by Luis Samways
‘If you say so’
‘I do say so. Now get going and keep your nose out of his business. Now scram!’
Seventy Four
‘Look I’m off to the can. Radio me when that ass hole manages to get down here.’ says Frank making his way up the stairwell of the parking lot striding up the staircase in a hurry.
He reaches the door to the main floor. He opens it and makes his way down the corridor. He watches as officers walk past him, each of them acknowledging him with a look of respect. Some even borderline fear. Frank enjoys the reputation. He thrives off his it. He carries on walking down the sparsely lit hallway. He finally reaches the toilets. He opens it and walks up to the urinal. He unzips his fly and relaxes. He hears something. He looks around and sees nothing. The cubicles are all vacant. He carries on. He feels something grab him by the back of the head. It forces him face down into the dirty urinal at a blinding speed. He feels his face crack against the ceramic. The force busts his nose open. He tries to draw breath. He can’t, the urinal flushes and water makes its way into his mouth. He chokes hard on the salty thick water. Struggling to breath he wriggles for room. His clothes drenched with water, he manages to escape the grip. Once again his head is slammed into the urinal, seconds after he is thrown in to the tiled wall. Fragments of tile chip off at the impact, the crack in the wall is caked in Frank’s blood as he is knocked to the ground. He hits the cold sticky floor with a thud. His vision goes dark. He tries to open his eyes. He hears the bathroom door creak open and then buckle back shut. He manages to catch a glimpse of the door shutting; it’s a mere shadow in the darkened room. The door slams open once again. Footsteps rush towards him as he is grabbed by someone.
‘Officer down I repeat Officer down in the first floor toilets, requesting medical assistance.’ The voice says. Frank feels the man grabbing his head and resting it on his knees.
‘You okay Frank, can you hear me?’ Asks the man
Frank can’t respond. His head is a rife with pain as he tries to open his eyes.
‘Frank look at me, can you hear me?’ Frank musters a brief nod as he attempts to stay conscious.
Seventy Five
The view from above is distorted by the fish eye effect of the rifle’s scope. The reporters are still down on the ground, surrounding the area like a sea of snapping fish. The flashes from the cameras are causing a lens flare to appear on the northern end of the scope. The man in the suit sighs in frustration as he pans the distance waiting for his mark. He looks down on the ground and flicks through his PDA, pulling up various bits of information. He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a metal rod. He attaches it to the PDA using a jack. He points the rod up towards the sky, a few feet over his head. He looks down and sees the reading.
“12 Miles per hour wind speed. Southern quarterly dip” It reads.
He detaches the rod and puts it back into his Jacket pocket. He switches a button on the PDA and presses his finger into his ear.
‘This is Romeo 171. Wind speed and direction is as we calculated. The arrival of tango one is estimated in less than ten minutes. The target will be arriving from the east. The shot will dip in the wind but nothing that I can’t handle. We are a go; I repeat we are a go.’ Says the man
‘Affirmative’ replies the musty voice on the radio.
The man unclips his ear piece and puts it back in his suit pocket. He takes aim once more. He peers through the powerful scope, his finger resting on the side of the rifle. He pans to the east and sees a convoy approach in the hot sun in the distance. The image blurry from his position, he winds the scope in. The image stabilizes as he sees the four car convoy approach. The American flags attached to the cars are rippling in the wind as he breaths in and cocks the bolt back, his breathing turns slow and heavy as he watches the cars approach in the distance. He looks down at his PDA and pushes a button. A timer starts counting down from seven minutes. He watches the timer intently as a roar from the crowd bellow erupts at the approaching president of the United States of America.
Seventy Six
‘This is bullshit. You’re always saying how the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, but you won’t let us go into the building and rescue the hostages. It sounds like you don’t negotiate with anybody!.......Yeah that’s right……Fine…….I’ll take full responsibility……I’ll report back when it’s done’ Eddie hangs up the phone and turns to Chief Shaw.
‘It wasn’t easy but I managed to get them to roll over and let us go in to the M.I.T building and diffuse this situation.’ Says Eddie
Shaw looks on impressed.
‘Wow how did you manage that? That’s some feat’
Eddie smiles and pours himself a drink.
‘I supposed it has something to do with me being the DA.’ He laughs
Shaw takes a drag on his cigarette. The DA’s door bursts open as two officers rush into the room.
‘Sorry to interrupt sir’s but Detective Frank McKenzie has been attacked in the communal toilets’
‘What?’ Asks Eddie in shock as he quickly gets up and follows the men out of the room. He stops dead and signals them to wait outside as he turns to Chief Shaw.
‘You don’t have anything to do with this do you?’ Asks Eddie
‘What the hell are you on about? Why would I beat Frank up?’
‘I don’t know, maybe because he smashed you up pretty good no more than half an hour ago.’
‘I wouldn’t risk it, the guys a nut job. He’d have any ones number in this station. I find it hard to believe anyone would cross him.’
‘If you say so Chief’ Says Eddie, his tone visibly unconvinced
Shaw taps Eddie on the shoulder and both men follow the leading officers down the narrowing hallway. They rush over to the end and reach the situation room. Frank is sat on a stretcher bracing his head with a damp cloth. The cloth is bloodied as he wipes away the red residue off his skull. His face is a mess with bruising and welts. Eddie holds Shaw back as he makes his way over to Frank. Frank spots Eddie coming and sits up straight, putting on a brave face as he approaches.
‘What the hell happened here’ asks Eddie as he reaches the stretcher. EMT’s are trying to attend to Frank but it is proving difficult. Frank pushes one of the EMT’s away.
‘Nothing, I’m fine. I wish everyone would just leave me alone.’
‘You don’t look fine Frank. Looks like someone bashed you up pretty good.’
Frank winces in pain as he cracks his neck from left to right.
‘Oh well, looks like they got what they wanted then don’t it’
Shaw moves in closer. Eddie Turns around and warns him off with an obvious facial expression. Frank looks up and nods to Shaw. Shaw makes his way towards Frank and Eddie.
‘You okay Frank?’ Asks Shaw
‘Yeah I’m okay. Look, I’m going to apologize for earlier, I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you. You’re a superior officer and that was unbecoming of a Detective of my tenure’
Shaw smiles as he looks on at Frank.
‘Looks like that bump to the head has made you into quite the words smith Frank’
‘I mean it, if you want me to hand in my badge, I’ll understand’
‘There won’t be any need for that Frank. We have convinced Washington to allow us to make a move on M.I.T. You will be leading an extraction team into the immediate area to recover Chase DOA. Obviously we want the Hostages rescued and accounted for.’ Says Eddie
Frank nods as he hoists himself off the stretcher. The waiting E.M.T’s take the stretcher away as Frank stretches out.
‘What did happen in their Frank?’ Asks Eddie once more
‘I was taking a piss then all of a sudden I found my head being rammed repeatedly into the urinal. It knocked me for six, so I couldn’t ID the attacker. Whoever it was, he was mighty strong.’
‘Okay, I’ll get a snag on the CCTV. I’ll keep you informed on ID’ing the perp.’ Says Shaw.
Frank nods in
understanding as Shaw walks away. Eddie eyeballs Frank to get his attention. The busy incident room is ignoring the two men standing in its center piece. Eddie pulls Frank closer.
‘Have you been drinking or doing anything that could make you look like an idiot on the CCTV?’
‘No course I haven’t’
‘Good, I don’t want him pulling the footage up and seeing your drunken ass falling over and hitting your head on the urinal.’
‘I’m sure I won’t disappoint you Eddie’
Eddie snarls at Frank’s remark, pulling him even closer to a hairs breadth away.
‘Don’t push me Frank. I already told you to pull yourself together after attacking the Chief, now this. If I find anything out of the norm on that tape I swear I’ll kick you off this case so fast you’ll be doing backflips into your crappy ford Capri!’
‘We can’t all afford a Mercedes you dick’
Seventy Seven
The hooded man looks on intently as Jason walks back into the vibrating cabin with Crystal by his side. He pulls her by the hair as he pushes her onto the floor. Her head hits the metal floor with a twang. The passengers gasp in disbelief. The dark woman turns her head towards the hooded man who hasn’t taken his eyes off Jason. She nudges him back to reality.
‘If you’re going to do something then you better do something quick.’ She says
He turns to face her.
‘All in good time’ He says
Crystal lies on the deck of the train face down. She stays motionless with fear as Jason stands over her. He looks down at her and smiles as he cocks his weapon. A passenger on the train stands up in protest screaming. The well built man standing is a few feet from the hood man. He moves closer to the dark women as Jason makes his way over to the disruptive big man.
‘What is your problem?’ Asks Jason as he reaches the bellowing passenger
‘Let us go!’ screams the man
Jason shakes his head in disappointment
‘Haven’t you already seen enough violence for one journey?’
Before the man can answer back Jason socks the towering man with a closed fist. The big blow sends him flying down to the floor. Jason laughs out loud as he wallows over his victory.
‘The bigger they are…’ Says Jason as he aims his 9MM hand gun and fires a few shots into the front of the downed man. The holes penetrate his chest with a few sprays of blood. The body stars to twitch momentarily. Jason stands over the man and plants a few more shots into him. The twitching stops. He looks up at the gawping hostages and wipes his brow.
‘Drag the body off to the next carriage. Get rid of the other one as well.’ Jason says while pointing at the hooded man. The man gets up and drags the first body off to the second carriage. He quickly makes his way back and drags the fresh body back to the same spot. His breathing increases at a heavy rate as he plants the broad body onto the ground. He opens the door leading back to the main compartment. He sees Jason through the broken glass keeping an eye on him. He looks down and spots a fire axe attached to the wall next to the door. Jason smiles as he watches the hooded man contemplate grabbing the weapon.
‘I wouldn’t risk it unless you want to ride on back there with the rest of the heroes.’ Shouts Jason.
The hooded man heads Jason’s remarks and gingerly makes his way back to his spot on the floor. He kneels back down and looks up at a curious Jason.
‘What’s your name?’
The hooded man doesn’t reply. He remains motionless as he casually looks Jason in the eye.
‘A man of few words ay, that’s a good thing. The model hostage’ States Jason
Jason raises his hands up like a preaching pastor.
‘Now this ladies and gentleman is what a hostage should be doing. You are in my custody and it’s natural to want to take my head off. It’s natural to want to kill me and run for the hills where theirs safety and comfort away from the big bad man with the AK and side arms. But this right here, this man right here is probably going to be the only surviving passenger. Do you know why? Because he is doing exactly what I’m asking of him, you can learn off someone like him. Stop your bitching and crying people. Stop trying to be the heroes you’re so obviously not. Stop being the stereo typical hostage. Start being like this guy.’
The hooded man keeps staring at Jason as he walks away from the bloodied floor in front of the passengers and sits down on the seat overlooking them on the far end of the cabin.
Seventy Eight
The bolt on the rifle snaps back once again. This time the torque is meaningful, as if the sound describes the feeling in the air. The man aims the scope east. The cars pull in. One patrolling Lexus is stationed at the front. Blues and reds spiral out of the car’s windshield as the doors of the front car open. The neon lights escape the gaps in the windows and hit the pavement, lighting it up as shadows block the sun. Two armed men step out of the flashing front car just as the middle stretch limo pulls up. The shiny black limo grinds to a halt and remains idle as another Lexus pulls in tightly behind the limo in the middle. The man feels beads of sweat drop down the side of his face as he steadies his aim. For a long moment there is no movement from him or the cars below. The only thing moving is the rippling flag in the wind attached to the front bonnet of the limo. The crowd erupts as the armed men in suits open the far door of the limo. The lights from the stationary Lexus’s buffer off the matt black shoes that peak out of the limo door just before they hit the ground. The president emerges from the car waving as a round of applause echoes the street. The man steadies his rifle, the wind picks up slightly as he nervously moves his finger onto the trigger. He pans his reticule over the president’s head and waits for the right moment. The convoy of human flesh consisting of two armed guards at each side of the president coerce him down the street. They pass the Lexus at the front, the red and blue lights reflect off the right sided guards sunglasses. The man finalizes his aim and presses the trigger. The bullet dips in the wind and hits its mark. The red and blue lights are met with a redder dinge as the guards sunglasses are spattered with residue. The crowd screams in unison just as the sound of the bullet catches up. The popping sound alerts a sea of police man cordoning off the surrounding area for the convoy. One of the guards with sunglasses pulls out his side arm and sweeps the area. The secret police guards are bent down over the president as he lies on his back. Blood surrounds the corpse in a pool of red. The panic from the onlookers is loud and hectic. The rifle man is downstairs in minutes as he makes his way through the hotels kitchen. He pushes through the pot washers and slams the fire exit door open. The chefs look on at each other in confusion as the sound of sirens echo in the distance.
Seventy Nine
‘So this angle covers the whole area of the toilets?’ Asks Shaw as the man twiddles a dial on the massive CCTV console.
‘Yep’
‘So were going to see everything?’ Asks Shaw once again
‘Yeah, he’s just walking in now; I’ll play it from the moment he steps up to the urinal.
Eddie turns to Shaw and nods his head as they both hover over the man’s shoulder as he presses a button unfreezing the crystal clear image on the screen. The TV shows Frank lumbering over the urinal. Both Eddie and Chief Shaw keep their eyes on the door in the distance of the shot. They both wait in anticipation to see who steps through it. Their daze is interrupted by the CCTV operator.
‘Holy shit’ the man gasps
They break their stare from the door on the screen and dart their eyes to Frank who is being flung around. They see Frank’s head get driven into the urinal and him get thrown into the wall. They both look at each other in shock as the man replays the incident a few times, pausing it and playing it. He lets it play on after a third play through until an officer walks into the shot and calls for back up as Frank lays on the floor unconscious.
‘What in God’s name was that?’ Asks Eddie
The CCTV operator looks on in shock and then turns his head to the
DA.
‘I have no idea. It’s like he beat himself up.’
‘No way, I can’t believe he would do that. There must be another explanation. Could the tape have been tampered with? Maybe someone digitally enhanced it and got rid of the attacker.’ Asks Shaw
The man twizzles his chair around to face both Shaw and Smith, the chair squeaking as he does so.
‘That’s not possible. I’ve been here for all of my shift. I haven’t left this post, not even to take a leak.’ Explains the man
Shaw shakes his head in disbelief.
‘So you’re telling me, Frank McKenzie beat himself up in the toilets, smashed his own head into a urinal, twice! And finished himself off by catapulting himself head first into a hard wall?’ asks Eddie.
‘It appears so’ States the CCTV operator.
‘Wow and I thought I had problems’ Says Shaw.
‘What a nut job’ Adds the operator
Shaw’s face lights up.
‘You think he knows about his brother?’
Eddie turns to the operator and signals him to leave the room. He obliges and hurriedly walks out leaving Shaw and Smith in the room alone.
‘What makes you think that?’ Asks Eddie
‘I don’t know, maybe he wants to blame me for keeping his brother’s death from him. Not to mention him attacking me, he could easily set me up for the fall and get my badge pulled.’
‘Not with that CCTV evidence. You’d be clear of him setting you up for assault. It just doesn’t make sense. I know Frank is a bit crazy, I mean after all that’s what makes him a good Detective. I just don’t think he’d physically assault himself in a bathroom. ’
‘You’re not wrong there Eddie. Whatever it is we need to find out what really happened.’
Eighty
‘Alright folks, this is it. Washington has caved into pressure and is allowing us to proceed with the extraction mission into the M.I.T building. The rules are pretty simple. Me and Detective Frank McKenzie will be running the operation and you men will be leading us into the fray. The mandate for the mission is as follows. All resistance aimed at us when we enter the building will be met with lethal force. Bear in mind that this is a rescue mission. We need all the hostages alive. So aim for the dome. A few shots will do. I don’t want a hail storm in the building. We cannot be taking any casualties. Innocents need to be protected so no spraying. Second of all, the capturing of Connor Chase is essential. Washington wants him alive. I’m sure the only reason for that being is that they want to make him into an example to stop any potential copy cats recreating his carnage. The rest is pretty straight forward. We will go over the plans in the van on the way there. Keep your wits about you ladies and gentleman. Stay frosty out there, any questions?’ Asks Mullins as he stands in front of a group of eight men and two woman wearing flak jackets.
