Текст книги "Boston Blood"

Автор книги: Louis Samways

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Forty Six

Nathan’s eyes open as the light hits his retina, he squints in pain, blood’s running down his face, pooling around his idle body on the ground. It looks worse than it is He thinks to himself. He tries to get up but his hands are handcuffed behind his back, making movement hard as he lies on his front, face down in the dirt. Nathan turns his head and looks at his surroundings. Where the hell am I He asks himself quietly in his head. He takes another look around and notices that he is in a cage like structure, imprisoned like a dog, a hand cuffed dog at that. He stretches his head forward, his chin resting on the cold hard ground. He looks straight ahead and notices an abundance of computer serves and wiring.

‘The basement’ He says to himself

Out of the shadows and armed man steps out, the little light coming from his lit cigar is enough to illuminate his face. A scar runs down from his eye brow to his chin. He is wearing a camouflage bandana that looks just as greasy as the floor underneath his feet.  He smiles at Nathan’s struggle and takes another drag on his large Cuban.

‘The basement is right star’ says the man, his Jamaican accent suits his face like the two were meant to be, stereo typical as it may seem, Nathan thought.

Nathan struggles some more as he tries to get a better look at the man.

‘I wouldn’t try that if I was you boy, it can get mighty dangerous down the basement!’

‘Why am I down here tied up like some sort of pig?’ asks Nathan

The man shakes his head in disappointment.

‘Surely you should know by now star, it’s not every day you get to witness the going-ons from both sides of the fence.’

Nathan laughs, blowing up dust as he does so, covering his face in more muck.

‘True, but this wasn’t my department. I was more of an errand boy, you know, a grunt.’ Says Nathan

The man in the shadows smiles in understanding while nodding his head in a rhythm.

‘I know what you mean, I been doing the same ting down here, I be looking after your ass, till they decide what they want to do with you.’

Nathan nods. Closing his eyes to stop them straining.

‘What do you think they are going to do to me?’

‘That I cannot be sure of star, I imagine it won’t be pretty.’

Nathan opens his eyes once more to try and get a better look at the man in the shadows.

‘What’s your name?’ Asks Nathan

The man takes another drag on his cigar.

‘I can’t tell you that, you know the deal boy. Just stay calm in there, and I’ll try and get you out.’

Nathan’s eyes widen.

‘What do you mean out?’

The man flicks his cigar onto the ground and stubs it out with his army boots. He forces a smile loaded with gold teeth at Nathan. He signals Nathan to stay quiet with his finger pressed to his mouth. Another man comes out of the shadows; this one dressed differently to the Jamaican man Nathan has been talking to, less army and more of a mercenary style of dressing.

‘Who the hell are you’ says the other man

The Jamaican man pats the other man on the shoulder, while extending his right arm, he swings a heavy right hook at him, knocking him cold to the floor. He disarms the man, and takes his weapons and ammunition. Nathan looks on in shock.

‘Don’t you have enough ammo?’ Asks Nathan, still in shock of what he is seeing.

‘That’s the least of our worries. Come on star, I’m getting you out of here. The name’s Fredrick, Chief Shaw sent me here to rescue you. He had a feeling that you had been compromised, so here I am, and here you are. Let’s get gwaning.’

‘How the hell do you supposed I just “get gwaning”’ Asks Nathan

Fredrick nods and searches his pockets rapidly, as if his life depended on it. He finds what he is looking for and slaps it onto the steel security door of the cell that Nathan is occupying. The slapping sound reminds Nathan of bubble gum.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Getting you out star, tuck and roll on 3’ says Fredrick

‘Tuck and roll? What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘1……2…..’

‘Wait goddamn it!’

‘3’

An explosion shakes the floor as the metal security door flies off its hinges and lands on top of Nathan in a cloud of dust and debris. Nathan lets out a moan as he tries to wriggle out from under the heavy set door. Fredrick walks into the cage and helps Nathan out. He uses all his might as he lifts the near 300 pound door with ease, the muscles on his arms bulging as he successfully tips the door away from Nathan.

‘I said tuck and roll star!’ Says Fredrick playfully.

He un cuffs Nathan and helps him up.

‘Firstly I don’t know what that means, secondly my name is not Star!’

‘I know what your name is, now let’s get gwaning, they can show up any moment’

Nathan shakes himself down, dust filling up the air as he does so.

‘Not very subtle you know, blowing the door of its hinges’

‘What you going to do ay, wait for them to open it up for us?’ explains Fredrick.

Both men make their way out of the basement and up the stairs. Fredrick turns to Nathan and signals him to hold his position. He slowly makes his way up the winding staircase while Nathan stays back. Nathan looks up at the winding stairs and sees Fredrick reach the top, shortly after he hears what sounds like a fight. Nathan quickly moves up the stairs but before he can take more than five steps, a body comes crashing down to his feet. He looks up again and sees Fredrick smiling down at him.

‘Let’s go star’

Nathan reaches the top and rendezvous with Fredrick, who by now is lighting up another cigar.

‘I don’t mean to be rude Fredrick but don’t you think smoking while trying to sneak out of a hostile building is a bit… I don’t know….unstealthy?’

‘I don’t see your point Nathan.’

‘Well I’m just saying, the smoke could give us away or something, they could smell us coming. I don’t think that counts towards good stealth practises’

‘Who said anything about being stealthy, don’t worry about them smelling us star, they are going to hear us coming breda!’

Forty Seven

Frank’s head hits the bars on the gate with a tremendous jar, blood spatters off of his head trickling onto the rusty cold metal finally finding its way to the floor.  He kneels down clutching his wounds, wiping the blood from his face. A mighty punch lands on the back of his head, knocking him down again, this time his hands break his fall. As he lays on the ground staring into space, the guard grabs his head, a hand full of hair, and repeatedly bashes Frank’s scull into the metal gate. With each impact the sound grows weary, until Frank can only hear his heartbeat. The pounding stops, his eyes focus once more; the once controllable wound is now bleeding profusely. He clutches at the gate and braces himself. As his head rests on the floor he can hear his tormentor’s every footstep. He hears them coming once again, a sharp kick to the ribs. Frank cringes. He braces himself again, trying to muster enough energy, another kick. Frank’s vision blurs. Consciousness slips.

‘Get up you son of a bitch!’ The guard yells

Frank awakens to another kick. His hands grip the rusty bars of the security door with all the will he can muster. Then a jab to the kidneys. Frank’s grip grows ever tighter. He hears the rumble of another run up by the guard. He times it. Two seconds. One second. Frank grabs the bars tighter and swings both of his legs to the right, catching the guard’s strides as he goes in for another swing. Frank snaps his hips and sweeps the guard off his feet onto his back, blood distorting his vision; Frank gets up and feels out for the fallen guard’s body. He finds his foot. He grabs at the guard’s shiny heavy duty boots and twists the man’s ankle. Snap. The man screams in agony. Frank twists again for personal enjoyment. The man screams once more, this time the scream is barely audible as the breath leaves the guard’s lungs. Frank gets up onto his knees and shimmies closer to the guard’s sternum; he lays in four heavy blows to the ribs. He hears them breaking. The sound is encouraging to Frank, he likes what he hears. Frank pounds the man’s chest like a mallet at the butchers. With each crushing blow, blood exudes from the guard’s mouth. Frank stops, out of breath and weak; he stands up and examines his handy work. The guard lays motionless in a pool of blood pouring out of his mouth; Frank looks down at the man’s chest, caved in, akin to a building imploding. The man’s breathing stops with a gargle of blood and one last plea. Frank smiles a smile only he can wear. He stumbles closer to the fallen man’s head. He kneels down and strokes the man’s hair.

‘Hush little man, don’t you cry, Frank is not going, to spare your life’ Sings Frank in a melodic tone.

Frank gets up and cracks his fingers in anticipation. He breaths in deeply and lets out a barrage of kicks to the man’s scull, each one of them splattering blood in all directions. Frank is covered in blood, his rage is ever growing as he demolishes the once human like corpse of the guard. His kicking taking chunks of humanity with them. Frank moans in enjoyment, almost orgasmic as he falls to his knees, mouth wide open in awe.

He smears the blood away from his eyes and leans against the wall to try and catch his breath. The once bleach cleaned hallway is now reminiscent of a warzone, a war that Frank fought in, a war that is far from over.

The guard’s radio goes off.

‘Approaching corridor six, target last seen in the vicinity. Squad B-miner on point’ says the voice on the crackly radio

Frank looks up at the security door and sees a security camera pointed right at him. He quickly shoots up as he reads the sign below the camera.

“CORRIDOR SIX EXIT” Reads the sign.

‘Shit!’ Says Frank

Frank swats his fist at the security camera, knocking it off the wall with a crash. He darts his eyes down the corridor and sees shadows approaching fast, accompanied with the sounds of footsteps, multiple men, at least six according to Frank’s math. He bends down and grabs the deceased guard’s 9mm. He aims the weapon down the corridor and see’s silhouettes approaching. He waits. Three seconds. He cocks the gun. Two seconds. He breaths in deep. One second. He fires.

Forty Eight

Jason wakes up to a vibration in his pocket. It’s his cell phone. He flips the phone open and reads the message. He types something on the device and hits send. Jason puts the cell phone back in his pocket. Crystal’s head rests on his shoulder as she sleeps. He looks over at Jenifer who is stirring from a deep sleep. He quickly nudges Crystal awake; she opens her eyes and smiles at him. He shakes his head and points at Jenifer; Crystal reads his eyes and what he is trying to say. She sits up and brushes herself down, trying to make herself more presentable. He smiles at her and gives her a playful wink. Jenifer catches him in the act. She coughs out loud, as if she is trying to get their attention. He looks over at her, his face stern but friendly.

‘What’s going on?’ Asks Jenifer

Jason stretches out in his seat

‘Nothing, I just woke up, that’s all’

‘Is that so, huh?’

Jenifer gets up from her cabin chair facing Jason and Crystal.

‘How come you’re sitting there next to her?’ asks Jenifer while pointing at Crystal

Jason gets up from his seat and walks over the short distance to Jenifer, trying to calm her down, he gently grabs her hand. She snaps it away and steps back a few steps from him.

‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but last time I checked you came on this train ride with me, and now you’re with that frigid slut?’

‘I’m not with any one Jenifer! I’m just here for the ride to Boston’

Jenifer slaps Jason across the face. Her palm leaves a red mark on his cheek. He looks at her intensely as he grabs at his burning skin. She pushes him back into his seat and walks out of the cabin, leaving him and Crystal in silence for a good while.

Forty Nine

Chief Shaw rushes into DA Eddie Smiths office. He looks around the messy room, surveying the carnage of empty bottles from the mini bar and case files strewn all over the rinky-dink office. He shakes his head in amazement as he walks over to the DA’s desk. Eddie smith is fast asleep on the assortment of files on his desk, as his head rests on the big oak table; Chief Shaw rattles a bottle next to him. He grabs it and takes a long swig of the clear alcoholic liquid. He purposely forces the bottle back down onto the desk with a thud, awakening the sleeping District Attorney. Eddie looks up at the towering six foot figure of Shaw and gives him a clear look of distain.

‘What the hell do you want?’ Asks Eddie

Shaw looks unimpressed as he takes a drag on his oversized cigar.

‘I want you to get your ass up and follow me to the incident room.’

‘Don’t talk to me like that; I’m the goddamn District Attorney.’

‘That may be so Mr DA, but your drunker then my dad on Saint Patricks day, and that’s saying something considering he’s Irish!’ Laughs Shaw

Eddie sits up, smiling at the light hearted joke. He appreciated Chief Shaw’s humour and has always responded well to him. It’s safe to say Eddie Smith liked Shaw.

‘Okay I’m getting up, what seems to be the problem besides me losing all hope and drinking the department’s liquor budget for the whole year.’

‘That’s nothing Eddie; you should see Frank’s office at the Christmas party; that man can drink!’

‘On the subject of Frank any news on his whereabouts?’ asks Eddie

Shaw reluctantly shakes his head

‘I’m afraid not sir. The man is MIA. It’s not unusual for him to go missing for days on end. I wouldn’t worry about him; he’s probably in a gutter somewhere drinking himself stupid’

‘Well at least we have that in common’

‘Well I need you down the incident room, Chase is about to go live again, according to his YOUTUBE channel’

‘Why haven’t we shut that thing down?’ asks the DA

‘We can’t sir, its beyond our derestriction, FBI would have to Subpoena Google’

‘Who said anything about them?’

‘They own YOUTUBE sir.’

‘Okay, whatever. Let’s get going then and hear what Connor has to say this time.’

Eddie smith gets up from his chair and walks with Chief Shaw over to the incident room. The place is a buzz with commotion as officers run around gathering files and intelligence. Eddie Smith looks on in confusion at the goings on; he turns to Shaw who is smiling at him.

‘What?’ Asks Eddie

‘It just looks as if you are surprised at something’

‘Yeah as a matter of fact I am, what’s with all the rushing around, don’t your people ever rest?’

‘It’s called an incident room for a reason sir; they are investigating leads on various cases including this current one’

‘Various cases, surely everyone should be focusing their attentions on Connor Chase’ Says Eddie forcefully

‘Unfortunately the people of Boston have taken to the streets and started mass looting. Some people seem to have kinship with Chase and his beliefs. A lot of people support his message.’

Eddie shakes his head infallibly

‘Only in Boston I swear! How can anyone support this man?’ asks Eddie

‘The idea of peoples information being sold on is forcing people to question their worth in society, that being said, people may not agree with terrorism, but Connors message has seemed to reach a high amount of people and could spark a city wide demonstration, which could result in mass violence.’

‘So Chase killing countless people is seen as a good thing, are these people mad?’

‘No, but they are eating up Chase’s speeches and blaming us for the killings. They want a 28 ^{amendment.’}

At that moment an officer walks over to Shaw and the DA.

‘It’s about to start Chief’ Says the Officer gingerly

The three men walk over to the big screen TV as it flashes to a live picture of Connor Chase in the usual place that people have come accustomed to seeing him stand when giving speeches. He looks as serious as ever as he stares deeply into the camera. His once white tux is now a little worse for wear as he paces back and forth, apparently not realizing he was live on TV as an off camera voice tells him of the fact. He snaps out of his haze and puts on a stern face.

‘Hello ladies and gentleman. I’m here again to discuss the progress on my purposed 28 ^{amendment, or lack of progress shall I say. I’m severely disappointed in the lack of interest and seriousness that the so called Boston and Washington establishments are showing me. I am yet to be contacted by the government that swears to protect and serve, even when their oath of protection is being challenged by me; they are still letting people die. That is unacceptable. Even for a so called terrorist, I am deeply shocked at the care free attitude that they are taking on this situation. It offends me that they would rather have people die at my hands than protect them from dyeing for their mistakes. Believe me when I say this, they are making a huge mistake in not taking me seriously. Maybe it’s my fault, maybe I should be more assertive in letting them know that I mean business. Surely the pure fact that the streets of Boston are revolting to their regime is enough to wise them up a little. But no, they play the death and blind saints that cannot see nor do no evil. I guess they have no reason to want to fully address my 28 amendment, because after all why would they want to give up possessing people’s information? Why would they want to give up currency on the black market? Why would they want to give up their only way of knowing who we really are? They can tell a lot about each and every one of us through credit card statements, web browsing behaviours, credit reports, family history, social networking profiles and internet logs. They have us under a virtual wire, a wire of oppression so they can save money on good old fashioned hard working men whose professions were to search for people, find information out, but now all they have to do is go to a yellow pages style programme and pick out the lucky candidates. Screw this government’s way of using our personal information to entrap its poor and free its rich. Screw the cock suckers who trade our information for more Tax money’}

Connor paces up down some more, by now visually worked up. He signals someone behind the camera, and off screen three people walk on, hands cuffed in the front with white bags over their heads. He pushes each one of them down on the ground, so they are on their knees facing him. He pulls out his Desert Eagle and plays around with it, swinging it around his fingertips as a child would do playing Cowboys and Indians. He turns to the camera again, this time displaying more composure, Shaw and Eddie along with everyone in the incident room all look on horrified at the scene playing out in front of them.

‘So let’s make all these wrongs right. In front of me, grovelling at my feet are people employed by this heinous company. These three people are the big wigs of M.I.T and it’s my pleasure to rid the world of these tyrants. The government can save them by contacting me in the next twenty seconds agreeing to the 28 ^{amendment and the safe passage of me and my men. If they do not agree, then every half hour I will dispatch with three more people. I have a good four hundred employees in my custody, meaning this little game could go on for a few days, if by then I run out of people to sacrifice for this governments agenda then know this, I have a few contingency plans in place to compensate for that hypothetical scenario. Your twenty seconds starts now’}

Connor chase paces the room with his mobile phone in hand, parading like a king, invoking fears into the hearts of everyone in the incident room. Shaw looks at the DA speechless. Smith puts his hand on the chief’s broad shoulder.

‘We can’t do anything about it Shaw; we don’t have the power to grant him his wishes.’

‘Who can make that decision, those people need to be saved, we can’t let them die’ Says Shaw

‘Washington needs to make the call. Quite frankly I already know what their answer is going to be. It’s the United States of America’s policy not to negotiate with terrorists.’

‘Fuck policy, we need to get them out!’

‘We will, but we need to plan this out properly. There’s no use going into this thing all guns blazing and getting our men killed, along with the hostages.’

Chief Shaw nods his head in disappointment. He walks out of the incident room to the sound of three gun shots echoing and then dead silence.  His face cringes at the thought of those three souls perishing, his thoughts change to finding the only man he knows that can turn this situation around. The only man he can trust in these times. The only man he feels can lead his officers into battle. His thoughts changed to finding Frank McKenzie.