Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller

by Stacey Fields

  “You’re as involved in this as we are!” Henry was yelling now. His eyes had a look of crazy in them, and his face was twisted in an expression of desperation.

  Mickey let out an exhausted sigh. “Give me the gun, Henry,” he said calmly.

  “No!”

  “Henry,” Mickey urged. “Give me the gun.” He held out his hand and waited for Henry, with a shaking hand, to place the gun in it. “Good,” he said releasing the hammer and walking over to his desk, placing the gun in the top drawer and taking a seat in his large leather desk chair. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he continued. “I have no part in your operation. I’m nothing more than a man with a business of his own. You came to me looking to employ my services. I complied. But that it all; I provided a service; you are the ones who got yourselves into this mess, and you’re alone in it.”

  “You don’t think he’ll take you down with us?” Henry said pointing to Michael. “You don’t think he’ll turn you in as fast as he does us?”

  “He can try,” Mickey said with a shrug. “But there’s nothing out there that can be used to charge me. I, unlike you, Henry, keep my cool; I think about my actions, and make sure that they don’t end up coming back to bite me in the ass. Why do you think I let him walk out of here the last time? I had no reason to kill him. You see, I only go that far when the motive and execution can be linked back to someone else. The girls, for example, his fiancée and the other one, I had no reason to want them gone. Right there, one of the major pieces of the conviction puzzle is missing—motive! But, if someone were to dig deeper, like our friend here has been doing, that exact thing will point back to you, not me.”

  “But it was your men who did the deed,” Henry pointed out.

  Mickey leaned over again and looked at Michael. “Does that matter to you, sir?” he asked. “Do you care who did it—who pulled the trigger? Or do you care who wanted it; who ordered it; who paid for it?”

  At that moment the only thing that mattered to Michael was getting the truth, and it seemed like Mickey Walsh was somehow, in a weird way on his side. Maybe not necessarily on his side of justice, but he was on his side of this argument. “I just want to know who wanted her dead, and why,” Michael replied firmly.

  “See?” Mickey said turning his focus back to Henry. “So, why don’t we try to step back and do things my way for a minute. Let’s analyze the situation, and see what the best course of action going forward is.”

  “Fine, but in that case, we need to call the others.”

  “All of them?” Mickey asked, eyeing Gloria this time. “Even her brother?”

  Henry turned to look at her. “No, not her brother. But the others.”

  “Very well,” Mickey said leaning forward and pressing the red button on the phone sitting on top of his desk. A few seconds later, two men came into the room. “Take them to holding,” Mickey said to them dryly, motioning in the direction of Gloria and Michael.

  Holding was a small room with cement floors, no windows, and a wooden bench running along the back wall. They were thrown forcefully into the room, and before they could even get to their feet, the door was slammed shut. The sound of multiple locks being closed rang through the air, and then silence. The only sound Michael could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, and the quiet sobs coming from Gloria, still huddled in a ball on the ground.

  He awkwardly pushed himself up, his hands still tied behind his back. He walked over to the bench and took a seat. “They’re going to kill us,” Gloria sobbed.

  “No they’re not,” Michael countered. “You heard Mickey; he doesn’t want to be a part of that.”

  “But they’re not calling my brother,” Gloria said looking up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They’re not going to bring him here, because he would never let them hurt me.”

  “But they are bringing in their other partners,” Michael said quietly, ignoring her comment and letting his mind race with his own thoughts. “That has to mean Hamilton & Lewis. They’re bringing in Hamilton & Lewis.”

  “So?” Gloria asked.

  “Come here,” Michael ordered her, turning slightly to the side.

  She pushed herself to her feet, struggling slightly due to not being able to use her hands. She took her seat next to Michael and waited for his next order.

  “Untie these,” he said to her wiggling his hands back and forth behind his back.

  “How?” she asked.

  “Fine, I’ll untie you first, then you untie me, alright?”

  “Okay,” She said turning her back to him. He fidgeted around until he found the knot in the ropes around her wrists.

  “That man Henry” he said as he worked at the knot, “was he Glen’s boss?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, so we know for sure that Meditech Pharmaceuticals is the provider.”

  “I told you that,” she replied.

  “I know, I’m just talking out loud. Let me figure this out,” he snapped at her as he continued working. “So, Meditech was providing The Lords with their supply. But how does Hamilton & Lewis fit into all of this?”

  “The law firm?”

  “Yes,” he said feeling the knot loosen slightly. “How do they tie into this? And how did Rachel and Joy get mixed up in all of it? And the payphone…”

  “What payphone?”

  “The one outside the strip mall where you work. Someone was calling Hamilton & Lewis from that number, regularly.”

  “Glen, probably.”

  “You think?”

  “Well, he always stopped there to make a call before leaving after he came to see me,” she replied.

  “Good,” Michael said. “So, for some reason, Glen would call Hamilton & Lewis to inform them or update them on whatever was going on. My guess is that, as the entry-level paralegals, Rachel and Joy served more as secretaries than anything. They fielded the calls, and somehow noted something suspicious about them.”

  “And that’s how they knew to follow us that one night,” Gloria concluded for him.

  “Yes!” Michael said as he felt the knot loosen completely and the rope slip off of Gloria’s wrist. “My turn,” Michael said, waiting for Gloria to begin working on his restraints. “There’s something I still don’t get,” Michael said thoughtfully.

  “What’s that?”

  “Why they waited so long to go after Joy. It’s been eight months since…” he let his voice trail off.

  “I wondered the same thing,” she said quietly as she kept working. They sat in silence for a while, while Gloria pulled at the knots around his wrists, until finally she leaned back and exclaimed, “got it!” victoriously.

  Once free, Michael got to his feet again and walked quickly across the small room, pressing his ear to the door. “How many men were there?” he asked, more to himself than to her, trying to count in his head.

  “Six, right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Michael said keeping his ear pressed to the door. “The two men with Henry, Henry, Mickey, and his two men.”

  “What are you doing?” Gloria asked, pushing herself up and walking over to where he was standing.

  “Listening,” he said.

  “Well, I see that. But for what?”

  “I want to see if I can hear who else is coming. Maybe get an idea of how many of them there are.”

  “Can you hear anything?” she asked, walking to the door and pressing her own ear up to it.

  “Not with all this talking,” Michael replied sharply.

  She pulled back from the door and looked at him surprised. “Are you always so rude?” she asked.

  “Only when I’m being held hostage with a ticking clock hanging over my head and my life in the balance,” he shot back at her, pushing himself away from the door.

  “A ticking clock? What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said walking back to the bench, “forget it.”

  She looked at the door and then walked over to sit next to him. “Y
ou didn’t hear anything?”

  “I heard a few voices, but they weren’t clear, but it sounded like Mickey and Henry. I’m guessing whoever they’re waiting for still hasn’t shown up.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Gloria asked.

  “We wait,” Michael replied dryly. “That’s all we can do—wait.”

  Chapter 18: The Final Piece

  He wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting in the small room. It felt like an eternity, and with no windows it was impossible to tell for sure if it was even still light out. Michael felt like the anticipation of waiting was slowly driving him crazy. He didn’t have this time to waste! He had to get his answers, get out, and get to Lindsey—wherever she was.

  “Maybe this is part of it,” Gloria said quietly.

  “What?”

  “The waiting. Maybe it’s part of their mind games. They’re trying to wear us down.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Michael said pushing himself up and walking over to the door for the tenth time since they’d been in holding. “They’re more scared than we are. They’re frazzled; they have no idea what to do next.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so,” he said confidently. He pressed his ear to the door. Gloria continued speaking, but he didn’t listen. “Shh,” he ordered her, leaning in closer. “I think I hear something.”

  Even though it was muffled, he was certain he heard a new voice. “What is it?” Gloria asked pushing herself up and rushing over.

  “Listen,” he said in a harsh whisper.

  The voices were angry, and one burst into a yell. “That’s Hamilton,” Michael said, not a doubt in his mind.

  “The lawyer?”

  “Yes,” he answered, still trying to listen. There was another voice, one he assumed was Lewis, and then one he knew was Mickey’s. The men continued to argue back and forth, but their words were still unclear.

  “What are they talking about?” Gloria asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know. Us, I’m sure.”

  “Can you tell what they’re saying? What are they going to do with us?”

  Michael pressed his ear to the door again. “I can’t tell,” he said pushing himself back slightly. “But I have a plan,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Are you any good with a gun?” he asked.

  “A what?” she said, stepping back quickly and looking at him with an expression of surprise. “Do you have one?”

  “No,” he said, “but that’s not important right now. Are you any good with one?”

  “I’ve never shot one before!” she exclaimed.

  “Well, can you hold one?”

  “What do you mean ‘can I hold a gun’?” She gave him a confused look. “What are you thinking, Michael?”

  He didn’t have a chance to answer, because something distracted him quickly from his train of thought. He heard someone in the hall just outside their door. He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to the bench and sitting down. “Act like you’re still tied up,” he ordered her.

  She complied, putting her hands behind her back and sitting, staring wide-eyed at the door. They both waited in silence as the sound of footsteps grew closer. They heard the jingling of keys, then the loud clank as lock after lock was undone.

  When the door pushed open, two large men walked in—the same two men that Mickey had ordered to put them in holding in the first place. That was a good sign. It meant that there’s the chance that the only new faces in the sitting room belonged to Hamilton & Lewis, and not a large group of henchmen and hired guns.

  Michael waited until they crossed the small room and reached their hands out to take his arm. When they got close enough he threw his legs out in front of him, knocking one of them back against the far wall. The second turned to watch his partner fly back. He was about to retaliate on his behalf, but Michael had already leapt to his feet, and was ready for him.

  When the man turned to face him, Michael’s fist landed squarely in his nose. The sounds of breaking bones and cartilage seemed to ripple through the air. When the man leaned forward to cough up the blood that was quickly filling his mouth, Michael lifted his knee, letting it strike him in the gut.

  The other man was back on his feet, and beginning his quick advance in Michael’s direction. Grabbing the man in front of him, his face now covered in blood, Michael threw him back in the direction of his partner. The man sidestepped quickly, letting his colleague fall to the ground, and continuing his march in Michael’s direction. When he reached his hand into his coat, Michael lowered his shoulder and barreled in the man’s direction, knocking him back before he had the chance to pull out his gun.

  “What the hell is going on in there?” Michael heard a voice call out from down the hall.

  Footsteps began to ring out, getting closer and closer very quickly. Balling up his fist and letting it fly in the man’s gut, he waited until he doubled forward to reach inside his coat and take his weapon off of him. In a swift movement, he lowered the gun, and let the shot ring out. The sound filled the small room, bouncing loudly off of the walls. Between the vibrating crack, and Gloria’s high-pitched screams, Michael found it hard to keep his focus. He kept his eyes on the man, and watched as he fell to the ground, clutching his knee in his hand.

  Seeing that he was down and unarmed, Michael focused the gun on his partner. Walking over to him quickly, he pressed the barrel to his forehead, now covered in a nervous layer of sweat, and reached down to unarm him. He turned and handed the second gun to Gloria, who stared up at him with a terrified look. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

  Michael checked to make sure the safety was off and the bullets were loaded. “Nothing, until I tell you to. If that moment comes, you simply point and squeeze. For now, keep it hidden.”

  He rushed over to the door, and pressed his back to the wall next to it, waiting. The footsteps grew closer, and suddenly, Henry appeared, rushing into the room. “Where is he?” he demanded of Gloria.

  Michael reached his arm out and wrapped it around Henry’s neck, cutting off his breathing. Spinning around he saw his two bodyguards standing in the hallway, their guns pointing directly at him. “Tell them to put them down!” Michael ordered. Henry did nothing. Michael shoved the barrel of the gun into his back. “Tell them to put them down!” he yelled again.

  “Down,” Henry croaked, motioning with his hands for his men to lower their guns.

  “Good” Michael said pushing Henry to one side. “Gloria, now!” he yelled at her as he fired at one of the two men in front of him, spinning around to once again take cover to the side of the door. He heard the man let out a loud scream of pain and fall to the ground. Almost simultaneously another loud crack rang through the air. He looked to where Gloria was sitting, the gun in her shaking hands, an expression of sheer panic and shock on her face. Kneeling down he peered around the doorframe.

  Both men were lying on the ground, a pool of blood forming around them. “Are they dead?” Gloria asked, her voice shaking.

  “Yes,” Michael replied pushing himself up off the ground. The two men on the floor of the cell were still huddled in the same place, the one still clutching his knee tightly, the other looking up at him with a calculated look. “Gloria, check Henry for a gun,” he ordered her, holding his first victim’s gaze. As she fumbled around nervously, searching the inside of his suit coat and the pockets of his pants, Michael pointed his gun at the man on the ground, daring him to try something.

  “He doesn’t have anything,” Gloria confirmed, stepping back away from Henry. Michael looked over to them quickly. He looked so pathetic and scared, his face was pale white and his eyes were threatening to let tears break through.

  Michael stepped back, his gun still pointed at the man on the ground, and motioned for Gloria to leave the room before him. “Leave him here,” he ordered Gloria.

  As she stepped out of the room, Michael followed. The door slammed shut
behind them, and he quickly pulled one of the locks closed before turning around and walking gingerly over the bodies of the men lying lifeless in the hall.

  When he looked ahead of them, towards the entrance of the sitting room where he knew Mickey, Hamilton, and Lewis were, he saw the three men waiting for them, their own guns drawn. “Well, shit,” Mickey said making his way in their direction, looking at the men lying lifeless on the floor.

  Michael pointed his gun at him. “Stop right there,” he ordered him. He motioned for Gloria to get behind him, which she did.

  Mickey pointed his gun at Michael, a smirk spread across his face. “You’re not going to shoot me, Michael. You wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Try me!” Michael dared him.

  Mickey looked over his shoulder at the two men behind him. “If you shoot me, they’ll probably shoot you.”

  “You’re right,” Michael said, lowering his gun and tucking it into the back of his jeans.

  “I knew you were a reasonable man,” Mickey said taking another step towards him.

  As he did, Michael reached out with his left hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting it around violently and causing the gun to fall and clatter to the ground. Simultaneously with his right hand he reached around his back and retrieved the gun he had just placed there. He spun Mickey around so that he was facing the two men, serving as a human shield, protecting him from any shots they may try to get off at him. He pressed his gun into his side and began slowly moving down the hall in the direction of the sitting room.

  He heard Gloria following behind him. The two men in front of them stared at them, their guns still trained in their direction. “Put them down,” Michael ordered them.

  “You first,” Derek Hamilton replied, pushing his wire rimmed glassed up on his nose, his hand shaking and his eyes wide.

  For the first time in days, Michael let himself drudge up the feelings of losing Rachel again—the hurt, the anger, the frustration. He let himself feel the same helpless, nothing-to-lose attitude that he carried with him the first day he burst into Hamilton & Lewis’ office. “Don’t push me, Derek,” he warned him.