Dead Blind

by Rebecca Bradley

  78

  Rusnac was about to go and find the cop when he quite calmly walked back into the room. As though he didn’t have a care in the world. Or rather, as though the only care he had in the world was the fictitious concern to sell his kidney. What Rusnac wanted to know was, why he would come here if he couldn’t identify him? It seemed such a fruitless act.

  But who was he to agonise over the decisions of others when he was in possession of facts that the cop didn’t even realise he knew.

  It was called having the upper hand.

  A position he liked to be in.

  What did he do with him now? So far, he’d played along with his little game. Maybe he was waiting for him to admit to who he was, to jump down his throat again and threaten his family. But where was the fun in that when he knew what he knew now?

  Rusnac still needed answers before he acted. The decision before him was a large one. Not one he would take lightly. The outcome of today would have repercussions. Rusnac needed to work out what he was willing to put up with, deal with, out of those repercussions.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Gordon –’ he leaned forward ‘– how did you find us?’

  ‘It wasn’t difficult.’ The cop stayed in role. ‘I’d heard about this kind of thing. I’m quite technically aware, so I knew the first place to search was the dark net. Once in there I was given the address I needed. And boy, I’m glad I was. It couldn’t have come at a better time.’ He picked up his coffee. Eyed Rusnac over his drink. What was he thinking?

  ‘And you never answered my question about support. As I said, it’s a difficult journey, this one; do you have support or are you in this alone?’

  Ray smiled. ‘Oh, I have support. In the background, you understand.’ He paused, drew in his eyebrows. ‘I hope it’s still there.’

  79

  Ray felt weirdly hemmed in, sitting there in front of Rusnac. He was free to stand and roam as he wished, but he had no idea if Elaine had understood or believed his message. He hoped she would deal with the problem at hand and speak to him about his deceit afterwards. But what she had to do first was explain it all to Jain and get all the troops on board, to get them all tripping out on the say-so of his voice identification. Especially after he had already officially failed to ID Rusnac once.

  He had no idea if help was on its way.

  ‘It’s quite good for me,’ Rusnac spoke again, ‘that you did come alone today, though I’m sorry to hear you may have troubles.’

  Ray looked out of the window at the still empty parking lot.

  Rusnac shifted in his seat. Pushed himself up and stood. ‘You see, it gives us a chance to talk, because I think you need to know all the facts yourself today.’ He walked to the sideboard that the television was sitting on and pulled open a drawer. ‘Isn’t that right, Mr Gordon?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ Ray answered to Rusnac’s back.

  ‘And I want you to have all the answers today,’ Rusnac turned. In his hand was a Glock.

  This was now the third time Ray had seen it in his hand, and the second time it had been pointed directly at him. He rose from his seat.

  ‘Sit back down …’ Rusnac waved the gun, indicating the sofa. ‘… Mr Gordon,’ he said, curling his upper lip, ‘I think we need to have a chat, don’t you?’

  Ray did as he was told. He was confused: he’d identified Rusnac, he’d known it was him, but why the games from Rusnac, why hadn’t he been aggressive from the start?

  Rusnac perched himself on the arm of the sofa, his left leg planted firmly on the floor, his right leg bent and swinging, relaxed, as though talking to a friend.

  With a gun in his hand.

  ‘So,’ he started, ‘What brings you here, all alone?’

  ‘You do,’ Ray answered.

  ‘And how do you know who I am?’

  Ray was confused.

  Rusnac laughed. ‘You think I’m stupid, cop? That I couldn’t figure out what happened? You couldn’t recognise me in that line-up, that’s why I was released.’ He laughed again. ‘Something wrong with cop’s head.’

  The idea that he’d figured this out shocked Ray. He’d underestimated the man in front of him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing though.’

  Rusnac stood. Gun firmly pointed at Ray. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re so smart, you figure it out.’ He needed to keep him talking. He wasn’t sure how much of a good idea it was to antagonise him though, as he was the one holding the gun.

  Rusnac paced across the room, keeping the Glock in the general direction of Ray. He paced back again. Then across and back. Ray watched. And waited.

  ‘Empty your pockets.’ Rusnac waved the gun lower, towards Ray’s jeans pockets.

  Ray stood, pulled out his wallet from the right pocket, minus his warrant card, dropped it on the sofa. Stared at Rusnac.

  ‘And the other one.’

  With a sigh he pulled out the phone and dropped that on the sofa.

  ‘No. No. Hand that to me. I didn’t think I had to worry about you after I threatened your family, but you’ve been stupid, cop. Now I worry.’

  80

  Ray picked up the phone and handed it to Rusnac, who poked the screen with a stubby finger.

  ‘Pin code.’ Rusnac pushed the phone back to Ray, who took it and put his thumb on the home button, bringing the phone to life.

  Rusnac yanked the phone back and tapped through to the call log. The last had been made four hours ago.

  Ray smiled to himself.

  Rusnac checked the text messages. There were no new messages. Rusnac dropped the phone to the floor and stamped on the screen. A web of fractures spun out. The glass crunching like splintering ice as it broke underfoot.

  ‘What did you mean, there’s nothing wrong with your hearing? And what have you done?’ His voice was raised now, but he wasn’t shouting. Ray suspected Adams was still in the building.

  ‘Exactly what I said. I came to find you. I can recognise you by your voice. Now you’ve confirmed the identification by pointing a gun at me. Are we going to do this all again?’ He sounded way surer of himself than he felt, which gave him hope that Elaine had listened and assistance was on its way.

  ‘I told you that you’d pay if you didn’t leave this alone, and yet you come. You really are stupid.’ The gun bobbed in his hand. He was nervous. ‘Come, we walk.’

  Shit. ‘What? Where?’

  ‘Where I tell you is where. Move.’ Again the gun was a pointer, and this time it was to the door.

  Damn, the back-up was on its way here. They needed to stay here. Ray sat down. ‘You want to talk, we’ll talk.’

  The metal was cool against his temple. Rusnac’s breath smelled of shellfish and rosemary. An undercurrent of rot. It drifted across his face. Invasive as it permeated his olfactory senses. Ray held his breath.

  ‘I said move. Now get up and move, unless you would prefer to resolve our issue here and now.’ His voice was barely above a whisper.

  Ray stood. There were no options. He had to move and hope they didn’t go far, or that his team and any other support en route knew what they were doing.

  They filed out of the room and turned right, towards the end of the corridor, where a fire-exit door was located. An exit where Adams wouldn’t be able to see them and therefore wouldn’t be able to inform attending cops where they’d gone.

  ‘Through.’ Rusnac indicated with the gun again.

  Ray pushed on the bar handle and opened the door. There was no screeching alarm, just a pregnant howling silence from beyond. He felt the muzzle of the gun push into the small of his back. Rusnac wanted him to walk. He walked.

  The day was still bright and warm, blue was the colour palette that lay over them.

  ‘Keep walking.’ He was a man of few words now that they had the reintroductions out of the way.

  Ray looked around; it was a closed in area. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Ahead, push through the bush.’

  There was an e
vergreen bush that partitioned the wasteland area they were parked in – the area that the office building was set up in – and the woods beyond. It was about waist height, and thin. Though evergreen, it had still lost some of its life through the winter months. It wouldn’t be difficult to get through. Ray needed to engage with Rusnac. ‘What are your plans?’

  ‘I’ll let you know when we get there. Just walk.’ Another prod.

  Ray moved. Gravel crunched.

  ‘You know, killing a cop will bring a lot more pressure to bear on you than it did when you killed Billy. Bad as that sounds, it’s true. We turn up to protect people and we don’t like it when one of ours is killed doing that job.’

  ‘You don’t leave me with a lot of choice.’ Another push in the back with the muzzle.

  So that was what he planned. ‘You do have a choice. You’ve already threatened me once –’

  ‘Look how that paid off.’

  Ray twisted sideways, pushed with his hip through the woody bush. Felt it snag on his clothes. Try to grab hold of him, detain him. He wished it would. He wished it had the power to stop this.

  ‘Yeah, but I think I get the message this time. You’re serious, yeah.’

  ‘Oh, I’m serious.’

  He was through, into knee-high grass and uneven ground that ran out in front of him towards the woods of Wimbledon Hill Park. Rusnac pushed his way through the bush behind him. ‘Well, now you know I can’t identify you. All we have to do is keep out of each other’s way.’ Ray turned. Looked Rusnac in the face. He didn’t even register as the person he’d been talking to in the building not five minutes ago. Damn – if the guy even realised how bad it was.

  ‘We’re past that. You’re in my way. Like a bad … what do you guys call it? … coin. Like a bad coin.’

  ‘Penny.’

  ‘What’

  ‘I’m like a bad penny.’

  The area started to thicken, trees grouping together. They pushed on. They trudged for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Ray tried to talk to Rusnac but he had made his decision and was silent. He threatened to put a bullet in Ray’s head then and there if he didn’t stop talking.

  Ray stopped.

  His thoughts went to Helen. To Alice and Matthew. How his children would grow up without a father. How he hoped Helen would tell them great things about him, but encourage them to grow and flourish without him, not shrink and fall.

  Then he thought of Celeste. How he’d let her down. How their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to weather his condition.

  But then his mind was back with Helen and the children. He couldn’t summon up images of them, but the warmth of feeling flooded his heart.

  ‘Stop here,’ Rusnac said behind him.

  Ray stopped and turned. Again, the picture in front of him brought back no memory of anyone he had ever spoken with. He’d never be able, as he’d proven, to pick this guy out in an ID procedure.

  ‘This is where we sort it out.’ He levelled the gun at Ray’s chest.

  81

  The cop yammered on like an old woman. Rusnac was fed up of hearing it. He’d ordered him to stop. Had to threaten to shoot him on the spot if he didn’t keep quiet. Not that he was one to make such rash decisions.

  His brain was running at a speed he could barely keep up with. A damn mess. What the hell would he tell the Russians? They would find out about the murder of a cop. But could he let this guy run roughshod over his organisation and everything he had created? He’d already threatened his life and that of his family once, and the guy had still turned up here, posing as a patient. The man must have a death wish.

  Well, he’d grant him his wish if it would produce the better outcome.

  The cop didn’t care about himself. He obviously didn’t care about the lives of his family either. He’d proved reckless.

  Rusnac couldn’t wrap his head around that. He’d come to this godforsaken country because of his Mama. He would do anything to keep her alive. He’d done everything he could in Moldova and he’d pushed himself to make the operation work here so he could send money back for her to have the anti-rejection drugs she needed. He spoke to her every week. Made sure they kept their side of the bargain. Which they were. She was well, thriving. Worried about him, as any Mama was. Nagged him about what he was up to, what he had got himself involved in to keep her well. Told him off nearly every time she spoke to him, but he didn’t care, hearing her voice was enough for him. Kept him focused.

  And yet, this guy, he’d willingly put his family at risk, and for what? What did this matter to him on a personal level? Nothing. It was a job. Why did they insist on pushing all the boundaries for a job? He would never understand that. These Brits, they didn’t understand family, hardship, honour, duty, and, behind it all, real fear. Their lives were so easy and this made them stupid. Docile.

  What an idiot.

  As Rusnac placed one large foot in front of the other, going deeper into the wood, out of the sunshine, into the darkness, away from people, civilisation, he had no idea what he would do. On the one hand the cop was right. He wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a line-up, he’d proved that. But he’d also proved he was incapable of letting this lie.

  And he didn’t need the interference.

  He pulled him up. Levelled the gun at him.

  82

  His stomach twisted. Ray looked around. He couldn’t hear sirens or see blue lights slicing up the day. His time was up and there was no one here to prevent it. No one here to witness his time. No one here to say a final goodbye to, apologise to, give his heart to. This was how he was going out. Alone in the woods.

  He only had himself to blame. He hadn’t shared any of what he had known or what he was about to do.

  Under his foot a twig cracked in the quiet. The sound loud in his head, like a firecracker, it broke through the blood that pounded in his ears.

  The woods had darkened. The daylight blocked by the overhead tree canopies. The blue of the spring day, now a haze of green, black and grey. It felt damp. Ray’s vision tunnelled. The edges greying out, the gun, the hand, the finger on the trigger, the face he didn’t know.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said again.

  Rusnac took a step closer. The barrel of the gun so close it blurred. ‘Oh, but you’ve left me little choice. You couldn’t leave well enough alone and I don’t trust that you would leave it if I left you here now.’

  He was going to do it. Pull the trigger. The option of talking his way out of this was slipping away. Like water through his fingers. There was no assistance coming. He was on his own.

  It was over and only he could decide how it would go. The man he would be.

  Ray stepped forward, swung his right hand up and grabbed hold of the gun by the muzzle, pushing upwards as he did, using all his body weight and momentum. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. He wouldn’t stand there and wait for it to happen.

  Rusnac’s mouth opened in an Oh. A grunt escaped. He stumbled.

  Ray continued to push. His hand tight on the Glock. His heart thundering in his chest. He forced it up and back. Hoping to take it out of Rusnac’s hand or at least remove himself from its aim.

  They lurched backwards.

  Rusnac fought to keep his grip on the weapon. His free hand went up. He pulled down on the trigger and it exploded, crashing through the quiet of the wood. Birds scattered from the tops of the trees in a mass of beating fright. The Glock recoiled, neither Ray nor Rusnac had a proper grip on it now, and they fell to the damp dark ground.

  Ray’s ears rang. The shot echoed through his skull. Bouncing against the surface like a ping-pong ball. It made him dizzy. Disorientated. But he couldn’t give up. He shook his head to clear the noise and static. Fought to orientate himself.

  He’d landed on top of Rusnac, who was on his side. He’d been here before. He couldn’t allow the same outcome, because this time Rusnac wasn’t going to walk away and leave him standing there.

  The Glock
had slipped from the grasp of both men as they tumbled and fought to retain their hold. It had flown free, and was just out of reach on the ground.

  Ray dug his elbow deep into Rusnac’s clavicle. Forced it into a sharp point and leaned in. He had to keep him down. Rusnac howled. Ray knew from his training that this was a sensitive area of the body and that the amount of pressure he was applying would be causing the man below him some serious pain.

  But before he could consider his next move, what to do about the weapon, how to restrain Rusnac, there were stars, and a searing pain jackhammered into the already saturated space in his skull as Rusnac smashed his head up into Ray’s nose. Yet again blood erupted, spattering over Rusnac. In the shock Ray was forced onto his back by the strength of the blow.

  Rusnac rolled over, reached out, clawed forward on hands and knees, fingers tearing up the woodland floor. Ray reached out for his ankle. He had to stop him reaching the gun. Rusnac looked back, shook his leg free of the fragile grasp Ray had, lifted himself up onto all fours, and forced a foot out at Ray’s head, his boot connecting with his cheek and temple. White-hot pain starburst up into Ray’s eye, blinding him. This was a fight for his life but the energy was being stripped from him second by slow second. He collapsed back down onto the soft damp ground.

  And now there was no fight to be had. Rusnac turned to face him, sat up, and with the Glock clasped firmly between two hands, pointed the gun straight at him.

  Ray lay there. Blood smeared over his face, his clothes. His cheek already twice the size it should be and his head containing a poorly orchestrated brass band.

  It was over for him. This was where it would end. With him as a mess on the ground. But he’d put up a fight. They’d see that. They’d be able to tell Helen that, at least. He was filthy and bloodied.

  Rusnac was grunting as heavily as Ray was. They sounded like a couple of pigs on the floor of the wood. Ray’s nose was stuffed up with blood; he turned his head to the side and spat. Blood and spittle dropped to the ground in thick heavy globs.