Heller’s Decision

by JD Nixon

  “To blame for what?”

  “His business. Heller’s stealing all his big-name clients by undercutting him. He shows them just how much Dad’s been ripping them off for years. They’re happy to move to Heller’s.”

  “He’s a mean drunk?”

  He nodded his head. “He smashed up the lounge room.” I wasn’t surprised – Chris Kirnin was mean when he was sober.

  “So Select Security is on the skids?” He nodded again, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry to say this, but Heller will be pleased to hear that. He’s a fierce competitor.”

  He raised miserable eyes to mine. “So is my father.”

  “Let me look at these wounds.”

  I patched him up as best I could considering I had only a rudimentary first aid kit in my flat.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “Do you think you have any internal injuries? Broken ribs perhaps?”

  “Maybe just some bruising.” His eyes were full of pain and hurt. “He knocked me over and kicked me a couple of times. He said things about me. That I was useless. That I’d never be anything more than a boy.”

  I clasped one of his hands in mine. “You know that’s not true, Marcus. Remember when Heller congratulated you for being a man? He wouldn’t say something like that unless he genuinely meant it. He’s not one for giving out praise freely. You should be proud of that.”

  “I s’pose.”

  “Tell me what happened with your mother. Is she still there at your house?”

  “She tried to stop Dad, but then he turned on her. She screamed at me to run, to find somewhere safe to stay.” He jumped up and paced around, agitated. “I shouldn’t have gone. I left her there with him.”

  “You made the right choice. Your mother wanted to make sure you were safe, as any mother would. At least that’s one less thing for her to worry about. The best thing we can do for her and you is to call the police.”

  “No! You never call the police. Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

  “But your mother –”

  “No! She wouldn’t want the police involved either. I came here because I thought you could help me.”

  “Of course I’ll help you. You can stay here as long as you want. I’m sure nobody will mind.” In fact I was pretty sure lots of people here would mind me giving sanctuary to anyone connected to Select Security.

  “That’s not the help I want. I want you to rescue my mother.”

  “Rescue her? How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I have money saved up. I want to hire Heller’s.”

  “We can’t take an assignment from a sixteen-year-old.”

  “I’m seventeen now!” he said hotly.

  “That doesn’t make any difference. There are all sorts of conflict of interest issues involved in working for a close relative of one of our main rivals. Heller runs an ethical business.” Well, mostly ethical. I had my suspicions about some of his more secret activities.

  He slumped back against the lounge. “I thought you’d help me. That’s why I came here. I have nobody else to go to. You were nice to me last time I was here.”

  “No relatives close by?”

  “They’re all Dad’s. Mum’s family live in the outback.”

  “Are there any Select men you trust?”

  He laughed in despair. “You’re kidding, right?”

  What a dilemma. I wanted to help him, but I knew I’d struggle to round up anyone else to come with me. There were no friends of Select around here. I battled in my mind about what to do. But when I thought of the great wrong Chris Kirnin, that ugly bastard, had done to me, I wanted to hurt him back twice as much.

  “Okay,” I yielded. “But I’m so rusty. I haven’t worked here for ages. How much did your father drink? Could he have passed out by now?”

  “He was very drunk.”

  “Nobody can stay awake forever when you’ve had that much to drink.” He shot me a questioning glance. “Not that I would know. I barely touch the stuff,” I lied piously, feeling I should set some kind of good example to the poor kid. Being Kirnin’s son couldn’t have been easy.

  “So what’s your plan?” Marcus asked me, his face full of hopeful expectancy.

  Plan? Oh geez, now the pressure was on. “Um, ring your house. If your father answers, hang up immediately. If your mother answers, tell her your safe. She’ll be worried sick about you.”

  “I don’t have my phone. There was no time to grab it.”

  “Use mine.” I handed him my mobile.

  The trust in his eyes for me to rescue his mother crushed me with the fear of disappointing him. How could anyone possibly mistake me for a responsible adult? Especially one with plans. But this was his mother and she was in trouble, so I didn’t see that I had many options.

  “Nobody answered,” Marcus said, his voice tremulous. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, Marcus. But let’s go now.” I thought for a moment. “Let me run down to the basement to turn off the mains again. While I’m doing that you sneak to the basement and into the backseat of my car. I’ll make sure the doors are unlocked. Don’t let any of the men spot you. It will be chaos in the darkness. It’s your best friend.” I bunched my fist and held out my knuckles. He tapped his knuckles against mine in a show of comradeship. “Come on, partner. Remember, don’t do anything crazy-brave. We have no weapons, except . . .”

  I ran to my room to retrieve an almost full canister of capsicum spray. I decided not to tell Marcus about that, instead slipping it into the inside pocket of the dark-coloured jacket I pulled on at the last minute.

  “Down the stairs and straight to my car. Do you remember where the first basement is?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right then.” I patted him on the shoulder, hoping this whole night wasn’t going to turn into the biggest clusterfuck ever known in history.

  I slipped out through my door and took the stairs two-by-two, breathless by the time I reached the basement. I killed the mains again, thanking all the gods that there was a gap in security camera coverage directly at the electricity box, though I knew after my little tricks, that deficit would be attended to immediately. I would never get away with this in the future. I stumble-felt my way over to my car, throwing myself across the seats in the front, the gear stick digging uncomfortably into my arm.

  The thump of heavy boots thundered down the stairs again. The backdoor to my car opened stealthily and a weight leaned down on the backseat.

  “Marcus, I’m here. Stay low.”

  The lights flooded the garage again.

  “What the fuck’s going on tonight?” asked one of the men.

  “Dunno,” said another. “Something’s blowing regularly.”

  “Which is more than can be said for your wife,” joked the first.

  “I thought it was your vibrator that shorted out.”

  “What? The vibrator I borrowed from your wife? The only thing in your house that’s big enough to satisfy her?”

  Their loud shouts of laughter and dirty trash talking became fainter as they climbed the stairs.

  They’d only performed a cursory look around, not bothering to search the vehicles. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath the whole time until they left. The tension that fled my muscles made me sigh-groan out loud.

  “Stay low, Marcus.” I rather everyone speculate and gossip about my strange behaviour than realise I’d smuggled a Select family member inside the Warehouse.

  I screeched out of the garage as fast as I could safely handle.

  As soon as we cleared the Warehouse I instructed Marcus to sit up and put on his seatbelt. “Where do you live?” When I heard the name of the ultra-ritzy suburb, I had to get him to direct me there, as I’d never set foot in the place.

  We pulled up a block away from his place. I twisted in my seat to talk to Marcus.

  “Your priority is to secure your mother and get her out of your house. Even if you just take her
to one of your neighbours or back to the car. Somewhere safe. I’ll deal with everyone else.” Oh God, I hope there wasn’t anyone else. “Give me a quick layout of the house.”

  “The front door opens to a small entry with a study on one side and a media room on the other. Then there’s a hallway that leads down to the lounge room, dining room and kitchen.”

  “Are those rooms open-plan?”

  “Yes. And the bedrooms and bathrooms have doors on to the hallway.”

  “What’s on the top floor?”

  “Mum’s and Dad’s bedroom, bathroom and a study for Dad.”

  We scoped the house for a while, peeking in every window we could access, but nothing stirred. I expected a troop of huge Select men to swarm us at any minute, alerted to our presence by the myriad of security cameras watching the property from every possible angle.

  “Key?”

  He handed his house key to me and as quietly as possible, I inserted it into the lock and turned, my heart pounding. I pushed the door open cautiously into a wall of darkness. A high-pitched alarm screeched out, making both of us jump.

  “Shit! Turn it off, Marcus! The whole neighbourhood will come running.”

  He hastily punched numbers into the code box and the screeched abruptly stopped.

  “Shit. That took a few years off my life,” I said, willing my blood pressure back to normal, which was a big ask considering I was currently breaking into the house of a big, ugly bastard.

  The glow of a television strobed from a room at the end of the hallway, the same direction from which came muted voices and a roaring kind of noise. I crossed my fingers that, after a bit of family bashing, Kirnin hadn’t decided to do some entertaining with his best friends, because then I’d get really angry at his callousness.

  We quickly checked all the rooms leading on to the hallway, finding them all empty.

  “Wait back here,” I instructed Marcus.

  I crept towards the lounge room, glad that the house was modern brick and concrete, and not old, creaky timber. I sidled up to the doorway, flattened against the hall wall, my capsicum spray in my hand. Anyone who startled me tonight was going to severely regret it.

  I craned my neck around the corner. No lights were on, but the TV cast enough illumination to make out the bulk of Kirnin slouched in an armchair, a couple of half-full bottles of liquor on the floor near him. I realised then that the mysterious roaring noise was in fact him snoring. It was so loud and deep, I had no doubts about its genuineness. He wasn’t playing possum.

  I advanced on him, my capsicum spray held out at arm’s length.

  “Kirnin,” I said in a normal volume of voice.

  He didn’t move.

  I tried for a louder pitch. “Kirnin?”

  Still nothing – he was majorly zonked out on booze. I held the bottles to the light of the TV. One rum, one bourbon. He wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  I jogged out of the room back to Marcus. “You wait here while I go upstairs. Your father looks as though he’s passed out, but if you hear him stirring, you get out of here and ring Heller’s and ask for security. Ask for Clive or Rumbles or whoever’s on duty tonight. Tell them to get their butts here as fast as they can. Do you understand?” He nodded. “Good. Go get your phone and pack a small bag of clothes and anything else you need. You and your mum aren’t staying in this house one second longer.”

  I waited until he spun around and went into one of the lower ground bedrooms. I crept up the stairs, hoping Kirnin hadn’t ordered one of his goons to watch over his wife. I only hoped she was up here and not buried in the back yard.

  I held my capsicum spray in front of me again, but my hand shook enough to make my spray a little uncertain. I knew full well what Chris Kirnin was capable of, and I didn’t want to become part of any more of his revenge pacts on Heller.

  Only one door led off the small foyer on the first floor. I tested the door handle and it yielded for me. I pushed the door open, my spray ready. It opened into a living space, probably a pleasant space to have a coffee and read a book any other time, but now showing the aftereffects of a fierce struggle. A lamp and the table on which it rested had been knocked over, magazines spilled over the floor. Cushions lay haphazardly scattered around the room and one of the armchairs sat at a peculiar angle.

  A half-closed door led off the living area, and I crept over to it. Soft moaning came from inside the room. I slowly pushed the door open. When I saw the woman in the room, I was glad I’d told Marcus to stay downstairs.

  His mother laid naked, each wrist tied to a corner of the bed. Fresh bruising and welts showed stark against her pale skin. Her nose had crusted with dried blood and one eye was swollen and bruised. I couldn’t even imagine what suffering she’d endured under the hands of her own husband.

  She whimpered when she rolled her good eye towards me, flinching back into the bloodied mattress. I pushed the spray into a pocket on my jeans and held my palms out to signify my harmlessness.

  “Mrs Kirnin, my name’s Tilly. Marcus came to me for help.”

  “Marcus,” she whispered weakly, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Is he all right?”

  “Yes. He’s downstairs and –”

  “Don’t let him see me like this!”

  “Of course not. I told him to stay downstairs. I’m going to untie you.”

  “Chris . . .”

  “He’s dead to the world, drunk into a stupor. I’m going to take both Marcus and you back to my place where you’ll be safe.”

  I began untying the complicated knots on the rope binding her to the bed.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Tilly. I live with Heller.”

  She flinched. “No! I can’t go to Heller’s place. That man is the ruin of Chris.”

  “No, he’s not. No doubt your husband blames him, but the ruin of Kirnin is his own behaviour.”

  “He’ll kill me when he finds out.”

  “We’ll call the police when we get back to my place.”

  “No! You never involve the police. You should know that.”

  “Sometimes it’s the only thing to do. This is one of those times. This is a criminal matter. Your husband has to be punished for what he’s done to you and Marcus.”

  I untied the last knot and helped her sit up. She winced as she did and her gait to her walk-in robe was slow and careful.

  “Mrs Kirnin, did he . . . attack you sexually as well?”

  She stopped where she was, her head hanging, and heaved a huge weeping sigh. But she continued through her robe towards her bathroom without confirming or denying. The door closed softly. After a few moments I heard the gush of her peeing and then the retching noises of her throwing up. She flushed, spent a few moments further and shuffled out to find clothes.

  While she dressed at a snail’s pace, I threw random things into a bag I found, enough to get her through a few days away from home. When she’d finished dressing, I ushered her down the stairs and instructed her to go to my car, where Marcus waited apprehensively.

  I took a few minutes to check that Kirnin hadn’t regained consciousness. I was tempted to call the police now. Surely the bloodstained sheets on the bed upstairs would be enough to have him charged with something. In the end, I decided not to. The accusations would spur the police into action faster if it were Mrs Kirnin and Marcus making them.

  Mother and son hugged each other in the back seat, both crying, all the way back to the Warehouse. Inside the garage I had to ask them both to lie low. Despite knowing my luck was running out, I tried the mains cut-off ruse again, virtually pushing Marcus and his mother – Rose – up the stairs to clear the ground floor landing.

  We were climbing up to the first floor, when a flashlight illuminated me and a gravelly voice asked, “What’s going on here?”

  It was Clive.

  Chapter 32

  “It’s just me,” I said innocently, turning around and climbing down a few steps so he focussed the beam on me
.

  “And what makes you think that arouses less suspicion in me?” he snapped. “What are you up to? Every time the lights go out, I find you skulking around in the dark.”

  “Of course it’s dark – the lights went out,” I snapped back at him. “I went out and I came back. You keeping tabs on me or something?”

  “Seems like a mighty coincidence that the lights only go out when you’re in the garage where the power switch is located.”

  “What are you trying to imply?”

  He stared at me for a long time, his flashlight blinding me. “Nothing,” he said eventually.

  “Good. I’m going to my place, but I’d appreciate it if you could fix the glitch in the electrical circuit. It’s becoming dangerous around here.”

  He played the beam of his light up the stairs, possibly in an attempt to ensure my safe ascendancy, but it only made my heart pound in fear. Luckily for me, Marcus had the sense to drag his mother around the corner of the landing out of the line of vision.

  I sprinted up the stairs and, scared that the lights and cameras would soon be on, pushed my unwanted guests up the stairs to my flat. Once inside, I tried to attend to Rose’s injuries. I wanted to call the police; she wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

  “Please, Rose. Make a complaint with the police before you shower, so they can . . .” I cast a meaningful nod of my head in Marcus’ direction. “You know. Do tests to prove things.”

  “I won’t be making a complaint to the police.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t. You can’t make me. He’s my husband.”

  “Rose. He’s abused both you and Marcus. You’re not safe with him.”

  “He didn’t mean it.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I twisted my head to the miserable teen in the room with us. “Marcus, go to my bedroom and shut the door. Your mother and I have things to discuss.”

  “But –”

  “Go!” I barked, a little harsher than I meant. He slouched away and I returned my attention to his mother. “Of course he meant it. He tied you to the bed and assaulted you. How is there no deliberate intent in that?”

  “You should understand him. You’re with Heller. You know how these men are. They’re very dominant.”