by Ben Spavins
wasn't for this backstabbing worthless bag of shite here, I would have', Marvin said, starting to concede the fact he was going to die.
'Marvin, I said I was sorry, it was me or you, he'd have tortured me and made me do it anyway' Otis said trying to justify his actions.
'Don't say sorry to him.... now murk him' one of the men said.
Otis looked at the man, a confused look on his face, he began to shake his head, 'no, I was just to deliver him, that was the deal?'
The men shook their heads, 'you're doing it' said the man who kicked Marvin, 'here's a shank', handing a knife to Otis, who slowly extended his hand and took the knife.
'I'm sorry' Otis said, looking at Marvin, then he looked up at the men, 'sorry, I can't do this' he said as he reached behind his back and pulled out Marvin's pistol. He raised it in front of him, taking the men by surprise.
He pressed the trigger, releasing two shots at the man nearest to him who collapsed immediately, Otis training his arm to the right, shooting another man, who fell clutching his stomach. The man in the red top took a pistol from his hip and raised his arm to shoot Otis.
Marvin seeing what was about to happen kicked out at the man’s knee, causing him to mis-shoot, the bullet taking out the light of the visitor centre.
Marvin seeing his chance to escape, rose to his feet and stumbled towards the road, the man in the red top shooting blankly into the darkness, two bullets narrowly missing Marvin’s head. Marvin heard more gunshots, until he heard Otis let out a long groan, Marvin stumbled a few more yards, before crumpling to the floor again. He looked back to see if he could see Otis, he saw two flashes of light as the men fired two bullets into Otis, ending his tragic life mercilessly.
'Where the fuck are you Marvin, no-one escapes from me twice', it was the man in red's voice. Marvin crawled into some bushes, he felt tired and was getting weaker by the second, the blood loss was starting to take an effect. He was only a few yards from the road but knew they'd find him if he crawled any further, he was stuck, it was only a matter of time before they found him.
All of a sudden, Marvin could hear a car speeding up the road, he turned to the road to see if it was the ghost in the Mercedes returning, he must've heard the gunfire. Instead it was a car he didn't recognise, Marvin watched as it began to slow and stopped outside the entrance, he couldn't believe his luck when Jacobs got out. 'Marvin, you there?' Jacobs called out.
Marvin turned to see how close the ghost’s men were, they were still a few yards from Marvin, Marvin rose to his feet and bolted out of the bushes towards Jacobs’s car. Jacobs saw Marvin and ran round to the passenger side of the car, opening the rear door and bundling Marvin into the rear, just as the ghost’s men appeared. The man in the red top raised his arm and shot at Jacobs who slid over the bonnet and ducked behind the car, a moment later he was in the car and accelerating away as bullets peppered the car. 'Phew, that was close' Jacobs said, looking at Marvin in the rear view mirror. 'How you doing back there?'
Marvin shook his head, 'I think I'm done' Marvin said weakly.
'We'll see about that, I know a man, a little bit illegal but after that back there, I doubt that bothers you anymore' Jacobs replied.
Marvin smiled as he closed his eyes and began to lose consciousness.
...
The smell of bleach was what brought Marvin round first, the smell burnt his nostrils, he took a deep breath to avoid the smell, the rough stitching in his chest tearing slightly. His mouth was dry, he tried to open his lids, after a few lazy attempts, they opened, he was in a dark room, it was windowless, a single bulb hung above him. It illuminated his surroundings, an IV hung above to his right, a tube snaked down into his right hand. He looked at his chest, a mash of bandages hugged his chest, recently dressed, bloodied bandages hung from a tall bin in the corner of the room.
He was ok though, he was still breathing even if the smell of bleach was beginning to burn his lungs, he moved his arms, they both moved freely without pain, he wiggled his toes, all good down that end, he was ok.
He looked to his left, a partially open door led out into a dark hallway, he winced as he saw a figure approaching, the door squeaked as it opened. A man in his fifties stood before him, short white hair, a dark glint in his eye, he took a deep breath from a cigar and breathed the smoke out, it clouded below the light and hung in the air. The man studied Marvin for a moment, before checking his IV level, ‘you're a lucky man Mr King, most would say you need to keep better company, I'd say you need to be more prepared' the man said with an Eastern European accent.
'Who are you?' Marvin asked.
'I'm your Doctor, well sort of, Jacob's treated me well when I was inside, I've looked after people when he's asked me'.
'What were you inside for'? Marvin asked.
'Attempted murder' the man replied casually, taking another puff on his cigar.
'Are you a Doctor?'
'Yes, in my native Armenia, I was a surgeon, now I work in a kebab shop, how things change'.
Marvin nodded, thinking of his own life, 'how they do'.
…...
Its Jacobs, he wants to talk to you' said Doc, passing a phone to Marvin.
'Y'alright Marv, how you doing?'
'I'm ok thanks, thank you for picking me up, I owe you my life, but how did you know where I was?’
'My pleasure Marv, we have the same aim now, I hope you believe me now. Otis called me, said where you were meeting, told me it was a set up but he had no other option and was hoping I could help in some way. I said I couldn't and he put the phone down on me. The night went on, and I couldn't settle so I drove as fast as I could to the park, just in time it seems' Jacobs said.
'So the Doc says. Is he dead?'
'Fraid so, he was found in the lake this morning with five bullets in him, sorry Marv'.
'Well at least he died a hero, even if he did betray me, this ghost must be a real bastard, he scared Otis and no-one scared Otis'.
'He is, I still can't find anything out about his real identity, however I've got a name of the Mr Smith who rented the boat, goes by the name of Blanco. Rumour has it, there's an Aussie who runs a type of a hire-a-hit-man business, whose name is Nathan Biddle, runs a successful import/export company and does the hire-a-hit-man bit on the side, would be a good start to finding Blanco. I've even found his address for you, I'll text it to you. Talk soon Marv, hope you’re on your feet soon'.
'Bye Jacobs, and thanks again'.
One Week Later
Marvin returned back to his flat, he'd asked the taxi driver to drive past twice to see if anyone was watching his flat, but there was nothing suspicious, no cars he didn't recognise, no staring eyes, everything was as it should be, good.
Marvin opened the front door to his block of flats and climbed the stairs to his flat, he checked around the corner of the corridor to make sure there was no-one waiting for him. He opened the door and his heart sank as he saw the TV in the kitchen, the screen smashed, his console smashed in the hall, he sighed and walked in, he'd been expecting this.
He headed straight for the bathroom, where the money was, as expected the mirror was smashed, the sink had been pulled from the wall but the bath and panel were still intact, he looked at it for a moment before bending down and slipping the panel away. To his absolute relief, the wads of money were still there, neatly stacked as he left them, a big grin came over his face, a small victory in a losing battle he thought.
Marvin toured through the rest of the house, the kitchen was a mess, all the doors had been ripped off, the drawers had emptied, smashed plates scattered the flat. He entered his bedroom to find a dead cat on his bed, he felt sick. He could feel them watching, he knew they were, he'd have to find another flat and move the money, but first he had to shake the tail, something he told himself wouldn't be easy.
One and a half Weeks Later
Marvin left his flat and walked to the same dealer who'd sold him the Cavalier, it had been burnt out at the park after he'd been
shot, the police hadn't been able to trace it to him.
He soon found a red Citroen C2 and handed over some of the cash he'd stolen from the ghost, he made his way to the same man from prison who'd sold him the previous gun. The police had believed it had belonged to Otis, his prints were the only ones found on it, another lucky escape Marvin thought. He picked up a small Chinese-copy automatic and handed over the £2000 the man asked, he didn't want another 'dirty' gun.
Two Weeks Later
Marvin had googled Nathan Biddle every day since he'd been shot, there were media reports about his business and its successes and his success at a local cricket club, but no mention of an illegal gun-for-hire racket, could Jacob's information be wrong? Marvin sat there at his laptop staring at the picture of Biddle, he had his gun next to him on the table, the address written on a piece of paper and his new car keys. He played with his keys, thinking of whether to pay Biddle a visit.
He didn't want to harm Biddle, he had no personal vendetta against him, but knew he had to go in armed, he knew what he might have to do to make Biddle talk. Marvin stood up and headed for the door, keys in hand and gun tucked into his jeans.
….
Biddle lived in a large house in a posh area of town, the street was tree lined, the gardens spacious, each gated driveway hosted a number of prestigious cars, Porches, Maserati's, Mercedes and even the odd Ferrari, this was the millionaire’s row of town. He slowed the C2 down