Empty Promises

by Edwin Dasso

  Chapter 58

  They flew a short time longer, and then the pilot made an announcement, his voice sounding over the speaker.

  “Sir, we’re two-hundred miles offshore as you instructed. Now what?”

  Schanlon looked expectantly at Jack but said nothing.

  Jack moved closer, still out of reach, pointing the gun directly at Schanlon’s left eye and drawing back the hammer. “Well?” he whispered.

  Schanlon huffed. “The senator is in the bathroom. He says to take it down to two thousand feet, and slow down as much as you can.”

  “Uh…yes, sir.” There was silence for several seconds. “Everything okay back there, sir?”

  Jack nodded vigorously at Schanlon. He pointed at the speaker and drew his finger across his neck in the universal sign of cutting a connection.

  “Y-yes,” Schanlon replied. “We’re fine, but the senator and I need to have a private conversation…so we need you to cut off the intercom.”

  “Uh…yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

  Jack nodded slowly and grinned. “Now, very slowly, undo your seatbelt, and drag that sack of shit,” he pointed the pistol at Chip, whose face was now an ashen gray, “up toward the cabin door. Any sudden moves and I shoot you.”

  Schanlon rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “You can’t shoot a gun in an airplane,” he said, his tone indicating he thought Jack was dim-witted.”

  Jack gritted his teeth. “I’m not planning on shooting the fucking plane, you idiot!” He growled. “But you’re a different story. Your bones will stop any bullet.”

  Schanlon glared at Jack a few seconds then slowly moved his hand to release his seatbelt.

  “Like I said…very slowly or you take the first round in your crotch,” Jack said.

  Schanlon moved a hand to cover his crotch.

  Jack laughed. “That won’t save your nuts, stupid. Now, move!”

  Schanlon nodded and began to stand. Jack backed away, up the aisle, again grating his nails over the skin of his arms and shoulders as the formication continued spreading. Schanlon looked at the obviously dead assistant and wrinkled his nose then gagged.

  “Yeah, it’s a little different when you have to get your own hands dirty, isn’t it? Now, get with it!” Jack yelled. He couldn’t seem to make himself speak in a normal tone. He stepped between a row of seats and kept the gun trained on Schanlon.

  Schanlon bent and grabbed the dead man under the armpits. He grunted as he struggled to drag the limp form up the aisle. When he arrived at the cabin door, he dropped the body as if it was that of a leper. He turned toward Jack, breathing heavily, looking expectantly at him.

  “Now what?”

  “On the floor—face down. Lock your fingers together behind your head.”

  Schanlon slowly complied. When he’d done as Jack instructed, Jack stepped into the aisle and backed toward the rear compartment. When he arrived, he opened the door a crack.

  “It’s time for you to come out, Senator. I’ll tell you the same thing I told your buddy—any sudden moves and I’ll shoot you without hesitation.”

  There was silence for several seconds. “Fuck you, Bass, I’m a U.S. Senator—you can’t treat me like this!” he yelled.

  Jack threw the door open, aiming the gun at the senator. “Wrong, Senator! I’ve got the gun—I can treat you any fucking way I want. Now, move it!”

  Jack backed up the aisle and took a position between a row of seats again. The senator slowly stuck his head out the doorway, moving his gaze about the main cabin. His eyes stopped moving when they landed on Schanlon.

  Jack waggled the pistol at Cinch. “C’mon, hurry up. Go join your partner in crime.”

  The senator turned his gaze to Jack and flashed another one of those wide campaign smiles. “Dr. Bass, I think you’re a reasonable man—I’m sure we can work out something acceptable to both of us—”

  “Save the weak bullshit, Senator!” Jack yelled. “I still haven’t decided if you even make it back to shore or not. Get moving!”

  The senator jumped, the smile disappearing from his face. He moved cautiously up the aisle. When he neared Jack’s position, Jack pulled the hammer back on the pistol.

  “Remember—any sudden moves, you die,” Jack snarled.

  The senator crouched and slinked by, stopping when he stood over Schanlon. Jack moved up closer to them. Jack scratched wildly at his itching legs. An intense, insatiable craving swelled in his mind and he felt compelled to do something to satisfy it. He just didn’t know what that something was. He swiped at the heavy sweat covering his brow. Revenge! Yes, that’s what he wanted! But not something short term—something that would ruin these men for life.

  “Okay, Schanlon, you’re going to open the cabin door after the good senator here picks up your hired killer.”

  Schanlon shook his head. “I don’t know how—”

  “Bullshit!” Jack roared. “Just figure it out! Now, get up and open the goddam door! Then you two are going to toss him out. Any questions?””

  Schanlon smirked at Jack. “You seem a little irritable, Bass.”

  “You just tried killing me, you fucking asshole! And I know you killed George Smithson, a man I thought of as a father.” Jack screamed. “Of course, I’m irritable!”

  “Okay, okay. It’s just that…I may be able to help with that.”

  “Just shut up and do what I told you to do!”

  Schanlon held up his hands, stood, and moved to the door. He leaned down to read the printed instructions on the inside panel. After a quick glance at Jack, Schanlon pulled the handle out and twisted it. Wind whistled furiously, and an alarm screeched as the seal broke.

  “What the hell’s going on back there?” the pilot yelled over the intercom in a panicked voice.

  “Shut the fuck up and fly the plane!” Jack yelled.

  “Who is this?”

  “Your guest! And I’m assuming, at this point, you weren’t complicit in this little plan. If you do anything but fly this plane, I’ll change my mind—and act accordingly.”

  There was silence for several seconds.

  “And leave the mike open so I can hear if you call for help,” Jack added.

  There was continued silence.

  “Is there some confusion about my instructions?” Jack yelled.

  “Just do what he says!” Cinch shouted.

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot mumbled.

  “That’s better.” Jack turned his attention to the two men standing in front of him. “Pull it open.”

  Schanlon fought with the door as he pulled it into the small exit space. A blast of frigid air buffeted Schanlon, knocking him back against the bulkhead. Schanlon’s eyes bulged as he clutched at the handle to the cockpit door. His gaze darted between the open doorway and Jack.

  “Now, help the senator toss him out.” Jack pointed the gun at the dead man. “And be careful—you don’t want to slip and fall out, too.” Jack smiled deviously. “Do you?”

  Jack pulled out his phone and hit the video icon again. Schanlon and Cinch locked gazes with Jack for a couple of seconds. Jack raised the pistol. Their shoulders slumped, then they positioned the assistant’s body between them. They lifted the man, drew him back, then threw him through the door. The windstream snatched the body from sight. Schanlon stepped toward the door and started to push it closed.

  “Wait!” Jack yelled over the deafening roar of the wind. He stuffed his phone back into a pocket. “Not so fast.”

  Schanlon stepped back, again pinning his back against the cockpit bulkhead. He stared at Jack, face contorted with fear.

  “I know you’re feeling like something’s eating you from the inside—it’s a supracentyl side-effect!” Schanlon blurted. “I have something that can help.”

  Jack jabbed the gun toward him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Schanlon held up his hands in a motion to calm Jack. “Relax. I mean, you’re feeling jittery, aren’t you…? Like a ju
nkie who needs a fix?”

  “I wouldn’t know what a junkie feels like. Where you going with this?”

  “That syringe you showed me was naloxone.”

  “Yeah—so?”

  “Just give me a second—don’t shoot—I’m going to get something out of my jacket pocket. It’s the real supracentyl reversal agent—the only one that will actually work.”

  Jack’s fingers wriggled on the butt of the pistol, and he aimed it at Schanlon’s head. “One wrong twitch and you’re dead!”

  Moving slowly, Schanlon pulled an auto-inject syringe from the breast pocket of his jacket. He offered it to Jack.

  “Why?” Jack asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

  “I think we can make a deal—and I always come to a poker game with an ace up my sleeve.”

  He wiggled the syringe in front of Jack who looked hungrily at it.

  “Inject half of it into the senator,” Jack yelled.

  Schanlon’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” He snatched the syringe back away from Jack. A smirk crept onto his face. “Oh, I get it—you don’t trust me.”

  Jack laughed uproariously. “That’s the understatement of the century. Now do it!”

  Schanlon shrugged and uncapped the needle then stepped toward the senator. The senator jumped back and held his arms up between himself and Schanlon.

  “Whoa! Wait a minute!”

  “What’s the matter, Senator, you don’t trust him, either?”

  The senator’s gaze darted between Jack and Schanlon. He gave Jack his politician smile. “Well, Jack, it’s not exactly that…”

  “Then put your arms down and let him do it!” Jack screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

  While the senator was looking at Jack, Schanlon threw an elbow into the man’s stomach, and the senator dropped to his knees. Schanlon quickly jammed the needle into the back of his shoulder and injected half the contents.

  The senator scurried like a crab to the far side of the cabin, where he lay on his back, glaring up at Schanlon. “You bastard!” he screeched.

  Schanlon smiled and shrugged. “Nothing personal, Senator… I’m afraid it’s every man for himself at this point.”

  Jack swung the gun anxiously between Schanlon and the senator. “You stay right there, Senator, while we watch and see what happens,” Jack said. He turned back to Schanlon and pointed the gun at the open door. “Give me the syringe or jump.”

  “I don’t think so, Bass,” he said smugly as he shook his head.

  Jack shot a round into the bulkhead next to Schanlon’s head.

  “Give it to me!” he roared.

  “Are you fucking nuts?” Schanlon threw a hand over his ear, twisted, and gaped wide-eyed at the bullet hole.

  Jack shrugged. “Some people have claimed as much…but I’m feeling particularly edgy now.” He smiled. “You know, just like the side-effect you told me about—and it’s getting worse.” Jack’s hands shook as he pulled the hammer back on the gun and pointed it at Schanlon’s face. “Now, give it to me!” he roared.

  Schanlon tentatively held the syringe out to Jack. Jack shot a hand out, snatching the syringe then hastily stuffing it into a pocket. Schanlon pressed his back harder against the bulkhead.

  “N-now what?”

  Jack shot a quick glance at the senator then looked back at Schanlon “Well, it looks like the senator isn’t having any untoward effects.” A wry grin crept onto Jack’s face. “I think it’s time for you to get off the plane.” Even as Jack uttered the words, part of his mind struggled to understand how he could.

  “Fuck you! I’m not jumping.”

  Jack laughed briefly then furrowed his brow deeply as he glowered at Schanlon. “You can either jump and maybe have a chance at surviving, or I can shoot you and throw you out,” Jack said impassively. “You’re dead for sure with the latter choice.”

  “You don’t have the balls!”

  Jack’s body became rigid, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, his face flushing. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before! Kinda tired of hearing it.”

  Schanlon screeched as the bullet slammed into his thigh. He clutched the wound with both hands.

  “And to answer your earlier question—yes—I am feeling very irritable!” Jack said, pointing the gun at Schanlon’s face. “Actually, I can’t recall ever having felt this irritable. Your drug’s side effect, I guess.”

  “You crazy bastard!”

  “Yeah—ain’t Karma a bitch?”

  “What the fuck is going on back there?” the pilot yelled over the intercom.

  “Shut up and fly the plane!” Jack bellowed.

  Schanlon had dropped to his knees. His lip trembled as he stared up at Jack.

  “You gonna jump, or do I work my way up?” Jack pointed at the bloody hole in Schanlon’s pantleg. “I’m guessing I’ve got thirteen more rounds—that’s going to cause a lot of pain—and I’ll make sure several of those go into your crotch.” As Jack heard the words he uttered, it was as if he was listening to someone else talking. He wasn’t sure why he was saying what he was saying. I feel like some damned Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde character. And I can’t control it! He didn’t like it.

  “Just inject yourself!” Schanlon pleaded. “You’ll feel better soon…b-be able to think more rationally.”

  Jack shook his head vehemently. “No! Not with you anywhere around. I don’t trust you—at all!” He waved the gun at the door. “Well?” Jack pointed the pistol at Schanlon’s groin. “Time to make a decision—you want to jump with or without another bullet?”

  Schanlon scrabbled to the door and stopped, the wind buffeting him and whipping his hair. He stared down at the expanse of ocean below. He grabbed the doorframe with both hands, pulling himself up and edging his feet up to the threshold then turned his head to Jack.

  “Fuck you, Bass! I’ll be back…and you’ll regret it when we next meet.”

  Chapter 59

  Schanlon squatted down to jump, and Jack shot a hand out, grabbing Schanlon’s jacket collar. Jack yanked Schanlon back then threw the man to the floor. Jack stood over Schanlon, pointing the gun at his face.

  “Now you have an idea what it’s like to have no control over your life—or death! Just like what you’re doing with your killer drug,” Jack yelled. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Schanlon panted as he nodded. “Y-yes. Yes…I do!”

  Jack turned the gun on the senator. “How about you, Senator? Do you understand? Do you think you can cooperate—help me keep supracentyl from being turned loose on the public?” He jabbed a finger at the open door. “Or do you feel like a flying lesson?”

  Cinch nodded and held his hands up in front of himself. “No! I-I’m sure we can come to some sort of an agreement!”

  Jack scowled at Cinch and shook his head. “No…I don’t want to ‘come to an agreement’. I want you to promise me you’ll help me.”

  “Y-yes. Whatever you say.”

  Jack glared silently at him for several seconds then shook his head. “I don’t believe you!” He waved the pistol at Cinch. “Get up.”

  Jekyll and Hyde were locked in a brawl inside Jack’s head. Bass! get a grip! Don’t become one of them.

  The senator got to his knees and began to weep. “I don’t want to die. Please!”

  “But you were okay with me dying, weren’t you?” Jack yelled over the deafening din of the wind.

  The senator shook his head wildly. “N-no. That wasn’t my idea. I-I didn’t know what they had planned on this flight!”

  “Bullshit!” Jack roared then pointed at Schanlon. “Your buddy said otherwise. On top of that, you were okay with hundreds—with thousands of people dying needlessly from Schanlon’s stupid, little drug. Weren’t you?”

  “No, I-I wasn’t aware of those risks. I swear!”

  “Stop lying to me!” Jack screamed. “You knew about all of it—you just chose to ignore the facts. Just so you could have a little more blood money!” He waved the gun at the do
or. “Last time I’m telling you.”

  “Please!” the senator bawled. The cyclone-like wind smeared his tears all over his face as he crawled on his hands and knees to the open door. He stopped at the verge then turned his head to Jack, his eyes widened and bulging.

  “Close it,” Jack shouted.

  The senator’s mouth fell open. “Wh-what?”

  “I said, close it.”

  The senator nodded as he clambered to his knees. He pushed his shoulder against the door, his neck veins bulging with the effort. When he had it pressed back into the doorframe, he raised a shaking hand to the handle and yanked it down. The howling stopped as the door sealed. Cinch exhaled loudly then leaned his head against the door and cried. He turned his face toward Jack.

  “I-I knew you were a man of reason—”

  “Shut up!” Jack glared at Cinch for several seconds. “There’s only one reason I let you live. Now you’re going to go back in that rear compartment and close the door. Just stay there while I talk with the pilot.” Jack jabbed a finger at him. “In case you get any bright ideas, remember, I have you on film admitting to attempted murder and throwing a body out of a plane.” Jack smirked. “Pretty fucking incriminating, wouldn’t you say, Senator?”

  The senator’s shoulders sagged and he nodded slowly.

  “I’ll fill you in on my plan later. If you don’t follow it to the letter, those videos will be posted all over YouTube and Facebook. Are we clear on that?”

  The senator nodded again, wiping tears from his face.

  “Now, go back to your office and close the door.” Jack turned and glared at Schanlon. “This little prick is going to stay with me—where I can keep an eye on him.”

  The senator crawled all the way down the aisle on his hands and knees. Once inside the rear compartment, he pulled the door closed.

  Jack pulled Schanlon from the floor and threw him into the nearest seat.

  “Stay!”

  Jack rummaged through a number of cubbyholes, looking for something to use as restraints, finally locating some seatbelt extensions. He secured Schanlon’s arms to the armrests and his legs to the seat frame, pulling the straps tight. Satisfied Schanlon was secure, Jack stood facing him.