04 Heller's Punishment - Heller

by JD Nixon

“The plaintiff’s been warned by the court security. He’ll be turfed out if he misbehaves again. I think we’ll leave it up to them to reinforce that. They’re territorial.”

  “Is Mr Dawson behaving himself?”

  “He’s a complete gentleman. I’m really starting to like him, Heller. I helped him with his work today and he offered me a job as his research assistant.” Utter silence on the other end. “I said no!”

  Still silence from him, and when he spoke he didn’t sound pleased. “Good. Take care, Matilda.”

  “Bye.”

  I had no sooner hung up then Trent came out freshly showered and in time to answer the door to delicious Thai food. He produced a bottle of excellent white wine and we sat on the balcony and ate in the balmy evening air.

  “When all else fails to kill pain, whether emotional or physical, get stuck into the grog,” he declared, pouring me a large glass. We clinked our glasses together.

  “It went well for you today,” I commented, sipping my wine.

  “Yes, it did. I wouldn’t be surprised if the judge wants to end the case tomorrow.”

  “You won’t need me any more then.”

  “I’ve paid for a week. I want you to stay around, Tilly. You can do some other work for me.”

  “That’s unusual, Trent. Most people can’t wait to see the back of me.”

  “I want to get my money’s worth.”

  “Businessmen!” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s always about the money.”

  “Mostly,” he said, smiling nicely.

  “Are you going to work tonight?” I asked.

  “No, let’s do something fun. There’s an alternative cinema down the road. Do you want to see an arty but incomprehensible foreign movie?”

  Oh God! More hours sitting on my bum. “I don’t think you should go out in public until the trial is over, Trent.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I guess. Okay, well it’s going to have to be an evening of my guilty secret pleasure.”

  I was worried, mind crowding with lewd and illegal activities, until he removed a small plastic guitar from a cupboard and turned on the TV. I laughed. His secret vice was a simulated guitar game on his console.

  “You tragic,” I teased, but we had a fun evening trying to beat each other.

  He was much better than me, having evidently and somewhat sadly, practiced quite a lot. He hit the correct notes frequently, showing his exceptionally wanky air guitar moves that had me laughing my head off. But I gave him a run for his money even with my sore muscles, and he was impressed with my rock star potential even though I’d been playing on easy mode.

  “You have good reflexes,” he commented. “Like today, when you managed to bring down that man even though it all happened so fast. I’d barely even heard a commotion when I looked up and you had already tackled him.”

  “Trent –” I started, embarrassed by the undeserved praise.

  “I know, I know,” he held his hands up in supplication. “It makes you uncomfortable when you receive praise. I noticed that today, Tilly. You didn’t want us to gush over your heroics at all. You’re very modest.”

  “But Trent –” I tried again desperately, but he cut me off.

  “That’s so refreshing. Especially in my industry where everyone is always trying to steal each other’s credit. I respect you so much for that.”

  He came over to me and cupped my cheek in his palm, his eyes full of admiration. He leaned forward to kiss me gently on the other cheek. Oh God, I’m such a fraud, I thought, even as I enjoyed the close contact with him.

  “Trent, it’s just my job.”

  “You’re a wonderful woman.”

  “I’m not, really,” I insisted, but he wasn’t listening.

  We parted ways for the night and I tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable position, my muscles hurting. In the early hours, I slipped with exhaustion into a light sleep that provided no refreshment. I woke up groggy and tired. Not a good start to the day. I dosed myself with a brisk but painful run on the treadmill, a cold shower and coffee, but knew the day ahead was going to be a trial. I only hoped that Gavin was able to control his emotions this time.

  Trent came out of his room, rested, well-dressed and handsome. I made every effort to brighten up so he wouldn’t notice anything remiss in my services. Over breakfast, he talked excitedly about his hopes for a speedy resolution to the trial today, so that he could go back to work. The expected knock on the door interrupted him and I sprang up to answer. To my incredible disappointment, it was Ozanne and Beyrer again. I really didn’t want to see Beyrer. His mood hadn’t improved overnight, but mine hadn’t either. We eyeballed each other, neither of us mistaking our relationship for anything than what it was – mutually antagonistic.

  “Let’s go, people,” Trent demanded, breezing past us all. I brought up the rear as we boarded the Heller’s vehicle again. Trent worked as we drove, but didn’t ask for any help this time, busily labouring over his documentation himself. I took the opportunity to have a quick nap. When the vehicle stopped I woke up guiltily, hoping I hadn’t snored, drooled or given away any other sign I hadn’t been on full alert. Heller wouldn’t be happy to learn that I’d been sleeping on the job. Happily for me though, nobody seemed to notice.

  We arrived with time to spare and Trent and I trooped into the courtroom. Under strict instructions from his lawyer, Gavin was on his best behaviour and his supporters also tried to contain their emotion. I gave Gloria a friendly smile and eased my sore muscles into the seat she’d saved for me, not looking forward to another long session of immobility. I sincerely hoped the trial would have a speedy conclusion so I didn’t have to sit down all day. But unbelievably there were still the lengthy closing speeches from each side to survive, and after the second hour, my eyelids grew heavy with boredom. I needed a very large and very strong coffee to keep me going, but there was no prospect of it in the near future.

  In the afternoon, the judge wrapped the whole case up, summarising the arguments of each side and providing comments that made everyone in the court feel as though Trent had won this battle hands down. We were all ordered to return tomorrow for the judgement.

  We left the court complex safely, enduring nothing worse than evil looks. When we returned to Trent’s apartment, he went straight to work in his office and I indulged in a much-needed relaxing bath. Trent worked for the rest of the night, apologising again for doing so, but I waved his apologies aside, trying to hide a yawn, only too glad to escape to bed early.

  I felt restored the next day and ready for action when the men turned up. Damn, Beyrer again. This morning he seemed particularly twitchy, his eyes not staying in one place for long, his body tightly sprung. I began to wonder if he was on something. Surely not – Heller would never tolerate a drugged-up employee. I didn’t like to bad mouth a colleague to the boss, but I would have to talk to Heller about this man when the job was over. I hoped he’d found the time to discuss Beyrer with Clive. The fact that I hadn’t heard any more about the matter from Heller only made me feel as though I was over-reacting to my own instinctive dislike of the man.

  When we approached the court complex, the crowd of Gavin’s supporters had grown larger. I hoped they behaved, because there were only three of us to protect Trent and there were about eighty people baying for him, calling out that he was a murderer and had blood on his hands. His jaw hardened with tension from the taunting. We rushed him up the stairs to the courthouse, not even letting him speak to the waiting media.

  In court, an expectant buzz filled the room. Gavin, and all the family and friends he was able to stuff inside the room were an electric mix of hope and despair. As usual, Trent sat with commendable composure, but he turned at one point and scanned the crowd with such a poignant and troubled expression that I felt sorry for him. It couldn’t be easy to stand publicly accused of being the cause of another person’s death.

  When the judge delivered her verdict in favour of Trent, the cou
rtroom erupted into mayhem. I jumped from my seat and rushed down to where he sat, dazed and happy. He wisely refrained from openly celebrating, but he clearly was incredibly relieved. He attempted to say a few consoling words to Gavin, but that man turned his back and angrily lumbered out of the courtroom without a word. I waited patiently while Trent thanked his lawyers and consulted on the next steps, including the inevitable press conference.

  When we exited the courtroom, both Ozanne and Beyrer seemed annoyed. I soon learned that Gavin’s supporters had heckled them on their way out. Ozanne’s expression was of understandable irritation, but Beyrer’s face contorted into a mask of barely suppressed rage. The guy had obvious anger management problems.

  For God’s sake, don’t snap today, Beyrer, I begged to myself.

  From the glass doors of the courthouse, we watched Gavin’s support group becoming predictably upset after being told of the verdict. The court security officers advised us that they’d called for police support to disperse the crowd. I recommended that we wait safely inside the courthouse until the cops arrived. All three men regarded me with undeserved scorn.

  “I want to get out of here, Tilly. I’ve had enough of this place,” Trent insisted. “Let’s go! I have business to attend to.” Both of the Heller’s men agreed with him. I tried again.

  “They’re very angry, Trent. Why risk it? Let’s just wait for the police. Please. It will be safer for everyone. The three of us can’t handle that crowd.”

  Trent became irate with me. “Tilly, I’m not having the image of me being rushed to my car by cops plastered all over the papers tomorrow. I’m not afraid of any of these people. For God’s sake, you’ve already brought down the biggest of them! Stop being so overcautious.”

  The men threw me looks that implied I was letting the entire Heller’s team down by being so wimpy, which of course only served to rile me. So I shot them all a fierce look and taking the lead, pushed open the glass courthouse doors with unnecessary force and temper.

  But as soon as I stepped outside, the crowd jeered, taunted and hissed me. It was an unnerving experience. I waited until Trent caught up with me, tucking my arm into his so we stayed together no matter what we faced. The reality of the crowd’s hostility brought him to a halt. They shouted some truly hateful comments at him, which competing media picked up with glee. His entire body stiffened, and his face paled at the loathing directed at him.

  The crowd began to mob, nobody and nothing to hold them back from us. I moved Trent forward with urgency. We were going to have to make it past the crowd and we didn’t want to be caught in the middle of them. It was much safer for us to be a moving target. I threw a glare of censure back at Ozanne and Beyrer. They should have listened to me and stayed in the courthouse until the cops arrived.

  Then the missiles began. Something hit me on the cheek. It was hard and stung, and it wasn’t until I felt a slimy residue dripping down my face that I realised I’d been egged. I turned again to the two men.

  “What are you waiting for? I need you here!” I shouted at them. The crowd surged and the men struggled to reach us, pushing through screaming people. The media retreated to a safe distance as soon as danger reared its head, and the court security watched us impassively through the sanctity of their glass doors. We were on our own.

  Another egg hit me, arching my back in pain. Trent copped one on his shoulder that broke and ran down his pristine suit. He was aghast, never having encountered such concentrated personal hatred before.

  “Ozanne, go get the vehicle and bring it here. We need to get out of this place straight away,” I ordered. He didn’t argue but sprinted away, fending off a couple of eggs as he ran. That left Beyrer and me. I knew he wouldn’t do anything I requested, no matter how reasonable. I slipped my arm around Trent’s waist and urged him on.

  “We’re going to move up the street to where the vehicle is, then jump in very quickly,” I explained to him. He nodded his understanding, not quite able to disguise the apprehension on his face. He was probably concerned about being torn to shreds by the angry crowd. I was a little worried about it myself.

  We all caught a few more projectiles, mostly eggs. One hit Beyrer in the forehead, egg white and yolk sliding down his face. It was apparently his last straw. He stopped, used his hand to wipe the egg off with deliberate slowness, and turned around until he spotted the culprit, a young acne-scarred man. With his fists clenched and veins popping in his neck, he lurched over, seized the young man by his shirt, lifted him up and punched him hard in the face. Blood gushed from the poor man’s nose, and the crowd exploded with shouts and heckles in shock and anger at the unwarranted violence.

  “Beyrer!” I yelled, rushing over and dragging Trent with me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put him down now!”

  It was as if I hadn’t even spoken, Beyrer continuing to pummel the man in front of horrified and screaming witnesses. I let go of Trent and forced myself between Beyrer and the young man, pushing him away as hard as I could. The young man fell in a bloodied heap, quickly dragged to safety by the crowd. Beyrer swung out around him, throwing punches indiscriminately at anyone he could reach, angry hatred oozing from every pore.

  “Beyrer!” I screamed at him. “Stop it! Now! What the hell’s the matter with you? Are you insane?” He didn’t just ignore me, I honestly believe that he didn’t even hear me at all, his eyes glazed over with violence. Strong, big and forceful, he pushed through the crowd. People scattered in alarm.

  “Get away from him!” I yelled at everyone, shoving those too reluctant or too slow to move out of the way. Trent helped me to drag a few injured or fallen people out of the way. Eventually I created an empty circle around Beyrer where he couldn’t reach anyone. He spun around, growling like an animal, wanting to take someone on. It was a terrifying sight to see someone losing control like that, and it shocked me exactly how many people stayed to watch or film him with their phone cameras.

  A camera crew from a local news show ventured too close to him, trying to film some footage for tonight’s broadcast. Beyrer attacked them, smashing their camera, king-hitting their sound guy and frightening the rest away. Trent and I dragged the sound guy to safety. I didn’t know what to do next, wishing Ozanne would hurry up and return. I couldn’t take on Beyrer by myself.

  Beyrer’s mad eyes next lighted on a huddled group of terrified young women caught up against the wall of the courthouse. They screamed with pitiable fear, shrinking back against the wall as he stalked towards them. I sprang off sprinting and launched myself onto his back, my arms firmly grasped around his throat. He shook his body violently back and forth to dislodge me, my teeth rattling in my head as I was flung from side to side. Fury gave him extra strength, but I clung on tightly to him, squeezing his throat with my arms as hard as I could. He reached around to haul me off, clutching at my polo top. The material rode up my back, its seams straining. He better not rip my shirt off me, I thought, tightening my grip around his neck. I did not want to end up on TV in my undies again.

  We performed an odd dance, me slowly strangling him while he reached behind attempting to grab me, spinning us around in circles as he did. He managed to clutch a handful of my hair and yanked on it. I shrieked in pain, loosening one arm to return the favour, earning myself a sharp grunt from him. He grasped the arm around his throat, his fingers digging into my skin. He was so brawny that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to maintain my grip on him for much longer. So with the fingers of my free hand I poked him in the eyes as we swung around, cringing as I did it. But because I hadn’t been game enough to do it properly, all it did was enrage him further without disabling him. I slid my other arm around his throat again and squeezed especially hard.

  He reacted with a superhuman effort to prise my arms from around my neck, dropping me to the ground with a bone-rattling thump. I twisted and scrambled to get out of his way, but he reached down and seized me by an ankle, roughly pulling me backwards. I was almost upside down, him dan
gling me by my ankle. I scrabbled on the concrete, fingernails breaking, trying to get some traction to escape. Frantically kicking out at him, I managed to free my left ankle from his grip. He grasped me by the collar of my shirt and hauled me upright. He scooped me up in his arms and flung me towards the huddled women as a projectile. I crashed into them, knocking them all over. Now, I was really angry.

  I extricated myself swiftly from the jumble of arms and legs, and rushed at him in temper. I hit the brick wall of his solid muscle mass with violent recoil, stumbling backwards. I put my shoulder and head down for another go, this time making contact with considerable force. Luckily for me, Beyrer was temporarily distracted by Ozanne who’d finally returned. Ozanne circled him, waiting for an opportunity to dive in and overpower him. Beyrer took his eye off me and my second impact knocked him heavily to the ground. He clutched my arms as he fell, pulling me down on top of him.

  Before I could make any further moves, he began to choke the life out of me with his big, beefy hands. I hooked my fingers around his hands, desperately trying to pry them from my neck. I was locked in a dreadful intimate embrace with him, staring into his eyes, our limbs entwined. He rolled us over and over on the ground, all of his attention directed towards hurting me. Ozanne hovered anxiously at the edge, finding it difficult to intervene in our rolling mass of arms and legs.

  Chapter 23

  Beyrer was slowly winning the battle and my vision grew increasingly cloudy. My last sensible thought was that surely in this crowd of people surrounding us, someone was going to step in before he killed me. And that’s when I was hit with indescribable pain, so strong it threw Beyrer and me apart from each other. I lay on the ground blinking in the daylight, arms and legs thrown carelessly askew. I didn’t seem to be able to move and wondered if I’d died. But then the paramedics arrived and I knew I was still alive. I looked up at them as they regarded me, hands on their hips.

  “Not you again?” said one. It was the same pair who’d tended to Daniel and me when a demented woman had attacked us a while ago. I tried to shrug with airy nonchalance, but couldn’t move. They knelt down next to me and examined me quickly and efficiently.