Stone Fall

by J. D. Weston

  “Closing in, ten metres,” said Melody.

  Harvey spat on the windscreen.

  “Five.”

  The man stared back and lifted his hand. Two wires hung from his fist, and he dropped down to the floor on the passenger side. He continued to grin.

  “Two metres.”

  “Hands on the bonnet, Mr Harvey.”

  “He’s stopped, two paces behind you.”

  Harvey saw beard in the windscreens reflection.

  “Listen carefully to me, Mr Harvey, you will do exactly what I say.”

  “Will I?” Harvey continued to stare at the driver.

  “Yes, Mr Harvey, you will. Do you know what is special about this taxi?”

  “It’s not a blue Ford?”

  “Very good, Mr Harvey, what else?”

  “I’m guessing it stinks by the looks of the driver.”

  “The taxi is rigged with explosives, Mr Harvey, but you already knew that didn’t you?”

  “I had an idea.”

  “You’re a smart man, Mr Harvey, I won't insult you with games.”

  “Too kind.”

  “Can you tell me what will happen if you do not get into the taxi?”

  Harvey stared at the driver.

  “What do I win if I’m right?”

  “You don't win anything, I’m afraid, Mr Harvey,” beard chuckled. “It’s just a game.”

  “You said you wouldn’t insult me with games.”

  “There is one more taxi waiting for its next fare, its final fare.”

  “Let me guess, it’s also loaded with explosives and is parked somewhere close to a bunch of people.”

  “Very good, Mr Harvey, it is loaded with explosives, but it is not parked near lots of people. I would hope you think a little more of me than that. I am somewhat resourceful and, I like to think, creative too.”

  “I don't think anything of you. You’ll just be another dead man when all this is over, and I’ll be thinking about more important things. Like getting a coffee, or washing your blood off my fingers.”

  “Would you like me to tell you?”

  “Go for it.”

  “You’ll never guess.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “Ask me for help, Mr Harvey.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “Would you like to, how do you say, phone a friend?”

  “I already told you I don't have friends.”

  “Do you think Frank will know where it is parked, the other taxi?”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “You seem to have gone quiet, Mr Harvey, I was enjoying our little chat.”

  Harvey stared at the driver. He heard Melody over the comms talking to Reg.

  “Reg, do you copy this?” she said.

  “Yes, Melody, I’m piecing it together.”

  “Can you get onto the CCTV in HQ?”

  “I’m opening the webcam of the command centre.”

  “Tell me what you see,” said Melody. “Harvey, I have this man, clean shot, no problem.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “With your left hand, Mr Harvey, using only your finger and your thumb, I want you to slowly remove your weapon and throw it on the floor.”

  Harvey did as instructed. He threw the Sig down on the ground, out of reach of both him and the beard.

  “Good. You may now step into the vehicle.”

  “Can I ride up front?”

  The beard chuckled again then stopped abruptly. “No, you ride in the back.”

  “Doesn’t look very comfy, you removed all the seats.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way, but please be careful, plastic explosive is quite volatile.”

  Harvey stepped towards the door, he caught sight of Reg who sat wide eyed in the rear of the Audi.

  “Harvey, say the word and he’s gone,” said Melody.

  “You’re not going to like this,” said Reg.

  “Go ahead, Reg,” said Melody.

  “Well, there’s a black taxi parked in Denver’s workshop.”

  “As I thought,” said Melody quietly.

  “Some hairy guy is in my seat,” said Reg.

  “He’s what? The tech guy?” asked Melody.

  “Yeah, he’s using the power of my command centre, no wonder he’s one step ahead of us.”

  “Can you see what he’s doing?”

  “Not yet, I’m working on it,” said Reg.

  Harvey turned to the bearded man. “Before I get in, my friend drives away.”

  “I thought you said you didn't have any friends, Mr Harvey.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “Go ahead, he’s of no use to us.”

  “Reg,” called Harvey over the taxi. Harvey saw Reg lift his head from his laptop at the mention of his name. “Go, leave. Now.”

  Reg slowly opened the rear door. He took a tentative step toward the driver's door.

  Harvey nodded at him. “It’s fine, Reg. Go.”

  Reg looked across at Al Sayan, who turned to face him.

  “Before you leave, Mr Reg,”

  Reg had one leg in the car. He didn’t reply.

  “I see you met my friend,” said beard. “Handsome isn’t he?”

  Harvey looked on proudly as Reg stared the man down and stood resolutely.

  “He tells me you have quite an impressive setup. LUCY isn’t it? How cute. I hope the old man is comfortable.”

  “What’s he talking about, Reg?” said Melody over the comms.

  Reg didn’t reply.

  “Okay, if you won't tell Mr Harvey, I will tell him.”

  “They have Frank,” said Reg.

  18

  Capturing the Beast

  Harvey sat on the fold-down seat of the taxi. He had his back to the driver. Al Sayan sat down beside him in the adjacent fold down seat, and pulled the door closed. The taxi began to reverse, and Harvey heard the automatic locks click into place.

  “You know the danger you are in, Mr Harvey?”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “You are sat in a confined space with twenty-five kilos of plastic explosives, plus some other things we found.”

  “Other things?”

  “Yes, you know, nails, screws, ball bearings. Small things. Much pain, Mr Harvey, for the man who gets too close.”

  “What about the innocents?”

  “Innocents? Mr Harvey, I have been in this country a long, long time now and I am afraid I rarely see innocence. Ignorance, yes, I see this. But innocence? No.”

  “What would happen if I attacked you now?”

  “If you attacked me, Mr Harvey, why would you do this? I have been polite have I not?”

  “You know me?”

  “I know a great deal of things, Mr Harvey. You are a very interesting man.”

  Harvey glanced out the window and saw they were heading back into London. He needed to buy time, he needed answers.

  “Am I? You must live a very boring life if you find me interesting Mr Sayan.”

  “Ah, you have worked it out. My name.”

  “I had an idea it was you. Then I smelled you, and knew it had to be.”

  “You insult me, Mr Harvey? That’s not playing nicely,” said Al Sayan. “I have followed you with interest. I believe we have a mutual friend.”

  “Stimson?”

  “You are highly regarded, and your history is a tragedy.” Al Sayan looked pathetically at Harvey. “Your poor sister, what an awful ordeal for such a young girl to go through. Tell me, was it two men or three men, Mr Harvey, that so callously raped her?”

  Harvey tensed, but Al Sayan saw the trigger and raised his hand with two wires trailing from his fist. “Ah ah ah, Mr Harvey, I must warn you.” He smiled and bared his dirty brown teeth. “I must confess I am wearing a little jacket I made myself. Extra security. I’m sure you understand. If I release my grip, the vest will be detonated, the explosion will be significant on its own. But inside here? It will also detonate our little pa
ssengers.” Al Sayan gestured at the long strips of PX5 that sat between the seat frames.

  “It was three, wasn’t it? I remember now, you always thought it was two, but then you learned of your brother’s, if you do not mind me saying, unforgivable involvement in the ordeal.” Al Sayan paused and studied Harvey. “How did it feel? To catch him? I heard that Donald Cartwright’s body was quite literally torn apart. His throat was ripped open, his eyes ripped out and his genitals stuffed in his mouth. That's impressive, Mr Harvey.

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “And then there was Julios, what a man. I saw a photo of him once, and I thought to myself, wow. This man was a strong and capable man, Mr Harvey.” Al Sayan leaned back onto the door behind him. “Am I right? Was he as strong and capable as he looked?”

  Harvey didn't reply.

  “You’re not much fun, Mr Harvey. Why you don't talk?”

  Harvey didn't reply.

  I heard that Julios was the man who trained you, and that you were so very close. Am I right, Mr Harvey? Were you so very close?”

  Harvey didn't reply.

  “Ah, I am right. I can see it in your face. There is much pain in your eyes. You really are a sensitive man, Mr Harvey, surprisingly sensitive.”

  Harvey didn't reply.

  “So if you don't want to talk about your poor sister, or your good dead friend, Julios, perhaps you’d like to talk about your parents?”

  Harvey stared at Al Sayan.

  “Yes, now we strike nerves, Mr Harvey. Look at the anger in you, so wild.” Al Sayan leaned forward. “I cannot imagine the anger I would feel if I knew that my life had been full of so many secrets and lies, Mr Harvey. I understand your rage, truly. To have the one man you trusted and respected keep secrets from you, when you so clearly and plainly were looking under every stone you found, it must be a very difficult thing to deal with.”

  “I didn’t trust or respect him, we had an arrangement. So think what you like. Are we nearly there? I’m getting tired of this.”

  “Ah, Mr Harvey, I do seem to have touched on something sensitive. You cannot avoid talking about it. In fact, talking is sometimes the best way to overcome your anger. Humour me, Mr Harvey.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “So you didn’t respect him or trust him, yet he was your best friend? I find that hard to believe, Mr Harvey.”

  “John wasn’t my best friend,” said Harvey. “He was my foster father and my boss. That's as far as the relationship went.”

  “Oh, Mr Harvey. I am not talking of John Cartwright. Oh, no. I am talking of Mr Julios, of course. He was your mentor, am I right? He trained you?”

  “Yeah, he taught me a few things.”

  Al Sayan laughed. “ A few things? You are a master, Mr Harvey, a dangerous man. You were carved by Julios like a sculptor carves a stone statue. He chips away at the stone, one tiny piece at a time.” Al Sayan flicked Harvey’s shoulder lightly. “Then he will stand back and admire his work, he will check the balance of his creation, and maybe chip a tiny piece off from this side.” Al Sayan touched Harvey’s cheek.

  “You getting dangerously close,” said Harvey.

  “I am merely describing how Julios, your mentor, your best friend, your sculptor carved you, shaped you, created you. Stone from Stone, Mr Harvey.”

  Harvey didn't reply. He took a deep breath through his nose.

  “That’s right, Mr Harvey, control your breathing. Let the anger flow through you, not out of you. Just as Julios taught you.”

  Harvey didn’t reply, he stared at the plastic explosives in a row.

  “So it must have destroyed you when you learned of your sculptor's treachery?”

  The squeal of brakes as the taxi slowed for traffic lights was loud in the back. Harvey rocked in his seat.

  “Do you think he would have done it if he knew?” said Al Sayan. “Do you think that if he had known what a great and dangerous stone statue he would create, he would still have killed them, Mr Harvey?”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “Do you think he savoured the moment? When he stood over your mother and father? Do you think he regretted it afterwards?” Al Sayan laughed out loud.

  Harvey pushed up with his legs and held Al Sayan against the glass with his forearm. Harvey brought his head back and smashed his forehead into the man’s face. The driver broke, and Harvey lost his balance, he stumbled and fell against the glass partition. Al Sayan shoved him back to his seat and held his face with one hand. Blood ran from his nose through his fingers. Al Sayan nodded to the driver, and the taxi drove on.

  Harvey was limp in his seat. His mind swam, confused, dizzied with memories of Julios standing over his faceless parents. The kind smiles and nurturing on Julios face as Harvey swam in the pool, and Julios lifted him out as a young boy. The moments they had shared after a sparring session, when they had both laid on their backs on the rubber mats in John’s gym, panting and sweating. The times Harvey had discussed his efforts at finding his parents’ killer. Each time, his mind came back to Julios’ huge frame standing over his dead parents.

  “How does it feel, Mr Harvey?”

  Silence.

  “Perhaps you need some time to consider what you just learned.”

  Harvey sat with his arms resting on his knees. He stared at the grooves in the wooden floor of the taxi. His heart was racing, he needed air.

  “We are here,” said Al Sayan.

  Harvey felt the taxi slow and turn sharply to the left. He looked up out the window and saw the Stratford warehouse on his right. The driver got out, and a few minutes later the sliding shutter door screeched open. Then the taxi pulled inside, and the shutter door slammed shut. The locks on the doors popped open when the driver hit the switch in the cab, and Al Sayan stepped out but kept his eye on Harvey. Harvey was limp and despondent.

  “Out you come, Mr Harvey, we have a tight schedule.”

  Harvey didn’t reply. He didn’t move.

  The driver opened the door on Harvey’s side and pulled two plastic zip ties on Harvey’s wrists, binding them together. Harvey stepped out and took in his surroundings. The warehouse looked gloomy even in the daytime. The weak strip lights that hung from thin chains left the sides and corners of the space in shadow. The pile of seats still sat under the tarp, and the wheels were still stacked in the corner with the car jack. The large wooden box had been removed. A plastic tarp was pulled out flat behind the old forklift. It was three metres square, and on it stood a tripod and a video camera.

  “You’ve been here before, Mr Harvey, we found your little listening devices.” He tutted. “Such devious behaviour. Did you honestly think that I am a caveman? I think you will find that we are far more sophisticated than you give us credit for, Mr Harvey.” Al Sayan walked away towards the back of the warehouse. “Follow me, Mr Harvey, I’m sure I don't need to prompt you anymore.”

  Al Sayan stopped at the far end of the warehouse and opened the door to a small dark room. “I hope you will find it comfortable in here. I’m afraid the building just isn't as equipped as I would like it to be, but it is only temporary.”

  Harvey felt the gun in his back. The driver stood behind him. Harvey smelled his warm, stale breath. He stepped forward. Rooms ran the length of the right-hand side of the warehouse. The walls of each room were built from thick concrete blocks, and the doors were of thick wood with metal plates fixed front and back as reinforcement. There were four identical rooms in total. The first was open. Harvey glanced inside as he walked past, roughly eight foot by eight foot with no window. He presumed the other rooms would all be the same.

  The next room along was closed, as was the third. Al Sayan held the door to room four open for Harvey.

  “Goodbye, for now, Mr Harvey. Perhaps one day we will meet again.”

  “Leaving so soon?” replied Harvey.

  “I’m afraid I’m a workaholic. My friend here has a pressing engagement to keep. He is about to change the face of London.” Al Say
an smiled cruelly. “You’re witnessing history, Mr Harvey.”

  Harvey didn’t reply. Instead, he took a deep breath through his nose and stepped into the cell.

  “I would urge you to leave any thoughts of escape to one side. You’re a smart man, Mr Harvey, I’m sure you have worked out that our little garage here has been suitably prepared. It will be several days before they find any of your remains.”

  The door slammed shut, and a series of locks and bolts clicked and slotted into place.

  A silence fell in the dark room. Harvey could barely make out the door. He stood for a moment, then began to plan.

  He heard the shutter doors open at the far end of the warehouse. The taxi’s diesel engine started and the shutters closed again.

  Harvey mulled over what Al Sayan had said. Over and over, Al Sayan’s words repeated in his mind. How true was it? How had he known about Hannah? He’d saved the final blow until they‘d arrived at the warehouse. Al Sayan had known the news of Julios would knock Harvey for six, but he still couldn’t believe it, didn’t believe him. Yet he knew deep down that it was true.

  It made sense. Harvey’s attempts at understanding had been blocked time after time, downplayed almost. Even Julios had known something, and steered any conversation of his parents, away to something else. Harvey thought back to the last conversation he’d had with Julios. They’d been buying a van load of automatic rifles from the Thomsons and had been waiting at the spot. Julios had made a mistake, he let slip that he’d known something, then brushed it off.

  Harvey sank to the cold stone floor. He leaned against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest. He pulled his bound wrists over his knees and buried his face in his legs.

  Being alone was something that Harvey was used to. Even if he had chosen a career in an office, doing some mundane, ordinary job, he’d still be the same. His very nature made Harvey a solitary person. But he’d always had one friend. For most of his childhood that friend had been Hannah. Julios had been in the background and was friendly, but his one true friend had always been Hannah. She’d never let him down. Then, when she’d died, Julios stepped in.

  Was it because Julios felt guilty? Was that it? Was that why Julios had suddenly became so involved in Harvey's life? Did he pity Harvey? He didn't need pitying, he was Harvey Stone. He was strong and resilient. He pulled a boot lace from his tan boots. Then, in the darkness, he tied a large loop in both ends of the long cord.