Текст книги "Boston Blood"

Автор книги: Louis Samways

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Thirty Eight

Nathan’s eyes open to a circle of humanity surrounding him, all looking down at him while he lies on floor catching his breath. His vision is blurry, unclear. He immediately realises what is going on. The pain in his jaw reminds him of the punch that he suffered not too long ago. The ominous crowd reminds him of where he is. Blurry vision or not, a few dozen guns pointed at his face is enough to make him snap out of his daze. The guards keep their guns drawn at Nathan as he slowly sits up with his hands raised.

‘Relax fellas’ Says Nathan calmly

The butt end of an AK47 strikes Nathan’s face knocking him back to the ground. Dirt splatters onto his face from the impact. He spits out a bloody tooth. The pain is back again.

‘Shut the hell up!’ says the AK47 swinging guard

Connor Chase pushes his way through the circle of animals surrounding Nathan, gun in hand. His pack smiles at his presence, cheering and jeering as he signals them for quiet.

‘Looks like you’re a bit banged up there Nathan my boy!’ laughs Chase

Nathan scrambles back up to a seated position.

‘Ah ah ah, don’t you move!’ Says Chase

Nathan bares his surroundings and scans the area for an escape route, none found. He doesn’t like his chances. He closes his eyes preparing for the worst.

‘Look at me!’ Says Chase

Nathan follows the order and looks Connor square in the eyes.

‘That’s better. Now I know that this may come as a shock to you, but you are being held prisoner now.’

‘No shit’ says Nathan

The guard with the AK47 kicks Nathan in the face sending him back down to the ground with a thud.

Connor puts his arm in front of the guard’s chest to stop him pouncing on Nathan.

‘Not yet Mike, You’ll have your fun I promise you that!’

The guard called Mike grunts in understanding.

‘Looks like we have a problem Nathan, It seems that my crew have taken a disliking to you. I’m not quite sure why that is; maybe you can shed some light on the matter.’

Nathan once again sits himself back up; now blood is pouring out of his mouth like a waterfall spurting out of a rock face. He wipes his bloody mouth off with his dirty sleeve and takes a deep breath.

‘I don’t follow’ Says Nathan

‘I’m sure you don’t. I’ll fill you in, you see Nathan my men are good hard working men. You could say they pull their weight around here, and maybe you don’t. I think that could be a good enough reason. I don’t know maybe you left the toilet seat up and someone needed a crap and they had to take the time out of their day to put the damn seat down. Maybe you pissed on the seat, so when they did manage to get the seat down they had pissy hands for all of their hard work!’

The surrounding men chuckle at Chase’s remark; he turns to his men and gives them a stern look that stopped the chuckling dead in its tracks.

‘As I was saying, maybe you’re just an ass hole and nobody quite likes you. I can reason with that, I have noticed that you have one of those faces that I just want to punch…no offence of course. Could it be that reason Nathan? Is it because you have a stupid face?’

Nathan shrugs his shoulders in confusion.  Chase’s face fills with rage and he cocks his gun.

‘Answer me god dammit!’

He points the gun in Nathans direction, the cold barrel touches Nathans scull and sends shivers down his spine.

‘I don’t know why they don’t like me!’ Nathan pleads

Chase pulls out a mobile phone from his pocket, Nathan’s mobile phone. Nathan’s Adams apple sinks deep into the back of his throat.

‘I believe you left something on the operating table next to poor old Hodgey, God rest his soul. Why have you got a mobile phone on you? I told everybody when they started that mobile phones are not allowed on the job. Outside communication with the world is prohibited. It could jeopardise the mission. Why do you have the phone?’

Nathan says nothing, just stares down at the floor.

‘Okay fine, don’t tell me, you’re only hurting your self boy!’

Chase clicks the buttons on the phone, skimming through the contents displayed on the small LED screen. He stops at the messages and reads them. He takes a good five minutes giving Nathan time to soak in what he thinks is his last breath.  Chase smiles and nods as if the messages were answering his questions. He throws the phone on to the floor and stamps on it, obliterating the device in no more than two stomps. The debris from the phone splinters on the impact of the stomp and hits Nathan in the face. He doesn’t blink, just keeps staring at Connor who by now is licking his lips.

‘Interesting messages you got there Nathan, interesting messages indeed.’

Connor smiles once more, making his intentions clear as he paces from side to side. Nathan braces himself. Connor kicks. Nathan’s vision goes black. No sound. No sight. Knocked out.

Thirty Nine

Crystal undoes her blouse, slowly and meaningfully as the smooth velvet falls off of her curvaceous bust, she grabs Jason by the belt, looking deep into his eyes, deep into his soul. She undoes the belt, pulling it out of the braces that hold Jason’s trousers up. The sound turns her on. It’s a whizzing sound, a sort of whoosh that sends shivers up her neck as her hair brushes up against his chest. She’s on her knees, pulling down his trousers. Taking off the belt was supposed to make the ordeal easier; his erect penis is stopping the pulling motion. She is wanting and what she wants is Jason in her mouth. She can’t stand the wait. She tugs the trousers down harder. He lets out a whimper.

‘Damn that hurts’ He says

She looks up at him, her eyes saying “so what”. He smiles down at her as he helps her undo his trousers, helping her pull them down. They fall to his ankles, she watches as the hairs on his legs stand on end. She gasps in air as she finally sees his hard penis staring straight at her, inviting her in. She opens her beautiful mouth and grabs it, pulling it closer to her until she feels it enter. She feels full. He grabs her hair tight, bunching it up as he is being pleased. She moans as she takes every thrust deeply in her mouth. He thrusts harder as he grabs at her breasts. They feel firm and hard as he thrusts even harder. Her knees start to hurt rubbing against the small train toilet floor. He stops looking at her as he raises his head up and looks at the ceiling.

She gives an acknowledging moan as she grabs his penis with both hands. She sucks in hard as she rubs him at the same time. He grabs the side wall nearly ripping the mirror off as he releases in her mouth. She embraces the warm liquid. She looks up at him with devious and sexy eyes. She knows he enjoyed it. He continues to stare at the ceiling as he convulses in pleasure, finally looking down at her with nothing but euphoria in his eyes

Forty

Officer Mullins is sat in the patrol car waiting for his partner to come back from the coffee shop. The radio in the car starts to go off. Mullin’s reaches for it.

‘Car 765 receiving over’ Says Mullins

‘Car 765 we have a confirmed sighting of suspect Frank McKenzie spotted entering the industrial area in downtown Boston. He was spotted in a dark blue Ford Capri. Suspect is presumed armed and dangerous, approach with caution.’ Says the voice on the radio

‘Shit’ Shouts Mullins.

He sounds the horn and sirens for a few seconds to catch the attention of his partner in the coffee shop. His partner is chatting up a waitress when he turns around and notices Mullin’s signalling him. The officer rushes out of the shop and makes his way to the patrol car. He enters the car out of breath.

‘What’s the rush Mullins?’

‘We just got a 10-4 on Frank McKenzie’ Says Mullins

‘Where about is he?’

‘Just strap up and let’s go!’

‘Keep your blonde Irish ass in check man; I’m strapping up damn it!’

He puts his foot down on the gas pedal and swerves out of the parking space. The patrol car speeds through the lower east side of Boston, blues and twos rolling.

Forty one

‘Blocking the door won’t do you any good Frank. They can breach it if they must’ Says Jacob whose standing afar witnessing Frank rearranging the room. Frank is sifting through the furniture turning desks over and pushing filing cabinets down to the ground.

‘Where the hell is it?’ Asks Frank

Jacob looks on in confusion

‘Where the hell is what?’

Frank stops what he is doing and turns to face Jacob.

‘Where the hell is your key card?’

Jacob laughs while shaking his head at Frank.

‘My key card, what the hell are you talking about, what key card?’

Frank walks up to Jacob and grabs him by the corporate looking blue tie he is wearing.

‘The Key card to the armoury’

Jacob pushes Frank off him.

‘Are you crazy Frank? This is the Twenty First century. We don’t carry key cards anymore.’

‘So how do you get access to certain buildings?’

Jacob smiles while doing the jazz hands gesture

‘Fingers Frank, every place in this building is secured with military grade finger printing security. You will need an authorised person to unlock the doors.’

Frank’s eyes widen with glee as he approaches Jacob, reaching into his pocket he pulls out a blade. Jacob screams but Frank grabs his face, muffling the sounds of his cry for help.

Forty Two

Eddie Smith is lying face down on his desk fast asleep. His arm twitches and knocks an empty bottle of vodka off the table. The crashing sound wakens him to a bitter taste of cigarettes and alcohol. He stretches his arms wide above his head. The colour is drained from his face, only illuminated in the dark room by the beads of sweat dripping off his forehead, shining in the light coming through the cracks on the window blinds. He lights another cigarette and gets out from his chair, stretching once more, he walks over to his liquor cabinet and scans the area for any bottles. He finds none. His mobile phone goes off. He answers.

‘DA Smith speaking’

There is a static sound coming from the other end of the phone. Eddie looks at the bars on his cell and moves closer to the window to try and catch a better signal.

‘Hello, any one there?’

A sneer on the other end of the phone sharply awakens the DA.

‘Who is this?’ Asks Eddie

‘Don’t you think it’s strange how a person can stay on a phone, not say one word but still feel like there is still a point in talking to the other end? I mean let’s face it, if this was a real conversation in person and I just stopped talking to you, you’d move on wouldn’t you? But no, for some reason people seem to think that a ringing phone is an important phone, when in all matter of fact, the real importance is the person on the other end. Most bad news on the phone is just that, bad news on a phone. The reason people call people to tell them bad news is because they are too scared to tell them in person. I’m not scared off any one, and believe me that if I had a chance to get an audience with the District Attorney then I would, but unfortunately certain circumstances prevent me from accomplishing that. I hope you don’t mind…….’ Says the voice on the phone

The DA rubs his face and takes a long hard drag on his cigarette.

‘No I don’t mind, I was wandering when you would call Mr Chase.’ Says Eddie

‘Oh so you do have some intelligence after all. The papers got it all wrong then, saying how you are not the smartest or toughest or, well quite frankly, DA material. I got to give you credit where credit is due, not many people could just figure stuff out so quickly, I mean how long did it take you, three seconds? That’s impressive.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Don’t be rude Mr DA. I’m just here to address some issues that I’m having with these so called negotiations.’

Eddie takes another drag on his cigarette.

‘What seems to be the problem with the negotiations?’

‘That’s better, all about me, just how I like it. I’m kidding, I’m modest really, but I guess you know that about me.’

Eddie laughs and starts coughing on his cigarette smoke.

‘Smoking is bad for your health, you know that right.’ Says Connor, his voice bashful on the other end of the phone

‘Yeah I know, just get to the point’

‘I’m saying that if you don’t find me Frank McKenzie and put him on the other end of the phone, something could go wrong.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘No I’m just saying, find the bastard!’

‘Look pal I’m the DA, I don’t have to do shit for you, you hear me you stupid prick?’

The phone goes dead. Eddie throws it across the room in frustration. He lights up once more.

Forty Three

Officer Mullin’s car pulls up into the industrial district. It’s getting dark and visibility is down. He turns on the search light on his patrol car and scans the area with the beam, illuminating the buildings and wire fencing surrounding him and his partner.

‘What are you trying to do, make sure McKenzie knows we are here?’ asks Mullins Partner

‘Just shut up. I’m doing my job. Every lead has to be followed, even if it is all the way down to the crapper’

‘You got that right partner. This place is a shit hole. Who would work down here?’

‘No one, it’s been derelict for over twenty five years, ever since that big processing plant went and shipped to Mexico.’

‘Mexico? Wow, this place may be a dump but I wouldn’t be moving down Mexico for nothing. Give me a cardboard box down here any day! Anyway, how do you know all this stuff? You’re barely twenty one years old.’

‘My dad used to work for the processing plant. He knew about this area.’

‘What’s there to know? Where’s the ultimate place to take a shit?’

Mullins moves the search light to the left into the dark alleyway adjacent to their car.

‘Knock it off, this used to be a decent area. Talking of areas maybe it’s a good idea to check the alley out. Good place to hide.’ Says Mullins

‘Be my guest kid, it’s also a good place to get ambushed. That McKenzie guy is some nut. You know he busted some guys face up at a crime scene just for ribbing him, what a whacko!’

‘Yeah that may be true, but we have to find this guy. It’s what we do, get your ass out of the car and back me up; you’re my god damn partner!’

‘I’m also your superior kid! Ah what the heck, I need to stretch my legs, let’s get going then and see to your precious alley mission.’

Both officers get out of the car and make their way down the dark alley. The pathway is full of boxes and garbage. Mullins nearly trips over a trash can.

‘Watch where you’re going kid, turn your damn flash light on!’

‘Yeah alright, I was going to, give me a chance’ says Mullins

Mullins turns his flashlight on and looks around the small alley way. The light highlights the amount of rubbish choking the small walkway.

‘Goddamn it smells like dog shit down here’ says Mullins Partner

In the corner of his eye, Mullins spots a shadow like figure leaning against the wall in a sitting position down the alleyway. He draws his weapon.

‘Hey you, put your hands up! Boston PD’ shouts Mullins

Mullins partner follows his lead and draws his weapon.

The shadowy figure does not respond.

‘I mean it; put your dam hands up!’ Repeats Mullins

The figure continues to stay seated in its place. By now the officers look at each other and Mullins partner signals him to move forward. They move cautiously surveying the figures every move. Forty feet, still not visible, thirty feet, no movement, twenty feet, Mullins swallows, ten feet:

‘God dammit, It’s a stack of trash!’ shouts Mullins partner in dismay. He kicks the now visible bags; rubbish explodes out of them like confetti.

‘It looked like a human the way it was propped up like that’ argues Mullins

‘Well it isn’t a human kid; it’s a goddamn trash bag, in a trash filled alley, what a surprise!’

Forty Four

Frank sits down at Jacobs’s desk with a shot of whisky in one hand and a bloody glove on the other. The confusion is returning. He downs another glassful to get rid of it. He stares at a motionless Jacob on the floor. Lying still, not moving one inch.

‘He was moving a lot before wasn’t he Frank. Oh how much he was moving, you could almost say he was squirming.’ Whispers the voice in Frank’s head

Frank pours himself another shot, downs it nearly as fast as he puts the bottle back down on the desk. He thumps his fist hard on the wooden desk, the pain hits his stomach.

‘In a little discomfort Frank?’ asks the voice.

Frank shakes his head, trying to rattle his conscious. He patters his pockets looking for relief. He grabs his pill dispenser and shakes it. No noise.

‘Shit’ Says Frank.

He opens the pill container and turns it upside down, nothing comes out of it.

‘Empty empty empty!’ Whispers the voice

Frank gets up and swings his arm across the desk knocking everything off it onto the ground.

‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ He shouts

The room is silent; he slides to a seated position against the wall. He looks across the room at Jacob who is lying face down on the floor. He notices a meagre pool of blood seeping around Jacobs’s body. Frank quickly gets up and rushes over to the clutter on the floor from the desk. He searches the pile and finds his pill container; he chucks it over his shoulder and carry’s on scavenging. He finally stops and takes a deep breathe in, almost quivering. He picks up a white rag covered in red stains and unwraps it while breathing in heavily. He picks up a severed thumb from the wrapping. He wraps the thumb back up in the stained rag.

He gets up and patters himself down. The blood on his hands smears all over his leather jacket.

‘Crap!’ He says

‘That’s not going to come out easily’ says the voice in his head

Frank stops still; He turns around and makes his way out of the room, leaning against the doors entrance he peeks around the corner of the door frame to see if the coast is clear. It is.

He makes his way down the hallway and comes across a locked door; he tries the handle, no joy. He moves on deeper down the corridor and finds a sign pointing to the security post. He sighs and takes one deep breath and makes his way down the spic and span pathway. The corridor is bleach cleaned, the smell makes Frank feel queasy. He approaches the metal security gate that looked like a prison door with bars. He notices the fingerprint machine attached to the wall next to the door. He takes another deep breath in. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bloody rag once again. He takes the severed thumb out of the rag and places it onto the flashing finger print machine. The machines small screen reads “PROCESSING”

It beeps and the light above the door goes green. The door unlocks with a rather loud crunching sound. It surprises Frank. He was expecting a more Sci-Fi type whoosh sound when the door opened. It crunches open and Frank walks through it. He looks back as the door automatically swings shut. He sighs and carry’s on walking. The hallway was just as clean as it was on the other side, but brighter. The light was making Frank disorientated. He braces the wall for a second as he stops to catch his bearings. He carries on walking slower as the pain in his stomach increases and throbbed away like a nagging nuisance in the background. He stumbles on to a second gate. He looks above the door and sees a red light. He once again puts Jacob’s thumb to work on the print machine. The door once again crunches open. Frank makes his through the second door. He hears a high pitched noise similar to trainers on a basketball court. He turns around to see the security door close. Turning back around he is greeted with a punch to the face making his head violently snap back.

Forty Five

Sandra Austin is standing alone in the middle of the channel 72 newsroom. The once hectic area is now eerily quiet and vacant.  She looks around and surveys the area, cameras are tilted down facing the ground, the news desk is littered with papers and Styrofoam cups. Coffee stains are abundant on the surface of the desk. She stands alone, preoccupied with her thoughts. Her mobile phone rings. She answers. She nods her head twice and hangs up, putting the phone back into her back pocket as she runs up the warehouse like staircase towards the production area overlooking the newsroom from above. The lights in this room differ from those on the studio floor. Lighting from the twenty something TV monitors saturate the rooms natural light, the air conditioning’s loud and humming, playing a sort of orchestral piece with the other electrical equipment. The buzzing and rattling are accompanied by the sound of tape stretching out, the sound of the audio tapes doing their jobs. Bob Sinclair was an old school guy. He did not like the way most newsrooms and media in general relied on computers to do their bidding. He kept the retro style broadcast booth with all of its reels of tape and noise to boot. Sandra liked that about him. She enjoyed a challenge and keeping up with the other news crews was challenge enough, even more so with the advantage of digital versus analogue.  Bob was sitting in his seat overlooking the control panels, twiddling the dials and nobs as he saw fit. He was in his broadcast zone; the unflinching look in his eyes was one that Sandra and her co-workers were used to. When he was in that zone everyone knew not to disturb him, even if he did call for her. She waited. He finally looked up at her and smiled.

‘We have a lead on a train coming into Boston in less than two hours. My source says something big is going to happen and I’m sending you down to the train station to report on it when it does.’ He said.

Sandra nods in agreement, reluctant to express any disapproval.

‘Good, I’m glad you understand the situation. Now get going, I want a full a set up before any other news crews catch wind of what’s going down.’