by Jim Jennings
***
Laurence observed the chandelier that greeted him at the stop of the stairs was covered by cobwebs and doused in dust. He headed down a dreary and dimly candlelit corridor with rooms either side. The air was heavy and the atmosphere was eerie, expectant and melancholic. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast; downstairs was impeccably furnished and decorated, upstairs was depressing and downtrodden. He started down another narrow corridor and saw a wooden door with his name on it. Inside he found an empty, cold room in need of some attention. The room retained some basic fixings however, although even these; a bed with no duvet, a sorry-looking sink that was home to a family of spider, a window that overlooked a garden with a swimming pool complete with no water but plenty of leaves, a garden full of weeds and dead plants and an unfinished wall at the end of a patio area. It was very strange. Perhaps Randall had just moved in, or it was a temporary holiday home, or he had no interest in DIY. As he turned from the window he saw a zipped-up bag hanging from a peg on the back of the wooden door which he proceeded to collect and unzip. The now lowered zip revealed a tailored, Armani suit, one like he had always desired. Laurence donned his suit and never felt so smart in his life. The suit was a perfect fit. He thought he was in a dream; here he was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with a gorgeous woman to spend time with and a multi-millionaire paying him to write. It all seemed too good to be true. He shaved and washed his face and tidied his hair.
The sun set silently behind some hills in the distance as Laurence made his way down the stairway to the hall, where he saw Wesley, dressed identically to Laurence, and Ruby talking. Standing tall and handsome in his suit, he showed a face of no expression in order to hide his desire to fall at Ruby’s feet and produce gushing overtures of compliments and love tokens for her. Truly, she was an awe-inspiring sight; she was wearing a figure hugging maroon wrap-dress, ten-inch high heel shoes whilst her effervescent hair had been tied into a sophisticated bun. It was as if it had been put together by a master craftsman. Her legs stood tall like two pillars on the Acropolis. Randall came gushing down the stairs like a torrent of water down a mountain stream in a cream-coloured suit with an indigo shirt that was so bright Laurence had to shield his eyes upon glancing at it for the first time.
Laurence, Wesley and Ruby headed outside into the quiet, empty road and waited for the driver to bring the limousine round while Randall elected to wait inside for Alan and Bruno. They stood in the middle of the road, exchanging supposedly secretive but painstakingly obvious looks at one another. Laurence took the opportunity to try and talk to Ruby,
‘So Ruby, do you like Paris?’ But Ruby did not hear him. He tried again, a little louder this time, ‘Do you like Paris…do you, Miss Holland?’
Finally, he had caught her attention, ‘No, I’ve never been to Holland.’ She replied. Laurence let out a nervous laugh and looked at her helplessly. Wesley smiled to himself.
Suddenly, Alan came bursting out of the house shouting something towards the three of them. BANG!!! The whole mansion erupted before their eyes, crashing, banging and rising into the sky like fireworks and falling around them. Fire burst from the torched stone walls, smoke descended all around them, the air became stuffy and fire fizzed on the grass about them. Another explosion thundered about the place, the roof and upper levels of the mansion plummeted to the ground. The colossal cascade of stone and metal that tumbled upon the lower floors added to the fire, which started to form a monumental pyre on the site of the living room. Black abyss beckoned. Ash billowed all about them. Alan was projected into the air as the steps were ripped apart like tissue paper. The mansion had transformed into a brazen bonfire, crackling and roasting with an overwhelming, intoxicating heat. Ruby fainted in terror. Wesley grabbed and lifted Ruby over his shoulder and lay her down behind a bench on the opposite side of the road. Laurence followed, crouching. The awful cacophony of destruction reached a thunderous crescendo as the bricks crumbled upon each other like dominoes; it was as if the whole house had been passed through a giant incinerator. They moved behind a parked car. As Wesley and Laurence positioned their backs against it, coughing and spluttering as they did so, the former peered above the car’s engine and down the street whilst the latter looked on in worry at Ruby. She looked so peaceful and beautiful, like a fallen angel, all at ease whilst panic and chaos reigned about her. Wesley tapped Laurence on the shoulder, who turned and joined Wesley in gazing down the street. Several figures decked in black clothing and holding large rifles were approaching them in an inverted triangle formation. Suddenly, from the other direction, a white van came tearing down the road and stopped just before the entrance to the mansion. From it, several more figures filed out with fire extinguishers and guns, and they set about trying to tame the chargrilled mess that was once Randall’s mansion. Wesley turned to Laurence,
‘Blondie, take this,’ and he handed him a small handgun which he had taken from a holster inside his jacket. Laurence had never held or used a gun before, not a real one anyway.
‘How does it work?’ Laurence asked Wesley, but as he did so he accidentally pulled the trigger as a big crash coming from the mansion startled him. The pop of the gun startled him and he jumped, banging his head against the car’s wing mirror, knocking himself out. The noise alerted the armed men and the situation seemed hopeless; Ruby had fainted, Alan, Bruno, and Randall were dead. Wesley groaned and picked up the gun. He looked out over the bonnet and fired the gun three times; three of the approaching figures dropped instantaneously. He advanced from behind the car into the middle of the road and fired another shot at another figure’s leg. With a loud shout the shot man collapsed to the ground where he proceeded to writhe around in agony. A step on the tarmac behind him caught Wesley’s ear and without looking he curved his right arm around his body and fired his gun three more times. He turned to where he had just fired, and saw a man collapsed on the floor.
Just then, it was all over. He felt a sudden jerk at his right temple. His eyes glazed over as he realised there was a gun pointing at his head. ‘Bastard.’ Wesley said quietly. He dropped his own gun and raised his arms. The gun prodded him forward. As he was escorted down the road past the burning wreckage, he contemplated attacking the man, but before he could do so he was smacked in the back of the neck with the butt of the rifle, rendering him unconscious. Laurence, Wesley and Ruby were dumped into the back of the van. The flames no longer flickered as the van drove off. There was a breathless hush where once there used to be a mansion.
Chapter Four
The Italian’s Job
