by Ian Jones
As quick as he could John crawled away, trying to distance himself from Biscuits who he knew would be coming in for the kill, he was hurting badly and trying to clear his head. He could feel warm blood running down his face and neck. But his plan had partially worked, he was in pain, but he realised he was very close to where he wanted to be. Without looking up properly he calculated where Skinny was and with a groan dropped his head. He didn’t know how much time he had before Biscuits was on him but it could only be seconds. He groaned again and Skinny’s feet appeared in front of him as he egged Biscuits on.
With a shake of his head John sprang to his feet right on top of Skinny who startled, fell back and John grabbed his gun arm at the wrist, pulled it up and began twisting. The gun went off twice, bullets sailing harmlessly over John’s shoulder. Using both hands John carried on twisting all the time pushing Skinny backwards. The gun fell and clattered to the floor. With a wrench John broke Skinny’s arm and then punched him twice hard in the face and then whirled around watching Biscuits while readying himself to go for the gun.
Biscuits was standing stock still about ten feet away with a surprised look on his face, a crimson flower shaped stain slowly getting bigger on his chest. He sank to his knees with a grunt, and then collapsed on the floor.
John turned back to Skinny and stamped hard on the hand on his good arm twice. Skinny shrieked and tried to roll into a ball, but John pulled him onto his back and searched him, retrieving the Glock, a mobile phone and the door key. He unlocked, picked up Skinny’s gun and threw it out the door, then walked over to Biscuits, and rolled him over.
He had been shot in the chest, a sucking wound. He was still alive, his unfocussed eyes moving slowly from side to side and breathing shallowly, mouth open. There wasn’t much John could do so he called 911 and requested an ambulance urgently and then dragged Skinny over. He pulled off the other man’s jacket making him yell out in pain and then balled it up and pressed it onto Biscuits’ chest. Then he got Skinny’s forearm on the good arm but with the ruined hand and pushed it down hard onto the jacket.
‘Right Skinny, you shot your buddy Biscuits. You have to keep the pressure on. If you let up even slightly I’m just gonna shoot you. That clear?’
Skinny nodded frantically and leaned down on Biscuits sobbing loudly.
John went down on one knee.
‘Skinny, where’s Abby?’
Skinny looked up at him.
‘Look, Pablo said, he told us ….’
‘Fuck Pablo. Fuck him. He’s next believe me. Where is she?’
‘Outside. She’s by the pool. But you’re too late,’ Skinny whispered dropping his head.
John stood up and left the room, collecting Skinny’s gun on the way. He turned right and walked down the corridor and through the kitchen into the dining area. On his right were floor to ceiling folding glass doors, with the blinds pulled. He yanked the nearest one open and stepped out. He was on a large oval patio with a swimming pool in the middle. There were loungers dotted around, and lying on the ground between two was Abby.
John ran over, it looked like Skinny had been right; he was too late. Abby was lying half on her side. She was wearing nothing but an open dressing gown. John knelt down next to her and checked for her pulse. It was there, but rapid and weak. He checked her for any injuries; she was completely covered in bruises and had dried blood over her legs. He had no idea what to do, so he wrapped her up in the dressing gown and lifted her up and made for the lift.
He kicked the table out from between the doors and bent down hitting the ‘G’ button with his fingertips. The doors closed and the lift descended, John willing it to go faster. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, his face was a mess. His right eye was nearly closed and his face and collar were caked in blood. He remembered the rings on Biscuits’ fingers.
Chapter Eighteen
John watched the floor numbers slowly changing downward and looked closely at Abby. Her lips were blue and she was white as a sheet. Her eyes suddenly flicked open and she looked at him confused, but then she was out again. The doors opened and moving as quickly as possible John moved back through the bowels of the hotel bursting out into Reception. Still nobody stopped him but people moved out of his way as he made it to the doors and went outside. He could hear a siren getting louder so he ran down the steps and met the ambulance as it pulled up. As they climbed out the paramedics spotted him and ran over.
‘I don’t know what has happened, I know she’s taken something, but I don’t have any idea what,’ John said.
One of the paramedics ran back to the ambulance and unloaded a stretcher, the legs folding down. John moved over and laid her on it and immediately the paramedics got to work, checking her over and giving her oxygen and fixing a drip. John hovered around, increasingly anxious. The paramedics finished doing they could right there on the ground and hurriedly put Abby into the ambulance, obvious concern written all over them.
John followed them over to the open doors and peered in. One of the paramedics looked up and came over.
‘So you don’t have any idea on what she’s taken, what she’s on?’ he asked.
‘No, sorry, I never met her before. But there are syringes and all sorts of other crap in the bedroom, you know, signs that she has been using something.’
‘So you don’t know what’s happened to her?’
‘No idea. I just found her like that. Will she be OK?’
‘I can’t tell you that. We need to get her to the emergency room.’
‘You must have some idea, what are her chances?’
The paramedic sighed.
‘Really, I can’t say. But she’s got a fight on her hands. I’d say another hour before you got to her it would be all over.’
John felt a coldness sinking through him.
‘Where are you taking her?’
‘Mercy, it’s closest.’
‘There’s another man upstairs, he’s been shot. I called that in before I found her.’
The paramedic frowned.
‘OK, well we’ll get on the radio.’
He leaned closer and turned John’s head.
‘You should come with us, you need to get that looked at.’
John pulled away.
‘No. I got something I need to do first.’
The paramedic shrugged and pulled the doors shut, and then the ambulance was off with tyres screeching and siren blaring.
John turned and looked up at the hotel.
‘Right. This ends now.’
In his office Pablo stared down at the phone on his desk in front of him. He centred it and made it even to the edges.
There had been no contact, but Pablo couldn’t ring Skinny in case John Smith was just entering the penthouse.
‘Patience,’ he said aloud.
Around him was just silence, even the normal hotel sounds were more muted than usual.
He poured himself another cup of coffee and waited.
Like a robot John walked up the steps and through the doors; then marched across Reception and entered the back of house area again, he hoped for the last time. He crossed the big office and went into the corridor beyond. As he made his way down he crossed from side to side opening every door, flinging them open wide. Most of the rooms were empty at that hour, but the two or three that had people in them looked at him in surprise. He carried on going and then went past the glass door. The corridor with no names on any of the doors. The lift stood open at the end.
He repeated the same process in this corridor, but moving more cautiously now and trying the handles gently. The last thing he needed was if someone opened fire from inside, the bullets would come through these doors like they were paper. He went through them in turn and then came to the final door on his left and just suddenly got a feeling. Carefully he tried the handle.
Locked.
Then he heard the sound of a toilet being flushed inside.
He knew. This was it. It was time.
He lined himself up, and stepped back. Then he raised his right leg and drew it back and then kicked out forward. The sole of his boot connected with the handle, the frame splintered and the door crashed open. Immediately John followed through and burst into the room. Pablo Escola was in the process of sitting down in the chair with a look of shock on his face, which turned to terror when John launched himself across the desk and then dragged Pablo back across the top of it by his shirt.
John threw him to the floor and Pablo cowered against the wall. John pulled him up and punched him twice in the face, a left then a right and then slammed him against the wall so hard the plasterboard disintegrated behind him. Then he hurled him out into the corridor and as Pablo tried desperately to crawl away began kicking him hard around his backside and ribs. Tiring of that he picked Pablo up and began throwing him from one side to another, interspersing it with punches.
In truth, John was enjoying himself. Pablo had a lot to answer for.
Eventually Pablo curled up into a ball on the floor and stared up with his arms raised.
‘Stop! Stop, please stop,’ he cried.
John stood next to him and looked down. Pablo’s nose was bleeding heavily, probably broken. His lips were swollen and bloody and his left eye was starting to close. His shirt was torn and dirty.
He was broken.
John hauled him to his feet.
‘Let’s go Pablo.’
He forced Pablo’s head under his arm and dragged him off down the corridor. It was slow going; Pablo frequently tripped or tried to stand and John just got his neck in a tighter hold and swung him around as he pulled. He walked into the main office and the few people in there stared as they passed, but nobody made any attempt to intervene. He entered Reception with the same result. As he neared the main doors a pair of Paramedics walked in.
John stopped them and pointed to the way he had come, still holding Pablo in a headlock.
‘Go through that office and follow the corridor, there’s a lift at the end. You want the penthouse; when you’re up there go through the door on the left then the first on the right. Gunshot wound to the chest. He is a big fella, I mean really big. You’ll want the stretcher, but be quick, he’s in bad way,’ he told the bemused paramedics, and then continued walking out of the hotel.
He reached the top of the steps and then threw Pablo down, as hard as he could, and followed him. As he reached the bottom a police car pulled up, followed by another, with a dark blue sedan at the rear. The whole area was lit by a bright array of red and blue flashing neon. Cops jumped out and ran over and one stopped John as he bent down to grab Paulo.
‘Step away sir. Put your hands on your head and step away.’
John looked at him and shook his head.
‘No, I’m not done here yet.’
The cop grabbed John by the arm.
‘This is not a request boy. I don’t need any encouragement to take you downtown after the night I been having.’
John went nose to nose with the cop.
‘Did you call me boy? I must be what, fifteen years older than you?’
‘OK, let’s all calm down.’
John turned and saw Patrick climbing out of the lead sedan and walking over, holding his FBI badge out high.
The cop pushed John away and stood glowering, his hand hovering near his revolver.
Ignoring him Patrick pulled Pablo to his feet and looked at John.
‘Good to see you again John. I thought I told you to stay well away? It looks like you been busy, and it looks like Mr Escola must have fallen down those steps judging by his injuries.’
John relaxed.
‘Nice to see you too Patrick. So what’s the score? ‘
‘We’re a lot of points up John. We’ve collared the cops, including one I believe you know.’
John looked closely at the cars and saw Frank MacMillan in the back of one. Suddenly he felt very tired; it had been a long night.
He handed Patrick Skinny’s gun, still wearing gloves.
‘There was a shooting earlier, paramedics are up in the penthouse now dealing with it. The guy that did it also fell down some stairs, he’s up there too. This is the gun.’
Patrick held the gun between his thumb and forefinger right at the edge of the butt and yelled at an agent to get an evidence bag.
‘Jesus John, do you ever take a break?’
‘Patrick, I need to get to Mercy hospital. I found Abby up in the penthouse; she’s in a bad way.’
‘OK, I’ll drive you myself. Just let me get things moving here.’
‘Thanks Patrick.’
John watched as Pablo was bundled into the back of one of the cop cars, and Patrick organised the FBI agents who disappeared into the hotel.
Patrick gestured over to John to join him and they climbed into one of the sedans and set off for the hospital.
On the way Patrick filled John in on the night’s work.
‘Well, we’ve got a list of evidence longer than your arm. We found witness statements, evidence, blood tests everything, all pointing to Pablo. It was all hidden but they kept it all, the FBI out here, the cops; they didn’t get rid of anything. My guess is in case he suddenly didn’t want to pay, but a lot of people are gonna go down for this. They are already pointing fingers at each other and naming names. It unfolded just like that, everybody suddenly very keen to talk to us. And if you hadn’t picked up the phone then it would have carried on, at least until somebody wised up and popped Pablo, which by the sounds of it was getting more and more likely.’
‘So Pablo isn’t going to walk away?’
‘Not this time. No way, I got about a dozen FBI and PD people up to their necks in this. The charge sheets are being drawn up. I mean we’ve got all we need, but to cap it all we discovered a witness, a young girl who survived. I got an agent driving into Arizona right now. This poor girl was raped and beaten by Pablo and left for dead but she survived. A woman found her and called 911. It was hushed up by the FBI, and the PD, and swept under the carpet. Her parents managed to get her away, but we located her and she is going to talk. We got all we need already anyway, but this is going to bury Pablo, no question at all.’
‘What about his father?’
‘I can’t comment on that right now because I don’t know, but I promise you I got people looking into it.’
‘OK.’
‘You know, the cops been busy tonight. Witnesses saw some guy beat the crap out of the manager of this strip bar called Honeys. Just happens that Pablo Escola owns it. I can’t imagine you would know anything about it.’
John smiled.
‘Nothing at all Patrick.’
They reached the hospital and John got out, promising to call Patrick in the morning. He walked in and asked at the Reception counter and was directed to the emergency room. He made his way through the maze of corridors and then asked again at the desk there. He was told to wait so he sat down. Half an hour later a harried looking doctor came out. She guided John over to a viewing window and he could see Abby about halfway down, with tubes and wires all over her.
‘She has no ID, do you know her name?’ the doctor asked.
‘Yeah, her name is Abby Cromwell, she’s British.’
‘Can I ask your connection to her?’
‘None. It’s a long story. I came out here to find her, her father is worried about her. Tonight I tracked her down to the Acropolis hotel. I found her lying down totally out of it by the pool. I called for an ambulance and that’s it, I never met her before or even spoken to her.’
‘We have notified the police. They will want to talk to you. She’s been raped, more than once.’
‘Yeah I guessed that. There was a lot of blood on her. I know who did it. The FBI have already got him.’
‘Right, well …’
‘Is she going to be alright?’
The doctor looked at him wearily, then raised her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed.
‘It’s very early. She�
��s had a massive overdose. Heroin we believe, but we are not one hundred percent on what she has taken, it could even be some kind of cocktail. She has a large amount of injuries, but none serious. There’s no set pattern in dealing with this, it all depends on exactly what she took and how much, and unfortunately, we have no idea. But we’re doing everything we can.’
‘OK, thank you very much. I’ll phone her dad and let him know and I’ll come back tomorrow.’
He turned and started to walk back the way he had come.
‘Wait.’
The doctor took hold of his arm, looked up at his head and half smiled, checked her watch, then pointed to a small room to the side.
‘Come and sit in here. That needs sutures. Sometimes even heroes need a helping hand.’
John looked at her reluctantly and went to walk away, but she held on tight to his arm.
‘Seriously, come on. It needs treating. You’ll bleed everywhere, I can see to it nice and easy right now. If you go through to the ER you’ll have to wait.’
John gave in, and followed the doctor across, then sat still and quiet while the doctor fixed up his head. She asked him a few questions about Abby, but he genuinely couldn’t answer them, other than why he was in the city in the first place and how he had come to find her.
John thanked the doctor, left the hospital and called Richard, explaining very carefully about Abby, breaking the news as gently as possible. Richard told him he’d be on the first plane out. John hung up and looked for a taxi then made his way back to the Mandalay Bay.
Chapter Nineteen
After a late breakfast John wandered over to the Acropolis hotel. Everything looked pretty much the same as yesterday, but he spotted George talking with a short red-haired man and a second big Slavic looking man with a shaved head on the steps. He was in two minds whether to join them but George noticed him and with a wide smile came over.
He shook John’s hand vigorously.
‘I’m still real sketchy on everything that went down, but Pablo won’t be back, that’s for sure. I can’t get any real information from the cops, but he’s definitely out of the picture. And I know I got you to thank for that.’