7PM - Bjorn
Page 6
“Quite ironic for someone on death row.”
“You need to listen to me. No doubt you’ve heard of Robert Bannister, the presidential candidate who’s gaining a gigantic following. Well, he’s attending a function in Las Vegas in two days’ time, and someone intends to end his campaign trail right there and then for good if you know what I mean. I had to reach out and find people I could trust and at least one person who would believe me. Well, one of the first places I went to after I broke out was an internet café, and I discovered Jack’s blog. I found that person I needed to believe me and to help me find you and Hannah.”
“So you put a postcard in my mailbox? Scared the shit out of me and expected me to believe this far-fetched idea you have about someone going after Bannister? Well played, but I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t have the internet here, do you? Or a cell phone?”
“No, and that’s why we like it here. I know you have a gun and everything, but I need to ask you to leave.”
“Okay, Terry.” Brittany pointed the gun at him. “I tried to be nice, but get in the fucking car now and drive us to town.”
******
Hannah sat across the table from the man with a tough as nails appearance, Jack Griffon, but she guessed inside the tough exterior, a big soft heart existed. She knew the military types since way back when she was just a little girl.
“I did a lot of bad things to get into that organisation, Griffon. I can’t even think about what I did without feeling dirty.”
Jack took a long gulp of his latte. In his experience, the independent café owners made some of the best coffee he had ever tried. “But you found Terry, and YOU saved him. I did some bad things too back when I worked for them. I trained girls to kill people. I helped to create monsters. I lost all respect for women and myself and had sex with anything that drew breath. I even got together with—” he cut himself off.
Hannah reached out to him and touched his hand, “Then we have some things in common. Your blog got my attention, and I bet you thought no one would listen to you. People love to read conspiracy theories, but who actually does anything about something they read? I saw what you wrote, and went through some cold cases, found some things relating to what you wrote, but I couldn’t find someone to back me until Morrison came through. Now he’s in the FBI, holding quite a high rank too, and I wouldn’t mind betting it was because he took the credit for the 5PM case.”
Jack released Hannah’s hand. “I’m in awe of how you got through that ordeal against five of them.”
“I had some help from Terry’s sister Janet. The woman she killed was the one who hired the team.”
“I guess you couldn’t let the press get hold of that one. Anyway, take a longer look at that card, near your name and address.”
Hannah did as he suggested. Beneath the handwritten entries, she saw a typed website address, www.HOB/2/.com. “It’s probably just the venue’s website address.”
“Now, come on, Hannah. Where’s the detective in you? Everything serves a purpose. Don’t just neglect the big clue in front of you.”
She turned her eyes in the direction of the computers in the corner of the room where patrons could pay two dollars for fifteen minutes.
“I got this too,” Jack said, pulling two one-dollar bills from his wallet.
“Thank you.” She accepted the money and walked over to the counter to purchase her internet time. “Are you coming?” she asked Jack.
He shook his head. Hannah shrugged and took a seat in front of one of the available computers. As soon as she clicked the mouse, the countdown started. Her fingers tapped clumsily at the keys, typing never having been one of her strengths. As she entered the address and pressed the return key, the page went to a black screen, and a few seconds later, a video loaded.
“Come to the House of Blues for fine dining, great music, and the best time you’ll ever have in Las Vegas,” the smiling middle aged man said, standing in front of a desk with ‘House of Blues’ in bold black lettering painted on it. The video cut to a face speaking through a black balaclava, through a voice masker. “Greetings, Hannah. I know all about you, everything you’ve done, the people you love, and exactly where you live. You have until 5PM, November the fifth to check into the House of Blues, Las Vegas, or else I’ll kill everyone’s favourite presidential hopeful, Mr Robert Bannister.”
The unknown masked speaker disappeared, and a slideshow of surveillance photos commenced. First was her father, in a series of pictures taken of him standing outside his home. Next was the father at the church she attended as a child, photos snapped of him unaware as he prepared his pulpit for a Sunday service. And lastly, her partner, Terry, sitting in his office at the house they shared with the children.
The video cut back to the masked presenter. “I can get to anyone, at any time, at any place. So please ensure you meet our appointment.” The screen went blank at the end of the video.
She stared at the screen, taking in all she had seen in the harrowing minute the video had lasted. What could the masked person in the video truly be capable of if they were able to capture so many photos with unaware subjects? A psychological whirlpool ravaged its way through her mind. She placed her palms on the desk the computer sat upon and looked down at her lap.
“I got a similar video,” Jack said behind her, “not that I saw yours, but I’m guessing you saw a masked person talking in a tone sounding like the lovechild of Darth Vader and a thrash metal singer, followed by a series of photographs of people you care about.”
Hannah lifted her head and spun on her chair, “I swear if you know—”
“Please trust me, I don’t.”
Hannah’s attention switched to two people entering the café, doing a double take as she saw Terry walking with a tall woman he had opened the door for. Forever the gentleman, but as her eyes studied the stranger, she almost gasped out loud. She lifted herself from her seat and headed in the direction of the woman, drawing her pistol from its holster.
“Karla Young, also known as Brittany, aren’t you supposed to be on death row?” she said.
“Hannah, it’s been a long time, but I’m not here for any reason other than to save your boyfriend from the certain death he almost suffered at you house. I bet you got a postcard and then typed in the internet address?”
“You know a fair bit about this. Jack, do you know this girl?”
“Yes, we actually travelled here together. We had to make sure Brittany had found Terry before the bad guys did. She’s been hiding in a tree, watching your place with a buddy who I hope she left in Terry’s car. And I had to make sure you didn’t find her and shoot her in the head or something. She got a postcard in jail and had to get the hell out. We go back a long way, Brittany and me, and so when she found me on my blog and told me she was on the run, I went and picked her up.”
“And who the hell are you?” Terry asked Jack.
“I used to be a drill sergeant, teaching young men and women how to fight and get in shape. I helped Brittany become a killer, and then one night, I shot her and left that job for good.”
“It was his blog that got me onto the Praying Mantassassins, so I guess you can say he brought you and me together, Terry,” Hannah said. She lowered her pistol and put it back where it belonged.
“Wow, here he is in the flesh—DS himself,” Terry said. He gave Hannah a kiss and whispered in her ear, “I think she’s legit. She shot three men dead outside our house.”
“You need to watch the video, and then you’ll know how serious this is,” Hannah said. “I should have a few minutes left on the computer on the right.”
He nodded back at her. “Thanks,” and he walked over to the computer Hannah had used. He watched the introduction from the presenter, then the masked person and the picture slideshow commenced. He saw pictures of his mother, his sister Janet, Hannah ordering lunch at a takeaway drive through, and finally, each of his four children playing in their respective schoolyards.
Terry took a minute to recover. He walked back to sit with the other three, the colour washed from his face. “I’m going to need something stronger than coffee.”
Acknowledgments
First, my writing journey wouldn’t be where it is without the love and support of my family. Special thanks to my wife, Glenda, for being there from near the start of my writing endeavours, and to my three beautiful children, Ethan, Krystal, and Siobhan.
My parents, Noel and Barbara Heinicke, have always been supportive, encouraging me to chase my dreams and keeping me grounded to stay responsible in the process. My sister, Rachel Foster and her husband, Troy have always cheered me along, and for that, I thank them, too.
My writing wouldn’t be what it is without the hard work of my editor, Rogena Mitchell-Jones. Not only is she great at her work, but a great friend in helping me get over my self-doubts.
Rebecca Berto from Berto Designs has come through with yet another great cover. Thanks so much again to her for her eye-catching design.
Thanks to my beta readers, Kate Annabel, Tracey Hayer-Roberts, and Kathryn Booker. Your input and the time you took to read a yet to be published work is much appreciated. Special mention to Kate Reedwood for going above and beyond for her work on this volume and helping me to think more about the characters’ motivations.
Over my years on Facebook, I’ve met many fellow writers at different stages of their writing careers. A network of support and friendship has helped me learn not only about the craft of writing but marketing and networking as well. With each book, the list increases, but those who have been there and who have never hesitated in giving advice or helping to promote my work, and I promise to return the favour where possible. Special thanks to Laura Hunter, Lili Saint Germain, Jacinta Maree, Melissa Crowe, Stephen Ormsby, Kim Stevens, Hayley Coates, Earl Chessher, Desley Polmear, Samantha A. Cole, and Baer Charlton, just to name a few. Anyone I’ve forgotten, I’m very sorry.
I would also like to take this opportunity to thank a local bookstore owner for not only stocking my books but also for allowing me to use his store to launch my book releases. Thanks to Andy Gasson from Magpie Books for his generosity and friendship.
And most of all, where would a writer be without their fans and readers? Thanks to everyone who has supported me, given me feedback, and read my books. Thanks for the words of encouragement and spreading the word about my books. With your help, I know someday I’ll be a full-time writer and able to devote time to releasing more books. Special mention to those I call my cheerleaders, Christine Dupre, Bianca Lloyd, Tracy Grover, Leesa Barrell, Cooper DMSelector as well as a huge number of my work colleagues with one, in particular, Barb Mawby, following this whole series.
About the Author
Chris was born in the town of Port Pire, South Australia in 1971. Growing up in a family who moved a lot, Chris was able to see a lot of Australia as a child and teenager, meeting a broad range of people and living in four of six of the country’s states and the Northern Territory. Although working as a baker, writing has been a passion for some time, starting in high school and reigniting again in 2006. Since then, he has worked on the first part of a science fiction series, The Man In Black, released in 2015, and a short story, which culminated in a 2014 NaNoWriMo project called 5PM.
Apart from writing, Chris enjoys travelling, reading, and watching movies, as well as all things geeky. He resides in the New South Wales beachside town of Coffs Harbour with his wife and three children and is currently working on projects connected with 5PM and The Man In Black.