance between them. ‘Toss over the disks.’
Mangle reached into his jacket, clutched the blanks and silently prayed the plan would work. Again his eyes flitted across the possible locations either Steiger’s men or the police may be waiting to spring from. He threw the disks, which landed 6 feet from Steiger. Mangle waited but the man made no move to pick them up.
‘Aren’t you going to get them?’ Mangle asked in what he hoped was a casually curious tone. Tazeem began to edge slowly over towards him.
‘I know as well as you do that there’s nothing on them, Mr Garrett.’ He raised his hand to halt the stammering protestations. ‘I needed
something to lure you out of hiding. You more than rode your luck during our friendly game of poker, but I knew you wouldn’t be so cavalier when your friend’s life was at stake.’
Mangle tried to quieten the surging panic inside him. He scanned around him for any sign of assistance. Surely the police would sense the impending danger, especially if Bryson’s involvement had been uncovered. They should be about to move in now.
‘Detective Bryson is a man, much like myself, who enjoys to gamble,’ Steiger went on. ‘Unfortunately for him he doesn’t know when to call it a night and subsequently fails to learn the ultimate lesson in gambling. Do you know what that might be, Mr Garrett?’
Mangle remained silent. The four of them were completely alone. He had the 9mm tucked into the back of his pants, but unquestionably Steiger and Jupiter would be carrying weapons, and be a lot more proficient at using them than he was.
‘Eventually the house always wins,’ Steiger said with a knowing smile.
That was why Mangle had detected no anger in the man when they’d first arrived. Why should he be angry, when he was in complete control? He’d written the script himself and knew exactly how the meeting would pan out. They were just playthings of which Steiger would grow tired and then dispose of.
A cloud of dust in the distance over Steiger’s right shoulder grabbed Mangle’s attention. A large van was coming towards them along the track. Steiger noticed his focus and casually cast a look over his shoulder. He and Jupiter glanced at each other uncertainly, but remained calm. If Bryson had never intended them to be saved by the police, and this wasn’t part of Steiger’s plan, Mangle wondered who the hell it could be.
Another moment and Mangle recognised the van. It was the camper that had been parked inside Tazeem’s lock-up. Sure enough, once it drew closer he could make out the figure of Tatiana behind the steering wheel.
‘What the hell is this, the cavalry?’ Steiger asked, mockingly. ‘The best she can hope for is to come back to work for me. The only other out is to die along with the rest of you.’
Jupiter climbed out of the black Mercedes and moved into position behind it. A firearm that dwarfed the one Mangle had brought along was clenched readily in his black-leather gloved hand.
The camper van pulled up alongside the red Nissan, against the perimeter fence. Tatiana climbed out of the cab, walked around and stood beside Mangle.
‘Well, well,’ said Steiger as Tatiana glared defiantly at him. ‘Our little mockingbird has come home to roost.’
‘I’d rather die than go back there,’ she said, and spat on the ground.
The rumble of a car’s engine from the south, beyond the perimeter fence, drew everyone’s attention, momentarily shaking Steiger’s air of control and second guessing Jupiter’s resolute demeanour. An old Dodge sped over the mounds of grass-topped sandy earth as it careered towards the fence.
Jupiter braced his weapon against the roof and took aim. There were too many variables in play now even for Steiger, who retreated to a position beside him. Tatiana ushered Mangle and Tazeem behind her, one hand against the side of the camper van.
‘There’s no way out of here for you,’ Steiger yelled from behind the shelter of his Mercedes. ‘By now there are men in position by the top gate, under instructions to let no one out. Whatever you have planned you’d better forget it while you still have any chance to save yourselves.’
The rear door to the camper van was flung open and a cacophony of gunfire filled the air. Mangle and Tazeem crouched down with Tatiana behind the Nissan as spent shells tumbled to the ground around them. ‘Wait for my signal, then follow me,’ she shouted.
The car on the other side of the fence slid to a halt. Two men got out and began firing at the Mercedes, while there was a lull in the firing from inside the camper van.
‘Now!’ Tatiana shouted. She grabbed a thick piece of carpet from the cab of the camper and clambered onto the roof of the Nissan. From there she scrambled up onto the roof of the camper. Not waiting for a further invitation, Mangle and then, reluctantly, Tazeem began to follow.
‘Decker?’ Tazeem said, incredulously.
Mangle looked over his shoulder and saw the unbelievable sight of his friend climbing awkwardly out of the camper van, brandishing a large calibre revolver. A second man emerged, holding a machine pistol from which bullets sprayed with a roar.
Mangle tugged at Tazeem’s shoulder and they continued their ascent onto the van’s roof. Decker and his companion ducked down again to reload. Jupiter returned fire whenever the opportunity arose, but the ravaged, almost sieve-like appearance of the side of the Mercedes indicated he was completely outgunned.
More shots were fired from the Dodge as Tatiana threw the piece of carpet onto the razor wire. Using it to protect her body she vaulted over and landed onto the sandy earth on the opposite side. Unhurt, she dusted herself off and yelled for Mangle and Tazeem to follow. Tazeem needed no further encouragement and jumped the few feet of fence adorned with razor sharp barbs.
By now Jupiter had given up the cat-and-mouse game of returning fire and chose his targets more selectively. He resisted shooting as a yell sounded from one of the men at the support car to hurry it up, but when Mangle stood up to vault the fence a volley of bullets was sent in his direction. He thudded to the earth on the other side and gasped in pain. One of the bullets had whispered by so close that he thought his heart would stop with fright, but regaining his composure the only pain he felt was from his awkward landing. Tazeem and Tatiana scrambled over to the Dodge, but Mangle knew Decker, who was obviously still badly wounded from his last encounter with these men, would need assistance after he made the leap.
A cloud of dust rose in the distance as three support cars approached from behind Steiger’s Mercedes. Once they arrived the odds would be stacked heavily against them, and any chance of escape would be seriously diminished. Decker struggled up onto the roof of the Nissan as his accomplice emptied another magazine at Jupiter. He lent over, propped an arm against the side of the camper and gave a deep grunt as he swung himself across. The cover fire came from the support car now as Decker scrambled onto the roof of the camper and his companion began to clamber onto the Nissan. Jupiter was poised behind the Mercedes, eager to take a shot, unwilling to wait for support to arrive.
Decker let out a growl of pain as he thrust himself over the fence and fell heavily to the ground below. A deep laceration had opened along his thigh and began to stain the sandy ground red. His more agile companion sprang onto the cab of the camper, placed one foot on the roof and released a final barrage as he readied himself for the jump. The gunshots from south of the fence continued to ring out as Jupiter planted both feet, stood calmly amid the hail of bullets and began to fire. The man on the camper staggered in his run-up. His arm, thrust out in front to brace himself on the carpet, slipped, and he pitched forward face first into the concertina of steel barbs.
‘John!’ Decker yelled through clenched teeth.
John’s arm slid between rolls of razor barbs and hung down, his body suspended on the top of the fence. The ‘Carpe Diem’ tattoo on his forearm was quickly obscured with splashes of blood that fell from his obliterated face.
Mangle was by Decker’s side, attempting to drag him to his feet. The cargo of men and guns spilled from the three cars on the north side of the fence. A tripod-based assault rifle was slammed down onto a roof and the gunman immediately opened fire. Mangle thrust an arm around Decker’s waist and pulled Decker’s arm around his neck, and they staggered towards the waiting Dodge.
The windscreen bucked then shattered as the first two bullets penetrated, showering shards of safety glass across the dashboard. A rear door was thrown open and Mangle shoved Decker onto the back seat, squeezed in as best he could, then slammed the door. The driver spun away as the blunted thuds of three more shots lacerated the side of the car.
They drove for a couple of miles before the driver pulled into the parking lot of a multiplex cinema. The two
men in the front jumped out.
‘We’re more than even now, Decker,’ one of them said grimly, looking back through the destroyed side window. ‘Here, take the keys to John’s Chevy.’ He tossed a set of keys at Decker, ran around to the trunk and pulled out a can of fuel. Decker, Mangle and Tatiana had barely cleared the car before he started slopping it generously over the interior.
They climbed into the Chevy as an implosive whoomph of fuel igniting sounded behind them. None of them turned around to watch as the bullet-riddled Dodge was consumed by flames.
17
Mangle struggled to follow Decker’s directions whilst concentrating on keeping his speed down, as the slightest contact with the accelerator caused the revs to surge and the car to lurch forward. John had obviously maintained the engine a lot more meticulously than the car’s threadbare interior.
He pulled into a housing estate, parked by a cluster of small shops and Decker, with Tazeem supporting him, led the way to a nearby flat. They trooped up the stairs and into a small living-room. Decker took two six-packs of Coors from the fridge in the adjoining kitchen and handed them around. He took a small medicine kit out of a cupboard, cracked open a beer and began to clean his wounds.
‘As grateful as I am that you all turned up like that and saved me,’ Tazeem said as he popped the tab on his beer, ‘I’d still love to know what the hell has been going on.’
‘Right,’ Mangle agreed. ‘It’s great to see you again, Decker. We thought you’d died that day at Sadiq’s apartment. The news channels reported three bodies.’
‘I must have been lucky with some of the shots I fired through the window, which made our friends cautious. At first I panicked at the amount of blood on my shirt, and thought I was on the way out, but after lying there for a few minutes and not hearing anything else from inside, I decided to try and get to my feet. I’d stumbled down a couple of levels before the shooting started up again, but by then I’d put enough distance between us to give me a chance to escape. I fired a shot back every few steps to keep whoever was left pinned down, but if I hadn’t been lucky enough to flag down a passing cab I would never have got away.’
