by Steve Liszka
‘So, this is what’s going to happen, um…’ Wesley said as he looked to the man struggling to clip up the strap on his fire helmet.
‘Call me Al,’ he said, ‘like the song. It’s not my name, but if you feel it makes us closer, then go for it.’
‘Okay…Al,’ Wesley said. ‘When we go in–’
‘When we go in,’ Call-Me-Al said, pointing at Jimmy. ‘My boss said he wants him to come with me.’
‘But I’m in charge.’ Wesley tried not to sound like the little boy who didn’t win pass the parcel on his birthday.
‘No offence,’ Al shrugged in a way that suggested he didn’t give a shit if he was offended or not, ‘but that’s what my boss wants. And what he wants he tends to get, but you guys already know that.’
‘Don’t worry, Wes,’ Jimmy said. ‘We’ll be fine.’
He could hardly say he was happy about the situation, but he’d rather it was him than Wesley.
‘I do all the talking,’ he said to Al. ‘You just stand there and keep your mouth shut, got it?’
Al nodded. ‘And once we’re inside, I do all the talking. You just stand there and keep your mouth shut. I’m just going to get what I came for, and then, we’re gone.’
That was the brief that Mac had given them. They were there to get something that belonged to him, something he considered to be of great value. All Al had to do was scare the owner into revealing the item’s location, get hold of it and get the hell out. The whole thing should take less than five minutes.
The appliance came to the end of the track where a twenty-foot-high security gate stopped them from going any further. Metal railings as high as the gate wrapped themselves around the grounds of the property. Beyond the gates, they could see an old farmhouse that had been expensively renovated and extended, and judging from its size, home to at least six bedrooms.
‘Right,’ Jimmy said, opening the door. ‘Let’s do it.’
Al threw up a Dad’s Army-style salute and followed him off the lorry.
Jimmy punched the buzzer on the wall, and as he waited, glanced up at the CCTV camera on top of the gate staring straight at them.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Al said. ‘This guy won’t go telling tales.’
Jimmy shook his head and was about to come back with something when the intercom kicked in.
‘Yes,’ a crackly voice said.
‘Hello, sir,’ Jimmy answered. ‘This is the fire brigade.’
‘What?’ the voice said. Its owner didn’t sound particularly impressed by the disturbance.
‘Yes, hello, sir. This is the fire brigade. We’ve been called to reports of a possible fire at your premises that we need to investigate.’
‘No fire here,’ the voice said abruptly. It sounded of Eastern European descent, Jimmy thought, similar to Adam, the Polish cleaner at the fire station.
‘I understand that, sir, but we need to be sure of that for ourselves before we can leave.’
‘I said there’s no fucking fire,’ the voice said. ‘Now piss off.’
Jimmy looked at Al who nodded encouragement at him. ‘Like I say, I appreciate that, sir, but I am legally obliged to investigate any reports of fire, and if you do not let me in, I will have to call the police to assist us, as you will be breaking the law.’
The intercom grew quiet for a moment then crackled back into action. ‘Okay, wait.’
As they stood there, watching the lights at the front of the property turning on, Al looked to Jimmy. ‘Is that true?’ he whispered.
Jimmy shrugged. ‘More or less.’
Thirty seconds later, two large men in what could have been matching tracksuits came out of the house and walked towards them.
Jimmy glared at Al. ‘You said there was going to be one person, maximum.’
Al gave a shrug of his own. ‘I didn’t say anything. That’s what Mac said, and he does have a habit of telling porkies. Anyway, don’t sweat it. One person, five people; it don’t make any odds to me.’
‘It does to me. The more people who are here, the more people see me with you.’
‘Seriously,’ Al said, ‘just keep this up. You’re doing great.’
The guards approached, standing less than five feet from them on the other side of the gate. They both looked like they could have worked alongside Lenny in the bouncing profession. One was taller with short cropped hair and a goatee beard, the other was wider with a razor-shaven bald head that was decorated with tattoos.
‘Look,’ the taller one said in his guttural accent, ‘everything is okay. There must have been some kind of mistake.’
Jimmy gave the man a friendly smile. ‘Listen, mate, I’m sure you’re right. But if I don’t come in and investigate, and then something does happen, it’s my job that’s on the line.’
‘But I say to you, there is no fire. Someone must be taking the piss, you know?’ He attempted to smile back, but Jimmy could see this was a man to whom smiling did not come naturally.
‘I know what you’re saying,’ he said holding his hands up, ‘but like I say, it’s more than my job’s worth, and if you don’t let me in and have a quick look around, then I’ve got to get the bloody police down here and the next thing you know, three hours have gone by, and we’ll still be here, taking up space on your driveway.’
The taller man looked to his bald friend.
‘Seriously, fellas, it will take two minutes. I just need to confirm there’s no fire, then I can piss off and leave you to it.’
‘Okay,’ the man nodded, ‘but just you.’
Jimmy wore the same “I’d like to, but…” smile again.
‘Sorry, guys, but I’ve got to take someone in with me. It’s a legal thing, just in case anything was to happen. It takes away the whole “he said, she said” situation should we end up in court.’
The mention of the courtroom was enough for the man to back down.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘but quickly.’
He reached forward and pressed the button on the wall. After a short pause, the gates opened inwards making the man and his partner step back out of their path. Jimmy quickly walked through the gap with Al following behind. The guards made them stand there and wait until the gates had closed before leading them into the house.
When they got inside, it was clear that the property had retained none of its farmhouse charm. Everything was either white or wooden and minimal in its nature. Jimmy hated it.
‘So, where do you want to start?’ the bearded man asked after shutting the door. It didn’t look like he was going to change his mind, lighten up and offer them a cocktail before they left. His partner had still not uttered a word.
‘Kitchen’s probably the best place,’ Jimmy said. ‘That’s where most fires happen.’
‘Follow me,’ goatee said, and the four men fell into single file as they walked down the hall.
After a dozen or so steps, Jimmy heard a dull thud behind him. He turned around to see the big bald guy lying face down on the floor with a hole in the back of his head. Al was standing behind the prone finger with a gun now pointing in Jimmy’s direction.
‘No!’ Jimmy shouted as he braced himself for the impact, but when Al took his next shot, it was the bearded guard behind Jimmy who grunted like he’d just been kicked in the bollocks. As the man staggered backwards clutching at his chest, Al closed the space between them, letting off another three shots. When the guard finally hit the floor, Al stood over him delivering one last shot to his head. There was virtually no sound; the pistol he was using had a silencer attached to it. Jimmy had never heard one before, they didn’t bother with such things in the marines, but it sounded just like they did in the movies. Sometimes, Hollywood did get things right.
Jimmy’s eyes were ready to pop out of his head when he looked back at Al. ‘Cool, huh?’ the man said.
‘What’s going on down there?’ a voice from upstairs yelled. Like that of the guards, it sounded distinctly Eastern European.
‘That�
��s our man,’ Al said, wiping at a spot of blood on his tunic.
Apart from everything else going around his head at that moment, Jimmy now had to factor in getting Jonesy’s fire-kit clean before he returned to work in two days’ time.
‘Who’s there?’ the voice asked again. ‘I’ve got a gun, and I will fucking use it.’
Al laughed. ‘Course you will, sunshine,’ he said to himself as he walked towards the stairs. ‘Come on, Jim, this should be good.’
Not wanting to be left with the two bodies, and not knowing what the fuck else to do, Jimmy did as he was told and fell in half a dozen paces behind the assassin. Just as Al mounted the stairs, the door to Jimmy’s immediate left opened, and another equally big guard walked out. When he saw Jimmy, the man reached for the pistol in his belt, but as he brought the gun up to aim, Jimmy used both his hands to grab hold of his pistol arm and wrench it up towards the ceiling. Before the guard could implement his superior strength, Jimmy drove his knee up into his guts, and as the guard buckled, he flipped him over his hip, judo-style. When he was lying on his back, Jimmy locked up the man’s wrists and pushed his elbow back the wrong way until the pain made him drop the pistol. It was a move he had been taught when he was in the marines that the men had dismissed at the time. They carried assault rifles, they’d said to each other, when the fuck were they going to be wrestling guns out of people’s hands?
Jimmy looked down and shared a look with the man he had just bested. He felt the need to say something to him, and maybe he would have, if Al hadn’t appeared in front of him with his pistol aimed at the man’s head.
‘Thanks, Jim. I’ll take it from here.’
Before Jimmy could protest, Al shot him twice in the head; the good ol’ double tap, the preferred execution method of any decent hitman. Jimmy staggered backwards like he had been shot himself. He went to throw up, but nothing came out, gagged again unsuccessfully, then spat on the floor. He went to say something to Al, then stopped, realising there was nothing he could say.
Al nodded towards the upstairs landing. ‘Come on, we’re not finished yet.’
‘Yes, we are,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m going back to the lorry.’
Al raised the pistol and pointed it at Jimmy’s head, ‘Look, pal, I’m grateful and all for what you just did, but you try and leave now, and I’ll put a bullet in you too. Then, when I’m done here, I’ll go outside and shoot your friends. Now, is that what you want?’
Jimmy shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘Wouldn’t I? What, you think I haven’t got it in me? Look in my eyes and tell me you think I haven’t got the balls. Please, I double dare you.’ He glanced up the stairs again. ‘Now, you coming or what?’
Without waiting for a response, Al turned and started up the stairs. When he was halfway up, Jimmy began his ascent.
They found the short fat man sitting on his bed, shaking like a shitting dog. The lime blue silk dressing gown he was wearing had fallen open at the waist, allowing his visitors a full-on view of his shrivelled cock and balls.
‘Jesus, Freddie,’ Al said. ‘Put it away. I’ve got enough shit in my brain without having that memory floating around in there.’
Freddie looked down at himself then feebly tried to cover his privates which although small, stubbornly refused to go back into captivity.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t kill me. I beg you.’
Al give him a sympathetic smile, ‘Honestly, man, if I had a pound for everyone who’d said that to me…’
‘Please,’ Freddie said, as the sobs started to rise up through his chest. ‘Drugs, money, whatever you want. I’ll leave the country… Just let me go.’
When Al shook his head, Freddie turned his attention to Jimmy. ‘Please, you won’t hear from me again, I promise.’
Al also turned to Jimmy. ‘What do you think, Jim? Should we let him go?’
‘I thought we were just here to collect a package,’ Jimmy said. ‘Why kill him?’
‘He is the package. Now, do we kill him, or take him back alive? It’s your choice.’
Jimmy thought about the difficulty of getting yet another passenger on his fire engine, and the risk they were running if they got caught, but when compared to the other option of watching the man be killed in cold blood, there really was no choice. ‘I say we take him back alive.’
Freddie burst out crying, shaking his head both in relief and disbelief that he was going to walk out of this situation in one piece. He put his hands together like he was praying and directed them to Jimmy.
‘Thank you, my friend. You won’t forget this. I promise–’
He was cut short by Al putting a bullet in the centre of his forehead.
‘Don’t be sad, Jim,’ he said as he looked down at his pistol and unscrewed the silencer. ‘He died with hope in his heart and a smile on his face. What more can any of us ask for?’
They drove back to the rendezvous point in silence. The others recognized the look on Jimmy’s face as he opened the door. It was the same mixture of shock and despair that most firefighters had following a particularly nasty job, the kind where you saw kids die in front of their parents and you were helpless to do anything about it.
When they got back to the car park, Al got out of the appliance and gently patted Jimmy on the shoulder as he squeezed past him. He looked the same as he had when they’d first picked him up after stripping out of the fire-kit. Mac was standing next to his car, holding the rear door open like it was him being employed as the driver and not the big guy who sat in front of the steering wheel.
When he got in the car, Al gave him a curt nod, letting him know that his work was done. After closing the door, a smiling Mac turned back to face the fire engine when Jimmy’s fist crashed into his face. He bounced off his car before landed on his arse on the tarmac.
The door of the car opened again, and Al leaned out, letting Jimmy see the pistol he had pointing at him.
‘Leave it,’ Mac said, holding his spare hand up, the other was busy wiping a trickle of blood from his upper lip. ‘We’re good here, aren’t we, Jim?’
‘You should have told us what you were going to do,’ Jimmy said. ‘We deserved that much.’
Mac used the car’s door handle to pull himself up to his feet. ‘You wouldn’t have helped me if I did. Your job is to save lives, not take them. And if there was any other way, I would have used it, but since our falling out, that bastard Freddie has locked himself away in that little fortress of his like a goddamn hermit… If it makes you feel any better, the guy was a real piece of shit, even by my standards. No one is going to miss him.’
‘I don’t care if he was Adolf fucking Hitler. You shouldn’t have involved us in any of this shit.’
Mac wiped the dust from his arse. ‘It’s over now, you’ll be glad to hear. Our partnership has officially been dissolved. You boys won’t be hearing from me again.’
‘Too fucking right, it is,’ Jimmy said. ‘If I ever see you again, I swear to god, I’ll kill you. Understand?’
Mac inspected the blood on his fingertips. ‘To show my gratitude, I’d like to offer you boys something for your contributions to my business affairs, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t accept it, right?’
‘There’s only one thing I’d accept from you,’ Jimmy said, ‘and that’s the promise that you stay the fuck away from us.’
‘Receiving you loud and clear,’ Mac said, walking around the vehicle. Before getting in, he turned to face Jimmy again. ‘Have a good life, fellas. I’m going to miss you.’
Part III
In the Dark
The classroom was hot and airless; conditions that could send even the most willing pupil to sleep. If it weren’t for what he was being primed to do, Jimmy would have let himself nod off half an hour earlier.
The scrawny young man with bad skin who stood in front of the class, gestured at the whiteboard. Sketched onto it was a simple plan of the BA chamber.<
br />
‘What we want to see,’ said Plug, ‘is the usual things: good door procedures, good comms between the team and good branch control. We don’t want to see you steaming the place up and losing your visibility. Lastly, don’t forget your personal search. We’ve failed people up here because their BA shuffle wasn’t up to scratch. It sounds a lot, but it’s just your bread and butter stuff. You chaps are more than up to it.’
Jimmy wondered how the fuck he would know what the bread and butter stuff was. The boy had only been in the job for a handful of years, and from what he’d heard from the guys at Hove, his own BA skills left a lot to be desired. By all accounts, he was the type of person you had to calm down before they went into a job, because they got into a panic and started flapping. But here he was, in his new role as BA instructor at the Service’s training centre, telling the class stories of the many jobs he’d been to.
Most of the other people on the course were retained firefighters who’d only done a few years themselves, and had eaten up his tales of daring-do, but Jimmy knew otherwise. He’d been tempted on a number of occasions to butt in and embarrass the boy, but all he wanted to do was get the course over with, pass his BA for another two years, and get back to station.
‘One last thing, guys,’ Plug said – there were no women on this particular course. ‘Just remember that we’re not in there to try and trip you up. We want you to pass this course; just treat it like any other job. Do what you do in the real world, and it will be fine. Easy for me to say, but enjoy it.’
