The Acid Vanilla Series

by Matthew Hattersley

  Acid snapped her full attention back to Engel, keeping the Taurus aimed high, not allowing him to take advantage of the situation. “This stops right now,” she said. “You can’t get away. Let her go.”

  “Not a damn chance,” Engel replied. “The fact you’re so bothered about missy here tells me I still hold all the cards. So, how about this? You put your gun down, let me fly away, and I don’t blow her brains out.”

  “What, and we take our chances on the island?” Acid spat, as flames appeared up the side of the building. She lowered her aim a fraction. “What if we all win? We come with you. There are enough seats in the chopper.”

  “Excuse me?” Engel scoffed. “Are you for real?”

  “Why not? The cop over there is dead and, you know, a cop. Screw the journalist. Take me and Spook with you. We’re on the run from everyone as it is. We won’t be a concern for you. And at the other end, we all say goodbye and go our separate ways.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “It’s the only way I can see that chopper leaving in the next few minutes. After that we’re all going down with the place.”

  She held her nerve. Didn’t move. In front of her Spook grabbed at Engel’s arm, fighting for air.

  “Acid, no,” she gasped. “You can’t. We can’t.”

  “Sorry, kid. But it’s the only way. Trust me.” She locked her eyes on Spook. “This is the only way.”

  “But Sofia…”

  She glanced over at the young journalist, knelt beside Welles’ fallen body.

  “Spook,” Acid snapped. “Back to me. Look at me, Spook. Look in my eyes.”

  She did as she was told.

  “All right. Enough,” Engel shouted as the entire building groaned beneath them. “Lay the gun down and walk over here. Slowly.”

  Acid kept her eyes on Spook as she slowly raised her hands in the air. “Cool,” she told him, stepping forward. “I’m putting it down. Nice and easy.”

  Spook shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Acid, no. We can’t leave her.”

  “Look at me. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

  “But Acid…”

  “Listen to me, Spook. It’s going to be fine. You’ll be okay. But don’t let your focus slip. Like I always tell you. When that happens you make mistakes. Yes? People make mistakes.”

  “Put the gun down,” Engel repeated, getting frantic now.

  “Yes. I’m doing it.” She gave Spook a nod. Then, slowly, methodically, she placed the gun on the hot tarmac.

  The second Acid’s finger left the trigger, Engel let out a hearty laugh. “You dumb bitch.”

  As expected, as hoped, he removed the gun from Spook’s temple. Time slowed down as he manoeuvred his aim though one eighty degrees towards Acid. His finger was tight on the trigger. His eyes passionate with hate. Acid’s world zoomed into micro and colour wiped from the scene. All noise and texture were gone. The bats screamed. Their chattering energy morphing into a human voice. The sound of chaos and fury. A battle cry from deep inside of Acid. As Engel straightened his arm, readying to take the shot, the kid swung her elbow, connecting with his nose and sending him off balance.

  Because people make mistakes.

  They let their focus slip.

  And one second is all it takes.

  Moving like water, fluid and constant, Acid scooped the 9mm handgun from the floor and zippered the last few rounds up Engel’s torso, finishing with a fatal shot through his top lip which took out the back of his skull. His lifeless body fell to the floor in a flurry of billowing robes.

  “Acid, you did it.” Spook was over to her in one bound, hugging her close. As the world zoomed back into focus, she looked over to see Sofia helping Welles to his feet.

  “Welles is alive,” Spook cried. “It’s all okay. We’re going to be okay.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Acid replied as she felt the ceiling give way in the room below, “and fast.”

  But Welles wasn’t the only one to survive Caesar’s wrath. Over on the outlying edge of the first helipad, Raaz Terabyte was getting to her feet. Acid noticed her the same time as Spook.

  “No,” Spook said, resolve clipping her vowels. “Let me handle this.”

  Before she had a chance to reply, Spook had snatched up Engel’s pistol and was marching over to her.

  “I only wanted to help you,” Spook shouted, waving the gun in her face. “You knew that, and you played on it.”

  Raaz’s face was bloody and bruised, but she milked it for all it was worth. Acid held back, watching through a sneer as the pathetic cow held her hands up in pleading surrender, shaking her head forlornly at Spook.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to die. Take me with you.” She spotted Acid watching and called over to her. “I can help you. I can give you Caesar. Don’t think I’m going to protect him after what he did.”

  And yes, she’d turned on the tears. Pathetic. But Acid was surprised to see Spook was having none of it.

  “The only reason we’re here on this hell-hole of an island is because of you,” she yelled. “You tricked me. You made me into bait.”

  “Please, Spook,” Raaz tried again. “Caesar made me. I was only doing my job. I’m a techie, like you. We have to stick together. You said as much.”

  Another explosion a few floors below ripped through the complex, creating a deep fissure in the centre of the roof and sending everyone stumbling to one side.

  “We need to go. Now,” Acid called over.

  But Spook didn’t take her eyes off of Raaz. “We’re nothing alike,” she growled. “Screw you.”

  She turned around, with a look Acid had never seen from her before. It was a little unnerving, but it made Acid smile.

  “Come on,” Acid told her. “Leave the toxic witch where she is. Let her go down with this miserable place. We need to get going— Spook!”

  Calling her name. It was a warning. Because in that moment Raaz Terabyte had leapt forward, her face twisted in taut fury, her fingers like claws. But for once it seemed Spook knew exactly what she was doing. Without missing a beat she spun on her heels and fired three rounds at Raaz. The pistol recoil drove her backwards, and she almost fell over the side of the gaping crevice that had formed in the middle of the helipad. But the shots found their mark. Two in the chest. One in the stomach. Raaz gazed down at her torso as an air of bewilderment spread across her harsh features, then she let out a strange gurgling and concertinaed to the floor.

  “Wow,” was all Acid could say, as Spook hurried past her and helped Sofia get Welles into the helicopter.

  Acid stared at Raaz for a few moments longer, making sure the bitch was actually dead. Then, as the mezzanine level crumbled away and a tremendous explosion splintered the side of the cliff face, she hurried over to join the rest of them clambering into the chopper.

  “Okay, chaps,” she said, getting her head under Welles’ arm and helping him into the rear of the cockpit. “It’s time for us to get the hell out of here.”

  Forty-One

  Acid strapped herself into the pilot seat of the helicopter as a final explosion tore through the complex, splitting the roof terrace completely in two so the tarmac folded in on itself.

  “Everyone put a helmet on,” she yelled over the drone of the rotary blades. “They’ve got mics so we can hear each other.”

  A quick glance over her shoulder told her Welles was still conscious, Sofia helping him fasten his helmet in place.

  “How are you doing, FBI Guy?” Acid asked, whilst flicking a set of switches into the ON position and reacquainting herself with the controls.

  “I’m all right,” he growled back. “Got me in the leg, above the knee. That old boss of yours is a terrible shot.”

  “Maybe.” Acid smirked. “But he stopped you at least.” She grabbed the collective control stick and tested the pitch.

  “Have you flown one of these before?” Spook asked, looking out of a helmet that was far too big for her.

  “Once,” Aci
d told her. “A long time ago. But how hard can it be, right?”

  As Engel’s resort complex crumbled and the flames rose higher, Acid grabbed a hold of the cyclic control stick between her legs. It was all coming back to her. She gave it a bit too much welly on the pitch, but keeping a firm hold on the cyclic she was able to right them easily enough, and pulled them up and away as the final section of the roof collapsed into the floor below.

  “Jesus, look at it down there,” Spook cooed, pressing the front of her helmet to the side window as Acid lifted the chopper above the clouds of thick black smoke.

  Engel’s ‘Endgame’ detonators had already decimated vast areas of the lush greenery. Several smaller fires had now morphed into one giant forest fire that was spreading over the island. A few hours and the whole place would be a smouldering pile of ash. The complex too was now nothing but ruins. Another explosion had taken out the entire west wing, sending marble and steel tumbling into the ocean below. It was only a matter of time before the entirety of the building went the same way. All Engel’s hard work. All the evidence of who, and what, he really was. And what happened here on this terrible Pain Island.

  Acid watched the chaos unfolding, trying to make peace with the last few days, but she quickly decided that was a pointless exercise. Another scan of the controls, and a little trial and error, and she was able to plot a course north. If her instincts were correct, they were somewhere over the Indian Ocean. Meant she had associates nearby. People who could help them.

  “Where are we heading?” Sofia asked, leaning over the back of Acid’s seat.

  “The GPS is showing a landmass about 300 miles north from here,” she replied. “From there we’ll be able to refuel, and then I’m thinking Vietnam.”

  “For real?”

  “I know a couple of guys in Hanoi that can patch us up. Provide passports and safe voyage home for Spook and me.”

  “Oh, great for you two. What about us?”

  “You don’t need them. Welles can contact the Bureau or Interpol. They’ll sort you out. We don’t have that privilege.”

  “Not a problem,” Welles replied. “I’ll get it sorted. I reckon you’ve earned your anonymity with that little display down there.”

  Acid didn’t reply straight away. Instead she settled back into her seat and steadied the controls. In front of her lay nothing but glorious blue for as far as she could see. Bottom to top. Sea and sky. Freedom. Space. It felt good. But something was niggling at her and it wasn’t just the bats.

  “Why did you do that, Welles?” she asked. “Go for Caesar like you did. You could be dead right now.”

  Welles coughed and shifted upright in his seat. “I knew taking him down meant a lot to you. Didn’t want him to get away.”

  The words stunned her, but she didn’t let it show. “You risked your life for me?”

  “It’s called being a team. Like I said, you should try it sometime.”

  Beside her, Spook stifled a smile.

  “But don’t worry,” he added. “I ain’t gone all pious and weak-minded. If he was on that island, he was a bad person. I want to rid the world of every prick on that island. But we will, we’ll get ‘em. Mark my words.”

  She nodded to herself, keeping her own jaw tight, as out the corner of her eye she noticed Spook watching her.

  “You see?” she said, leaning in. “You can rely on other people now and again. You can trust them. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. And they won’t always let you down.”

  Acid shook her head. “No. Sorry, kid, but I’m not having that.”

  “All I’m saying is asking for help isn’t a bad thing. If you need it.”

  “Not what I’m talking about,” Acid replied, allowing a smile to slacken her taut pout. “As usual, you’re trying to make this about me. But this isn’t about me. Not this time.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. It’s about you standing up for yourself. Not letting people get away with hurting you. Even if that means you do morally dubious things. Like killing that sour-faced harridan back there. I’m proud of you.”

  Spook let out a nervous giggle, her cheeks flushed. “Well, maybe we’re both growing. Changing at least. Who knows, we could make a good person out of you yet.”

  “Maybe.” Acid sniffed. “But let’s not get carried away, shall we? There’s still dirty work to do. You know that.”

  Spook sat upright, any light-heartedness draining from her demeanour. “You mean Caesar?”

  “I mean Caesar.”

  Spook looked at her hands, nodding along to something only she could hear. “I get it.” She sighed. “But not right away, yeah? Surely we can have a few weeks rest before we get back on that horse?”

  Acid shrugged. “I guess we’ll see what happens next. Won’t we?”

  “Great,” Spook scoffed, sarcastically.

  “Come on, Spooks,” Acid said, nudging her. “Never a dull moment and all that jazz. You love it really.”

  “Do I?”

  “What else are you going to do with your life?”

  Spook didn’t answer, but Acid was sure she saw another stifled smile as she turned to the window. Behind her, in the back seat, Welles and Sofia were already asleep, and with the bats calm for once and her stress levels dropping, her weariness returned. The GPS said they’d arrive at their destination in a little over two hours.

  Perfect.

  Despite her cavalier facade, the last few days had taken their toll, both mentally and physically. Maybe she’d suggest they rest for a few hours after refuelling rather than set off to Hanoi straight away. A little sleep would be good. Some food too. Plus a very large alcoholic drink. Something strong and smoky. She smiled to herself, almost tasting it in her parched throat. It had been a brutal experience but perhaps Spook was right – they had come out of it stronger, better people. If this better, more-rounded version of herself would last beyond the next few weeks, Acid didn’t know. She suspected not. There was too much pain and resentment and chaos inside of her. But for now, calm and clarity reigned. The madness was over. And they were going home.

  Forty-Two

  “How you doing, FBI Guy?”

  Welles stepped back, almost losing his place in the line for the buffet as Acid sidled up to him.

  “Well, look at you. Acid Vanilla, the cynical badass, at a wedding of all places. In a dress, too. I’m shocked.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Acid asked, running her hand down her figure-hugging Vivienne Westwood dress. Vintage. In black, obviously. “I scrub up okay. When I want to.”

  “You sure do.” Welles raised his eyebrows cartoonishly. “I feel like I’m being given the stink-eye by every single guy in here.”

  “Hey,” Acid scolded, linking arms with the retired agent as the line progressed. “There are woman checking me out, too. How’s the leg?”

  “Ah, you know,” Welles responded, holding up his walking stick. “Still hurts, but it could be worse. Just meant I got to retire a few weeks early. But not before I filled out a pretty hefty report.” He tilted his head to one side, maybe sensing her tension. “Don’t worry, slick. I said I’d leave you out of it, and I did.”

  “And Spook?”

  “Like we discussed. All taken care of. But, shit, mama, that Beowulf Caesar is certainly a character. No one at the Bureau had a clue he even existed. How the hell did he stay off the radar so long?”

  She stuck out her lip. “We were good at what we did. Professionals. I take it the FBI are investigating him?”

  Welles whistled, his eyes growing wide. “They sure are. He’s gone dark since the island, but they’ll find him. Turns out Annihilation Pest Control are the missing part of the puzzle in a whole of bunch of dead cases. So you did me a favour too, in the end.”

  “Well, don’t you be telling anyone I helped the FBI.”

  “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. It is good to see you though.”

  “You too. My new guy came through for us. We got new passports, new alias
es. Travelled here today as Sasha and Joselyn Mulberry. I’m Joselyn.” Welles pulled a face. As well he might. “I know. Spook chose them.”

  “Well, good to meet you, Joselyn. And how you been holding up?”

  “A little out of sorts, but nothing new there.” Acid sighed. “I imagine the FBI’s new public enemy number one will be keeping a low profile for the time being. Plus with Raaz dead, his means of locating me diminishes somewhat, so I can probably rest a little easier. But still, Caesar’s a wily one. You write him off at your peril.”

  Acid glanced over at Spook, currently being talked at by some nerdy friend of Mike, Sofia’s new husband. From this distance, she looked older than her years. But that’s what happened when you lived in the shadows and existed purely on your nerves. It took it out of you. Acid made a mental note to book them into some kind of spa when they got back to London. Get some rest and rejuvenation.

  Despite the fatigue and dark shadows, however, the kid had done good recently – hacking into Engel’s database and wiping Acid’s presence from all guest lists and information relating to the island. She caught Acid looking over and smiled. Acid allowed her a friendly (all right, slightly flirtatious, it was a wedding after all) wink before turning back to Welles.

  “What about Engel’s fortune?” she asked. “His legacy?”

  “Ruined. In a word,” Welles said, with a glint in his eye. “My colleagues seized hard drives, boxes of files, ledgers from all six of his residencies. We’ve got details of off-shore bank accounts, his little black book of contacts, not to mention the flight records to both of his islands for the last ten years. Let’s just say there’s a lot of high profile people shitting their pants right now.”

  Acid grinned. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of chaps.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  She released her arm from his as they got to the front of the buffet. “I’ll leave you to get some food.”

  “You not eating?”

  “Just a liquid lunch for me. Plus, I need to go rescue Spook. But I’ll see you before we go, yes? In fact, I might come to find you for a dance later.”