From The Shadows (Blaze series Book 1)

by David Carter

  “Thanks, but you have been with the truck while it was inside the compound.”

  “So?”

  The older guard of the two raised his voice a notch. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but if the governor catches us I’ll lose my bloody job!”

  “Lighten up, old man.” Franks smiled. “It’ll just be our little secret,” he persuaded, blocking the metal step welded to the rear of the truck.

  The guard raised his voice considerably as he said, “It’s not that we don’t trust you, but it’s our job to do all the searching of vehicles. And quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of the governor’s pets throwing their weight around in this God forsaken place, doing whatever they please at the drop of a hat and putting their fellow workmates in awkward positions such as this!” The guard stepped towards Franks, face to face with him, and said, “Now get out of the way before I call the governor and report your sorry ass!”

  Franks started to panic; the plan was going pear-shaped. He went to make a desperate attempt to smooth things over with the guard, but he never got the chance, as the only door in the room that led into the administration block buzzed open and clicked shut behind the man who entered the heated scene.

  “What’s all the commotion?” demanded Archer.

  Shit, we’re screwed, thought Franks.

  “I want you to tell Frankie here to back off and let us do our jobs!” said the guard.

  “I was just offering to help search the truck,” added Franks innocently.

  Archer took off his glasses and gave them a polish as he summed up the situation. “Frankie, how am I supposed to maintain the highest standards of security when my senior staff members go meddling about with the procedures I’ve specifically put in place?”

  “I’m sorry, Gov—”

  Archer cut him off. “As long as I’m the governor of this facility, you will do exactly as I say, and follow the procedures to the letter of the law. Am I quite clear on this?”

  “Yes, Governor,” he replied sheepishly. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Excellent! Now, seeing as I’m here, and that I’m ahead of my morning schedule, why don’t you all move aside so that I may search the truck instead? That should remedy the situation, should it not?”

  The guard took a step back. “Yes, Governor, it would. I’d be most honoured to observe the master in action,” he said.

  I’m a dead man, thought Franks.

  Danny had heard most of what had happened outside the truck. He was in a panic as he knew it was only a matter of moments until Archer stumbled upon his hideaway. His insides churned as he heard the soles of Archer’s shoes tapping against the steel step as he climbed aboard.

  It was dark inside the chiller unit. Archer called out to Jamal to turn on the interior light. He did so from a switch in the cab, and it lit up like a Christmas tree. He saw two stacks of empty wooden pallets sitting side by side across the deck, reaching almost halfway to the roof. He climbed on top of them. The next obstacles were two adjacent pallets with empty crates stacked on top of them, nearly all the way to the roof, blocking the eight wooden bins stacked two by two by two at the front of the chiller unit.

  Archer called out, “I hope you’re watching boys: I may not be as nimble as I once was, but I can still squeeze into a tight space!”

  Archer hoisted himself into the gap between the top of the stacks of crates and the roof of the chiller unit, and shuffled himself forward. He was enjoying himself immensely, like a young boy using his imagination on a quest, hunting for lost treasure.

  Danny’s heart pounded. He could hear Archer’s heavy breathing as he strained over the stacks of crates, observing every inch of the load as he moved, trying not to catch his shirt buttons on the edges of the crates. At last Archer reached the bins up the front of the truck. From his perch, he could peer into them, and said, “Well, well, well, what have we here?”

  Franks nearly fainted as he pictured Archer staring at Danny through the tiny crack between the wooden bins concealing him. Jamal prepared himself to be taken into custody for aiding in an escape. Danny did everything in his power not to move a muscle or shit himself.

  Franks waited for Archer to lose his rag and call for backup which would most likely result in him being thrown into The Wolves’ Den to fight for his life. Instead, Archer’s head reappeared out of the back of the truck, before he climbed back down to the ground. He walked over to a fretting Jamal, and said, “Are you stealing from me?”

  “No, sir.” He trembled.

  “Don’t play games with me, boy. Now, I’ll ask you once more. Are you stealing my property?”

  Jamal glanced at Franks, who discreetly shook his head.

  “No, sir, I swear! I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!” he replied urgently.

  Archer wasn’t impressed with his answer. “So, tell me something, er—what did you say your name was?”

  “Jamal, sir.”

  “Right. Tell me, Jamal, why is it that you have half a dozen pumpkins hidden away in one of the bins at the front of your truck where nobody is going to look? In my book, that’s called stealing!”

  Franks let out a huge sigh of relief and came to Jamal’s rescue by saying, “It’s okay, Governor. I sent them back with Jamal as they were half rotten when they arrived in last week’s delivery. They’ll be credited back to our produce account.”

  “Is this true, Jamal?” asked Archer.

  “Yes, sir.” He trembled. “I have the paperwork in the cab. I’ll go get it if you like.”

  Archer smiled as he placed his hand gently on Jamal’s shoulder. “That won’t be necessary. You be on your way and have a nice day, as I’m sure you have other deliveries to make. I wouldn’t want to hold you up any further.”

  The door was raised and Jamal rolled out of Winterhill, dragging heavily on a cigarette after his stressful encounter with Archer, with Danny in the back, thanking his lucky stars.

  Franks made his way to the infirmary. He looked through the thick glass window in the door and saw the room was vacant. He scrolled down through the contacts list in his phone. He selected a number and made the call.

  Jamal answered after the third ring. “Fuck, that was close!”

  “Too bloody close,” replied Franks. “I’m sorry it almost turned to shit. You did great.”

  Jamal hesitated before asking, “So when do I pick up my—er—you know; payment?”

  “Tonight, at ten o’clock. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse on the Old Mill Road just outside of Woodridge. That’s where we’ll finish the job we’ve started. And bring Danny with you. I don’t want you leaving him all by himself at your place all night. He’ll get a kick out of what we’ve got planned. Make sure you buy him a change of clothes, too. Then we can all go back to our boring lives and forget this ever happened.”

  “Are you sure the governor won’t suspect me?”

  Franks chuckled. “Actually; it couldn’t have worked out better. He personally searched your truck. You’d be the last person on his shit list right now.”

  Jamal saw Franks’ logic as he exhaled a lungful of cigarette smoke. “All right, I’ll see you tonight at ten,” he said, and clicked off.

  Chapter 49

  Ryan sipped his ice cold beer as he sat deep in thought next to Blaze at the bar in The Greasy Axle, mulling over the pieces of evidence he had against Arnold; the bad blood between him and Blaze, Elizabeth calling off the wedding, that he had been a member of the Protectors of the past, and had lost his position thanks to Elizabeth, the Vintage Car Club cap Trinity had recognised, the daggers in his war collection, and his strong, outspoken, religious views.

  As the thoughts raced over and over in his mind, he finally made a connection: Matthew Jones had received the warning message from the Watcher about O’Brian and Turner, who obviously knew about his secret club, and that Arnold was possibly the only other non-member in Glendale, apart from Elizabeth, who could have known about the club. It fitted nicely that Arn
old might have kept watch over their comings, goings, and doings over the years. Also, he was old fashioned and extreme in his religious views, especially when it concerned homosexuality. And from what Elizabeth had told Ryan about him: fornication, gambling, man and woman living together while unmarried, pornography, drugs, and overuse of alcohol were all high on his list of absolute do nots.

  Hampton had been in charge of coordinating the search of Arnold’s house. After he was sure he had examined every square inch of it, he’d returned to the station with several potential murder weapons consistent with the murders of O’Brian, Turner, and Duncan Walters. The search team also recovered a Glendale Vintage Car Club cap and an absurd amount of religious paraphernalia, making the search team, consisting of Hampton and three Glendale police officers, and the MCHU hierarchy believe Ryan finally had his man.

  Ryan had spent the day finding out as much information as possible about Arnold. There were two things that especially interested him. The first was that he lived alone, which Ryan thought may have given him the freedom he needed to move around at all hours without justifying his whereabouts to anyone. The second was that he worked part-time, managing his own lawn mowing business, possibly adding to his freedom of movement and ability to be invited into people’s homes and lives on a personal level. Some of Arnold’s clients that Ryan had questioned confirmed he was a reliable hard worker, meticulous with every job he did. The net result was that Arnold seemed a decent and respectable man.

  All part of the ruse? thought Ryan.

  Blaze interrupted his thought process by saying, “Keen for another round? My shout.”

  “I’m okay, thanks. How the hell do you have any money anyway?”

  Blaze scoffed. “You’re just assuming I was a broke ass bum before I went to prison.”

  “Sorry, it’s been a bloody long day.”

  Blaze casually leaned his back and elbows against the bar while looking out at the crowded room. He spotted Elizabeth and Hampton sitting together at a table, sharing a bottle of wine and intelligent conversation. He said to Ryan, “What the fuck’s going on there?”

  “Just leave them be,” he said. “They look as if they are really enjoying each other’s company.”

  Blaze drained the rest of his beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the bar. “I think I better go have a word with your mate,” he said.

  Ryan got up from his stool, blocking his path, putting the palm of his outstretched hand on his chest. “As I said, just leave it.” He stared into Blaze’s eyes and smirked. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  “Like fuck I am.”

  “Then why do care so much that you need to go over there and ‘have a word’ with him? Is it that you still care for your mother, and feel you need to protect her after what your father did to her, but can’t get over your pride to admit it?”

  Blaze said nothing.

  Ryan left him alone at the bar and joined Elizabeth and Hampton. Blaze didn’t follow him. He turned around and leaned forward against the bar, numbly staring into his empty bottle.

  Sharon spotted him from behind the bar and nervously approached him. “Can I get you something?”

  “Anything with whisky in it,” he replied.

  She turned and poured him a double, neat, and placed it on the bar in front of him. She hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, staring into his tumbler.

  “You sure?”

  He exhaled heavily, then changed the subject. “You know, I never did thank you for what you did for me back in high school...”

  Surprised, she said, “I was only telling the truth, same as the guilty verdict I had to deliver at your trial. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

  Blaze finally gave her his undivided attention. He looked up at her, then said, “I already told your boyfriend you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted to make sure and to let you know we all feel for you after learning about what happened to you all those years ago.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

  “Well, perhaps you should...”

  “It’s none of your fucking business,” he snapped.

  Sharon looked visibly upset.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Dredging up all those memories has totally messed with my head. And after what happened today...” He drained his whisky in one gulp. “Same again, please.”

  She poured him another double. “This one’s on the house,” she said sympathetically.

  He drained the whole glass, then muttered, “Sometimes there isn’t enough whisky in the world to black out the memories...”

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I understand...”

  “But?”

  She hesitated. “It’s really not my place to say.”

  “I’m a big boy. Just say what’s on your mind. I won’t snap at you, I promise.”

  “Okay, well…” She took a breath. “I think the way you’re treating Elizabeth isn’t fair. I think you need to get over yourself and apologise.”

  Blaze could only grin at her as she quivered after saying the words, almost wishing she could take them back.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She looked at him sheepishly.

  “Don’t be. It seems to be the consensus around here. And believe it or not, I respect your honesty—and giant set of balls.” He grinned.

  There was an awkward silence between them, before Blaze said, “So, you and the detective, huh?”

  “Yeah.” She blushed. “The one good thing to come out of all this mess. Well, two good things if you look at your mum and Steve. Now that Trinity’s back safe and sound I think she’s really taken a liking to him.”

  “Now, I really don’t wanna talk about that,” he said, smiling for the first time all day.

  A man walked up to the other end of the bar, waiting to be served.

  “Just think about what I said, all right?”

  She left him alone and served the man.

  Chapter 50

  Ryan and Blaze pulled up to the police station after leaving The Greasy Axle. It was dark; nobody had been on duty all day. Every man available was either guarding Trinity’s hospital room or was involved with the search of Arnold’s residence. Blaze had opted to stay in his cell all day, watching mindless crap on TV. He had assumed Ryan was still pissed at him for his cheap shot on Arnold’s face and for stalling the investigation, deciding it was best to stay out of his way. He had ignored the phone company technician who came into the station to set up a call forwarding system, directing any emergency calls made to the police station to a cell phone carried by one of the day shift officers assisting Hampton with the search of Arnold’s residence. It was the best Ryan could do while working with such limited resources. The MCHU had recalled all his team, except Hampton, much to Ryan’s annoyance, to work on another higher priority case on the assumption that Arnold Spencer was guilty as sin.

  Ryan got out of the car and stopped suddenly as Franks slunk out of the shadows that shrouded the entrance to the police station. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I need to speak with Blaze.”

  “About what?”

  “A personal matter.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because he doesn’t trust you,” interrupted Blaze.

  “But he doesn’t even know me,” replied Franks.

  “He saw you slip me my knife back at the prison.”

  For a moment Franks’ face resembled a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Then he said, “To hell with all of that. This is really important.”

  “Look, I’m a reasonable man,” said Ryan, “Why don’t we all go inside and you can tell me what’s so important that you need to blindside me in the dark at half-past-eight at night.”

  “It can’t wait. I had to fake being sick to leave work ea
rly just so I could talk to Blaze in time and what I have to say is probably best not heard by someone in your position.”

  “You can trust him,” stated Blaze. “I do.”

  Franks heavily sighed.

  “He’s right,” encouraged Ryan, “I may even be able to help you.”

  “All right, all right.” He sighed again.

  Franks started at the beginning. He told Ryan about taking his job at Winterhill, and Archer finding out about his financial troubles. He explained how Archer started offering him cash under the table for his silence and cooperation with running The Wolves’ Den. He told him about the movies Archer filmed; Blaze confessed about the memory stick Franks had given him. Franks told Ryan about Danny, and how he had always maintained his innocence of his alleged murders which Blaze confirmed by telling Danny’s story about his wife and daughter, and Saul Gunnerman’s connection to the Summit Lake drug empire.

  Ryan listened intently, with deep frown lines appearing on his forehead as he got swept away by the sordid tale. Franks continued, telling him how he had wanted to leave Winterhill and become a police officer, and set a good example for his daughter. He told him he saw his opportunity to escape Archer’s clutches when Blaze arrived in the den, and had single-handedly destroyed Archer’s posse of Nugget, Bulldog, and Poochie.

  Ryan looked at Blaze with astonishment.

  Blaze held up his hands. “Don’t look at me like that. I was forced to fight for my life. I killed them in self-defence. The memory stick Franks gave me proves it.”

  “Plus, those animals had it coming to them,” added Franks, before explaining the plan he and Blaze had devised, to get Blaze alone with Archer, before Ryan had come along and thrown a spanner in the works.

  “So what’s the status quo?” asked Ryan.

  “That’s why I’m here,” answered Franks.

  “Well...?”

  Franks told them both about Archer’s plan for Danny to become the new leader in the den, and how he would get beaten to death while restrained in his cell if he refused.

  “We have to do something, Frankie!” said Blaze anxiously.