For Nothing

by Nicholas Denmon

  The Pope smelled the sweetness of the cigar wafting through the sedan. It smelled delicious. It smelled of victory. Then, unannounced and unasked for, a coughing fit took him. The burn in his chest ate away his smile and drove the tears back into his eyes, with a cheese grater.

  The Don studied him for a second and then waved his cigar at his friend. “You ought to get that checked out.”

  *

  The windshield wipers crashed left and right, throwing small mountains of snow from the front of the police cruiser. The sound they made as they snapped one way and then the other was the only sound other than the slight crunch as the tires moved through the snow and the hum of the engine as it propelled the cruiser behind the armored ETF vehicle. The sirens turned off, along with the emergency lights. The spiraling snow fell down as if shoveled from the tops of the clouds by strong armed angels. They were forced to keep the headlights on as they made their way through a small dirt road that lead to the address listed on the piece of paper Alex carried from The Pope. They reflected now, off of the plummeting heaps of frozen precipitation.

  To Vaughn, the reflections looked like a myriad of twirling eyes gazing back at him and judging his very existence. He wanted to put a bullet into Rafael’s face for what he did. It would be justice after all, wouldn’t it? He knew that the man who killed Jack was this monster, this assassin. The oldest laws on record allowed—no demanded—an eye for an eye.

  He could do it, too. He knew he could, and he wouldn’t even feel bad about it. He could watch the life drain from this son of a bitch and it wouldn’t even give him so much as a bad dream. No sleep would be lost.

  Alex looked over at Marshal Johnson. The young man was tapping his finger on the ledge of the window and his knee shook as the adrenaline struggled to manifest in a body constrained to sitting. Vaughn pushed his hair behind his ear and glanced down at the badge hanging from the Marshal’s hip. His badge seemed brighter than the one that Vaughn placed on his Chief’s desk just a few hours earlier.

  He remembered how eager he’d been when he first joined the force. He believed so much in the ideal back then. Other cops, they had something to prove, or had nothing better to do. Vaughn, though, believed in the concept behind the badge. To him, “To Protect and Serve” wasn’t a motto. It was a way of life. The Marshal glanced over and caught Alex’s stare on the badge.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I was just thinking, yours looks a little shinier than mine.”

  The Marshal looked down at the star and smiled.

  “The thing about a badge is it’s only shiny so long you keep it polished.” He raised his eyebrows as if it proved his point and then looked back out the window.

  Alex took the cue, and looked out his own window as the car bounced along the uneven road and threatened to throw their foreheads into the roof. He watched the woods as they grew thicker around the dirt road and seemed to close in on the small caravan from all sides.

  Branches were scraping at the windows like hands reaching out to them, wanting to pull them into the forest forever. The night sky blocked out all but the nearest trees and Vaughn could see his ghostly reflection in the glass. He looked like shit. His eye was swollen and the various bruises on his face shone with a yellowish tint. The cut along his forehead and under his eyes looked like they scabbed over something infected and were white along the edges. His eyes looked vacant and hollow. Alex barely recognized them.

  It was as if someone who looked like him was staring back, only Alex could tell he was an imposter. The detective let his eyes trail out into the forest. Alex tried to look past this other view of himself.

  Chapter 36

  They found a clearing about a hundred yards from the house, Alex was told, though they couldn’t see it through the dark and the cloistered evergreens. The moment they exited the cruiser, the wind seemed to pick up a bit and Vaughn could feel the cold whip in through the top of his jacket and work its way down along his back. The men in the armored ETF vehicle jumped out and one group of two took off towards the left and another duo of men ran right, their destinations known before they arrived.

  They had flashlights affixed to their semi-automatic weapons. The beams of light cut several feet into the night before the snow extinguished it. A fifth officer carrying a large rifle, with a scope on it about the size of a soda can, took off down the center. He had some sort of contraption on his face that looked like binoculars, and Vaughn realized they must be night vision goggles. He carried some sort of sharp metal objects in his hands and Alex watched him as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Corporal Renaud hopped out of the ETF wagon and took long strides over to Alex. “He is going to climb higher for a better view.”

  Vaughn nodded. “So how are we going to proceed?”

  Renaud waved a hand to the left. “I have four men taking up positions, one on each corner of the house. Constable Demarais is going to be up above watching us like an eagle.” The Corporal pointed upwards and in the direction of the man with the night vision. “As for you and me, we will go together, through the front door. There, you will make the identification.”

  The Marshal gave a little cough and set his feet. “What about me Corporal, what would you like me to do?”

  Renaud gave the Marshal a toothy grin and patted the air with his hands.

  “You stay here and watch the vehicles, Marshal, along with the Constable. This is a Canadian issue until we get the suspect in custody.”

  Marshal Johnson stood still for a second casting a stare at the Corporal, then shuffled his feet and took a step back, “Of course, Corporal.”

  “Very good then.” He handed Vaughn a small ear piece and said, “Put this in, it is linked to our man with a visual of the interior. Detective, would you like to take a moment, and then join me. We will draw this to a satisfactory conclusion.” Captain Renaud turned around and unclipped the safety on his side arm and again began to talk in hushed tones on his shoulder mounted radio.

  Alex Vaughn inserted the ear piece and stole a glance at the crestfallen Marshal and clasped his shoulder as if to say, “I’m sorry.”

  The Marshal just mumbled, “Damned Canadian sovereignty.”

  Alex Vaughn walked off past the Marshal and towards Corporal Renaud. He too, decided it would be best if he were to approach the situation with the safety off of his gun. He felt it click with a push of his thumb. He felt the click reverberate through his body.

  Game on.

  Corporal Renaud and Alex Vaughn walked side by side through the snow in the direction of the cabin. The evergreens continued to grope towards Alex with their wooden fingers and the sound of their boots packing the snow beneath their feet greeted his ears each step of the way. Vaughn felt like they would be uncovered at any moment. To Alex’s surprise, Corporal Renaud began speaking to him, though Vaughn thought it best that they remain as stealthy as possible.

  “This man, Detective, he is very dangerous, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “What makes a man more dangerous than others?”

  Alex looked over at the Corporal, who was staring into the gloom. “Excuse me?”

  “Take us for instance. Are we not dangerous, too?” He patted his sidearm as if to emphasis the point.

  “I suppose we are.” What the fuck is his point?

  “Ah, but we have rules, you and me. Do you think that makes us more dangerous or less so?”

  Vaughn thought about the question for a moment as the crunching of their feet ate into the silence. “Maybe less dangerous tonight, but more dangerous tomorrow.”

  Renaud stopped walking, prompting Alex to stop too. Vaughn looked into the darkness and saw the shadowy shape of the cabin less than thirty yards away, nestled between two large masses of trees. Light poured forth from the windows and faded back into darkness, less than fifteen yards from where the two of them stood. But Renaud wasn’t looking at the cabin. Alex felt him watching him and turned to regard the Corpo
ral.

  Renaud nodded his head. “There you have it then.”

  “There you have it.”

  The two of them continued walking towards the cabin. A single flash of light came from their left and then another from their right.

  “They are in position,” Renaud said as they continued their march.

  It didn’t take them long until they were just a few strides from the wooden structure, the trees opening up around it in a ring. It looked as if it were made of log, with rounded beams stacked up until it reached a metallic roof, made possibly of tin. It wasn’t large and boasted a single chimney that released thin grey smoke into the black sky. At least a foot of snow settled on the roof, and didn’t seem to have a mind to move at all. Two steps led up to the door and that was where Renaud and Alex paused. Renaud placed his hand on the door, and he tried the handle. It rolled over, and Vaughn could tell it was not locked.

  The ear piece came alive with a voice that informed them, “There is one suspect inside. His back is to the main doorway, he is about ten paces from the door.”

  Renaud held up his other hand, his gun now resting in his grip and mouthed, “On three.”

  Alex nodded.

  “One…”

  He felt his adrenaline spring through his heart and into his throat.

  “Two…”

  Alex Vaughn pulled out his Beretta. Snowflakes nestled on his shoulder.

  “Three.”

  Corporal Renaud flung the door open and entered the cabin, his gun raised in front of him and cupped in one hand as he moved in and to the left of the frame. Alex Vaughn followed, his gun cradled in both hands and hanging at the side of his hip.

  The first thing he saw was a man with his back to him. He hadn’t the time to remove his jacket, and wore one in black leather. He wasn’t very large and he had dark hair with a bit of grey coming around the base of his crown. He was standing at a counter and looking out of a window that peered into the woods behind the cabin.

  The cabin was one big, open space other than two doorways that led into other rooms. A couch and a couple of chairs covered with plastic decorated the room. The place didn’t appear to be used much or often. To the right of the assassin were two hooks. A black fedora hung from one, while the other one supported a double holster made of leather. Two pistols with silencers attached to them hung there.

  “It’s him!” Alex said.

  Renaud walked further into the room. His voice seemed to boom as he addressed Rafael Rontego.

  “Mister Rontego, I am Corporal Renaud of the Toronto Emergency Task Force. We are to take you into custody as an unwelcomed visitor across our borders.”

  Alex noticed that the assassin’s head dropped a bit lower, but otherwise he didn’t move. Vaughn moved further to the right, positioning himself in the path of the killer and his weapons.

  Renaud continued, “Mister Rontego, do you understand me? Mister Rontego, show me your hands.”

  Still, the assassin barely moved. His shoulders moved up and down with his breathing and Alex was pretty sure the man was trying to figure out his next move.

  Vaughn jumped in, “There is nowhere to go; the building is surrounded.”

  The Corporal nodded his approval as he moved to the left, putting more distance between himself and Alex. “Come now, let us end this peacefully.”

  Vaughn was now almost directly to the side of the hit man and could see the side of his face. He noticed the man’s eyes were closed and his breathing was erratic, his breath was coming in short bursts as if he were preparing himself for something. His lips moved as if he were speaking to himself.

  That was when Alex noticed it.

  The man was clutching a small gun in his left hand pressed against the counter. At that moment, everything happened at once. The killer spun around and his hand stretched out towards Renaud.

  Alex screamed, “Gun!” and dropped into a crouch.

  He swung his hand upward and fired off a shot. Renaud crouched down and attempted to squeeze off a round when a single bullet exploded through the window, shattering tiny reflective pieces of glass into the room along with bits of ice and snow. Pieces of glass whipped across the Corporal’s face and his shot went wide of the assassin, striking the wall behind him.

  But both the sniper’s bullet and Vaughn’s found their mark. Vaughn’s struck him in the gut and the sniper’s hit him in the center of the chest. He fell backward against the counter with a thud. A splash of blood sprinkled the window behind him and a streak of it followed the murderer’s body as he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. The sniper’s bullet left a burning hole in the assassin’s jacket and smoke trailed upward out of it. Vaughn’s bullet tore into the belly and blood oozed through the fabric of his shirt, so dark that it almost looked black where it poured out the most. The gun fell from the man’s grasp as he sat against the counter and fell to the floor at his side.

  Renaud spoke into the radio on his shoulder, “We need medical help in here. We have a man down.”

  Vaughn paused for a moment as he struggled to interpret the scene. Alex noticed the man staring past the room and his left foot kicked from side to side as if he were trying to walk.

  This is all wrong.

  He ran forward towards the assassin and slid on his knees along the wooden floor. He pulled the man onto his back and pressed his hand against the wound in his stomach, where the blood seemed to be seeping out the worst.

  “Don’t you die you son of a bitch. You have to answer for what you did to my friend!”

  The assassin lay on his back and blood trickled out of his mouth. He stared up at the ceiling and Vaughn could see his eyes roll as he struggled to bring them into focus.

  “Who’s your friend?”

  “Jack Benton!”

  The killer coughed and a smile made more of blood than of teeth flashed at the detective. “Never heard of him.”

  “You fucking prick! Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to me!”

  Alex felt a rage in his soul that traveled to his very fingertips and he wanted the assassin to feel it too. He pressed his fingers into the wound in the man’s stomach and the killer thrashed as the pain registered across his brain.

  “Say it! Say it!”

  The assassin turned his head and coughed, his blood pouring out of his mouth as his lungs filled with blood. He started laughing, as if it was all one big joke.

  “Say what?”

  “Say you knew Jack Benton!” Alex pressed his fingers into the wound even harder and again the assassin kicked out from the sheer agony.

  Renaud spoke from behind him. “That’s enough Detective.”

  Still Vaughn dug his fingers into the man’s stomach.

  “I knew him! I knew Jack Benton!” He screamed out the words as his body convulsed and Alex couldn’t tell anymore if it was from pain or from death throes.

  He looked back over his shoulder as the Corporal stared in shock back at Alex. Several men started to flood into the room, followed by the Marshal and Vaughn felt the blood rush out of his face as his own actions came into focus.

  He rolled over next to the assassin, and looked down at his hands. They were covered in black blood and his shirt was speckled red from drops of spray. He heard a low laugh to his side and looked over at the assassin.

  He tried to say a few words, but then he laughed again in a death filled delirium. His lips were moving and he was staring at Alex. Vaughn couldn’t make out what he was saying so he lowered his ear next to the assassin. Still he couldn’t decipher the sounds coming from the man. When his ear was almost to the man’s blood covered lips he heard him.

  “This, all of this, is per niente.”

  “What?”

  “Per niente. For nothing.”

  Then he started laughing again and Alex could see the man’s fingers twitching against the wooden floor. Blood was all along his arm and Alex wondered whether or not any part of the world was free of the red liquid. As he sat there wat
ching the assassin struggle for life, he wished that it could be so. He wished that some piece of the world was free of the stain.

  The assassin gave one last gasp that heaved more blood than air into his lungs and his body gave one last kick and then was still.

  Renaud walked over to the detective who sat there staring into the vacant eyes of the killer. “What did he say?”

  “He said this is all for nothing. I don’t get what he means.”

  “Perhaps this is why.” Renaud crouched down and showed the pistol to Vaughn. He pulled the trigger and a small flame leaped from the barrel of the gun, and stayed there.

  “A lighter?”

  “Oui.”

  Alex’s dehydrated lips pulled on one another and his mouth fell open.

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  *

  Alex Vaughn rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus on the snow streaked pavement flashing under his tires along with the partially obscured yellow lines that raced past the wheels. The adrenaline wore off during a marathon session of answering questions and helping the local Mounties fill out their paperwork and the weariness seeped into every cell of his body. From there, it was just going to trickle down.

  “As if I didn’t have enough paperwork already,” lamented Marshal Johnson when he viewed the gruesome scene moments after the assassin stopped moving.

  Alex tried to stifle a yawn but it escaped between his fingers despite his best efforts. No doubt he was going to have to file a report too, and it was always better to fill it out while things were fresh in the memory. He glanced over at the gun holster with a twin set of pistols lying on the seat next to him. A black fedora rested on top of them and off to the side and it quivered with the vibrations of the car as if an invisible hand was shaking it back and forth.

  “You might need these to put some pieces together. Perhaps for other investigations.” Renaud handed the items to him as he clasped him on the shoulder. “You know, real gun or not, you still acted to save my life. Thank you for that.”