Heller’s Decision

by JD Nixon

  “Put your shirt over your nose and mouth and get down low,” I urged Benjy. “Heller’s thrown in some smoke grenades or something. The men will be here in seconds.”

  We weren’t affected yet, but it wouldn’t take long, judging by how quickly the smoke spread. I couldn’t leave Barb helpless, topless, in the centre of the room when a mass of angry men was about to storm the building. They might not notice her in all the smoke.

  “Stay here until I come back, or one of Heller’s men comes to get you. Don’t make a peep!” I ordered Benjy, and cautiously crept my way around the crates until I had a clear run to the centre of the room.

  The lights went out, plunging the room into total darkness. It seemed then as if all the windows and doors in the room exploded and a swarm of aliens invaded. Later, I realised it was the Heller’s men, wearing gas masks and night vision goggles.

  I took advantage of the anarchy to sprint to the approximate place I thought Barb was situated. I ran smack bang into a man, and not knowing if it was a Heller’s or a PRON man, I dodged his grasping hands. I literally stumbled over Barb’s chair, lucky not to knock her flying. The smoke killed my eyes, and they streamed with tears, my nose running with snot. I had trouble breathing. I grabbed the back of Barb’s chair and dragged her, still tied to it, to the edge of the room, near Roger. I had to push my way through fighting men, ducking and weaving, trying to avoid fists and boots. She panicked and struggled against her restraints until I held her face in both of my hands and whispered in her ear.

  “Barb, it’s Tilly. I’m going to untie you, then we’ll untie Roger and try to get out of here. Okay?”

  She nodded her understanding and I blindly fumbled at the knots, somehow eventually freeing her. Confusion and bedlam reigned around us, grunting, shouting and the hard crunching thud of punching all obscured by the drifting smoke. We groped our way to Roger and untied him, rousing him to a half-conscious state. Barb and I half-dragged, half-carried him outside through the splintered door. We all coughed and spluttered in the fresh air. I left them both propped up safely at the side of the building, unbuttoning and removing Roger’s shirt to drape around Barb’s shoulders to cover her nakedness.

  I didn’t want to go back inside, but I was sure that no one on Heller’s team would spot poor Bick lying at the rear of the room. I kept to the far side, pressed up against the wall, barely missing being crushed by a flying body. I felt my way to the back of the room where I thought I’d seen Bick. On my hands and knees I groped around in the dark in front of me, touching something that was thankfully still warm. Bick was alive! I could have wept with joy.

  I shook him, hoping he would rouse like Roger, but he remained out cold. I hooked my arms under his armpits and, centimetre by centimetre, dragged him across the floor. It was hard work. He was a complete dead weight and a big muscled man, bulky and heavy. My lower back screamed halfway to the doorway. Someone stumbled against us, falling on me, flattening me to the ground.

  “Shit!” I shrieked in pain, attempting to get up. The man launched off me, back into the melee. I didn’t think he’d even noticed me, but I hurt big time. I clutched Bick again and continued my slow, painful way to escape, finally reaching the doorway. I managed to drag him to where Barb and Roger hunched up against the external wall, hugging each other. I slid down the wall, falling heavily on the ground, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

  Thank God we’d all escaped from the madness. When we recovered a little I’d ask Barb and Roger to help me carry Bick to the 4WD I’d been forced to abandon.

  And that’s when I remembered Benjy.

  I couldn’t go back in, I thought, exhausted. But I couldn’t leave him there either, particularly as he’d stayed by my side when he could have ditched me for safety.

  Barb promised me they’d look after Bick, while I went back in for Benjy. After that, I would leave it to the Heller’s men to sort out the PRON suits. I’d done my fair share.

  I hugged the far wall again as far as possible, until I needed to cross over the room to reach the crate stacks on the other side. I decided to just make a run for it through the thrashing bodies, head down, shoulders hunched. My mistake. I was battered from all sides, men colliding into me and pushing me.

  A PRON man grabbed me around the waist, twisting me around, shouting triumphantly, “I have one of your women!”

  No, you haven’t, I thought savagely, biting him hard on the arm. He released me in pain, and I stumbled away from him, disoriented in the chaotic dark. I wasn’t the best at navigation and I became lost, staggering around in the battlefield for a while until I saw the vague outline of the crates looming in the dark. I corrected my direction and headed over there with determined single-mindedness. I felt my way to where Benjy was, taking a few misturns on the way. If you’ve ever wondered, one crate stack looked like another in the dark.

  Sweet little Benjy obediently lay on the floor still, waiting for someone to come and rescue him. I took his hand, and decided instead of going back through the men with him, to escape via the entrance we’d come through. It just seemed less complicated and wouldn’t subject Benjy to the violent fray.

  We ran through the inner door, back down the hallway to the kitchen.

  Another mistake.

  I’d forgotten about the man we’d left knocked out in the kitchen. Somewhat recovered, he’d had plenty of time to pick apart my pathetic knots.

  And although I was personally pleased to see him alive and breathing, for some reason he wasn’t too happy to see me again.

  This time, he didn’t grin at me.

  Chapter 14

  “That fucking hurt what you did to me earlier,” he snarled. “You’re going to pay for that, you stupid bitch.”

  “Aw, you might like me better if you got to know me some more,” I pouted.

  “I wouldn’t like you if you were the last bitch on earth.”

  “What if I was the last bitch on earth with a gun?” I asked, pulling out his gun from my waistband and pointing it at him.

  He wasn’t happy about that either. I guess some people are just hard to please.

  “Give me my gun back.”

  “Come and make me,” I bluffed, trying to sound badass.

  But there must have been something hesitant in my face or stance holding the gun that suddenly restored his confidence. He grinned at me again, and I knew I was in trouble.

  “Stay back,” I threatened, aiming it at him in what I considered to be a very intimidating manner.

  He laughed.

  “I will shoot you,” I promised in my tough chick voice.

  His face crinkled with amusement. His jolliness was really starting to irritate me.

  “Go on. Do it. You haven’t got the balls.” He took a few steps towards me.

  “Don’t tempt me.” I took a step backwards. “I probably have bigger balls than you do.”

  “The safety’s on,” he said, grinning again, advancing.

  “Don’t bullshit me, sunshine,” I blustered, not having a clue if it was or not or whether the gun even had one.

  I decided if he took one more step towards me I was going to shoot him. Somewhere that wouldn’t kill him, like his shoulder or his leg.

  He took another step closer. I pulled the trigger, aiming at his shoulder. The gun didn’t work. I couldn’t depress the trigger.

  He laughed. “I told you the safety was on, you dumb bitch.”

  I threw the gun at him, hitting him on the forehead. He staggered backwards with the impact and I rushed him, shoulder first. My momentum was too strong and I knocked him flying, going down with him, in a tangle of arms and legs. We struggled for a while, Benjy hovering, wanting to help, but not sure what to do. I reached into the other pocket of my jeans and pulled out his switchblade. I flicked the blade out and held it to his throat.

  “I do know how to use this, fucker, so keep squirming and you’ll be soon be a kebab.”

  He stopped struggling once he felt the sharp prick of the bl
ade against his neck. I watched, almost mesmerized, as a few drops of blood squeezed from his neck against the blade.

  “Benjy, find more twine. And fetch me the frying pan again. This guy obviously hasn’t learned his lesson yet.”

  He thrashed about then, bucking me off him, making me drop the knife. We wrestled each other on the floor, trying to prevent each from grabbing it. With his hand in my face, he reached out and was just about to close his fingers around it when a boot-clad foot stood on his wrist. He shrieked in pain.

  A cold, calm voice spoke from the inner door. “Go outside now, Matilda. And take that boy with you. Go wait in my car.”

  I looked up from the ground. Heller stood at the door, his gun aimed at the PRON man, his face cold and hard, Clive and Farrell not far behind him. They were all filthy, bruised and a little bloodied.

  Heller forcefully hauled the man upwards to his feet. I suspected it would be a long time before he felt like grinning again.

  “Matilda, I said to leave, please. I meant now,” Heller ordered, the expression on his face not encouraging me to argue with him. I took Benjy by the hand and we exited, jogging around the side of the building to where Barb and Roger still huddled. Not a sound could be heard from inside the building when we passed the front door.

  We waited at the side until Heller, Clive and Farrell found us, Heller kneeling down to examine Bick. He looked up at Clive.

  “You know what to do.” Clive nodded, his face a stony mask. “And do it properly. I don’t want any questions being asked. I’m taking Barnes to the hospital. Farrell, take the clients back to their hotel. Matilda, you and the boy come with me.”

  Farrell scooped up a shaky, weeping Barb and woozy Roger. Heller flung Bick over his shoulder, though not without some effort. Benjy and I followed Heller to his 4WD. He propped a still unconscious Bick in the front seat. Benjy and I sat in the back seat, not saying a word to each other. And from the way which Benjy continually cast fearful glances at Heller, it didn’t take a genius to work out the young boy was afraid of him.

  “Where do you live?” Heller barked at Benjy. He managed to stammer out his address after a few attempts. The 4WD spun off into the night and it was a quiet trip to Benjy’s suburb.

  “Thank you for everything you did to help me,” I said softly, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Silent, he nodded and scrambled from the vehicle as soon as it stopped, almost running into his parents’ house. He didn’t look back at us.

  Heller drove to the hospital, bullying the emergency staff into prioritising the unconscious Bick. We sat in the waiting room for hours and though Heller was probably oblivious, I noticed the curious glances thrown our way. And sure, we both looked a little roughed up.

  I used some of the time to ring Dixie to give her a heavily edited version of what had happened to Bick. She wanted to rush to the hospital straight away but I discouraged her. It was a long trip for her and she currently didn’t own a car. By the time she arrived she would have missed visiting hours. I promised to let her know as soon as we heard anything from the doctors, and she was happy to leave it at that.

  I grew increasingly weary after the whole awful day, but Heller remained alert and awake, responding to emails on his phone. I leaned against the solid comfort of his shoulder as he worked, my eyes feeling heavy. On a post-adrenaline slump, I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

  “I told you to stay in the vehicle,” he said softly, rearranging himself so his arm was around me and I was able to nestle more comfortably on his chest.

  “I wanted to stay there too,” I protested weakly, eyes closing. “The gun insisted otherwise.”

  He kissed my forehead. “You were very brave today, my sweet.”

  “I didn’t feel very brave.”

  “Nonetheless, you were. I’m sure the clients and Barnes will be very grateful for what you did.”

  “What happened to those PRON men?” I mumbled, half-asleep.

  He kissed my forehead again. “Get some sleep. We might be here a while.”

  Too tired to even care he’d avoided answering yet another of my questions, I soon fell asleep against his chest, my dreams jumbled and disturbed, full of smoke and guns. I jerked and twitched in my sleep in response. What seemed like a second later, someone was trying to wake me. Reluctant to return to the conscious world, I shrugged off the hand on my arm.

  “Go away,” I grumbled, trying to turn over in bed, only to discover I wasn’t in bed at all. I blearily forced opened my eyes, still red and raw from the smoke grenades. I didn’t see anything in the near vicinity I liked, so I shut my eyes again, leaning against my hard, but somehow comforting, pillow.

  “Barnes briefly woke up,” someone said in my ear, and my neurons fired up immediately. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, which refused to focus properly.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “He’ll live.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Quarter past three in the morning.”

  “Is he really going to be okay?”

  “Yes. All the tests are good. He was just knocked out. A bit of blood loss, some bruising. He’ll feel sorry for himself tomorrow, but he’ll live.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “I’ll ask, but he’s gone to sleep.”

  I suspected he forced the hospital staff to let me visit Bick, but however it happened, I soon looked down at his appealing face, relaxed and vacant in sleep, massive bruising already visible on one side of his forehead. After I’d assured myself of his safety, I sent Dixie a text message, promising to take her to visit him tomorrow.

  I turned to Heller. “I need to sleep.”

  “I know. Let’s go.” And holding my hand, he led me to the vehicle, to his flat, and to his shower. I apathetically undressed and washed myself, slipping into some clean pyjamas afterwards. While he showered, I turned his TV to the news channel, sipping a glass of milk, equally hoping and dreading to see some report on the night’s activities. He joined me on the lounge, smelling good, his skin still slightly damp. An item about a major fire at a building in an industrial estate led the broadcast. Accompanying footage showed a number of fire engines at the site and firefighters battling a fiercely burning inferno. The newsreader told us solemnly that it took four hours to extinguish the blaze.

  “I hope no firefighters were injured putting that out,” I commented neutrally, eyes fixed on the screen, not wanting to look into his. I was afraid of what I’d see there.

  “So do I, Matilda,” he replied, equally neutral.

  “What happened to those men? Were they inside the building when it burnt?”

  “You don’t need to worry about them. Whatever happened at that building is my business, not yours. I don’t want you to think about it.”

  “That’s not going to make me stop me thinking about it.”

  “It should.”

  My phone rang. I frowned, puzzled. It was 4:30 AM. Who would be ringing me at this time? I padded over to where I had left it and answered.

  “Tilly, it’s Brian.”

  “Hello, Brian,” I said in cautious answer to my oldest brother.

  “I’m at the scene of a fire in an industrial estate at the back of town. The fireys eventually managed to put it out, but they’ve discovered something very interesting in the ruins.”

  “Really?” My eyes shot over to Heller. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was listening in to my conversation.

  “Yes. Some bodies. Quite a number of them actually.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “For one thing, these people didn’t burn to death. They were already dead when the place was torched. The inspector has assured us that from his preliminary investigation, it appears this was a deliberately lit fire. There are traces of accelerant everywhere. Obviously we don’t have any autopsy results yet, but the forensics team is pretty confident we’re going to find that the men were all shot dead before the fire started.”

 
“Again, why are you telling me this? Why would you think I’d want to know about terrible things like that?”

  “We have a witness. Not a good witness. Not a reliable witness. A homeless drunk, actually. But he swears on his mother’s grave that he saw a flotilla of black 4WDs driving away from that building just before the fire flared up. He doesn’t know the make or model, of course, but I thought that was interesting. Don’t you, Tilly?”

  “Heller’s isn’t the only business with a fleet of black vehicles, if that’s what you’re implying. I think you’re scratching around here.”

  “Yes, but everything was done so professionally, that my thoughts naturally turned to him.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what to say, Brian. I don’t know anything about it. In fact I was just watching the news about that fire and hoping that no firefighters were injured putting it out.”

  “Why are you up so late?”

  “I’m not up late, I’m up early,” I lied. “I’m an early riser now. I have to fit a workout into my day now.” Lie upon lie. And all to a cop. I should have been ashamed of myself.

  His job had deeply ingrained scepticism into his psyche and I supposed he’d heard a lot of untruths from various people over the years. Add that there was no love lost between Heller and him and he didn’t approve of me working for him, it was clear he didn’t believe me.

  “If you hear anything, you’d better come and tell me. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you it’s a criminal offence to be an accessory to a crime, even after the fact.”

  “I told you, I don’t know anything about it.”

  He rang off without saying goodbye. He didn’t trust Heller at all and was very suspicious of his activities. In that respect, Brian was a top-notch detective.

  Heller raised his eyebrows in query, so I told him about the witness. And the bodies.

  He shrugged. “There were some unavoidable casualties, Matilda. Some gunfire was exchanged.”

  “How many are ‘some’ casualties? And did they include any of your men?”