Sinners & Scarecrows

by David Carter

  The devil in Spider was pleased.

  Blaze patted him on the back, and said, “I had a feeling you would enjoy this.”

  They helped Sanchez out of the cab. He put his arms around their shoulders as he limped towards the workshop.

  “Lay him down here,” Blaze said to Spider as they stopped next to a cleared workbench. Blaze offered Sanchez a bottle of whisky. “Get that down ya’,” he said.

  Sanchez guzzled it back like water. He started to relax; the pain faded a smidgen. “Where’s that nurse; I’m in agony,” he said. His words were sluggish as the quick blast of alcohol took full effect.

  “At her place, I suspect,” Blaze replied.

  “Huh?” Sanchez was suddenly confused.

  He didn’t register the sinister tone is Blaze’s voice until it was too late. Blaze picked up a piece of lead piping and clobbered Tyrone’s collar bones in rapid succession.

  THWACK! THWACK!

  Spider, in turn, destroyed his legs with two crippling blows to his knees.

  THWACK! THWACK!

  Sanchez couldn’t move. He roared as he lay there, helpless. “What the fuck are you doing!” he shouted between sharp gasps.

  “You were right all along,” Blaze whispered into his ear. “I’ve been working towards this ever since I returned from exile.”

  “You’ll fucking pay for this!” Sanchez shouted.

  “No; I don’t think I will,” Blaze snickered.

  Sanchez tried in vain to move his arms. All he felt was excruciating pain.

  Blaze reached for the filleting knife from Sanchez’s belt. He looked into his face, and said, “It’s time you finally got a taste of your own medicine. Where would you like me to start?”

  “How about with his toes and work your way up?” Spider suggested. “Then he can watch each and every slice until you’re done.”

  Sanchez spat in his face. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he replied. “I’ll take it like a man, unlike that pathetic piece of shit, Vino; he screamed like the little bitch he was!”

  Blaze ran the knife down Sanchez’s arm, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave an intricate incision behind as the tip of the blade sliced through the skin. “You know,” Blaze began, “Vino and I were mortal enemies until I found out he gave his life to save my friends. And as I’m running short of time, I’m going to speed things up a bit.” Blaze shredded Sanchez’s camo T shirt down the middle with the knife, exposing his hulking chest and arms, then tossed it across the room. It clanged against the wall and fell to the oil-stained floor.

  Spider reached for Ace’s hand-held belt sander and plugged it into the power socket on the wall. He handed the sander to Blaze, who applied a coarse sanding belt, then said to Sanchez, “If it’s any consolation: I’ve always thought you were the meanest motherfucker on the planet.”

  Sanchez gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as Blaze pulled the trigger on the power tool. The loud humming of the drive wheels rang in his ears. I always knew you were a fucking rat, he thought.

  Blaze and Spider took delight in Sanchez’s screams as they cruelly stripped away his pride.

  Chapter 75

  “He’s not answering,” Ryan said frantically to Sandra.

  “Keep trying,” she replied.

  Ryan dialled Blaze’s number again.

  Blaze was inside the clubhouse washing Sanchez’s remains off his arms and face. He let the cold water trickle over the stubble on his chin and drip into the grimy basin below. He stared as his reflection in the mirror, wrestling with his mind; he had scared himself after what he had done to Sanchez. What the fuck is wrong with me? I could have just put a bullet through his eye...

  His phone continued to ring impatiently in the truck outside.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Spider. “You’d better getting going, brother; they’ll be expecting you any minute. You don’t want them getting suspicious.”

  Blaze dried his face. “Are you okay—you know—to clean up?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it.”

  Blaze went to ask him something, then hesitated.

  “What is it, man?”

  “I need you and the boys to do something for me.”

  “Shoot.”

  Blaze explained what he wanted him to do.

  Spider considered his request for a moment.

  “I understand if I’m asking too much,” said Blaze.

  “It’s not that,” Spider replied. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

  “Well, then let’s hope the commissioner makes good on his promise and it doesn’t come to that.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Blaze returned to the truck outside.

  Ryan had given up on making contact with Blaze after listening to his voicemail message for the fifth time straight.

  “Is there any other way we can contact him?” Sandra asked.

  “We might be able to stop him before he reaches the night club if we leave now.”

  They bolted for the elevator, and moments later, flew out of the hotel’s underground car park. Fortunately, at this early hour the roads were practically empty. Ryan sped through a dozen red lights, overtaking anything that blocked his path.

  “Look out!” Sandra screamed.

  Ryan swerved and narrowly missed a rubbish truck backing out of an alleyway.

  Blaze slowly pulled up to the rear entrance of The Underground. He reached for his phone from inside the centre console. He noticed five missed calls from Ryan. He shrugged them off, deciding to call him back later.

  He brought up Archer’s number and called him. “I’m outside,” he said when he answered.

  “I’ll send Francois down,” he replied.

  “I think you had better come yourself, there was a slight issue with the shipment.”

  “Such as?”

  “Just come down and take a look. Bring Francois, too.”

  Archer marched down the stairs and outside to the alleyway. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked Blaze.

  “Break open the seal and check for yourself.”

  Archer nodded to Francois. He cut the seal from the latch and opened the rear doors. He was instantly confused. “Everything seems to be in order, Governor,” he said.

  Before Archer could respond, a loud voice boomed from a megaphone concealed down the alleyway. “Everyone freeze!” A multitude of bright lights homed in on them from all angles. “Lie down on the ground, now! All of you!” the loud voice continued.

  Archer peered up. The rooftops were lined with men in black suits—sporting rifles locked on his position from every direction. There was no way out. “What’s the meaning of this!” he shouted.

  “Last chance!” the loud voice blaring from the megaphone continued. “Lie down on the ground and place your hands on your head, or we will open fire!”

  Archer and Francois slowly lowered themselves down on their knees and lay flat on their stomachs.

  “Move it,” Archer hissed to Blaze. “They’ll kill you where you stand.”

  “I don’t fucking think so.” He smirked.

  Archer’s blood boiled as he deduced the situation. “I warned you not to cross me, you fool! I have contacts who can reach far and wide no matter where I am! You’ll pay for this!”

  Blaze savagely kicked him in his ribs. Archer wheezed from the impact. “Who’s one step ahead now, asshole?”

  A bullet pinged off the tarmac next to Blaze’s foot. “On the ground, now, Bobby Blaise!” the commissioner ordered him.

  Blaze put his hands up, and turned around to face him. He shouted back, “You’ve got what you came for! The evidence you need is in the back of the truck. Now I’m walking out of this alley and getting the hell away from all this shit!”

  He turned around to leave. Just before he reached the end of the alley, a flurry of bullets scattered around him.

  “What the fuck!” Blaze stood with his hands in the air. “We had a deal!” he shouted
furiously.

  The commissioner boldly approached Blaze as his squad of armed men secured Archer and Francois in the back of a white, armoured van concealed further down the alleyway. Once the rear doors had been slammed shut, it exited the alleyway for the police station. The delivery truck containing the girls followed—straight to the nearest hospital. The commissioner smirked with a look of triumph on his face as he said, “You were merely a means to an end, Bobby Blaise. You were never getting out of this.” Then he reached for his own personal firearm from his waist belt. He held it out in front of him, motioning Blaze to get down on his knees.

  Blaze spat in his face. “You’ll have to shoot me, Commissioner. Oh, wait, you already tried that once. Perhaps you should ask your daughter to do it for you?”

  The commissioner’s face went red with rage. He grabbed Blaze by the scruff of the neck and shoved him down on his knees. He jammed the barrel of his pistol against his forehead. “Don’t think I won’t do it!” he shouted.

  One of the operatives saw what the commissioner was about to do and bravely pulled him off Blaze. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing!” he shouted.

  “Get your hands off me and arrest this man!” he demanded.

  The squealing tyres of Ryan’s Mitsubishi startled everyone as he skidded to a halt right at the alleyway entrance.

  “Get in!” Sandra yelled to Blaze.

  Blaze bolted for the rear door that Sandra had opened for him. He dived into the back seat and flung the door shut just in time for Ryan to speed off and avoid the spray of bullets from the commissioner’s pistol.

  “After them!” the commissioner shouted.

  The men scrambled for their vehicles at the far end of alleyway.

  The chase was on.

  Chapter 76

  “Why was he shooting at me!” Blaze screamed as Ryan screeched up the main street. “You said the commissioner agreed to let me walk!”

  “Why do you think we saved your sorry ass back there?” he replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The moment Sandra realised it was a trap we tried to get hold of you, but you didn’t answer your bloody phone! We broke at least a dozen or more traffic laws to try and stop you from making the delivery. Obviously, we were too late!”

  “No shit! The commissioner was about to shoot me point-fucking-blank!”

  “Yes, well, there is a reason for that.” Sandra cut in.

  “And that would be…?”

  A round of bullets pinged off the rear bumper. “They’re gaining on us!” Sandra said frantically as she saw the last of the fast approaching vehicles scream out of the alleyway, some three or four hundred metres behind them.

  “Floor it man!” Blaze shouted.

  “I’m doing my best!” Ryan shouted back.

  “Quick, turn down there!” Blaze pointed to a narrow opening between two high rise buildings.

  Ryan slammed on the brakes and flung the car down the alleyway. “Shit!” he cursed as he almost lost control of the wheel after barrelling through a deep pothole. He quickly reached the end of the alleyway. “Now where?”

  “Head back along this road to The Underground,” said Blaze.

  “Are you bloody crazy!” Ryan screamed. “We just came from there!”

  “Just do it!”

  Ryan bumped over the kerb and headed back towards the direction they had just come from, this time approaching from the rear side of the block.

  “They’re still behind us!” Sandra cried out.

  “Just keep driving!” Blaze said.

  Another spray of bullets collected the wing mirror on Ryan’s door. “Blaze! I don’t know what you’re thinking, but now would be a pretty good time to let me in on the plan.”

  “Only two more blocks and we’re there! Just hang on!”

  Ryan revved the poor little car, extracting every last bit of speed it had.

  “Pull in there!” Blaze pointed. “Block the entry!”

  Ryan slammed on the brakes and left the car parked in the entrance to the alley that approached The Underground from the rear side. It was then that Ryan understood what Blaze had in mind.

  “Everyone out!” said Blaze.

  They scrambled over to his beautiful blue Ford Mustang that was quietly waiting in the now abandoned alleyway; he’d been going to drive it back to the clubhouse after he’d double-crossed Archer.

  “Get in!” said Blaze. The rumbling V8 engine roared into life. He slammed the accelerator down, fishtailing as he gained control of the powerful machine.

  Blaze hit the main road and headed south for the highway.

  The commissioner was furious as they saw the rear of Blaze’s Mustang disappear from the far end of the alleyway. “Go around!” he shouted to his driver. “Don’t let them get away!” He quickly dialled headquarters on his phone, requesting air support.

  Blaze hurtled through the dark city streets without regard for his or anyone else’s safety.

  Sandra’s knuckles were white as she clung to Ryan’s arm in the back seat.

  Blaze couldn’t see any chasers in his rear view. “So why is the commissioner after me?” he asked Ryan gruffly.

  “He wants revenge.”

  “Revenge for what? What we did to Charlotte?”

  “No, it’s not about her.”

  “Then what?”

  “You took someone away from him.”

  “Who?”

  Ryan looked at Sandra. She nodded. “His wife,” he answered.

  “His what?” said Blaze. “I didn’t do anything to his wife! I’ve never even met the bitch!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” said Sandra. “You killed her and got away with it.”

  Chapter 77

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Blaze cursed angrily. “Like I said; I’ve never met his fucking wife!”

  “No, you probably haven’t. But a bullet fired from the window of the car you were driving killed her,” said Sandra.

  “When?”

  “Eight years ago, on a Thursday morning. Does that ring any bells?”

  Blaze drifted the Mustang around a sharp corner. Sandra was flung into Ryan’s side until Blaze regained traction. Once she’d composed herself, she continued. “Her name was Hazel. She was fifty-two years old. She had probably just finished some early morning shopping before stopping at one of the cafes out in west Brighton. She was sitting at an outside table. She probably ordered a flat white. Unbeknownst to her, she sat two metres away from one of Mr Lombardi’s rival drug lords. ‘Devious George’, I believe, was his street name, and you were sent to flush him out after he was sighted at the cafe. Ring any bells now?”

  Blaze knew exactly what she was talking about. “I remember,” he replied quietly. “But I didn’t kill her. I was merely the getaway driver. I was young and relatively new to the street life. The gunman was one of Mr Lombardi’s sons. I remember he shot three rounds into Devious George as we drove past.”

  “Well, one of those rounds hit Hazel Stuart in the chest. She bled out in seconds.”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t know that.” He paused, then said, “How did you find out?”

  Sandra hesitated. She looked to Ryan for guidance. “Tell him,” he said.

  “It was the commissioner who murdered your grandparents and framed you for it.”

  “What! Are you fucking serious? The commissioner butchered them?”

  “I’m afraid so. And when I discovered this, I went looking for hard evidence, which led me to bending the rules and breaking into his house.” She explained the room full of photographs and newspaper clippings, along with the boots and torn uniform trousers she had found. “There was a witness statement from the waiter that served Hazel’s table during the shooting. It described the make and model of the shooter’s vehicle, and that the driver was a young, white male. It also referred to the shooter as possibly being of Italian decent and connected to the Lombardi family.”

  “And the
commissioner worked out I was the driver from that?”

  Ryan answered, “It would have been relatively easy; how many young, white males in their early twenties would be associated with the Lombardis eight years ago?”

  Blaze signed heavily. “You’re right: I was the only one.”

  “Exactly. So after digging around I’d say he caught wind of who you were, but had no actual evidence to pin the murder on you.”

  “So instead he’s been watching me?”

  “Waiting for the opportune moment to not only take you down, but the MC and the entire Lombardi family with you.”

  “Which also explains why Charlotte was prepared to give up her marriage and go undercover in the SAS. You killed her mother; they are hellbent on putting you away for life,” Sandra added.

  “I’m fucking screwed,” Blaze said under his breath. He checked the rear view mirror. He saw a train of headlights in the distance behind them. He sharply turned off the main road and pulled over. “Get out,” he said.

  “What?” said Ryan.

  “Get out of here. You don’t wanna be around when they finally catch up with me.”

  “But the commissioner already knows we helped you escape.”

  “And he also knows you witnessed him trying to execute me for the second time. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “But Blaze —”

  “We don’t have time for this. This won’t end until I’m dead or in prison. And there’s no need for you to come with me.”

  “But Blaze…”

  “Just get the fuck out!”

  They scrambled out of the car and ran around the back of the closed gas station adjacent to the kerb, completely out of sight.

  Blaze smoked his tyres as he spun the car around and headed back towards the open highway. He was met by the mob of chase vehicles. Blaze heard the rotors of the approaching helicopter above him. A bright searchlight shone down from its underbelly.

  The commissioner heard a crackle on his radio, followed by the voice of the chopper pilot. “Suspect heading south on the Brighton Highway, over.”