“It’s already tuned to the frequency so simply open her up and listen in,” said Jeremy,
“Wow, how do you get all this stuff?” Wayne asked, while hoping the answer wouldn’t incriminate him. It was clear he hadn’t made these, unlike his many other self-exploding time devices on the shelves.
“This I stole from my cousin, he uses all this sort of stuff for his work,” Jeremy replied,
“Who is he James Bond?” Wayne comically asked. He began to press a random assortment of buttons on his new laptop. Jeremy had told people not to use that reference too many times, and that he had lost count of the number of times he heard the joke. Rather than be rude to Wayne this time, someone he openly called a good friend, he instead gave an obviously fake laugh followed by a smile and a point at him for making the overheard joke. As Wayne began to grab his bag that he had been living out of for the past week and head for the front door with pricey new spy gear slung over his shoulder he heard Jeremy shout,
“Oi! That stuff doesn’t come cheap!” he warned. Wayne walked away. After he had left Jeremy turned his radio back up to near full volume, reapplied the bizarre choice of ski goggles he was using as eye protection and began soldering something else. Something that would no doubt land someone else, or even Jeremy himself back in jail when it failed to detonate or work properly on the job causing a complete mishap.
* * *
Wayne wasted no time in attempting to install the newly acquired listening device to Eli Walker’s office. He figured that is where most of his meetings took place, and would be a potential goldmine of dirt of the Councilman. As dusk approached, Wayne realised that it would be folly trying to illegally enter the premises during the day with too many watching eyes. Instead waiting until dark, until there were only a single handful security guards around, then he could attempt to make his daring break-in and plant the listening device. It was a bold move, but Wayne was hoping it would pay off. It would either see him returning to jail on a new charge, or perhaps provide him with vindication after all those many years of failed appeals while in prison. Wayne’s tattered blue sedan parked some distance further along from the John A. Wilson building on Pennsylvania Avenue. He waited for another hour. Preparing for the orange to completely fade into the black of the night sky to provide him some cover from any prying eyes. Freedom Plaza was over watched by dozens of cameras, while also being well lit during the evening. He knew to approach from the North along 14th Street to the rear of the building. Very few of the offices had their lights on at the back of the building, and with very few streetlights it provided as an excellent camouflage against the backdrop of the adjacent structure. Wayne had realised security would be a lot tighter than that of Mickey’s bar, no being mistaken for a janitor would save him if he was caught this time, he was breaking into a government’s district building that held the office of the Mayor. Disguised all in black from his hoodie to his trainers he reached for a can of black spray paint from the small bag he brought with him. Wayne then covered the lens of the camera, before attempting to pick the lock of the aging service door. Luckily for Wayne, this door had not yet been fitted with a key card lock and still operated in the twentieth century. As he managed to silently unlock the door, praying for no one to be lurking on the other side. He figured about three minutes in and out before someone noticed the camera had been tampered with on their monitor in the security rooms, praying for negligence as well on their part. Wayne turned on his flashlight, and headed down the dark hallway step by step. He wasn’t the stealthiest of criminals, his heavy breathing was hard for him to control, as were his nerves. Walker’s office was based on the third floor in the far East corner. When Wayne reached the end of the first floor hallway, he realised this would be a tougher assignment than he may have previously anticipated. Even more cameras, and still lit offices and corridors stood directly in his way. The stairways were being watched by security feeds, and using the elevator was far too risky and obvious, it also had a camera inside. He simply couldn’t go any further, it would be better for him to cut his losses and try some other way. Wayne quickly pulled out having only walked roughly twenty steps inside of the building and approaching the staircase.
Two days later, Wayne Peterson decided on an equally risky yet slightly more direct approach to plant a wireless listening device inside Eli Walker’s office. He was after all an elected official, who sometimes had dealings with the public and addressed any concerns. Wayne plainly selected a hot topic issue currently under debate about a local school’s policy, pretended to be an outraged teacher and demanded that the city council provide information as to what was likely to happen, and help liaise for his fellow teachers. It was criminal in itself really as to how easy it was for Wayne to create almost an entirely fake identity over the phone. Having studied Eli’s routine for many months he knew exactly when and where he ate lunch and precisely what times he would likely step away from the office. Wayne managed to strong-arm his way into a meeting at two o’clock that day, while Eli would have his lunch break at one. Wayne would then arrive fifteen minutes earlier and improvise from there. One thing was certain though, which was he could not under any circumstances let Walker see him. The fake name and the cheap suit would be enough to throw off his receptionist and any itinerary listing for that day, but if seen, there would be no facade to hide behind.
He stuck promptly to his plan, and arrived early that afternoon for his fake meeting. Right on time at one forty-five as well, he stepped foot inside the elevator ready to take him to the third floor to greet his receptionist. The elevator was crowded and Wayne was pushed right to the back as people came and went, going about their daily lives,
“Did you hear?” one suit asked, he entered the elevator with someone else,
“No, what?” the other voice replied,
“Some asshole kids spray painted a security camera by the service door behind the building. Then they ran off, kids these days, not like when I was growing up and they showed respect,” the man said as Wayne at the back held a guilty silence on the matter.
The door opened to the third floor, he casually bumped people aside in order to get out, and he said his many apologies after causing one man to drop his briefcase. When he reached the receptionist he manipulated over the phone, she was surprised to find him there so early,
“Oh Mr. Phillips, your meeting isn’t for another fifteen minutes. I’m afraid the Councilman isn’t back from his lunch break yet,” his receptionist informed the fake teacher in an apologetic tone.
“That’s alright I prefer to be early than late, being a teacher you pick up habits like that...You know with being early for school,” Wayne replied. Whatever character he was trying to play it was certain he didn’t miss a calling for an acting career.
“Uh, yes I’m sure...” she awkwardly stated,
“No harm done I shall just wait in his office until he arrives,” he told her. He marched inside, letting himself in to the Councilman’s office without permission. Instead of being forced to make conversation with the man she gave no opposition,
“Can I bring you anything Mr. Phillips?”
“No thank you,” was all Wayne replied as she closed the door.
He had done it, he was finally inside. Quickly scanning the room for the perfect location for his bug, he switched it on ready to stick it to his surface of choice. Wayne had trouble deciding what best to do with this high-tech piece of equipment that he had been given. He decided to place it carefully underneath his main desk, right in the ideal place as the desk was in the dead centre of the corner office.
“Job done,” he whispered to himself, taking one last look it was indeed switched on. As he peered round the door of Eli’s office to where his receptionist was sat typing out a memo he asked her,
“Excuse me, where is the bathroom?”
She seemed all too keen in helping him leave her boss’s office, perhaps out of sheer fear that he would return any minute from his lunch break, and be more
than angry that there was an uninvited and albeit annoying guest sat waiting in there on his own doing god only knows what. She pointed down the hall, directing him to where the men’s room was, it was fortunately opposite the emergency stairwell and just out of the line of sight from the receptionist’s desk. Not needing the bathroom at all but simply using it as an excuse to get away, Wayne dashed for the stairs and double timed it down to the first floor of the building to exit out of the fire door onto 14th Street, right where his blue sedan was parked. Just as he jumped inside of his car, Eli Walker stepped off of the elevator with his eyes firmly fixed on the Washington Post he had folded open that he bought outside of the building from a local newsstand on his lunch break. Ignoring his receptionist completely as he entered his office and sat down in his chair,
“Your meeting with Mr. Phillips is any moment Sir; he is just using the men’s room. I shall send him in when he returns,” his receptionist told him. When in fact, Mr. Phillips was now Wayne Peterson again, and sat listening through his laptop to everything the receptionist had just said all the way up on the third floor. It had worked, and Wayne was ecstatic about it, this would finally be his chance to bury Eli Walker, if he mentioned anything at all incriminating he could then leak it to the public. He was banging his hands on the roof of his car as he let out screams of joy, all the while still hearing even the slightest cough or deep breath that was made from inside the office by the city councilman.
“Jeremy you’re a genius!” he shouted at the top of his voice, confused pedestrians caught a glimpse of the strange man celebrating something in the front seat of his car in broad daylight.
Chapter IV
“Just stay safe!” said Jeremy,
“I will,” replied Wayne. He assured Jeremy over the phone that returning to his own home was the best thing for him. It was very late at night and it had been four days since he planted the listening device inside Walker’s office. Wayne grew tired of living rough in the back seat of his car in fear of going home. It had however, yielded no results or even the slightest hint of anything untoward about Eli’s business. Just hour after hour of sitting and listening to drab conversation about this city problem or that city problem. What looked like a new lease of life for his amateur hour investigation was becoming yet another false truth.
All of a sudden, there was someone tapping at his front door. He never had visitors, except the occasional salesman he had to shoo away from his porch, but never this late in the evening. Wayne didn’t own a gun, so he reached for an old and slightly rusted tyre iron from underneath his grout covered sink in the kitchen. He leaned forwards and peered ever so slowly out through a slit in the many newspapers he still had stuck plastering the windows. The man was unrecognisable to Wayne, still fearing the worst he didn’t let go of his melee weapon, and instead chose to clutch it tightly while he opened the door, in case he had to start swinging away quickly at whoever it was. As the door opened Harry O’Neill was stood there in a long dark coat and a hat with a black glove on one hand while keeping the other hand behind his back out of view.
“Can I help you?” Wayne cautiously asked him, he held the door open only halfway so he could disguise the fact that he might be holding a weapon.
“I’m a detective I work with Eli Walker,” Harry boldly said to Wayne, the fur could start flying,
“What the fuck you want?!” Wayne shouted. He stepped back from the door, raising the tyre iron ready to strike. Harry didn’t flinch an inch, he simply used the hand that was placed behind his back and moved it to his side. This revealed a fully loaded Colt 44, and just like that Wayne knew he was beaten. There was no way he could make a dent in the detective before he could raise his weapon and fire a killing shot. He lowered the tyre iron and dropped it on the floor,
“Just make it quick,” was all Wayne said as he closed his eyes and braced.
All Harry did however, was step inside. Into where his living room was and began to look around the place. Wayne opened his eyes to find himself rather confused about the current situation,
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?” he asked, growing impatient as to whether he would be shot or not.
“You don’t remember me? I would if I was you,” Harry replied.
“...What does that even mean?!” Wayne shouted. He once again picked up his tyre iron. Harry now turning to face Wayne, used the loaded gun in his hand to gesture him to politely drop his only means of defence, Wayne willingly obliged and kicked it across the dusty wooden floor of the downstairs living room.
“You really don’t remember me do you?” Harry asked him, “Nineteen seventy-five? You spent time in a foster home; remember a young five-to-six year old boy named Harry O’Neill?”
Wayne shook his head, he had no recollection of the name or the face,
“I remember the foster home but not that name,” he told the man, who still hadn’t identified himself to Wayne.
“You abused this five year old boy, made his life a misery for many months, scarred him emotionally, when all he wanted was a loving family,” Harry began to say to him telling the story about how he suffered at his hand, “that boy now stands in front of you, this time holding the weapon. I was sent here to kill you, I’m currently in an impossible predicament. I either waste you, or I go to jail. Luckily for you I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
Wayne just stood there motionless, realising one wrong word could be his last. He could see Harry was clearly unstable as he paced up and down the living room retelling his past.
“I did a lot of awful and terrible things when I was younger, things I am to this day far from proud of,” replied Wayne hoping to calm Harry down. “Why do you work for this man?”
“I don’t have any choice, I was in over my head many years ago, and the pair of us have been paying for it ever since,” said Harry,
“Wait...What do you mean ‘the pair of us’,” Wayne asked,
“I helped Eli send you back to jail, and in return he paid my gambling debts to the Italians,”
“You son of a bitch!” shouted Wayne. He lunged at Harry head first pushing him hard against the wall. The two struggled for a few seconds as Wayne threw several punches to Harry’s ribcage. Harry remained reluctant to shoot; instead he used the grip of his gun and gave him a firm whack round the top of his cranium. Wayne stopped hitting Harry and fell down on the floor feeling dazed.
“Relax Peterson, we are pretty much even after what you did to me when I was younger,” said Harry,
“So...Why are you even here?” Wayne asked. He clambered slowly to his feet still feeling the effects of the blunt blow to his head.
“I’m here to warn you. If you stay away, I’ll get what I want. Walker wants you dead, just move to another state and never come back. If you don’t I won’t be responsible for what might happen to you,” said Harry. “I may hate you, but I hate Walker even more.”
“I heard him say I was threatening to kidnap his daughter, that’s just not true! I just want everyone to know that he doesn’t deserve to treat people the way he treated me,” said Wayne, he managed to pull himself up, and began to lean against the opposite wall of the room.
“Then it’s your head, but for god’s sake don’t let him know you’re still in town,” replied Harry. He ripped Wayne’s prized pendant of the cross on the gold chain from around his neck and crammed it inside his trouser pocket. Wayne didn’t say a word still,
“Evidence of your death,” said Harry, as the pair of men who shared the same hate for Eli Walker stood staring at each other.
Harry walked out of Wayne’s front door and off towards his car. Wayne stopped for a moment before closing the door, he felt almost lost without the cross around his neck that he had worn for all these years. However, he surmised that if it gave Eli Walker the satisfaction and the believability that he was in fact dead, he could live free and unbothered from the man. This however, was not going to happen. Wayne couldn’t possibly let this go. Perhaps it
was his own stubbornness he was fighting now and not Walker, letting it go and moving on would be the easy thing to do, but Wayne wanted his revenge, and now nothing would stop him because he was already a dead man in his own eyes.
Chapter V
The next night after Harry’s meeting with Wayne Peterson had taken place, he was sat in Mickey’s bar awaiting the presence of Eli Walker. He was perched on one of the many hard leather bar stools twirling a drink in his one hand, and caressing the gold cross he stole from Peterson to show Eli that he was indeed dead with the other. To prove to Eli that he can now rest easy, assured his daughter would not see any harm from the ex-convict who was out to get him. In return for this gesture, Harry was to receive certain files from Eli’s possession; these files contained rather damning evidence against Harry from his past that couldn’t under any circumstances be made public. This was what he had finally worked for all these years, doing small favours for this man who constantly kept him under his thumb. If Harry knew anything though, it was that Eli Walker was a man of his word. If he offered Harry this deal then he meant it, going back on it would give Harry nothing at all left to live for.
“So tell me it’s good news as to why you dragged me down here out of the blue, I know we don’t see each other as friends anymore,” stated Eli. He entered the bar area and placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders before taking a seat. Without hesitation his usual drink was placed in front of him by the barman.
The Sins of a District Page 14
