Fire Games

by Mark Stewart

  CLAIRE AND six uniformed police swarmed the hotel room where they last saw Kendal swinging from the balcony frame by one hand. They were shocked to find him sitting quietly on the bed, head in his hands.

  “Fan out boys. Search for Patrick. Sugar, are you okay?” asked Claire.

  Kendal lifted his head and eyeballed the woman. “I’m upset I let my guard down. Of all people, I should’ve known.”

  “Don’t cut yourself up. Be happy you’re still breathing and not lying on a slab in the morgue.” Claire walked to where the balcony wall used to be and looked down. “Yep, you wouldn’t have walked away. How on earth did you get back into the room?”

  “When I lost my grip, and was swinging like a monkey, I managed to sink my toes into the crack between the concrete slabs that make up the wall of the building. Fortunately, good height genes run in my family. I grabbed the balcony’s metal post and dragged myself up. By the way, don’t bother to search. Patrick’s long gone.”

  Claire carefully stepped back over the shards of glass. She walked into the room staring at her partner.

  Kendal’s face appeared drawn. He gave her a frozen look.

  “Sugar, I didn’t shoot you, did I?”

  “No,” he growled. “Just for a moment, I was thinking weird thoughts.”

  “What were they?”

  “Forget it.”

  “Tell me. I’m a big girl; I can take it.”

  He confessed the nine words he didn’t want to say.

  “For a moment, I thought you were Patrick’s accomplice.”

  “You’re joking. How could you even think such a thing? We’ve been friends forever.” Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes.

  “Being shot at by my new partner, what was I supposed to think? I thought when you kept the story about Peter secret you had changed.”

  Claire displayed a tight lip smile. Lifting her hand, she slapped him on the shoulder. “If that’s the best apology you’re going to give, I’ll accept.” She squatted to study the carpet. “This is blood.”

  “It’s not mine,” announced Kendal. He walked over. “The red drops must belong to Patrick.” He stooped and stared at the pale green carpet. He stood and gazed around the room. “There,” he said, pointing.

  “The bullet you shot is wedged in the wall.”

  “I shot two bullets.”

  Kendal walked over to the balcony. “Claire, stand next to the drops of blood.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Can’t you ask nicely? I’m not a puppy you’ve taken to obedience training.”

  “Please, take a small step to your left.”

  She shuffled her feet a half step closer to the spots of blood.

  Kendal stood and outstretched his arms to form a straight line so he could gauge the path of the bullet.

  “I believe the bullet came through the glass, skimmed Patrick’s left shoulder and its journey ended in the roof.” He stared at the ceiling. “There it is; the second bullet.” His words trailed off into mumbles.

  Claire giggled at his hypnotic look.

  “You nearly shot me. What were you thinking?”

  “I saw a hooded person holding a crossbow sneaking up behind you. What did you expect me to do? I didn’t have time to call you on the phone. Besides, Sugar, those ninety-nine bullets I pumped into the cardboard target, all hit the bull’s-eye.”

  He groaned.

  “My guess is, you knew Patrick was going to be here tonight,” stated Claire.

  “He was the one who blackmailed me into taking you out for dinner. If I hadn’t, Tegan was going to die.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “I couldn’t risk it. Somehow Patrick knows my every move.”

  “And I thought you were trying to be polite by asking me out for dinner.”

  Kendal rolled his eyes. “I wish you hadn’t pulled the trigger. Patrick wouldn’t have killed me. Not here, not today.”

  “How could I have known?”

  “If you read the note the old timer gave you’d have known Patrick’s not a killer, the fire is.”

  “Didn’t he say he’d kill anyone who gets too close?”

  “Yes, he did, however, I believe he wants to fight me, one on one.”

  “You were hanging by a thread. I don’t think you were winning. Besides, ‘the games we play,’ doesn’t make sense.”

  “Claire, this whole thing is a game. A fire game Patrick has devised to frustrate me. If he wanted me dead, why didn’t he use my gun he confiscated?”

  “All I know is; I saved my partner’s life. All you do is whine.”

  “Okay. Thanks for missing us both. I’m positive Patrick is grateful just like I am. I think it’s time to visit little Mike.”

  “You’re going to let me meet little Mike? The one and the same person who taught you how to break into locked homes and police lockers?”

  Kendal winked at Claire.

  The police helicopter’s sun bright searchlight was beamed at the building’s rooftop opposite where Kendal and Patrick had their confrontation. The entire area looked like it was flooded in a net of light.

  Kendal’s mobile phone sounded.

  “This is Officer Stanfield, the police helicopter pilot. There’s a sniper on the roof opposite where you’re standing. The sniper is lying prone, is six feet tall wearing a black balaclava and has a crossbow aimed at the street below. I can see a pump action shotgun at the ready.”

  “Everyone, let’s go,” yelled Claire.

  One uniformed officer was standing guard at the lift holding the doors open when the group arrived. They marched in. The lift doors closed. Kendal, surprised at the smooth ride, quickly compared the lift’s age to the building.

  “New lift,” he commented aloud. “I believe this is a waste of taxpayer money.”

  Everyone in the lift stared at him.

  Claire sent him a blank look.

  “We’re closing in on Patrick. In five minutes, you’ll know of Tegan’s where-a-bouts unless you’re Patrick.”

  “How can I be?”

  “You thought I was his accomplice.”

  Kendal raised an eyebrow. He made himself comfortable by leaning against the lift wall.

  Constable Alderson greeted the group when the lift doors parted on the ground floor. Bringing the group up to speed she pointed to the roof of the seven-storey building across the road.

  “The sniper hasn’t moved since being discovered. The police chopper has backed away, so the sniper won’t get spooked and do a runner.”

  “Lead on Sweetie,” ordered Kendal, pointing at the street ahead.

  Constable Alderson’s cheeks flushed red.

  He ignored her look. “Everyone fan out.”

  “Keep a close watch on the roof,” yelled Claire.

  Police officers moved quickly into position, hiding behind anything for cover. The street outside remained deserted. Red and blue lights were flashing off everything. There was no noise, no people, and no cars.

  It was an eerie sight.

  The police closed in on the building where the sniper was watching them. An abandoned green and yellow tram made for good cover. Even though its single headlight was still burning bright, the interior looked to be a dark empty shell. Fifteen cops boarded the tram.

  A team of ten officers led by Kendal and Claire skirted the side of the tram. They completed a squat run across the road and squatted next to a parked car directly under the building’s roof line.

  They sprinted into the lobby through the main doors. Claire led the cops over to the lift. Kendal relayed a watered-down summary of events to the twenty frightened bystanders cowering in a corner. He ordered the small group to stay in the building and to remain calm.

  The uniformed boys crammed into the lift. Kendal brought up the rear. The lift car creaked before ascending slowly.

  Alderson stared at Kendal. When he returned her gaze, she began to tease him sarcastically.

  “I think the lift is overweigh
t. I think you need to start an exercise program. Why don’t you join the foot patrol?”

  “Constable Alderson, enough, we’re on official police business. Everyone, check your weapons. Remember we want the suspect alive. No mistakes,” warned Claire.

  The lift car jolted before dropping a couple of inches to its level on the top floor. The doors opened. In single file, the group climbed the remaining four steps to the roof.

  The first officer pushed the solid wooden door open and studied the rooftop. He nudged an officer standing behind him in the ribs and pointed at a large air-conditioner unit not far from the door. He pointed his gun on the sniper as he ran for the metal box. Quickly settling himself behind the unit, he trained his gun on the sniper to give cover for everyone else.

  Alderson ran straight towards the sniper, yelling. “Police, freeze sucker!” she yelled.

  The hooded sniper didn’t move. The helicopter returned to the building. The craft hovered fifty feet above the rooftop. The bright spotlight easily pierced the darkness. Kendal could feel its warmth. He felt sure if it were shone directly on him he’d achieve a suntan.

  Alderson hovered over the man, her gun aimed at the sniper’s back. She kicked a foot. The sniper didn’t respond.

  “You’re under arrest you mongrel,” she screamed over the reverberating throb of the helicopter.

  More guns was pointed directly at the sniper. Housing her gun, she reached for her handcuffs. Grinning sarcastically at Kendal she taunted him again.

  “This is too easy for the foot patrol.” She reached down and yanked the arm.

  The sniper moved. She jumped, lost her balance and fell sideways landing on her left shoulder six feet from the sniper still holding his arm.

  Kendal and the group cupped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter. Alderson’s red face showed how she felt.

  “Constable, I think this sniper’s dead.” Claire dropped to her knees laughing.

  Kendal laughed inwardly. “Congratulations, you’ve managed to arrest a mannequin.”

  Alderson threw the plastic arm at him before marching off to the other side of the building.

  “Sugar, how did you know this was all a stunt?”

  “The old timer, and…”

  “The games we play,” Claire recited, finishing the sentence.

  “I had a hunch. Besides, this isn’t Patrick’s style. There’s no way to win. There’s no plan ‘B.’ He couldn’t get off the roof.”

  “Okay people, clean this crap up and get back to finding the real Patrick,” instructed Claire.

  Kendal cupped a hand around his mouth. “Alderson, what colour is red?”

  “Shut up,” she yelled.

  Everyone dispersed quicker than they had flooded the roof.

  “Claire, let’s go, it’s time to visit little Mike.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN