by Katsura
Nothing, except for the eyes which were cold blue and focused.
How the fuck had he managed to get away? Inside Fergus screamed with rage.
That fucking cop was as useless as the rest of them. He'd seen Judas on the ground with a gun in his face. All they had to do was take the bastard in. Could they do nothing right?
Fergus stared at the gun and noticed how it trembled along with the hand that held it.
He took a step towards Judas but quickly stopped coming any closer when the other man clicked off the safety.
"You set me up." Judas's voice was hoarse and emotional and his mouth trembled just like his hand did. He appeared to be soaked through and must have been freezing. "You thought you got away with it. You thought I wouldn't find out that it was you."
Fergus took a deep breath and looked his former friend in the eye, trying to remain as calm as possible. Judas looked as though he had just clawed his way out of his own grave, and in Fergus's mind, he practically had.
"You got it all wrong, Jude. Put the gun down, okay?" Fergus indicated the decanter of whisky. "You look like you could use a drink and certainly...you could use a shower." He managed a little laugh.
Judas didn't seem to see the funny side. He simply walked to the decanter and poured himself a drink while keeping the gun trained on Fergus. He took a deep gulp from the glass and Fergus watched him carefully. If Judas was as close to collapse as he appeared to be, the big shot of alcohol might just tip him over the edge.
"Why?" Judas spoke again and Fergus considered walking over and taking the gun from his hand as this was not the cocksure Judas that he was used to. There was nothing of that man in the filthy shell that stood before him, and he was almost certain that Judas wouldn't resist. The trembling betrayed his weakened state.
Fergus could take the gun from him, make him sit by the fire, and then blow his brains out later if he felt like it.
"I told you, Jude. You got it all wrong."
Fergus smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and he gestured with both hands to show that he was unarmed. "Let's sit down calmly and talk about this. Sit by the fire. You must be freezing."
Judas walked slowly round towards the fire but he didn't sit down. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving Fergus's. He looked completely wounded, and this was not something that Fergus had factored into his plan. He had envisioned the disposal of Judas as clean and detached.
He hadn't planned on being forced to face the man he'd set up and account for what he had tried to do to him.
"I only want to know why." Judas's voice cracked as he spoke and Fergus was again filled with the urge to overpower him and take the gun. "I never wronged you. I looked after everything for you...your club...Hugo...I only want you to tell me why you did this to me. Then I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to kill myself."
"Don't be stupid, Judas." Judas looked deadly serious, and if he really was then Fergus felt even more apprehensive about the whole situation. There was nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose.
"Don't call me stupid," Judas hissed, his voice filled with hatred. "I'm not stupid. I was smart enough to get away from your pet cop...smart enough to track you down here. Look me in the eye and say that again, you backstabbing bastard! Say it so that I can put a bullet right in that smug fucking face of yours."
Fergus shook his head, trying to maintain his air of calm.
"Wrong choice of words, Jude, I'm sorry. I know that you're not stupid, but what will be achieved by killing us both? Even if you are right--and I assure you that you are not--what would be achieved? You really want to do this? You really never want to see Vinny again? What will he do without you? He'll end up on the streets turning tricks for his next hit." After speaking to Vinny recently it was clear to Fergus that there was more going on between the two of them than he had at first thought. Vinny was the best tool that he had right now, and he wished the guy hadn't buggered off so soon and left him here. He could have used Vinny.
He searched Judas's face for a sign that the mention of the younger man's name had registered something with him, but it didn't appear to have. Judas still looked the same. Slightly deranged and as hurt as an abandoned dog.
"Judas..." Fergus forced a smile onto his face. "You know I am shocked you would think that I had anything to do with this.
We have all been worried sick about you.
And Vinny...poor Vinny. Me and him were screaming at Rasputin not to drive off, but he couldn't hear us and he was never the best choice for a getaway, you knew that, didn't you? I think I remember you saying something about that. Vinny would have been better driving. You were right, Jude.
Vinny would have been better. But...it was too late and fuck...I had to practically sit on Vinny so that he never tried to get out, Jude...I know you would have wanted me to look after him for you, and I did. He was so upset. I kept him here with me as long as I could, just so that he didn't do anything stupid. Jude..." Fergus spoke softly and put his arms out towards Judas, but this gesture appeared to make him worse. Judas trembled more and looked on the verge of collapse, and Fergus steeled himself and moved closer, seizing what he felt was the perfect opportunity to get the gun off him. "Give me the gun, Jude. Neither of us wants this. Give me the gun and I'll get you some clean clothes.
You can have a bath...get warm by the fire. You must be starving."
Judas's stare seemed to waver slightly and Fergus put his hand gently on his wrist, feeling how truly cold the man's skin was.
Cold, wet and shivering.
"That's right, Jude." Fergus continued in a calm tone. "It's all over. We both know what happened here. I'd never betray you.
You're my friend. Just let me help you."
He began to ease the gun from Judas's fingers, but then they both turned their heads and looked at the window. A car approached and the bright headlights illuminated them. Judas gasped and seemed to snap out of the trance that he had been slipping into.
"Fuck it's the cops!" Fergus tried to pull the gun from Judas's hands now. He no longer gave a shit about sweet talking to unarm him. If that really was the police, Fergus wanted to be the one who held the gun. There was no time to move to get his own, and if he tried he ran the very realistic risk of getting shot in the back by a desperate fugitive bank robber.
Judas seemed to have the same possessive thought about the firearm, and they struggled with each other in front of the fireplace.
Then the room was filled by the loud and sharp crack of a gunshot.
Vinny looked out of the window and nodded firmly this time, laughing despite himself at his own stupidity.
"Yeah, this is it. I am sure this time." It wasn't the first time that he had said that in the many hours that they had been driving from cottage to cottage in search of the hideout, so Cain didn't look convinced and stared at him with a sardonic expression.
"It is! I mean it! I recognise the tree!"
Mikhail looked quizzical too, and Vinny knew that they both had a point. How on earth could anyone recognise a tree in amongst so many of them? But this one had strange gnarly branches that Vinny recalled reminded him of a creeping zombie when he stared out of the window one night, unable to find sleep. He was about to explain this then he stopped as the loud retort of gunfire rang out through the cold night air.
"Fuck!" Vinny instantly grabbed at the car door handle, not worried that the vehicle had barely stopped. Someone had fired a gun and that could mean one of two things.
That Judas was dead or that Fergus was.
All three of them piled hastily out of the car and headed straight for the cottage.
Cain put himself protectively in front of his boss as they reached the door, and Vinny pulled it open without any hesitation.
"Be careful, Vinny!" Mikhail tried to push Cain gently out of the way but Cain, being far stronger, resisted.
Vinny entered first and, having been there before, went straight to the sitting room and called
out, "Jude! Jude!" His eyes scanned the place in search of Judas, but only Fergus was there. He lay on the floor by the fireplace clutching a bloodied wound to his arm. Vinny rounded on him immediately when he noticed him. "You bastard! You fucking grass bastard!"
Vinny flew at Fergus, but Cain was on him in a flash and he pinned Vinny roughly to the floor.
Mikhail ran to Fergus's side and he crouched next to him and helped him into a seated position. "Oh my God, Fergus!
Oh my God! Are you okay! You are bleeding!" Mikhail looked frantic and he trembled as he held the other man's arms gently.
"I'm okay." Fergus winced a little in pain.
"It just grazed me. It's not deep."
"Where's Jude, you bastard? Where is he?" Vinny struggled with Cain, but it was no use. The other man was far stronger and held him down on the floor with ease.
Fergus glared at Vinny, the corners of his mouth turned down with venom. "I hope the fuck he is out there blowing his fucking brains out like he said he was going to.
And if he isn't...I'm gonna go out there and do the job for him! You are a fucking ingrate, Vinny!" He looked incensed now, and Mikhail was doing his best to keep him seated so that he could examine the wound on his arm.
"What do you mean? Ingrate? What have I to be grateful for?" Vinny had stopped struggling but inside he seethed.
"Cain." Mikhail's voice trembled. "Please take Vinny to the car and keep him there.
Please, Vinny...just go with him. Let me deal with this, please! We don't have much time."
Cain didn't give Vinny any choice in the matter. He pulled him to his feet and practically dragged him outside. Vinny called back when he got to the door, "If anything happens to Jude I will swing for you, Campbell! You better believe that."
Fergus got shakily to his feet and looked around for a moment before going over to get his jacket.
Mikhail went swiftly to his side again, and his eyes widened as he saw Fergus remove the gun from his pocket and check that it was loaded. "Please, Fergus."
Mikhail once more held him by the arms.
"You are mistaken. If this is about revenge...Judas never did anything wrong.
Please! Vinny told me the whole story.
Judas never talked to the police. He never set Vinny up. He was afraid and Vinny more or less tricked him into letting him take his place. Don't do this!"
Fergus pushed him roughly out of the way and walked towards the back door.
Mikhail looked down at his coat which had caught on a protruding nail on the ancient sideboard and he yanked hurriedly at the expensive fabric to free himself.
"Mikhail, you don't know what you are talking about." Fergus looked out into the night, the wound on his arm now beginning to sting. "Don't make me hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."
Mikhail rushed to Fergus again and grabbed his wrist tightly, but Fergus snatched his hand away. He dealt Mikhail a slap across the cheek that knocked him to the floor where he crouched for a moment before lifting up his face.
Mikhail's eyes were streaked with black tears from the mascara that had no doubt been so carefully applied that morning.
"You are making a big mistake..."
Mikhail's voice cracked with emotion.
"Don't do this, don't hurt him. Please. For me, Fergus...do this for me. Please don't hurt him. He really doesn't deserve it. You are a decent man. You made a mistake, just admit that. Judas did not deserve to be set up, and he doesn't deserve to be hurt now."
Fergus stared at him in disbelief, his gun held loosely at his side.
There was no point in running and Judas knew it. He had no energy left for that.
Noticing the dilapidated barn ahead of him he decided just to make his way there.
He could hear raised voices, the sound of another car arriving. No doubt the armed police had surrounded the place. It was only a matter of time now before they found him and it would be all over.
Armed robbery and now murder.
Judas wept.
If they took him in it would be a very long time before he was a free man again. He crouched on the dirt floor of the barn and placed a hand down to steady himself before he fell heavily to his knees.
He'd killed Fergus. He was pretty sure of that.
The gun had gone off in the struggle between them and Fergus had fallen to the ground and lain there. Even though he'd come here to kill him, Judas never actually envisioned doing it. He suddenly pitched forward and vomited the little contents of his stomach onto the ground. It hurt so much. Every part of him seemed to hurt now, and he just wanted an end to it all. He felt something wet trickle down his cheek, more substantial than the few pointless tears, and he reached his hand to see what it was. His fingers came away bloody. Vaguely he remembered hitting his head on the mantle of the fireplace in the scuffle with Fergus over the gun, and his head started to throb now. The pain began to make him feel dizzy. The lack of food, the blow to the head and the quickly downed whisky all combined to weaken him more.
Slowly Judas removed the sodden jacket that he wore and he threw it aside and shivered as the cold air clung to his wet shirt. He wouldn't need a jacket where he was going, and he heard a random phrase in his head.
"They will never take me alive."
It was probably from some gangster film that he had seen, perhaps said by an outlaw like him who was weighing up the options now open to him. He could let them take him in and he would spend the rest of his life in prison, or he could end it all here. A single bullet to the head.
Quick and probably painless. Although the thought of pain didn't really frighten him.
He had been through enough pain in his life to realise that it didn't last. Not physical pain anyway. Emotional pain could last a lifetime.
So there were his choices. Prison or suicide.
Not exactly pleasing propositions, but it wasn't difficult for him to decide which one held the most appeal right now.
He didn't even consider the possibility of remaining on the run. Where would he go?
He truly had no one. No one in the world who could do anything for him now, not without dragging themselves down too, which really would not be fair.
He suddenly pictured Vinny, when he first met him. The young junkie, who stood freezing on a street corner too sick and wasted to charge enough for what he was offering. Judas pictured the green eyes that had looked at him so emptily, the tattered clothes that had looked so filthy.
"Vinny." He said the name out loud but there was no one to hear it. He just hoped that Vinny would forgive him for what he was about to do, and that Fergus had been wrong with the prediction of Vinny's fate.
Judas had saved Vinny with a purely selfish notion. The boy he saw that day had looked just like he used to look, and he was saving himself all over again by saving Vinny. Taking him off the streets there and then, not to fuck him for the pittance he was charging for such a service, but to buy him a hot meal and then after that to get him a bath and clean clothes. He took Vinny off the streets that day and gave him the first proper job that he had ever had in his life, just running pointless errands at first until he had proved himself to be smart enough to do more than that. But he quickly graduated to dealing with the cash and always ensured that the proceeds from the various pies that Judas had his fingers in were properly laundered before being put to better use.
Vinny was a genius with money, and he had found some very creative ways to make sure any notes that Judas carried personally were untraceable to the crimes that had provided them in the first place.
Vinny went from being one of the walking dead to being such a humorous and wonderful person, and Judas knew that although he had been selfish in saving him, he had still actually saved him.
And now the further selfish act that he was about to commit could undo that, but he lifted the gun to his head anyway and placed the cold steel against his temple, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Vinny...please forgive me."
The loud gunshot echoed around
the large empty spaces of the derelict building, and Judas fell silent to the ground.
Chapter Eight
Fergus raised his gun and fired one single shot, and Judas fell silent to the ground.
The gun spun from his hand and skidded across the dirt, where it lay impotently out with his motionless fingers' reach.
Fergus walked towards Judas without emotion. The blood from the earlier wound on his arm had trickled down over his hand and on to the gun that he held.
Fishing out a tissue from his trouser pocket, he wiped his fingers then the weapon and he said softly to himself, "How did it come to this, my friend?"
Mikhail stood at his side, quite still for a moment, and then he gripped Fergus's arm and pressed his forehead against his shoulder, seemingly overcome. Fergus felt that he should comfort him but all he could do right now was stare at the prone figure of Judas, his head turned to the side, his arms stretched out either side of him in a position of surrender. A pool of blood had formed by Judas's temple, staining his hair and the dirt on the ground.
The events of this day were so unreal, and it seemed to Fergus that his release from prison was a lifetime ago. So much had happened. And had he valued his newfound freedom so little that he had been ready to throw it all so pointlessly away?
"Poor Judas..." Mikhail whispered and Fergus turned his face to him, then he hugged Mikhail's shoulders.
"It's okay, Mikhail. It's over. Everything will be okay now. We better move him.
God knows who owns this barn. I am not sure that it's part of the cottage property."
Mikhail took a shuddering breath, then he retrieved his mobile phone from his coat pocket and spoke into it, his voice strained.
"Cain. Could you please come to the barn at the rear of the house?" That seemed to be all the information that The Legend required as Mikhail then closed his phone and stood over by the door, still a trifle shaken. In a matter of moments Cain arrived, but before he could be given anymore instruction, Vinny pushed past him. He went straight over to Judas and kneeled beside him. The pool of blood that welled at the side of Judas's head had spread through the dirt, and Vinny looked down, his face twisted in an expression of grief. He reached out his hands with clear intent to touch the prone man, perhaps to feel for a pulse or something useful, but he didn't do that. His hands just fell limply to his sides.