Counterpoint

by John Day

  The man grunted and phoned the house.

  The two of them started working on the pipe. First, they applied Freon freezing packs to the pipe either side of the joint, to temporarily block all water flow while they worked on the pipe. The utility truck had all the tools they needed, and it was quite straightforward unbolting the metal saddle. The damage to the pipe under the saddle was only minor, just a small leak, too small for Max’s requirements, so he drilled a large hole in the pipe.

  Water in the pipe above the frozen section was drained out, and 8 kilograms of cocaine and lime solution poured in. The lime was added to neutralise stomach acid ensuring full absorption of the cocaine. Max then resealed the pipe with the saddle, leaving the pipe to thaw on its own, eventually refilling the water tanks in the house with drugged water, then they drove back to the lock-up.

  By using the photographs touched by the Mr and Mrs Yeltsin, Max had painstakingly embossed the thick, double sided photo paper with a modified scalpel blade. The complex ridges and swirls of their fingerprints were indented to varying degrees, depending on the width of the print. Later a release agent followed by a particular latex compound was thinly poured over the indentations and bonded to surgical rubber gloves. The result was a perfect set of fingerprints.

  Selected packets of cocaine were wiped free of dust, and any other prints they might have on them. A thin film of skin moisturising oil on the glass table top was used to coat the raised elements of the rubber prints, a bit like inking a stamp pad. Handling the polythene packets of cocaine transferred all the prints of thumb and index fingers to them, naturally. The cocaine was replaced in the boot of the Lexus.

  Chapter - Gang fight.

  The following night at about 2 am in the morning Max and Carla set off for the Yeltsin’s house again. Max drove the utility van, Carla drove the Lexus. Carla used both sets of fingerprint gloves coated with cocaine dust, to transfer fingerprints to parts of the Lexus, in a natural way.

  From a phone box near the road up to Gregor’s House, Max placed a call to Jacko. He told him that the girl who ripped him off was at a party at a big house. He then gave Yeltsin’s address. He also added the girl was telling everyone what a loser Jacko was and that she had outwitted him. Max claimed she said, his gang must know by now what a complete tosser he was, and he should do something about it. Judging by Jacko’s reply, he was so wound up with the desire to take revenge, that he didn’t realise he was being conned again. Next Max phoned the two gangs the money and drugs were snatched from, to say where their stuff was, and that Jacko was on his way there now. He gave Yeltsin’s address again.

  It was now a case of so little, said to so few, causing trouble for so many.

  Max told Carla what had happened and she began chuckling uncontrollably, it was all good fun to her.

  After driving up the mountain road to a good vantage spot, overlooking the road below, they waited for a fast moving string of cars to show. Half-an-hour later they appeared. There was no doubt about it; any vehicle on this road at that time of the morning would be rare, now there were seven driving fast in a tight formation. Time to go said Max, heart pounding loudly in his chest, pumping fear and adrenaline in overdose quantities, to his brain. This was a one-way journey, the only way back was down towards the approaching cars, bristling with revenge seeking, drugged up, gun toting killers. Ahead lay a well-armed Russian Mafia Security Force, also feeling a bit strange from unknowingly drinking cocaine in their water supply. Emotions were high in the House, moods were swinging, and everyone was on edge and paranoid.

  Max and Carla had succeeded in putting themselves inescapably, between a rock and a hard place; was there actually any way out?

  Max was in the lead, pushing the van as hard as he could. His rubber gloved hands, wet with sweat. He had to time things within seconds if the plan was to work.

  Max drove hard at the security gates, blasting them open, whilst Carla drove through straight to the terrace overhanging the cliff face, and parked the Lexus. Gunfire in Max’s direction started at once. He stopped, and shielded to some extent by the van, threw out a large plastic container filled with petrol. The container split and petrol gushed out over the paving, inside the gated entrance. The guards stopped firing and ran towards him, but Max drove off again down the right hand side of the house. Lights came on all over the house as everyone in it prepared for action. Out flew another petrol container, followed by a Molotov cocktail to set it alight, blocking of this route with a wall of flame. Driving off again around the back of the house, and along the other side, Max burst his last container on the road behind him. Cars were now pouring in the gateway and heading straight for him. He drove at them, causing them to swerve and scatter. With petrol on their tyres, the cars all skidded wildly, missing the bullet-riddled van. Wrestling with the steering wheel with one hand and lighting the second Molotov, Max drove towards the gate and tossed the flaming bomb out onto the petrol-soaked ground. No one could get out of the grounds through those flames he thought.

  Everyone was chasing Max now, men with guns running and men with more guns in the cars. By weaving in between them firing eased up, they didn’t want to hit each other. Max made for the remaining unlit petrol at the left side of the house, his last Molotov was lit and thrown forwards. Woomp! A wall of flame blocking his way sprang up, but he drove on through it. The two cars, one each side of him tried to stop, but skidded on the burning petrol inside the Inferno and hit the wall one side, the house on the other, totally blocking the way through. Within seconds, amid screams of terror and pain from the trapped men inside, the two cars exploded.

  The van was also on fire, tyres like Catherine wheels and the underside and lower bodywork streaming flame in the slipstream. Max steered towards the parapet wall of the overhanging terrace, at the back of the house, breaking hard to avoid hitting it. A tyre burst, the van skidded into the wall and along it. The impact threw Max bodily sideways against the door, knocking the wind out of him. The van slowed amid screaming metal and stopped. He slid over; grabbing a bulky pack from behind his seat, he opened the door and sprang clear. He burned his face, singeing off most of his facial hair and set light to his clothing. As he rolled on the ground, the flames went out.

  The house had enormous sheets of flame, fanned by the mountain updraft on both sides and now at the back. The van had just exploded.

  As Max ran close to the parapet, he realised the whole of the terrace and back of the house was lit with an orange light from the intense flame. As he ran, shots rang out hitting the ground and parapet around him. He struggled to strap on the bulky pack as he ran.

  Occasionally the pack jerked sideways like someone had kicked it extremely hard. Better the bullets hit the pack than him, he thought.

  “I’m here!” Shouted Carla in the dark, laid on top of the parapet. Max looked up, saw her and leapt onto the parapet, to join her. Both lay on their stomachs, face-to-face on this 450 mm wide curved strip of concrete parapet, the city sprawled out below on one side, flame, gunfire and pandemonium on the other. “I’m ready,” said Max as he and Carla stood up, and leapt off together, into the night.

  Carla pulled the ripcord of her parachute; Max pulled his when he was clear of her. The strong updraft lifted them, and they soared high above the city. It took a moment or so for Max to fit his headset and switch on his radio so they could speak to each other.

  They circled like hawks high above the house and looked down at the carnage they had caused. The roof of the house had now caught fire, windows had shattered, and flame penetrated inside.

  The flashes of gunfire stabbed brightly through the orange glow of firelight as shadowy figures continued to shoot at each other around the house.

  The City generally lay quiet and sleeping, but vehicles with flashing lights and distant sirens surged through the clear streets heading in the direction of the mountain road. Four cars were already approaching the house, “I bet that’s Jacko” laughed Carla, “He’s arriving just as the
party has got interesting.”

  "The gate fire has almost died out, so gate crashing should be no problem," said Max. “I think the drug gangs would like to leave, but they are pinned down,” replied Carla. “Probably hanging on for their cocaine, as well. With Jacko catching them in the middle, it won’t be long before they form a circle with their cars, like the old wagon trains did with the Indians, and fight off both sides.”

  “Well, I know Yeltsin is going to be really pissed off with all the damage and to cap it all, when the police arrive, they will have a job explaining what happened.” Said Max.

  “I know,” agreed Carla, “The first question the police will ask is what three drug gangs are doing there, fighting with them. Then they will hear about the drugs hidden somewhere in the house. Next, when the drugs are found, complete with his and her fingerprints, and everybody high on cocaine, I think they will be in deep shit.”

  The pain from Max’s burns was overcoming his adrenaline and the anaesthetising effect of the cold air rushing past his face. “I don’t want to complain” he said, “but I got burned in the van, and I am feeling rather odd. I think I need to land before I black out.”

  He said no more and concentrated just on getting down. They needed to get as close to the lock up as possible. The state they were in, they couldn’t hitch a ride and a long walk carrying their chutes was not realistic either. Carla looked out for landmarks, she had figured what to look for when they made their preparations for the mission. Even so, everything looked so different at this altitude, at night. Her super quick mind pieced the visual clues together, when they all fitted, she said “OK, I have it, just follow me in.”

  “OK” was all Max could reply. At first, it seemed better to come in low and glide the long distance to the lock-up. However, lift was poor near the ground so they would have to come in high and drop at the last half mile.

  Max was in a bad way, shock had set in, and he was blacking out. He had to get down now, or it would be too late. Carla had the target in sight and looked back to see if Max was still with her. She realised he was in real trouble when he did not answer her warning that they were still too far away to land yet. Max ignored everything except the wide main street clearly lit by streetlights. He glided in and hit the road hard.

  The early morning breeze dragged the chute and Max, up the road.

  Carla circled and saw him release his chute and stand up. With great effort, he pulled the billowing folds to the roadside and down an alley. Carla noted what landmarks she could and returned to her original course.

  She made a perfect landing in a wide street a block away from the lockup, gathered her chute, and scuttled for cover.

  Back at the lockup, she got the hire car and drove off to find Max. Everything was so different now, looking up, not down. She headed off in the right direction and looked out for the large neon signs near where Max fell. She found the wide road and crawled along slowly in the car, peering up the side streets and alleys as she went.

  Max had fallen unconscious under his black chute so he could not help her find him.

  After two passes of the area, she parked the car and jogged on foot, checking the alleys carefully. Finally, she found the chute and then him, underneath it. She ran back and got the car. Cars were now appearing from everywhere, the city was awake!

  Chapter - Seriously wounded.

  Carla pulled the chute away and checked Max for injury. In the gloom of the alley, her searching hands found the hot, sticky patch of blood on his front right side. She judged correctly from its size, it was an exit wound. Feeling under him, her blood ran cold, where his blood had drained out of the entry wound it had solidified like set jelly.

  Max moaned as he started to regain consciousness and said weakly. “Is that you my love? I knew you would come for me.” She kissed him tenderly and told him, he had been shot. She had to get him into the car and told him to stay conscious and help her. He groaned “OK” through gritted teeth.

  Unravelling the parachute first, she bundled it into the car on the back seat. Then she helped him stand and walked him to the car, avoiding being seen, by the frequent passing cars.

  A few minutes later they were inside the lock-up away from any prying eyes. Carla re-examined Max in the electric light and could see he was in an extremely bad way. Apart from the burns to his face and hands, he had been shot, clipping his liver.

  Carla considered her options. A call to Sam Leighton was surprisingly unhelpful. They were not on The Organisation’s business, so they were on their own. Without medical help, Max would certainly die, if not from blood loss, from infection. However, she knew the moment a medical team examined Max’s wound, all manner of government departments would be involved. The police would be informed as a matter of routine about the gunshot wound. Max’s false papers would be discovered, and because of the burns, he could be linked to the gunfight at Gregor’s home. If she kept Max at the lockup, he would soon die. She shuddered at the thought of losing him, she certainly did love the old sod; he was kind and fun to be with, brave and resourceful. He didn’t deserve to die like this. Then there was the practical aspect of how she could dispose of the body? If it was ever found, the authorities would soon be alerted and piece the facts together. It might even lead them to The Organisation. Somehow she had to find medical help from the criminal fraternity and mighty quick!

  Chapter - The FBI becomes involved.

  Within half an hour of the police arriving at Gregor’s House Mike Teal, at the FBI, was informed of the situation. The phone call from his office woke him from a troubled sleep. Gregor was under investigation and progress was good now they had an inside man, and Teal was in charge of the case.

  Teal was furious when he heard the report; the police had arrested Gregor, his wife, bodyguards and staff on drug charges. Teal didn’t give a damn about the drug gangs they had also captured, just Gregor. A year’s work was now in jeopardy, he was close to uncovering the long chain of criminals and terrorists dealing with Russian armaments and nuclear material.

  Teal hurriedly dressed, got into his car, and drove to police headquarters; he had to find a way of getting Gregor and his crowd off the hook without raising any suspicion.

  Don Henderson, chief of police was not pleased when he heard of the arrival of the FBI agent, but nevertheless, welcomed him in. "Hi Don," said Mike, trying to break the ice in a friendly way; “I hear you made a big drug bust this morning.”

  “Yes, ” replied Don guardedly, “a big knob in the Russian Mafia and three drug gangs were fighting over a large haul of cocaine.”

  “Any ideas why so many parties are involved, it’s a bit unusual to have more than two elements at a time, and the Russian isn’t known to handle drugs personally” queried Teal.

  "You're well informed Mike," said Don. “It is a strange case all round. Firstly, all of the Russian people, including the head man and his wife were high on cocaine. The gangs claim they don’t know about the Russians, but say they had a phone call telling them to meet there. When they arrived, shooting broke out, fires were started by someone in a water utility truck, and the situation just got out of hand. We found the truck that checked out, but no forensics were possible, because it was burnt out. Two Russian girls, bodyguards, claimed two persons jumped off the parapet wall with parachutes. We have no idea who they were or even if it’s true.”

  Then a knock at the frosted glass, office door stopped the conversation, and a detective hesitantly walked in.

  “It’s OK Ed; this is Mike Teal FBI, what have you got to tell me?”

  “Well, we found some conclusive evidence that proves Gregor and his wife handled the cocaine we discovered. Their fingerprints were found on some of the packets in their car. Cocaine dust was embedded in the prints found at the controls of the car, so Gregor and his wife must have handled the cocaine when they collected it, and transferred the dust when they drove back.”

  Mike Teal’s heart sank, the evidence was damning, but it did no
t make sense. Gregor and his wife would never be involved personally; they had other people to do that.

  Ed started to speak again. “We also found something extremely odd, as well. I’m not sure how to put it; someone was shot at the parapet. Crime Scene Investigators found a bullet embedded in the concrete and possibly blood spatter.”

  “What do you mean by possibly blood spatter, either it is blood, or it isn’t” snapped Don.

  “No need to snap at me,” retorted Ed, “I’m only the messenger. CSI said it looked like human blood, but it was loaded with stem cells. They have never seen anything like it! They are still working on it. They are sure that the wound is serious, probably fatal because liver tissue has been identified in the blood droplets.”

  The three men looked at each other questioningly. Mike spoke first. “Sounds to me like this is a fit-up I would like my people to check out the evidence, after all, you don’t want to look a fool in court, when some smart and expensive lawyer pulls the case apart.”

  Don grunted his agreement, he did not want this bust to fail in court either, and he knew nothing made any sense, even though all the evidence was there.

  Gregor went over the details of his arrest with his attorney, Ian Swindler. It was obvious that he was being framed, and he had a pretty good idea who was involved. The attorney told Gregor that he got the impression Don Henderson was sure he had all the evidence he needed to convict, but there was an undercurrent of doubt about the whole story. Gregor instructed his attorney to track down Jack Hoffer, alias Jack Stone, and Jane Tyler. He then went on to explain about the security man’s sightings of them in the woods above the house, the shopping incident, theft of their car and the trouble at the party. "Consider it done," said the Attorney and he left.

  Mike Teal phoned his inside man, Paul Jordan, Anna Jordan’s father and brought him up to date on the drug bust at Gregor’s Place.