by Luis Samways
‘We can’t all afford a Mercedes, you dick.’
Seventy Seven
The hooded man watches Jason come back into the cabin with Crystal by his side. He pulls her by the hair and pushes her to the floor. Her head hits the metal with a twang. Passengers gasp and the dark woman turns towards the hooded man. She nudges him to get his attention away from Jason. ‘If you’re going to do something, you better do it quick.’ He faces her.
‘All in good time,’ he says calmly.
Crystal lies on the deck face down, motionless with fear as Jason looks down and smiles. He cocks his weapon.
A well-built man stands up a few feet from the hooded man and moves closer to the dark woman.
Jason makes his way to the disruptive big man.
‘What is your problem?’ ‘Let us go!’ screams the man.
Jason shakes his head, ‘Haven’t you seen enough violence for one journey?’ Before the man can answer, Jason socks the man with a closed fist. The blow sends him flying and Jason laughs out loud. ‘The bigger they are…’ He then aims the 9MM hand gun and fires a few shots into the downed man. The man’s body twitches and Jason plants a few more shots into him. The twitching stops. Jason looks at the gaping hostages and wipes his brow. ‘Drag the body to the next carriage,’ Jason commands . ‘Get rid of the other one as well.’ he points at the hooded man. The hooded man gets up and drags the first body to the second carriage and quickly makes his way back to drag the fresh one away. His breathing is heavy. Opening the door leading back to the main compartment, he sees Jason watching him through the broken glass. He spots a fire axe attached to the wall next to the door.
Jason smiles at the hooded man. ‘I wouldn’t risk it unless you want to ride back there with the rest of the heroes.’
The hooded man gingerly makes his way back to his spot on the floor. He kneels down and looks up at Jason.’
What’s your name?’
The hooded man doesn’t reply.
‘A man of few words, ay? That’s a good thing. The model hostage.’ Jason raises his hands up like a preaching pastor. ‘Now this, ladies and gentleman, is what a hostage should do. It’s natural to want to take my head off. It’s natural to want to kill me. It’s natural to want safety and comfort away from the big bad man with the AK and side arms. But this man right here is probably going to be the only surviving passenger. Do you know why? Because he does exactly what I ask of him. Stop your bitching and crying, people. Stop trying to be heroes. Start being like this guy.’
The hooded man stares at Jason as he walks away, across the bloodied floor. He sits down on the seat at the far end of the cabin.
Seventy Eight
The bolt on the rifle snaps back. The sound reflects the feeling in the air.
The man aims the scope and cars pull in. One patrolling Lexus is stationed at the front. Blue and red spiral from the car’s windshield. Doors on the front car open. The neon lights hit the shadows and block the sun.
Two armed men disembark from the front car just as the stretch limo pulls up and grinds to a halt. Another Lexus pulls in tightly behind the limo.
Beads of sweat drop down the side of the man’s face as he steadies his aim. For a long moment, no movement comes from him or the cars below. The only thing moving is the flag attached to the hood of the limo.
The crowd erupts in cheers as armed men open the far door of the limo. Matt black shoes peek from the limo door and hit the ground. The president emerges from the car waving. Applause echoes along the street.
The man steadies his rifle as the wind picks up slightly. He nervously moves his finger to the trigger. He pans over the president’s head, waiting for the right moment. Two armed guards take each side of the president and walk with him down the street. The Lexus at the front with the red and blue lights reflect off one of the guard’s sunglasses.
The man aims and presses the trigger.
The bullet dips in the wind and hits its mark. A red mist splatters the guard’s sunglasses with residue. The crowd screams as the sound of the bullet catches up. A sea of police men cordon off the area of the convoy. One of the guards pulls out his side arm and sweeps the area. The secret servicemen bend over the president as he lies on the pavement. Blood pools around the corpse.
The panic from the onlookers is loud and hectic.
The rifle man is downstairs in minutes as he makes his way through the hotel’s kitchen. He pushes through the pots and pans and slams the fire exit door open. Chefs look at each other in confusion as the sound of sirens echo in the distance.
Seventy Nine
‘So this angle covers the whole area of the toilets?’ The man next to Shaw twiddles a dial on the massive CCTV console.
‘Yep,’ says the Tech as he sips on his milkshake.
‘So were going to see everything?’ ‘Yeah, he’s just walking in now. I’ll play it from the moment he steps up to the urinal.’
Eddie and Shaw hover over the Tech’s shoulder as he presses a button, unfreezing the crystal clear image on the screen. Frank lumbers toward the urinal. Eddie and Chief Shaw watch the door in the shot. They both wait to see who steps through it. ‘Holy shit,’ the Tech gasps, interrupting their concentration.
They gaze at Frank, who is being flung around. Frank’s head is driven into the urinal and then he is thrown into the wall. They look at each other in shock and the Tech rewinds, pausing and replaying it, pausing and replaying. He lets it play through the third time until an officer comes in and calls for assistance. Frank lays on the floor, unconscious.
‘What in God’s name was that?’ Eddie asks.
The CCTV operator looks on in shock. ‘I have no idea. It’s like he beat himself up.’
‘I can’t believe he would do that. There must be another explanation. Could the tape have been tampered with?’ Shaw asks. ‘Maybe someone got rid of the attacker.’ The Tech swizzles his chair and faces Chief Shaw and Eddie
‘That’s not possible. I’ve been here my entire shift. I haven’t left this post, not even to take a leak,’ ‘So you’re telling me, Frank McKenzie beat himself up in the toilet?’ Shaw shakes his head in disbelief.
‘He smashed his own head into the urinal?’ Eddie’s voice rises. ‘Twice? And finishes himself off by catapulting head first into the wall?’ ‘It appears so,’ the operator confirms.
‘Wow. I thought I had problems.’ Shaw shakes his head again.
‘What a nut job.’ The Tech says what they all are thinking.
Shaw’s face lights up. ‘You think he knows about his brother?’
Eddie signals for the Tech to leave the room. ‘What makes you ask that?’ Eddie asks as soon as the man is gone.
‘Maybe he wants to blame me for his brother’s death. He attacked me. He could easily be setting me up to take the fall for this. That would get my badge pulled.’
‘Not with CCTV evidence. It just doesn’t make sense. I know Frank is a bit crazy, but that’s what makes him a good Detective. He wouldn’t physically assault himself in the bathroom. ’
‘You’re not wrong, Eddie. But we need to find out what really happened.’
Eighty
‘Alright folks, this is it. We’re proceeding with the mission into the M.I.T building.’ Mullins stands in front of eight men and two women wearing flak jackets. ‘The rules are pretty straightforward,’ he continues. ‘Detective McKenzie and I will run the operation. You will carry it out. The mission is as follows: all resistance will be met with lethal force. Bear in mind, though, that this is a rescue mission. We need to get all of the hostages out alive. We cannot risk any casualties. Capturing Connor Chase is essential. Washington wants him alive. I’m sure they want to make him into an example to discourage any potential copy cats. It’s pretty straight forward. We will go over the plans in the van on the way there. Keep your wits about you, ladies and gentleman. Stay frosty. Any questions?’
Frank McKenzie stands next to Mullins, looking on. He raises his arm. The officers quiet
ly laugh in anticipation of what Frank has to say. ‘Yes Detective?’ Mullins asks.
Frank smiles. ‘I’m a bit confused. Why did Chief Shaw team me up with a wannabe Power Ranger?’
Mullins frowns with frustration and the officer’s laugh. ‘I’m wondering something similar,’ Mullins says.
‘Is that so?’
‘Why would the Chief team me up with an abusive, alcoholic, asshole? If you don’t enjoy my company, Frank, why don’t you have a little chat with one of those voices in your head? Only a crazy fool can be so naïve that he hasn’t noticed everyone in the department knows what a fruit loop you are.’
Frank plants a stiff right jab on Mullins’ jaw and he falls against the van behind him. A few officers come to his aid as Chief Shaw enters just in time to see the ruckus. He puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles. The noise echoes off the granite walls and grabs the attention of everyone.
‘What’s going on here?’ he screams.
‘Nothing, Sir.’ Shaw looks from Frank to Mullins, whose nose is bleeding. ‘What happened to your nose?’ ‘I get nose bleeds, sometimes.’
‘Whatever. It’s all beside the point. Something big just went down. The president was assassinated outside some swanky hotel in Washington a few minutes ago. It was a professional job. Instant death. Washington fears events here are connected. They’ve called off the extraction mission until they know more.’
Everyone is quiet for a long moment.
‘Did they catch the assassin?’ Frank breaks the silence.
‘No, but that is now Washington’s number one priority.’
Eighty One
Sandra and Mike stand at the train station, overlooking the tracks. The station is nearly empty. Mike moves to a bench and sits down. Sandra joins him.
His face is glum. ‘This must be one of the worst days of my life. It’s minus three degrees and I’m stuck in a train station that’s as exciting as sucking lemons. Why aren’t we on our way to Washington to cover the assassination?’
Sandra rests her head on her fist. ‘God, Mike, give it a rest. We go where we are told to go. All I’ve heard from you today is constant pissing and moaning about the situation. The President has just been killed and all you’re concerned about is that you’re not filming the aftermath. Fuck sake, Shut the hell up!’ She takes a deep breath and unloads more on Mike.
‘You’ve been my cameraman for a long time. Today I realized what a selfish prick you are.’ ‘Are you finished?’ Sandra nods. Her breath is visible in the cold Boston air.
‘Look, I’m sorry, Mike. It’s been a shitty day for both of us. You never know. Maybe someone interesting is going to come off the train. We will be the first on the scene.’
‘Or maybe Bob wants us out of the studio to wait for some B list celebrity to give us his take on the day’s events. I do know one thing, I’m done after this.’
Eighty Two
Connor Chase sits in his makeshift office and flicks his Zippo lighter on and off, watching the flame. He slams his fist on the desk. ‘Someone get the hell in here!’ he shouts.
The door bursts open and two of his goons walk in. Both men have automatic weapons. They fill the room and stare as Connor runs his finger through the naked flame from his lighter. His knuckles singe and he smiles sadistically. He looks up at his two employees and shouts ‘How the hell did this happen?’ The two men look at each other, confused.
‘How did what happen, Sir?’ ‘The President getting assassinated on the same day I call for a 28th amendment is a bit counterproductive, don’t you think?’
One man nudges the other to speak up.
Connor rises from his seat and swipes the contents of his desk to the floor with his arm. The sound of breaking glass echoes through the room.
‘I want answers. Find out who killed the President and report back to me. And one of you get Jason on the phone. It’s time to stop fucking around. Get the camera online and get me twenty five hostages…. They are going to regret keeping me in the dark.’
Eighty Three
Jason hangs up his mobile phone and snaps the LED screen into place. He turns to face the terrified passengers.
‘Okay, here’s the deal. I’m splitting the passengers up. I’ll randomly select people to sit near me. You’ll help me tie up the remaining passengers. Then I’ll take you to the back of the train, which will stop five miles before the station, and you’ll be free to go.’
‘I will escort you to a wooded area and tie you up. You’ll remain there until the police find you. The passengers who remain on the train will be picked up by the police at the station.’
One of the hostages puts his hand up. Jason nods at him.
‘Why don’t you just let all of us go?’ he asks.
‘By splitting you up, the police will take longer to look for me. They will be too busy being heroes and saving you guys.’
Jason eyes the hooded man.
‘You got something to say?’ The hooded man shakes his head.
‘Good. Anyone who refuses to do as I say will get a bullet in their heads. I hope that’s clear.’
Jason pulls random passengers by their arms and pushes them to one side of the train. The hooded man clenches his fist. The dark woman covers his clenched fist with her hand and shakes her head.
Jason watches the hooded man wait and bide his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Eighty Four
‘What do we do now?’ Frank rattles the ice at the bottom of his glass.
Shaw lights his cigar.
‘There’s nothing we can do. The President is dead and Washington doesn’t want any attention taken away from the assassination.’
‘That’s BS. Sorry to be so blunt, but at the end of the day, the President is one guy. One guy. Connor has killed a lot more in the past two days than a single guy, no matter how important that one person is. Hundreds of people are still being held hostage. We need to make sure they don’t end up swallowing a mouth full of lead on live television.’
‘Your right, Frank, but we can’t go over Washington’s heads. I sure as hell don’t want to be stacking papers for the rest of my life because I didn’t follow orders’ Eddie interrupts and hands Shaw a coffee. ‘You want coffee, Frank?’
Frank looks at his whisky and shakes his head. He paces the room as Shaw and Eddie talk. He is startled by a pat on his shoulder. He turns to see Eddie talking but he can’t hear a word of what he is saying. He only sees the DA’s lips move. Then sound returns.
‘You okay, Frank?’ he hears Eddie ask.
Frank is doused in sweat. ‘I need some air. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.’ Frank’s mobile rings and he flips it open and puts it to his ear.
‘This is Frank.’
A quiet hiss on the other end of the phone turns to a familiar cackle.
Frank grabs a piece of paper and jots “Connor” on it. Eddie and Shaw sit up and pay attention as Frank switches the speaker on.
‘Speak up, Frank, my boy.’
Frank clenches his fist at his side. Shaw slides another drink across the table. Frank grabs it and belts it down.
‘What do you want, Connor?’
‘Oh, the bitch talks! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for some time now, Frank. Have you been avoiding me?’
‘Why would I do such a thing?’
‘Maybe because I killed that office slut you liked so much.’
Frank kicks the chair next to him across the room and bangs his fist on the table.
‘You listen here, you motherfucker. When I get a hold of you, I’m going to gut you like a fish. You hear me, you no good, murdering, son of a bitch?’
‘I’ll look forward to it!’ Connor hangs up. A dial tone is the only sound in the room. Frank hurls the phone at the wall. Plastic shatters in all directions and he kicks the chair once more. He storms out, leaving Eddie and Shaw stunned and silent in their seats.
Eighty Five
Officer Mullins is in his patrol car
in the parking lot. A tap on the passenger window startles him. His partner gestures for him to open the door.
Mullins flicks a switch on his dashboard and unlocks the heavy door. His partner gets in.
‘Don’t slam the damn thing’ Mullins says as his companion closes the door.
‘You got any news about what’s happening?’
‘Do you think I’d be here, staring at the wall if I did?’
His partner shrugs. ‘You’re supposed to be leading this operation. I thought you might know something.’
‘Not any more. The president was gunned down and now they don’t want us to go after Chase.’
Mullins partner looks sympathetic.
‘I had a chance to advance in my career and that chance was blown away in seconds,’ Mullins fumes. ‘I’m going to be stuck in this patrol car with you for the rest of my life.’
‘Charming.’
‘If you haven’t got any thing important to say, I’d appreciate it if you leave me alone.’
‘The county is in a state of emergency. We have a psycho killer holding several hundred people hostage. The president was assassinated. All you can think of is how miserable you have it. Man up. Do your damn Job.’
‘Believe me; I am going to do my job. Don’t you worry about that.’
Eighty Six
‘I don’t want to hear that right now. You can’t be serious. Fuck sake!’ Eddie slams down the office phone and looks at Shaw, then pours himself another drink.
‘You alright, Eddie?’
Eddie swigs his whisky back in one gulp and slams the empty glass down. ‘What does it look like?’ He wipes his nose with his sleeve. He pours himself yet another shot.
‘Don’t you think you need to slow down?’ Chief Shaw looks concerned.
Eddie takes another swig.
‘Nope.’
Shaw shakes his head and makes his way to the door.
‘Pull yourself together, Eddie. You’re the Goddamn DA. You can’t be drinking on the job like this. You’re ringing Washington up in that state! You’re not going to achieve anything good, Eddie.’