Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads)

by Luis Samways

  The gas pipes ignite a second explosion. Frank knows that sound and isn’t standing any more. He hits the ground as a huge fireball courses through the precinct from grates and pipes interconnected in the surrounding walls. Shrapnel pings and clangs off every surface, a piece of it nearly taking Frank’s eye out. The CCTV monitor above his head implodes. Shards of plastic and wiring fall as Frank lies on the ground and tries to protect himself from the horrors of the explosion.

  Finally, the sounds of terror die down and people begin to get to their feet. Chief Shaw is among the officers trying to recover from the physical and mental shock. He pats himself down and makes his way to the middle of the room. ‘Is every one okay?’ The response around the room is timid at best.

  ‘Okay I want a full sweep of the building.’ Shaw continues when he sees there are no injuries. ‘We need to search for any wounded and find the fuckers who did this. I want three man teams going from top to bottom. No mistakes gentleman.’ Frank gets up from behind the desk.

  ‘Sir we have a problem,’ Frank says as he approaches Shaw.

  Shaw laughs. ‘I know detective. We’ve just been attacked by terrorists. I think that qualifies as a big fucking problem.’

  ‘It’s not terrorists,’ Frank says.

  ‘What are you saying? Santa Claus came in and blew out the fucking chimney?’

  ‘No sir. I saw who did this. It wasn’t Santa Clause.’

  Six

  ‘That’s bullshit Frank! You have no evidence what so ever,’ Shaw laughs off Frank’s assertion.

  Frank doesn’t appreciate being laughed at. He thumped his fist on the table to make his point. ‘Look just hear me out. I know for a fact that Connor Chase is the man behind this,’ he says.

  The room goes quiet. Shaw stands with his back to everyone and looks out at the skyline of the city. ‘How do you work that out Frank? Please tell me why my best detective is pulling at strings here?’ ‘I know it was Chase sir because I saw him on the CCTV before the explosion. One shoulder was lower than the other as if he was carrying a heavy bag. He wasn’t carrying a heavy bag though. That’s the way he walks after the accident. That’s how I know it was him,’ explains Frank.

  ‘What accident?’

  ‘He sustained one at work a few months ago. His boss told me about it this morning. She was at the crime scene. She told me a lot about him, valuable personal stuff,’ Frank added.

  ‘So why did you not write up a report on it McKenzie?’ Shaw asks.

  ‘I was just about to sir, when the explosions started.’ Everyone in the conference room mumbles in doubt. Shaw looks at his fellow peers and then at Frank. ‘Okay Frank. Get the woman to verify you’re story. In the mean time, everyone here will run a risk assessment on whether this psycho will strike again. I want a profile on this asshole as soon as possible; this guy is going down today.’ Shaw’s orders emptied the room. In the midst of the crowd of officials leaving the room, Frank holds his phone to his ear.

  ‘Hello?’ A voice answers.

  ‘Looks like we’re going on a date after all!’

  Seven

  Frank sits at the diner waiting for his coffee while staring at the beautiful woman across from him that he met a few hours ago at the crime scene. A waiter comes with his coffee and sets it gently on the table. He asks the woman sitting across from Frank if she wants anything. She shakes her head. The waiter leaves and Frank notices that the name tag she got at the crime scene is sitting on the table. He takes comfort in finally knowing her name.

  ‘So let me get this straight. Conner blew up the precinct?’ Tasha asks.

  Tasha’s low cut top distracts him as he enjoys a sip of coffee. Tasha notices and buttons herself up.

  ‘Damn, Frank, get your eyes off my breasts and your mind back on the matter at hand?’

  Frank smiles, takes another sip of coffee and sits back in his chair. He feels as if he finally has everything under control.

  ‘I already told you what happened, Tasha. Chase broke into the evidence lockup and planted some C4. Before you know it, BOOM!’ Frank exudes the confidence he feels.

  ‘But why? Why would he blow up the police station? In fact, why would he blow anything up?’ Tasha looks as confused as she sounds.

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why we’re here. You’re the one who knows him. You’re one of the few left alive who knows him at all, Tasha’

  Tasha sighs.

  ‘Cheer up, at least we got each other,’ Frank teases playfully.

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about’

  ‘A bit harsh, lady, I’m trying to lighten things up around here. I’m just inserting some of my trademark humour into the situation’

  Frank smiles and Tasha finally breaks a forced one back at him.

  Frank touches her hand. ‘Look Tasha, I know it’s hard to come to terms with the situation. I mean, it’s not every day someone you knows kills 15 people and blows up the local police station. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. But there’s something you can do now. Help me find him and nail him!’ Frank still holds her hand, hoping he’s giving her comfort.

  This time she means the smile she gives him. ‘I appreciate it Frank. It’s just,’-Tears fill her eyes, smudging the immaculate make up that brightens her beaming face, ‘I feel responsible. I should have spotted the warning signs.’ ‘I don’t think there are many signs that a serial killer is going to massacre his whole household, Tasha,’ Frank tries to reassure her.

  Frank’s cell phone goes off and he instinctively answers it. ‘Frank speaking’

  ‘Oh hello, Mr. McKenzie.’ The voice is unfamiliar. Frank pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the caller ID. It’s unknown.

  ‘No point checking for a number Frank. Surely you wouldn’t expect me to call from a traceable phone? Especially with my hang up about privacy’

  Frank muffles the phone against his chest and looks at Tasha.

  ‘Get out of here Tasha, call for help. I got Chase on the phone’

  Tasha bolts from the diner as Frank puts the phone back to his ear.

  ‘There was no need for that Frank, this won’t take too long. I take it my message was loud and clear at your place of work?

  ‘Crystal clear. We know all about you Chase and we’re going to hunt you down like the mangy mutt that you are.’

  ‘Oh I concur. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Call it coincidental, Frank, but I enjoy a good old chase. Now listen up and listen good. I want you to make your way to the downtown public records building. In the car park next to the building you will have all the things you need to get the job done.’

  ‘What job?’

  ‘The job I’m giving you Frank., You see, the public records building houses some of the most personal details of people who live in this city. I’m sure that no one would mind terribly if that building and its contents were destroyed. That’s where you come in Frank. You’re not a wanted man. Not yet anyway. I need you to do what I tell you, or I kill some more people. It’s that’ simple.’

  ‘I don’t think so Chase…,’ Frank is interrupted by a screaming voice on the phone. A child’s voice. It’s closely followed by a gun shot.

  Frank yells in frustration.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. You have one hour.’ The phone goes dead and all that’s left is the deafening silence of murder. That sound surrounds the day and tears Frank’s soul apart.

  Eight

  ‘I’m standing outside a house in Stella Avenue where 15 people were murdered last night in what is the most shocking crime in recent memory,’ says the news reporter on the TV in the DA’s office. ‘Police have called a press conference that’s getting underway in a few minutes. They’ll address the public and release the name of the suspect. A crowd of a hundred people or so from the community have gathered outside the house with candles to pay their respects.’ The reporter’s voice echoes through the spacious office.

  Eddie Smith sits at his desk, watching the ne
ws coverage and taps nervously on a stack of files. He gets up and paces up and down the room. His cell phone rings and he answers immediately. ‘Talk to me.’ ‘Hey, it’s Frank. I have some unfortunate news, sir.’

  Someone rushes into the office before Frank can finish.

  ‘Haven’t you heard of knocking?’ The DA snaps. “I’m on an important phone call here.’

  The man grabs the remote and switches the TV to another channel.

  The DA looks shocked as he reads the headline scrolling on the TV.

  “Public Records Building Destroyed in Terrorist Attack”

  ‘Holy shit, Frank. Have you seen this? They bombed the public records building?’ Eddie speaks into his phone.

  ‘Yes sir. That’s why I’m ringing. I know who did it,’ Frank says.

  ‘How do you know? I mean…. Tell me!’

  ‘It was me, sir.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Frank? Why would you?’

  ‘It was Chase sir, He made me do it. He had hostages and killed a kid. He said if I didn’t blow up the building, he would kill more hostages. The guy’s a psycho. I didn’t doubt him for one minute. Just look at what he did today.’

  ‘But you can’t go around blowing up buildings willy-nilly, McKenzie. I’m going to have to bring you in, Frank’

  ‘Don’t worry sir, I’m already in custody. I turned myself in. I’m using my one phone call to let you know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, sir. He was going to kill more people.’

  The phone goes dead. Eddie grabs his coat and rushes out of his office. He makes his way to his Limo. Destination: the slammer.

  Nine

  The cold surface of the interview table made Frank uneasy. For years, it was him on the other end of the darn thing. Now he sat staring into the eyes of a person who obviously thought this was the break he’d waited for the make or break B.S that would determine whether he played desk jockey the rest of his life or commanded the desks.

  The officer tasked with interviewing Frank was a run of the mill detective. Jet black hair combed back in a style that would make the Fonz proud, he also had a thick Italian accent, it was rare to find a guy that mob- like working on the right side of the law.

  ‘Now listen here, Frank,’ the man tells him, ‘I’m in charge of this room. You may have been Mr. Big shot for a while, but now I’m the guy standing in the way of your freedom. If I was you, I’d suck it up and hand over the reins because you’re going down and I’m taking over,’ the detective says.

  Frank smiles. This detective only wanted one thing from Frank: his job.

  ‘Look here, Detective….?’ Frank pauses.

  ‘Detective Loupe,’ the brash detective answers.

  ‘Okay Detective Loupe, I have already explained what happened to the DA. I’m not saying anything else until I speak to someone who doesn’t look like a 70’s character out of some B-movie. Someone I can take seriously,’ Frank adds, chuckling to himself.

  Detective Loupe smiles, showing his pearly whites, gums and all.

  ‘I don’t think you are in a position to make demands, Frank. You blew up a public building. You’re lucky that no one was hurt in the explosion.’

  ‘No one was hurt was because I got everyone out before the building exploded.’

  ‘Oh yes. That’s right. I forgot. How silly of me. I should be listening to the man that threatened 50 plus people with a firearm. How noble. Not to mention, you physically assaulted two guards, one who is in the hospital with a broken nose.’

  ‘He’ll live.’ Frank is growing impatient with the detective.

  ‘Yes, he will, Frank. I’m not sure whether you will. See, Terrorism is a serious crime. And treason? You blew up a building in your own country and you work for the government. Those are some serious charges, Frank, the sort that result in the electric chair.’

  Frank gets up and walks to the detective. ‘Look here, pal, I don’t know why you’re wasting my time. I did what I had to do. If I didn’t you’d be looking at a lot more than a few scuffed up rent-a-cops and some hurt feelings.’

  ‘Calm down, Frank. You seem edgy. It’s a shame that you can’t take one of your pills now, isn’t it? Oh that’s right. Frank here has a drug problem. You should have been a tad bit more careful before handing yourself in with those pills in your pocket.’

  ‘Those are prescribed by my doctor, Sherlock.’

  ‘Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure that the department frowns on you needing such drugs. That sort of dependency doesn’t bode well for a high score on your psychiatric profile.’

  Frank smiles at the detective. The door to the interview room opens and the DA walks in. Eddie signals Detective Loupe out of the room and closes the door behind him.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Frank demands.

  ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’

  ‘Okay, I’ve already explained what happened.’

  The DA holds up his hand to stop Frank from talking and undoes his cuffs.

  ‘Look. This isn’t my doing. It seems you have friends in high places who understand why you did what you did. They want you to carry on with the investigation. You are the one Chase seems comfortable talking with. You have a rapport with the guy.’

  ‘I beg to differ, but I won’t turn down a case for a jail cell,’ Frank says.

  ‘Good, because I need to get you down to the incident room.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s Connor, He’s on the phone, and he’s demanding to talk to you.’

  Ten

  Frank and the DA walk into the incident room where chaos is becoming a familiar sight. Cops and detectives are gathered around a phone, staring at it like it’s possessed. In truth, it is. It’s possessed by the voice and soul of America’s most wanted man, Connor Chase.

  The DA looks cautiously at Frank before he picks up the phone. ‘Be careful what you agree to do for this psycho this time,’ he says. The swarm of officials around the phone part as Frank walks over and grabs it. He coughs to clear his throat. The whole room goes quiet.

  ‘Ah, you’re there, then,’ Connor says

  ‘Yeah. What’s so urgent now that you had to call me? You should be concentrating on getting yourself ready for the biggest man hunt in history.’

  There is silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Me and you have unfinished business,’ Connor finally says. ‘The thing is, I have some more jobs and I need them done today.’

  ‘I’m not doing any more jobs for you, Connor.’

  ‘Well I’m sure I’ll be able to convince you, Frank. Most people need a subtle nudge in the right direction from time to time. When I nudge you, there isn’t going to be anything subtle about it.’

  The phone goes dead and Frank slams the receiver down. Eddie puts his hand on Frank’s shoulder for comfort. ‘He’s messing with you, Frank. Don’t let him get to you.’ ‘What he’s planning to do?’ Frank stabbed an agitated hand through his hair. ‘He’s already done so much in one day. How many acts of pure evil can he have planned? Can it get any worse? I know for sure it can,’ he answered his own question. ‘And it will, Eddie. Mark my words, it will.’

  Eddie pats Frank’s shoulder sympathetically and walks away. Frank is left feeling helpless. Not for himself, but for whatever poor soul Chase gets his hands on next.

  Eleven

  Frank has felt like this before. By now, he’s a pro. He knows how to mask his feelings while interviewing people. He knows that a slight hole in his tactics invite a showdown, in an interview room anyway, this time however, he masks something else. Frank is all too familiar with getting high on Veratril. He’s done it for 2 years. He knows how to “be himself” in front of people. Except now. He doesn’t know how to be himself at this moment in time.

  He takes the needle out of his arm. He feels a slight sucking sensation when the needle pops out of his vein. It is the first time Frank has felt this feeling, but he sure as hell knows why people are hooked on their first spoonful. A euph
oria surrounds him as he rises from the floor of the bathroom. He feels dizzy, but for the first time in a long time, he also feels calm.

  The body builds a tolerance to things it consumes regularly. He wondered if he will ever grow tolerant of this new sensation. It is a telling day, a day Frank will always remember. It is the day he realises his edge is gone. His only salvation will be regaining that edge—and it is being put away in the kind of baggie a diabetic would carry around. But Frank isn’t a diabetic.

  He embraces the euphoria a few more moments until there is a knock on the door. He shakes himself back into control. Deep breath in; deep breath out. Invigorating as heroin is, he doubts his colleagues will embrace the idea of a smackhead detective. You got to do what you got to do, he tells himself.

  ‘Yeah, be one minute. Just whipping,’ Frank shouts to the person on the other side of the door.

  He hears an amused laugh but the knocking continues. Frank opens the door to a female detective waiting at the entrance of the men’s bathroom. She smiles.

  ‘Excuse me, Sir. They are asking for you in the incident room. It’s urgent. Will you come with me?’ The woman looks Frank up and down. ‘Unless you’re busy,’ she adds.

  Frank smiles at her and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He must look like a mess, he realises so he cracks another smile.

  ‘Spicy food doesn’t agree with me, Mam. I’m truly sorry you have to witness this.’ The woman smiles and walks away, inviting Frank to follow. He hopes everyone else buys the spicy food line.

  Twelve

  People in the incident room are too wrapped up in what is on TV to take notice of Frank’s appearance. Connor Chase is giving a speech on what looks like a handheld camcorder. Surrounded by militia-like men with heavy weapons, they all stare into the camera. Their eyes are visible but nothing else. They all wear ski masks. All but one man. Connor wears nothing on his face. He is bare and proud as he rants into the camera. The headline scrolling beneath him reads: