The afternoon sun was bright but gave very little warmth to the city below. The air had become still and the easterly wind had died to nothing stronger that a breath. People went on their merry ways, some going to lunch and others just wasting the day away. Restaurants and delis lined the street, everything from coffee houses to Chinese restaurants.
A girl dressed in dark clothes with a dark hoodie sat at the window counter. This could not be classed as a table, as it was just a long counter with several tall stools.
She sat pretending to drink the coffee, and nobody noticed her, she just blended in. The girl looked out of the window and took note of the human traffic as it marched past, oblivious to her existence, but she preferred it that way.
The dark cowl hid her pretty young face from the world, and the short black hair and pale complexion made her look older than her nineteen years.
She took another ‘pretend’ sip from the cardboard to-go cup as she had been doing for some time, for the cup was empty. Her gaze suddenly fixed on a black woman in her mid-fifties; this woman wore a black jacket and skirt with a white blouse. The women’s eyes locked on to each other and the younger one didn’t dare to blink in case she lost her quarry in the sea of people.
Quickly, the girl got up off the chair and made for the door, trying to keep her target in sight as she ducked under a man’s arm as he opened the door to enter the coffee shop.
The girl looked around in the crowd of pedestrians, frantically searching, then she smiled as she suddenly caught a glimpse of the woman walking on the other side of the street. The younger woman didn’t know the person she was following, but she recognised her face from an old photograph.
They walked for what seemed forever, the Caucasian girl wondering where they were going, then she stopped suddenly as they approached the court house. Its large majestic form held a sense of foreboding.
The teenager shook off the thoughts running through her head and made for the black woman, all the while hoping that her destination was past the large grey-stone building.
The black lady walked up the steps to the court house, making the girl’s heart sink. Maybe she is there on jury duty, the girl thought, along with other comforting fantasies.
“Afternoon, Judge Mathews,” one of the security guards cried out and gave the black lady a friendly wave.
“Afternoon, Mr, Jeffries, how’s the wife and kids?” the judge replied, almost happy to see a friendly face.
“Oh just fine, thanks, you have a good day, Judge.”
The woman waved and disappeared through the large doors at the entranceway.
Oh great she’s a judge, no matter, the girl thought to herself. After all, she had found her, and that was all that mattered for now.
*
The day had been a long one for all of them. Much had been discovered but it wasn’t enough to draw them closer to the killer or to find the missing prisoners.
McCall looked up from her computer screen and looked out at the dark purple of the sky as the sun began to set. She had not realised just how late it had become, it was as though the last few hours had been stolen away, taken up by all the sifting through files and records.
She stretched, trying to dispel the pains of desk work, and stood up, planning to make it home and settle down after a deep bath and a glass of red.
Sam smiled to herself at the thought of a quiet evening at home, but that soon faded as her desk phone began to ring. Sam just stared at it for a moment, daring herself not to pick it up, her hands still on her jacket collar as she had pulled it up.
But then she cursed herself as she picked up the receiver and answered the call, hoping it would be something that could wait until tomorrow.
“McCall, homicide.” She had to feign enthusiasm—after years of practice, she was good at it.
“Detective, if you want to know more about the killings come to this address.”
The caller gave her the address of a warehouse near some elevated train tracks. Before she could ask anything the phone went dead. Every instinct in her body told her that there was something very wrong about the call, but it was her duty to check it out. Steel had already left to sort some ‘personal’ things out, but she sent him a text explaining everything and telling him where she was going.
*
All the way to the meeting point she had a bad feeling—the sort of feeling you have when you wished you had a bigger gun. As Sam turned a corner leading onto the appointed street of the meeting, she noticed that the sun had begun to go down into the distance and was pulling the light of the day with it like a dark blanket.
The address she’d been given was in a large parking lot near some elevated tracks of the subway.
McCall pulled in slowly and then stopped to get a lay of the land. In the distance she saw two large buildings and in the centre sat a red Camaro car. The place was bathed in darkness apart from an exterior light from one of the buildings and the odd blare of illumination from passing trains.
Sam looked at the situation and pulled out her Glock 17 handgun. She pulled back the custom stainless-steel top slide and let it pull forwards under its own spring power.
McCall pulled up slowly, getting nearer to the other car, taking note of the scattered vehicles in the lot as she went by, and making sure they were alone or, more to the point, to try and see if Steel was hiding somewhere.
She stopped and got out of her faded blue Mustang, whose motor she left running just in case she had to get the hell out of there.
Sam felt a little better knowing her service pistol—which was back in its holster at the small of her back—was ready to go, and also that her .40 Smith & Wesson Nano pistol was strapped to her right ankle.
As she walked cautiously forwards, McCall stopped as she heard the noise of the red car’s door opening, then a silhouette of a man—who must have gotten out of the driver’s side—came into view as a train rumbled past. The light spilling from the carriages gave a brief illumination to the car lot.
McCall felt a chill run through her as she noticed the car was parked with just the front end visible, making it impossible to see if there was anyone else inside. However, she knew without a doubt that there would be.
The man began to approach her just as a train came past, illuminating the immediate area for the first time. He was a thin spindly man with a receding hairline and a dress sense out of the eighties.
He stopped halfway across the distance between them, and McCall halted just short of that, so there was at least four feet between them. She watched the man as he nervously rocked from side to side, his hands firmly embedded in his jacket pockets.
There was a screech of brakes from the train as it sped by, and as it trundled into the distance the parking lot was once more cast into near darkness.
“You the cop?” The man’s voice held a southern accent as he stuttered the few words.
“And what if I wasn’t?” McCall answered sternly.
The man looked confused by the question and McCall could see his brainpower wasn’t that of a rocket scientist. Sam thought for a moment, then decided that playing with him wouldn’t really get her very far.
“Yes, I am the one you spoke to,” she told him. “So what you got for me?” Her hand slowly crept to the small of her back and she felt her fingers tighten around the cold polymer grip of her service weapon.
A scream of metal on metal filled the air as an outgoing train sped past. This time the illumination from the train was as bright as before, but was sufficient for her to see the man in front of her draw out a snub-nosed nickel .44 revolver and thrust it forwards towards McCall, who had instinctively done the same.
The two of them held off in a stalemate, each having the other in their sights. However, McCall had the steadier hand and had probably had more practice at handling this kind of situation.
“Okay, so what now?” McCall shouted over to the man, who was now sweating buckets despite the cold night air.
The train
disappeared into the distance taking the light with it.
“What do you think, you dumb bitch? We gunna kill yer cop ass then collect our money.”
McCall knew that he would probably fire the next time the train came round so she had to either be smarter or quicker than he was.
“Well if I am going to die, can I know why?” She heard the sound of a boot scuffing the floor as though he was kicking dirt out of sheer frustration.
“Look, we are just paid to kill ya, not chat, you got it?”
A shiver ran down McCall’s back. “What do you mean, we?”
She heard the man yell over to the car, then the sound of three car doors opening and closing. The others would be too far away, and hopefully with the poor light, might not be able to see anything from their location even when the train passed by.
McCall could hear the next train coming in the distance. Her only hope was to drop to the ground and shoot from there. This would be a one-chance deal. McCall heard the clatter of the wheels on the track and dropped to the ground, ready.
The assassin watched the light sweep the parking lot almost in slow motion, his finger ready on the trigger, and a special smile crossed his face as, in his mind, he could almost see her brains leave the back of her head.
He gripped the weapon with both hands ready to end this cop’s existence for good. But his smile faded as the light swept past and illuminated someone else: a large man dressed in black and wearing sunglasses! The last thought the assassin had was, why the hell has he got sunglasses on in the middle of the night?
This was indeed his very last thought.
The men at the car heard a woman’s loud scream. They laughed, thinking that their friend had actually killed a cop.
A chill wind blew and everything went dark as the train trundled off into the distance leaving behind the echoing melody of the wheels on the track. That’s when they realised it was too dark to see what had happened. They looked up to where the building’s light had given some illumination to the scene but that, too, was in darkness.
“What the hell’s going on, man?” yelled a large stocky man who was standing near the Camaro’s front passenger door. Four men stood beside the car, looking blindly into the darkness.
The sound of the next train approaching gave them a little comfort. As it drew near a scream from the rear of the vehicle made the rest of them turn, just as the light from the train illuminated the area and the empty space where the man had been standing.
The men, who were armed with handguns, spun round, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything, but there was nothing but shadows as the train took its light far off into the distance.
“What’s going on, man?” yelled the man at the rear of the car, his voice betraying his nerves. “This was supposed to be a simple job. Kill the cop and get our money. Didn’t say nothing about a friggin ghost.”
“Shut your mouth,” said his partner, “now there ain’t no ghost, Mikey probably went inside to see if he could find a light switch, that’s all.” A train on the other side of the track brought some more light.
And where there had previously been a man, there was another empty space at the rear of the car.
“Screw this, I am outta here,” the man at the driver’s side mumbled as he yanked the car’s door open and slid in. The engine roared to life as his partner got in beside him. “Okay, man, let’s get the hell out of here.”
The driver nodded and put the car into drive, and the wheels spat gravel as it sped away, swerving past McCall’s Mustang and the dead body of their colleague.
The headlights did little to guide the way in the darkened parking lot. Parked cars suddenly appeared as they hunted for the exit, causing the driver to swerve erratically in order to miss them.
“I can’t see a damn thing, where the hell is the exit?” yelled the driver, full of panic. As they turned past another set of cars they saw the lights of a train approaching on their right-hand side.
“Damn it, man, we’re going round in friggin’ circles!” the passenger cursed, slapping the driver on the head.
The driver looked back at him and bared his teeth. “Do you want to drive?”
The man next to him was about to answer but screamed out instead, pointing ahead.
And the driver’s gaze shot forwards in time to see a tow truck with its ramp down in front of them.
He went to swerve but it was too late and the car’s left side travelled up and off the back of the truck, flipping the car over onto its roof.
Bright sparks illuminated the car’s direction of travel, until it crashed into the building in front, with a loud crescendo of scraping metal and brick.
The night was once more silent apart from the noise of the train fading into the darkness and one other sound, that of boots walking slowly across the parking lot towards them, scuffing the loose gravel and broken glass as they went.
The two men sat strapped into their seats were trying to get their breath back, but their anxiety denied them that, their hearts pounding in their chests. The footsteps stopped, and silence filled the air.
“Is anyone there? Hello?” The driver tried to unbuckle but his belt was stuck and so was the one on the passenger side.
The silence continued, making the two men even more nervous. What was the cop up to? How had she taken all their men out?
“Hey, is there anyone out there? Help us please, dammit!” The driver’s anger was a mixture of fear and annoyance. The footsteps started again, and this time they were much closer.
“Hey, is anyone—” The driver stopped yelling as he suddenly heard what sounded like water being emptied, then from the dim light of the car’s radio he could see the glint of something being reflected in liquid on the roof below him. A sudden panic made the two men struggle more.
“Hi there,” came the sudden voice of a man with a friendly British accent. The two men stopped struggling and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wow, man, we had a bit of an accident, could you get us out?” the driver called out.
There was a pause.
“Sure, not a problem,” said the man with the British voice. “Oh, wait, sorry.”
They listened as the stranger began to walk then stopped. Then there was the sound of gravel scraping the ground as the man must have turned on his heels.
“I nearly forgot,” their saviour said. “I have a friend who has a couple of questions, which by the way, I hope you don’t answer because not doing so gives me an excuse to try this experiment I once saw on television.”
The trapped men suddenly had a bad feeling that things had gotten worse for them.
“Uhm, try what experiment?” the passenger asked, hoping he was wrong about the answer he was expecting.
“Well you see, I have a theory that an emergency flare can light fuel. I have seen it on the movies and always wanted to try it.”
The men were still trying to get out of their seats, but to no avail.
“What do you want, man?” cried the passenger to the shadowy figure.
“Answers!” This time it was a woman’s voice and it wasn’t as friendly as that of the British guy. The two men froze at her tone.
“Who sent you?” the woman demanded.
“You’re... you’re that cop?” The passenger’s words were filled with fear.
“Yes, I’m that cop. Now answer the question. Who sent you?”
There was a bright beam from a flashlight which filled the small space of the vehicle. Now everyone could see each other, apart from the British man who stood some distance away.
“You see, you’re a cop and cops don’t do stuff like this. You gotta protect us,” the driver said, and he and his friend laughed until Steel came into view. He was holding the flare pistol.
That was when they realised their peril.
“You have got to be kidding me!” the passenger added. Their mouths fell open in fear as they saw that the British man held an emergency flare in his leather-gloved hand.
/> “Who sent you?” Steel asked this time, hoping that the item in his grasp might spur them on to talk.
“I don’t know, I swear,” the driver begged. “Someone pushed a note under our door at the hotel, it just told us to get rid of some female cop and they’d give us two-hundred-and-fifty K. I swear, they just gave us directions and a time.”
Steel tapped the top of the flare on the driver’s head.
“Where did you get the hardware from?” McCall asked, still having trouble believing their story.
“It said everything would be provided at the location, they even threw in this car.”
Steel looked puzzled for a second before asking, “So how big was this bloody note?”
McCall gave Steel a nasty look, then tapped the passenger on the head with the flashlight to regain their attention. “So you’re telling me that someone picked you guys out of a cast of millions to do this?”
The two trapped men looked at each other, then back to McCall and nodded.
“That’s pretty much the truth,” answered the passenger. “Look, we come into the city to have a good time which didn’t work out too well when we got arrested for takin’ a leak.”
McCall looked confused for a moment. “What did you do, pee on a church or something?”
The two men nodded, with an embarrassed look on their faces.
“So why did you think you wouldn’t get caught? Didn’t you realise that I would come with backup?” She could see by their expressions that the thought hadn’t really come into their minds, they’d just been attracted by the idea of getting easy cash.
Sam McCall stood up, shaking her head as she tried to grasp the very idea of it all. She turned and started walking back to her car, and Steel stood up and started to follow.
“Hey, what about us?” the driver called after them.
Steel was a good twenty feet from them before he stopped and turned. He aimed the flare and fired it. Everything seemed to slow down as the ball of red light was propelled towards the screaming men in the car.
McCall stopped and turned. Her screams for him to not fire it mixed with those of the men in the car. The bright light illuminated the terrified faces of the men who struggled to break free of their belts, and everything was turned red as the fireball grew close to the car. The men held each other and closed their eyes, as if not seeing what was happening would make it go away.
False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) Page 10