by Steve Liszka
“Come on Sarge, I dare you,” Rudy enticed him, “you take one more step and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
Doyle, who had watched in silence until that moment, stepped toward his team-mate, “Come on Rudy, stop fucking around,”
“Shut-up Doyle,” Rudy said, never averting his eyes from Taylor.
“I’m serious,” Doyle shouted, “that’s your boss you’re waving your gun at.”
“I said shut the fuck up boy, this is none of your business.”
Taylor placed his hands out in front of him, the anger quickly subsiding. He knew not to fuck with Rudy in these conditions, he’d seen what he was capable of.
“Put it down Rudy, before it’s too late.”
“Fuck you Taylor, I think I might take you out right now. Everyone saw what you did, I’d be defending myself.”
Taylor dropped his hands, “Don’t be stupid, they’ll shoot you.”
Rudy shrugged, “Yeah well, it’ll be worth it just to get rid of your sorry ass. I’m sick of your bullshit lies. We all are.”
He thought about it for a second then smiled as he raised the gun towards Taylor’s head,
“Fuck it, I’m gonna do it…”
He stopped talking and attempted to move his head to the right, all the time trying to work out whose cold pistol muzzle was now digging into his temple. Skinner hadn’t been the only one to leave the Rhino when things started getting heavy.
“Put it down now, there’s a good chap,” Spike’s voice sounded dangerously serious.
Rudy sighed before letting out a tired laugh, “You haven’t got the balls fat man.”
Spike pushed the gun further into his head, making it tilt at an awkward angle, “Really, you want to make a bet on it? I haven’t had a winner all day.”
Rudy’s smile faded as he recognised something in Spike’s voice that told him he meant it. He threw the gun nonchalantly to the floor,
“I’ll get you for this you fat fuck, mark my words.”
Spike patted him on the shoulder with his spare hand, “Yeah right, sure you will.”
“Drop your weapons and put your hands up!” Sergeant Dyer’s voice boomed out, as his and Appleby’s men surrounded them.
Spike, the only one still left with a weapon, did as commanded then placed his hands on his head.
“Sergeant Taylor,” Dyer shouted, “do you mind telling me what the hell is going on here and why my only suspect is lying there with his fucking brains blown out?”
“Yes sir,” Taylor answered, “ but first I want you to arrest that man for trying to kill me.”
He pointed his finger accusingly at Rudy, whose eye had exploded into a rainbow of colours from where he had been struck. Eager for answers and pissed that his perfect raid had been ruined, Dyer obliged and ordered his men to cuff Rudy. As he was led off, Rudy stared back at Taylor, whose view of him was broken when Dyer stepped into his line of sight.
“You better start talking,” he said, “this is a fucking mess.”
Taylor dropped his gaze to the floor as the man questioned him.
Dyer took a step closer, his face colouring, “Don’t try and play the tough guy Taylor. You and your men, who you obviously can’t keep control of, have fucked up royally. You’re going to be in a lot of trouble pal.”
When he was met with silence, Dyer jabbed his finger into Taylor’s chest,
“I said, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at? You’re not in Canada anymore.”
Taylor raised his eyes from the patch of dirt he had been staring at and fixed them on his interrogator,
“Fuck you Dyer.”
He pushed past the man and walked to his vehicle where Doyle and Spike were standing, the pair talking in concerned tones.
“Come on you two,” he said, “we’re going back to the City.”
“What about them?” Spike asked, nodding towards the scene of the fight.
On shaky legs, Lennox was being helped to his feet by two other troopers. A small crowd had huddled around Skinner’s prone body as they alternated between pouring water on him and gently slapping his face in an attempt to wake him from his enforced slumber. Taylor refused to look and climbed into the passenger seat of the Rhino.
“Fuck ‘em,” he said before slamming his door closed.
Spike looked at his injured team-mates then back to Doyle. He shrugged his shoulders and did his best not to laugh,
“Cool.”
Chapter 17
“Why are you always so determined to be a pain in my ass?” Mason huffed as he drummed his fingertips on the table, “I can see why you feel this way but it’s not going to happen.”
He paused and ran his thumb and forefinger through his bushy moustache.
“With the way things are at the moment, there’s no way I’m going to discharge Rudy. We need all the men we’ve got right now.”
“But he would have killed me if Spike hadn’t stepped in,” Taylor said wearily, he was sick of having to repeat himself.
It was the day after the raid and he had spent much of the night before buried in a bottle of vodka. For once, the drink hadn’t clouded his thoughts. In fact, it had helped him come to the decision he was now confronting Mason with, even though he knew what it meant if his demand was rejected; it was either him or Rudy.
Mason tried a playful smile that looked more pained than anything else,
“Come on Taylor, we both know he was just trying to scare you, Rudy’s been in the game too long to do anything that stupid.”
His voice suddenly dropped, adding gravity to his words,
“Besides, I’ve got a handful of witnesses who say that you struck him first, and that was after you assisted the prisoner when your men were trying to recapture him. I haven’t even mentioned the small fact of you abandoning half of your team at the school.”
Taylor laughed, “Is that what they’re saying now, that he was trying to escape?”
Mason’s eyes dropped to his table, “Well not all of them, we have had a number of conflicting statements from your men.”
The thought of Spike and Doyle telling the truth, and the irritation it would have caused the rest of his team, made him feel immensely proud.
“All in all,” Mason continued, determined to find a quick resolution to the problem, “I say that makes the pair of you pretty much even. I think it would be best if we all just tried to put yesterday’s events behind us.”
Taylor slammed his fist down on the desk, “He killed a prisoner and tried to kill me. We are not even, understand? Not even fucking close. Now fire that piece of shit or I’m done.”
He could feel the throbbing in his head return as the volume of his voice rose. Mason leaned back in his chair and inhaled deeply as he watched his quick fix evaporate into the air.
“Listen to me Taylor,” he sighed, “because this is the first and only time you’ll ever hear me say this.”
Mason spoke with the tiredness that produces honesty, “I’ve known you for a long time and whether you like it or not I consider you to be a friend… You’re a good officer, I mean that.”
He stopped talking when he caught Taylor rolling his eyes.
“Oh don’t worry smart arse, I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m sure you’re not going to like the rest of what I’ve got to say.”
Mason readjusted himself in his chair, pissed off by Taylor’s perceived interruption, “Like I say, you’re good at your job but there’s one thing that stops you from excelling.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”
Mason nodded, “The love of your men. What stops you from being great is that your men don’t love you. They do what you tell them to do because it’s their job. But if they loved you, they’d do it to please you, and they’d make sure they did the best possible job because they’d want you to love them back. That’s how easy is it, make your men love you and they’ll do anything for you. That’s where you’ve got it wrong, your lads think you’re too superi
or… You just need to let them off the leash every once in a while, let them have a bit of fun. Maybe then they’ll start to love you.”
Taylor rubbed his hand across his unshaven chin, “Thanks for the advice Cap but I let my men off the leash once and look what happened there. Or have you forgotten why I ended up working for you in the first place?”
Mason stared at Taylor for a long time.
“You know you’re not the first person I’ve seen this happen too,” he said after swallowing his anger and composing himself.
“That what has happened to?”
“I mean it’s only natural, coming from the Old-Town you’re bound to have these feelings. I’d be worried about an intelligent person like you if you didn’t. But there comes a point when we all have to realise which direction will be best for us to take in the long run. Men like Rudy accepted their fate a long time ago… whereas some people, and I’m not blaming you, get a little confused before they make the right choice.”
He left his words out there, but when Taylor refrained for seizing on them, he spoke again,
“All I’m saying is this; the wall will be finished next week. Wait till then and if you still want to go, you can. If you step down now, Milton will not be happy and believe me when I say the man’s got a long memory. If you want a nice, easy life when all this bullshit is over with, I suggest you keep your head down for the next few days. The last thing you want to do now is cause a fuss.”
“And all I’m saying, “Taylor finally responded, “is that unless you sack Rudy right now, I’m walking, and I don’t give a shit how much fuss it causes.”
The edges of Mason’s moustache dropped towards his pronounced chin,
“Now you listen to me you little prick,” he shouted, his philosophical mood having disappeared, “if you think you’re going to embarrass me in front of Milton, you’ve got another thing coming. I won’t let you be a shit stain on my record, boy. Not with my retirement so close.”
The bald man’s skull was so red it looked like lava was about to erupt from it. Taylor got to his feet and leant towards Mason. Both of his hands were now resting on his boss’ table.
“Sorry Cap but I’m through with keeping people happy. I quit, and if you don’t like it then fuck you and fuck Milton.”
At first Taylor was pleased to see the reaction on the man’s face, but as he became aware of a presence in the doorway behind him, he realised exactly why Mason’s jaw had dropped so low. Already knowing who it was, Taylor turned to see Freddie Milton gaze impassively at him.
“Did someone mention my name?”
It was Milton who now sat in front of him. If he was pissed off at what had been said, he did a good job of not showing it. Before he could attempt an apology, and not that he was sure he wanted to give one, Milton silenced Taylor him a wave of his hand.
“Forget it,” he said, “it sounds like yesterday was very difficult for you. I can see why you’d be upset.”
With the potentially embarrassing situation pushed to one side, Milton quickly got down to business. After he finished presenting his proposal, he sat back in Mason’s chair, giving the other man time to take it all in. After a few seconds considering his words, Taylor sat up straight in his chair.
“So let me get this straight, if I come back to work now-”
“There’s no rush, take the rest of the day off first. I’ll also guarantee that your man is posted to another unit,” Milton thoughtfully interjected.
Taylor nodded in recognition of the offer.
“If I start back tomorrow,” he continued, “and stay until the wall is officially opened, I can leave and you will pay me the extra money I need to get my gym open.”
“Not just that, but with my connections,” Milton said without sounding like he was boasting, “I’m pretty sure you’ll have enough business coming your way to ensure you do very well for yourself.”
He spoke again before Taylor could answer, “Come to think of it, if it is a success, and I’m sure it will be, there’s no reason we can’t look at you taking this idea forward to the other cities. How would you feel about running things on a larger scale?”
‘How do you think I’d feel,’ Taylor wanted to say, ‘you’re offering me my dream you asshole.’
He wanted to accept everything that was being offered to him right there and then. In fact, he was finding it difficult not to jump out of his seat, throw his arms around Milton and hug the life out of him, but before he could answer, he felt something gnaw away at the back of his mind. Try as he might, Taylor couldn’t get the figures to add up.
“Do you mind if I ask you something Mr Milton?” Taylor spoke slowly, trying to remain calm.
“Be my guest, and please, like I’ve told you before, call me Freddie.”
Taylor rubbed his hand through his hair, all too aware that he could be jeopardising Milton’s offer.
“Why would you do this for me? I mean I’m just a Sergeant, there are plenty more out there. Why make me such a generous offer, it doesn’t make any sense?”
Milton pursed his lips together and blew a long breath out from his puckered cheeks,
“I like you Taylor, I always have done. I probably shouldn’t say this but some of the men who work for SecForce are, how can I put this… animals. But you, you’re a decent man. What happened yesterday for example, I don’t condone what you did but you struck one of your men because you felt that he’d behaved in an unjust manner. If more of my people were like you, it would be so much easier to run this city.”
Taylor went to speak but Milton continued, “I know what people think of me, I know about the things that some of them say; that I hate the people living in the Old-Town, that I’d be happier if they were all gone, but it’s simply not true. When I launched Triage, it wasn’t to make their lives miserable, I never deliberately wanted that. But when the Chinese and Russians closed Asia off to us, we had no other choice. We were so dependent on their manufacturing sector that the whole country would have been brought to its knees if we hadn’t built the production centres. It may have been harsh for the people who have to work in them, but the centres were the only thing that made financial sense.”
He was referring to the economic world war that took place after the invasion of Canada. When the Americans refused to let the world’s only other superpower have a slice of Canada’s riches, the Chinese responded by shutting the entire developing world down to them. They knew this would be far more damaging to America than any bomb or army could ever be. If it wasn’t for Milton, their plan would have worked too.
Whilst other multi-national companies quickly collapsed as they realised they could never afford to run their business in the West, Milton enthusiastically encouraged ClearSkies to keep trading. Under his instruction, they also ran up massive debts as they cherry-picked the various bankrupt companies they had always desired to own. Knowing they couldn’t operate at a profit with wages as they were, Milton’s plan was to bring the developing world back to Britain and America. Once laws were passed to allow Triage to take effect, the production centres became a miniature version of Delhi or Manila, and even better for him, wages would no longer be necessary. The results were staggering; ClearSkies soon became the second biggest company in the world. Only Dao, their Chinese equivalent, were more powerful.
“You know something, it took a lot of bravery,” Milton gave a nervous laugh, checking himself, “I don’t mean bravery in the sense of what you and your men do, but it took a lot for me to do what I believed in. There were so many people who had no idea just how serious the depression was. All they wanted was for the government to open their coffers and feed everyone. Well that may have worked for a few months but what then? Once all the money was gone, how were we going to get the economy working for us again? I had to think beyond their short-sighted goals, no matter how well intentioned they were. I knew there was only one thing we could trust if this country was ever going to get back to what it had once been, and that was t
he markets. The markets were the only thing that was going to save us and that’s why I did what I had to. It was never going to work for everyone, but look at the people in the City now, look at the lives they have. It wasn’t kindness or sympathy, or the solidarity of people pulling together that saved us, but the markets. The people out there who don’t revile me consider me to be some sort of genius, but in truth all I did was put emotion to one side and respond to the market’s demands. It really is as simple as that.”
Taylor had no idea how to respond.
Milton quickly saw this and began to speak again, “I don’t expect the people in the Old-Town to understand, they’ll always hate me and that’s their right.”
He realised his words hadn’t answered Taylor’s question.
“This is a dangerous time for us all, the whole business with the Shepherd is very worrying. I assume you saw the artwork on the way in?”
He was referring to the latest piece of graffiti to have struck the City. ‘This machine kills freedom,’ had somehow been written across the front of the building they were sitting in, right beneath the noses of SecForce’s staff. Satisfied with Taylor’s nod, Milton carried on with his explanation.
“I have a feeling the man is going to try something before the wall is complete and if he’s successful it could have dire consequences for the City. That’s why I want good men like you on our side, doing what you can to make sure his plans never reach fruition.”
From his reclined position, Milton suddenly sprung forward in his seat and in an instant his reflective mood had disappeared.
“Do you know that the Dean of the university contacted me today?” he now sounded almost too chipper to take seriously.
“He told me that some of the students are planning a demonstration in honour of the Shepherd tomorrow. Apparently they’ve even gone to the trouble of making banners. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?”