by David Carter
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Ryan snapped.
“Biker; shaved, black hair, wearing a leather cut with a distinctive emblem on the back of it...”
“Let me guess: a skeleton nailed to a cross, engulfed in flames?”
“Correct.”
“How were they killed?”
The commissioner paused, before he replied, “In all my years in the force I thought I’d seen everything. But this truly takes the cake. I can only say prepare yourself to be shocked.”
Ryan paused to process this information. “Noted,” he replied, then asked, “What are you doing in Worthington, anyway?”
“That’s none of your concern. But I’ll tell you what is your concern: it’s now your top-priority to make the murder case stick. I want that mongrel, Bobby Blaise, in custody within the next twenty-four hours, or it’s your ass in the sling!”
“But, sir —”
“Just get it done, detective.” The commissioner clicked off the call.
“Shit,” Ryan muttered as he pocketed his phone.
“Problem?” queried Sandra.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Ryan explained the phone call. Then it hit him. He remembered back to when he was in Glendale with Blaze, and how Blaze had told him that he was the result of his mother being sexually assaulted some thirty-one years ago, and how he had vowed to find the man responsible. And the only lead he had was that his biological grandparents lived in a small town on the Southern Highway called Worthington.
Jesus Christ, Blaze! What have you done?
“So, what’s the plan, boss?” Sandra asked.
He explained how Blaze was actually Laurie and Marilyn’s biological grandson. Then said, “We’ll head back to Brighton, grab a few winks, then we’ll head south at first light.”
Ryan drove on auto-pilot as he pondered the situation. Would Blaze really have killed his grandparents? Did the Bowmans not give him the answers he was looking for? Surely, he wouldn’t harm an elderly couple—and his grandparents at that! But he is hell-bent on revenge, and will stop at nothing till he has it; and I know what he is capable of...
Right then Ryan made one of the hardest decisions of his career. It’s come down to you or me, Blaze. And I choose me, you murdering son of a bitch.
Chapter 29
“Light it up, Ciggy,” Blaze commanded.
“You sure you got the right phone?” Danny asked. “You don’t wanna set off the wrong charges and blow us all to smithereens.”
Ciggy gave him a filthy look. “Course I’ve got the right bloody phone!” he sneered.
Blaze grinned. “He’s a little touchy when it comes to his toys,” he said to Danny.
Ciggy dialled 1—1—1 into one of his cell phones. Sparks flickered in his eyes as he counted down, “Three—two—one...”
KA-BOOM!
The storage shed exploded high in the air as Ciggy’s homemade bombs detonated. Gunner’s supply of drugs, weapons, and ammunition went up in clouds of smoke.
The front door of the house flung open. Gunner and a dozen half-dressed men came bursting through the opening in search of the earth-shattering noise that had awoken them. He furiously shouted, “We’re under attack!”
Danny pointed to the dark-skinned man yelling hysterically. “That’s Gunner,” he whispered. Blaze relayed the message to Trigger, and said, “It’s showtime, brother. Do what you do best.”
Trigger knelt on one knee, breathing slowly as he aimed through the sights on his newly acquired Beretta; his finger rested lightly on the trigger. He flicked the safety off and set it to triple-shot mode. No sense in wasting such beautiful ammunition, he thought.
He pulled the Trigger. Rat-tat-tat.
One down.
Rat-tat-tat.
Two down.
Rat-tat-tat.
Three, and counting.
Gunner stood frozen as his posse of thugs started dropping like flies in a matter of seconds.
Five down.
Rat-tat-tat.
Eight down.
Rat-tat-tat.
Ten down.
Rat-tat-tat.
Job done.
An eerie-silence fell over the country side as Trigger ceased fire. Gunner stood alone, among a sea of bloodied bodies strewn across his front lawn. The shed still burned fiercely.
Blaze boldly walked out of the shadows and closed in on Gunner, with Trigger in tow, the barrel of his rifle fixed on Gunner’s head.
“Who the fuck are you?’ Gunner demanded.
“You took something that didn’t belong to you, and I’m here to even the score,” Blaze replied.
“What the hell are you talking about, boy?”
“Why don’t you ask the angry guy with the baseball bat standing behind you?”
Gunner slowly turned around.
THUD!
Gunner folded in half and hit the deck. Danny had purposely aimed for his abdomen, hurting and winding him, but not injuring him badly.
Gunner looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Word on the street is you were killed inside,” he groaned.
“All part of the plan, you fucking asshole,” Danny spat on him.
Gunner conceded, “Doesn’t look like there is any way out of this, so just fucking get on with it,” he said.
Danny was struggling to contain himself, just being within two feet on the man who’d butchered his family was eating his insides. He went to take a swing at Gunner’s head with the bat, but Blaze blocked his arm. “Keep your wits about you, Danny boy,” he whispered. “We’ve got a bigger picture to think about.”
Danny wrenched his arm free and tossed the bat on the ground. “Stand him up,” he said to Ace.
He obliged.
Danny marched up to Gunner and slugged him in the face, and again. Right-hook, left-hook, followed by a powerful uppercut.
Gunner’s head snapped back from the blow.
“All right, that’s enough for now.” Blaze held him back. “I need him conscious for just a little while longer.”
Danny grabbed Gunner by the scruff of the neck, and through gritted teeth, said, “You will pay for what you did, you piece of shit!” He shoved him back towards Ace.
Gunner eyeballed Blaze. He said, “If you’re not gonna kill me, what the fuck you want?”
Blaze grinned. “I’m here with an offer from Mr Lombardi and the governor.”
“I don’t do deals. Especially with white trash like you. So either get Danny to fuck me up real good or get the fuck off my property.”
Blaze chuckled. “Oh, I think you’ll like this deal, Gunner. So why don’t you just shut the fuck up and listen.” He picked up the baseball bat. “By now I’m sure you’re aware that the governor and Mr Lombardi have gone into partnership. So now they’re twice as powerful as allies. I’m here to give you a chance to join up, or move the fuck over. And every time you refuse to agree with what I say from this moment on, you will lose the use of one of your limbs. How does that sound?”
Gunner’s old habits of being top dog betrayed him. “Shut your fucking mouth, boy. Do you even know who you are talking to?”
Blaze raised an eyebrow as Gunner belittled him. He calmly clicked his neck back and forth, then nodded to Ace and Danny. Ace grabbed a hold of him while Danny held one of his arms out at shoulder height.
Blaze raised the bat over his head. “Last chance, asshole.”
Gunner said nothing.
Blaze started his downswing just before Gunner shouted, “All right!”
Blaze dropped the bat. “You call yourself a top dog?” he snickered. “You’re fucking pathetic!”
Gunner dropped his head. “Just tell me the deal,” he muttered.
“The governor and Mr Lombardi will do all the talking; I’m merely the welcoming party.” He paused, then said, “Now, I’m a reasonable man, so it’s only fair that you can bring a protection detail with you. So, round up your crew and get ready to hit the road.”
“Why
, where are we going?”
Blaze heartily slapped him on the shoulder, and said, “I do believe it’s a fucking perfect night for a trip to Worthington.”
Chapter 30
Zoe flung her arms around Blaze as he walked through the front door to the motel. Charlotte and Ellie did the same with Spider and Danny. “How did it go?” Zoe asked Blaze.
“We fucked them up real good. Everything’s going to plan so far.” He explained the events in detail to the girls.
She held him tight, then said, “I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me come. I wouldn’t have slowed you down.”
He hesitated, then replied, “Look, I just got you back, baby. I didn’t want to put in any unnecessary danger.”
She let the issue slide. “So where to from here?”
“I know it’s been a long-ass trip, but we need to keep moving. Grab your shit and let’s hit the road.”
Zoe and the girls packed what little luggage they had brought with them into the boot of Blaze’s Mustang along with the weapons that Ace and Trigger had recovered from Gunner’s storage shed. Blaze and the rest of the SAS mounted their bikes. “I just need to nip to the bathroom,” Charlotte said to Zoe just as they were about leave.
“No worries, I have to return the room-key to reception anyway,” Zoe replied. “Just lock the door behind you when you’re done.”
Ace said to Blaze, “Shit, I’m a little low on fuel. I’ll just nip down the road and fill up.”
“I thought I told you to do that earlier!” he said, slightly frustrated.
“I’m sorry, man; thought my tank was full.”
Blaze sighed. “Just hurry up,” he said curtly.
Ace tore off down the road on his bike to nearest gas station.
The commissioner immediately answered his phone when he saw the number appear on his screen. “What’s your status, Watson?” he asked.
“Gunner and his crew agreed to the sit down.”
“Should I even ask how Blaze managed to convince him to do that?”
Watson coughed sharply. “Thirteen men and two dogs dead, a storage shed full of class A drugs and automatic weapons destroyed, and Gunner took a serious beating from Danny.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” he replied. “What’s your ETA for the meeting?”
“Gunner and his crew are en route. We should be in Worthington within a few hours.”
“Excellent, Watson. My team is ready and in position. I will hold them back until you give me the green light.”
“Yes, sir. And good luck, sir.”
Commissioner Stuart closed his eyes and imagined himself retiring as a highly respected and decorated officer after bringing down two of the biggest crime syndicates in the country. He opened his eyes, then said, “Only blow your cover if you absolutely have to, Watson.”
“Understood.”
“And, Watson —”
“Yes, sir?”
“Godspeed.”
Chapter 31
Archer and Mr Lombardi sat opposite each other at a small, square table near the entrance of an enormous hangar in the long-abandoned Worthington Army Airbase. It was the size of two football fields side by side. Archer’s voice echoed slightly in the cavernous space as he said to Mr Lombardi, “You know, when I was a young lad, I used to be fascinated by aircraft. Such an ingenious feat of engineering, don’t you think?”
He just grunted, and replied, “When I was a boy, I was only fascinated by money.”
The pair of them sat in silence. They were weary at this early hour.
The SAS finally rolled into airbase. Zoe handed out the rifles pilfered from Gunner’s storage shed, then hid the Mustang behind a long, weathered row of army barracks about fifty metres away from the hangar, staying put with Ellie and Charlotte until they heard their signal to come out.
Francois suddenly approached Archer and Mr Lombardi from outside, his rifle slung over his shoulder. “They’re here,” he informed them.
Archer nodded.
The tall, heavy hangar doors were slowly pushed open on their tracks. Blaze and the SAS rode in together through the opening, Archer and his crew shielded their eyes from their headlights; the noise from their rumbling engines was amplified ten-fold.
Blaze approached Archer and Mr Lombardi. “Gunner’s crew is only moments away. We passed them awhile back,” he informed them.
“Good. I don’t know how you got him to agree to sit down with us, but I must commend you for living up to your word.”
Blaze smirked. “Well, you said you wanted me to get my hands dirty...”
“Indeed, I did,” he replied. “And even though I’m most impressed by your efforts, there is one more thing I must insist on before the meeting commences.”
Francois, Sanchez, and all of his men aimed their rifles at Blaze and the SAS.
“What the fuck is this!” Blaze demanded.
“You and your crew must remain unarmed during proceedings. Throw down your weapons, step back, and take those unsightly motorcycles of yours outside while you’re at it.”
“Fuck off!” Blaze shouted. Gunner’s bringing at least two dozen armed brutes with him! And that’s only a fraction of what he could’ve had at his disposal if not for us. You’ll need every man standing if you want to take him out!”
“I have enough men to deal with that when the time comes.”
Blaze exploded. “What is your fucking problem! I go to all this trouble just to be fucking shafted!”
“I’m only protecting my interests.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Archer got up from the table and stood directly in front of him. “I’m protecting myself from you.” He gave him a cold stare. “You’re a dangerous man, Blaze; a dangerous man I’ve underestimated before, and I cannot afford to make the same mistake twice. So as a precaution I’m asking you nicely to stand aside until proceedings have concluded.”
“We’ll be fucking target practice,” he protested.
“Stay out of sight until my men have executed the plan; they’ll protect you.”
“I thought we had a fucking deal,” Blaze sulked.
“And it still stands. Everyone here knows their job: Gunner is to remain unharmed. I will turn him over to you and Danny as promised, you have my word.”
“Your word doesn’t mean shit!” he said angrily as he tossed his rifle on the floor. The other members of the SAS disarmed themselves, then wheeled their bikes outside as per Archer’s request.
The loud thumping of gangsta-rap music coming from Gunner’s pimped-out Hummer caused Archer to block his ears as he made his superstar entrance. Five white SUVs packed with armed men accompanied him into the hangar.
Archer and Mr Lombardi stood to greet him.
Gunner stepped out of the Hummer. He held his arms out for Francois to pat down his Hawaiian shirt and baggy jeans.
Archer and Mr Lombardi, in turn, did the same for Gunner’s newly appointed second-in-command. When he was satisfied, Gunner said, “You wanted a sit down, so here I am. Now let’s get this over with.”
Gunner’s henchmen formed a semi-circle behind him, weapons at the ready.
Francois stood with Vino, Mr Lombardi’s captains, and Sanchez’s crew behind Archer, staring at Gunner’s men. Their fingers rested on their triggers, just itching for someone to flinch. Blaze and the SAS slunk back into the shadows, away from prying eyes, exactly as Blaze had hoped things would play out. I knew you would shaft me; you fell straight into my trap, asshole, he smirked to himself. There was plenty of cover scattered around the walls of the enormous hangar. Old, dusty wooden crates, stacks of worn, musty blankets, outdated parts of planes, broken-down army jeeps that had been left to rust away for the rest of their days; it was an army junk yard. Blaze knew he’d made the right call in scouting out the location for the sit down on the ride down to Summit Lake. He nodded at Ciggy and Spider. They quietly went to work.
The three head honchos each took a
seat at the table. Archer and Gunner eyeballed each other for a moment; they were bitter rivals.
“All right, enough of this macho nonsense,” said Mr Lombardi. “We are here to talk business, no?”
“So talk, old man,” said Gunner. He slouched back in his chair, and lit a cigarette.
Archer took point. “We have invested into a new market in which there is rapidly growing demand and where the client base is most satisfied with our merchandise,” he said proudly.
“What kind of dollars are we talking?”
“More than you would know how to spend,” replied Archer.
“What’s the merchandise?” he asked doubtfully.
Archer looked left and right, before he quietly said, “Slaves.”
“What do you mean, slaves?”
“It’s the fastest growing market in our line of work. We import enchanting young girls into the country by ship, and sell them to wealthy businessmen and other associates to do whatever they please with them.”
This appealed to Gunner’s vermin-mind. “Tell me more.” He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his locked hands. His gold tooth sparkled in the light as his grin widened.
While Archer explained, Ciggy and Spider where ducking and weaving their way through the obstacles scattered along the side walls inside the hangar. They had to go the long way around. They couldn’t afford to cross the void where the meeting was taking place up by the hangar doors. They would surely be spotted. They crawled up behind the first of Gunner’s white SUVs. Ciggy slid his rake-thin physique under the chassis without any trouble.
Spider pulled one of Ciggy’s toys out from inside his jacket. “Hurry up,” he whispered urgently. “The meeting is winding up. We don’t wanna get caught in the crossfire.” He looked over at the meeting table.
Archer continued his sales-pitch. “We would offer to cut you in at thirty-three percent. A three-way split of all profits on all merchandise if you chose to join us. We will work the North Island as a joint venture. Why keep fighting to hold territory when we can mutually benefit from working together?”
