Slay Bells

by Remington Kane

“Oh, and yes, I could find that store again. I know what street it’s on, but I think I’d have to see it first, I’m not sure that I could give directions to it.”

  “Why don’t we go there now? Maybe Sharad is helping Smith again.”

  “I’ll try anything, Tanner. Sharad isn’t answering his phone and he’s over three hours late for our dinner date. That’s not like him at all.”

  “We’ll take my car,” Tanner said, and as Carly followed him to his vehicle, she pressed the SEND button on her phone to dispatch a text to Smith.

  The text consisted of two words. BE READY!

  ***

  Smith smiled when he received the text.

  He had Habib get into position and turned on another one of the work lights that were used by the laborers who were renovating the building. Smith had no idea who actually owned the property, but he had chosen it months ago as a possible site to use as a base.

  He later rejected it in favor of the building they had used on Marker Street because of its distance from Times Square. That turned out to be fortuitous because the building in Harlem was being rehabbed.

  However, the apartments above were still empty of new tenants, and so no one would hear Tanner’s cries of pain or come to investigate any strange sounds.

  Smith had thought that Tanner would go for the girl’s story, since he had mentioned Sharad’s apartment in Tanner’s presence, as well as the fact that Sharad worked for the sanitation department.

  It was also proof to Smith that Sharad had a connection to Tanner, or else how would the man have known where Sharad lived?

  Now Smith was minutes away from getting revenge and then he would disappear and start over. The gassing of Times Square would have been a tremendous blow against the United States, but Smith had more ideas and resources that he could utilize, and he would use them. Success was delayed, but would be assured. It was all a matter of time.

  Smith held a large claw hammer that he had found in a toolbox in the rear of the store. He would use it to make a silent kill of Tanner, having left his ceramic knife buried in Ricky Horton’s midsection.

  Smith stood across from Habib, who was sitting on a folding chair. Between them was an empty three-foot wooden wire reel. The reel was laying on its side to act as a makeshift table. After completing a few adjustments to assure that the scene was staged perfectly, Smith waited for Tanner to walk into the trap.

  CHAPTER 26 – It all works out in the end

  Tanner had to smile when he saw that of all the streets in the city where the vacant store could be located, it was on St. Nicholas Ave.

  When “Jennifer” pointed out the storefront to Tanner, he saw that the windows were covered with cardboard, but that light leaked out around the edges.

  Without the girl’s timely assistance, he would have never found Smith, and Tanner wondered if it were luck or deception that had brought him to Harlem.

  Whatever it was, if Smith was inside the store, Tanner would kill him. The planned gassing of thousands of people was masterful if insane, and although Smith might be a goldmine of information concerning the activities and locations of other terrorists, Tanner would kill him regardless of that fact.

  The man was too dangerous to leave alive, and anyway, Tanner didn’t like the bastard.

  Tanner parked across the street and gazed about for signs of an ambush, he saw none, unless the old guy on the opposite corner picking up after his beagle was actually a terrorist operative.

  It was late on Christmas Eve. If you weren’t out celebrating or last second shopping, you were most likely at home and settled in.

  Tanner told Carly, who he still believed was Jennifer, to stay quiet and follow him. She nodded her agreement and they walked across the snow-covered street. Tanner had his gun ready, but hidden under his jacket.

  The soft sounds of music drifted from the store and came from a radio, as Tanner heard a commercial break before Tchaikovsky’s The Russian Dance began playing. It was music from The Nutcracker.

  It brought a memory to Tanner’s mind from a long ago Christmas when his father took his mother to see the ballet right here in New York City. His mother had loved the finer things in life, and although he wasn’t a rich man, given all the expenses of maintaining a ranch and making payroll, his father had been able to spoil Tanner’s mother on birthdays and anniversaries.

  Tanner had been only seven-years-old then. After opening presents together on Christmas morning, his parents flew to New York while he and his little sisters had stayed with friends of the family. Tanner remembered he missed his mother every day that his parents were gone, and resented her absence. But his mother fairly glowed when they returned from that trip and he knew that she was as happy as she had ever been.

  She was dead by the following Christmas, and life was never the same.

  ***

  The temporary door on the front of the shop was made from two sheets of plywood that had been cut to size and glued together. On the outside was a strong chain with a closed padlock hanging from one end of it, while the inside lock consisted of a piece of 1-inch dowel stock slid into place between two U-bolts.

  Tanner took out his knife and used its tip to gently slide the dowel free, and the door gapped inward, revealing a crack of light.

  Illumination wasn’t the only thing seeping through the crack, as the aroma of pizza reached Tanner’s nose. There were also voices, two men. Tanner recognized one of them as belonging to Smith.

  Carly, still pretending to be her sister, leaned in and whispered a question.

  “Why are you being so cautious? It’s just Sharad and his friends in there.”

  Tanner answered her by placing a finger to his lips, and then he pushed the door open in a slow but steady motion.

  Habib and Smith’s voices grew clearer as Tanner stepped inside and beckoned Carly to follow. For a moment, he debated the wisdom of locking the door behind them, but decided to do so. Whatever transpired over the next few minutes should go unobserved even if he were to come out on the wrong side of it.

  A passerby calling for help would wind up dead. If the assistance came from a cop, it would likely result in Tanner being detained at the Rikers Island Jail, which was not how he wanted to spend Christmas.

  Habib and Smith were making plans in the store’s rear room.

  As Tanner stepped farther into the store, he could see Habib’s back through the open doorway. The man was sitting in a chair and talking about a farm he knew of where he and Smith could spend the next few weeks.

  Smith’s replies were all questions about the farm, which Habib seemed to be going into great detail about.

  Tanner stood listening, sensing that something wasn’t right, and that’s when Carly moved in front of him and spoke in a loud voice.

  “You’re being silly. It’s just Sharad and a few of his friends back there.”

  Tanner stared at her, while Habib spun in his seat and looked at them with a smile on his face.

  Tanner instantly understood what was going on and dropped to the floor just as Smith sprung from his hiding place behind stacks of insulation.

  From his position on the floor, Tanner looked up and saw that Smith had been unable to stop the arc of the heavy hammer he was wielding, and the claw side of the tool plunged into the delicate hollow of Carly’s throat.

  Smith’s plan had been a more complicated version of the act the two kids in Las Vegas had tried on Tanner in the strip mall parking lot.

  Tanner was to be distracted by the pretty girl while the bad man came up from behind. Instead of taking his wallet and cell phone, Smith would have claimed his life.

  Tanner was still holding the knife he had used to open the door and he thrust it upward between Smith’s legs, and gave it a twist.

  The terrorist screamed as he lurched away, stumbled forward, then dropped to his knees and screamed again.

  Tanner made it to his feet as Habib rushed from the back room with a gun in his hand, but the short Syrian never
got the chance to use it.

  Carly, maddened by pain and the fear of death, ran into Habib as if she didn’t know he was there. The two went down in a tangle of legs and arms and Carly thrashed wildly as her severed windpipe deprived her of precious air, while the wound itself delivered pain and blood loss.

  Tanner snatched up the bloody hammer that had become dislodged from Carly’s throat, after she fell to the floor with Habib. He stood over the struggling pair and bashed Habib’s forehead with several hard blows, while hearing a rewarding CRACK! on the final strike. The man went limp as the dying girl atop him began to slow in her movements.

  Tanner spun back around ready to shoot Smith, but found the terror cell leader on his knees and leaning forward with his hands flat on the floor, as if he were in the middle of a failed push-up.

  Blood puddled on the unfinished floor beneath Smith’s raised hips, and mixed in with the bright red fluid was feces and urine, as the handle of Tanner’s knife was sticking out from the terrorist’s ass, with its blade buried deep within.

  A hand brushed his ankle. Tanner tore his eyes away from Smith and saw that Carly was lying on her back and staring up at him. Tanner stared back, as the light faded from her eyes. She was never going to see Christmas.

  It was only then that it registered on Tanner that he was still hearing Smith’s voice coming from the back room, although the man was several yards away. He saw it then. It was a tape recorder. Smith had used it to make it seem that he was in the back room and sitting across from Habib.

  Clever, and if Tanner hadn’t seen the anticipatory look of glee on Habib’s face when the man turned towards him, the ploy might have succeeded.

  Smith’s claw hammer would have found its way into Tanner’s back, and not have been thrust into the lovely throat of the dead girl on the floor.

  Tanner turned off the tape recorder along with the radio and walked over to Smith. The man was dying, but he managed to turn his head and issue a warning to Tanner.

  “You stopped this attack, but we will win in the end.”

  Tanner smirked as he looked at the knife jammed up Smith’s ass.

  “In the end? It’s nice to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

  Tanner stepped behind Smith and kicked the knife in deeper.

  “Rot in hell, Smith!”

  Smith let out a final scream as he fell flat on the floor atop his own blood. After convulsing and releasing a loud gasp, he died.

  Habib and Smith carried no identification and their cell phones were throwaways. However, the girl’s purse contained a wealth of information, the most interesting of which was found in her wallet.

  Tanner learned that she wasn’t Jennifer Gates, but rather a sister named Carly. Tanner came across a picture in the wallet of the two girls standing together at a park, and the resemblance was strong. There was also a picture of an older man standing with Carly, and they were both dressed in religious garb.

  On the back of the photo were the words, HAJJ at MECCA with Dad, October 2012.

  Along with Carly’s driver’s license was another cheap phone. Tanner left the phone, the wallet, and the pictures behind, but kept the keys that would let him into the girl’s home.

  If Jennifer and Carly’s father was involved in the terrorist attack, then he was a loose end that had to be tied up.

  Tanner turned off the lights, checked the street for signs of activity, and finding none, he walked to his car and drove away.

  His destination was Brooklyn and the apartment of Professor Winston Gates.

  CHAPTER 27 – Don’t believe everything you see on TV

  Professor Gates was getting worried.

  Not only was Carly not answering her phone, but neither was Smith, and the professor thought that he should have heard something, given how late the hour was.

  Gates turned on the lights as he walked into the kitchen and saw his two hostages blink at the sudden brilliance. The kitchen was immaculate with its shiny Formica countertops and chrome appliances. The gleam made the corruption of the room’s use as a cell seem that much more foul.

  Gates wondered if he would ever again be able to eat a meal at his kitchen table once this day was through, or would he forevermore be tortured by thoughts of Jennifer, and her soon to be tragic fate.

  Jennifer sat with a gag in her mouth while bound to a chair as Sharad was, but they were two feet apart, and Jennifer had a bruise on her jaw from the punch she’d received.

  She mumbled and looked at her father with pleading eyes, but her father ignored her. He couldn’t think of her as his daughter, as his little girl. To think of her as such ever again would lead to weakness. He had to be strong, he had to be true to his religion.

  The loss of Jennifer was a sacrifice he needed to make. And didn’t all Gods in every religion ask for sacrifices? Isn’t that what religion was, the sacrifice of one’s own desires and impulses to please those of God?

  Gates often wondered why God didn’t simply force everyone to behave correctly and live as he wished them to live. Gates knew that if he had such power he would employ it now to cause Jennifer and Sharad to see the light, and then... then he wouldn’t have to lose his daughter.

  Gates removed the gag from Sharad’s mouth and asked him a question.

  “This man, this Tanner, exactly who is he?”

  Sharad ignored Gates and spoke to Jennifer.

  “Are you okay, baby?”

  Jennifer nodded, but there were tears in her eyes.

  Sharad felt the barrel of a gun press against the side of his head, as Gates asked his question once more.

  “Who is Tanner?”

  “I don’t know,” Sharad said. “The first time I saw him was when Smith found him spying on us at that old factory.”

  “You’re lying, Sharad. You were the one who tried to involve that gay cop. Tanner must be your doing as well, and Khalid called earlier and said that the man showed up at your apartment house.”

  “He did? How would Tanner have known where I lived?”

  Gates laughed.

  “I almost believe your look of confusion. You should have been an actor.”

  “Forget Tanner, Professor, and listen to me. Please let Jennifer go. You don’t want to hurt her anyway, do you?”

  Gates glanced over at his daughter, then quickly looked away, as Jennifer’s pleading eyes dug into his heart.

  “She’s like you, Sharad. Despite my best efforts she’s Americanized. Only my precious Carly is worth a damn.”

  Mentioning Carly brought back the worried look to Gates eyes, a look that turned to hope when he heard a chime sound from the front of the apartment.

  Although the apartment’s security system wasn’t armed, it still made a chirping sound whenever anyone opened or closed the front door.

  “Carly, I’m in the kitchen. How did it go?”

  Gates heard the sound of footsteps moving about at the front of the apartment, and then they wandered in and out of the bedrooms. Someone was giving the apartment a quick but efficient search to ensure that no one else was at home.

  By their purpose and sound, Gates knew that the footsteps weren’t made by his daughter. He grabbed Sharad by the hair and pressed his gun harder into the young man’s temple.

  Tanner appeared in the kitchen doorway with his own weapon held at the ready.

  “Drop the gun, Gates, and I’ll let you live.”

  “You’re Tanner, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “She’s in Harlem and she’s dead. Smith killed her.”

  Gates laughed.

  “Nonsense! Khalid is a friend.”

  “It was an accident, but Smith is also dead and so is his man Habib.”

  Gates looked confused, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth, closed it, wet his lips, and then spoke in a quavering with anxiety.

  “Drop that gun, Tanner, or I’ll blow Sharad’s brai
ns out.”

  “Drop my gun? Gates, you’ve watched too much television.”

  Tanner moved towards Gates with his weapon pointed at the man’s face.

  The professor finally understood that threatening to kill Sharad wasn’t going to make Tanner give up his gun, an act that wouldn’t help Sharad and would have left Tanner defenseless. Gates moved his gun from Sharad’s head to fire at Tanner.

  He was too late. Tanner sent a bullet through the bridge of the Gates’s nose and painted the refrigerator with the professor’s brains. The sound of the shot was deafening as it reverberated off the walls of the kitchen, but as it faded, it was replaced by Jennifer’s wails of grief, as muffled screams came from behind her gag.

  Tanner grabbed a knife from the dishwasher and cut Sharad free. Sharad thanked him, freed Jennifer, and took his weeping girlfriend in his arms.

  Tanner placed a hand on Sharad’s shoulder.

  “We have to leave. That shot will make someone call the police.”

  They left by the back staircase, which was a set of exterior wooden steps that led to a row of green trash receptacles at the rear of the building. Jennifer had no coat, so Sharad wrapped her in the top half of his Santa costume.

  Tanner made a quick stop at a gas station minutes later, so that the couple could use the restrooms. They had both been tied up for hours, and their bladders were full.

  Once they were back in the car, Tanner drove through a snowy night as Jennifer regained her composure, then he pulled the car into the parking lot of a Walmart that was closing in less than fifteen minutes.

  Sharad looked around.

  “Why are we here?”

  “You two need supplies. For starters, I’d suggest you buy new coats, gloves, and a change of clothes for each of you.”

  Sharad nodded, but then remembered that his wallet was in a locker back at the factory where he’d changed into the Santa suit.

  Tanner handed him several hundred-dollar bills.

  “Along with the clothing, buy some toiletries, a large sleeping bag, flashlights, blankets, a can opener, and enough canned food and water to last you for several days.”