by Luis Samways
‘You got lucky cop! If it wasn’t for the understanding and compassion of the Boston Mafia, you wouldn’t be walking again. You’d have some charred stumps to hobble on for the rest of your life. Some skin graft will take care of that burn you got there. I’m sure you will be just fine. Taking into account the factor of us letting you go that is. We still have a lot of toys we can play with in here. I can assure you we are going to have a lot of fun!’
Twenty Eight
‘Are you telling me that we can’t get in contact with Detective Mullins?’
‘We’ve tried Frank, but it seems as if his radio is down,’ says Shaw as he eyes Frank’s aggressive stance. He knows what Frank is like when angry after him being on the wrong side of the Detective a few times.
‘Can’t we pinpoint his location using the GPS in the two way radio?’
‘We already have. He’s still in Humphries cleaning building downtown.’
Frank sits down on the chair facing Shaw’s desk. He takes out a cigarette and lights it up. He gives Shaw an intense but respectful look.
‘Let’s go in and get him,’ Frank says.
Shaw smiles as he too lights up a cigarette.
‘Already working on that. The new DA has given us a warrant. All we need is a team.’
‘Put me on point,’ says Frank abruptly.
‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’
‘Look I’m over my brother’s death. There was nothing you could have done. I’m ready to go back in the field.’
‘What about the Christmas box case?’
‘They are linked Sir that I am sure of.’
‘How do you work that one out Frank?’
‘I just know it Chief. Trust me on this one.’
Shaw inhales a large drag of his cigarette. He taps the ash into the ashtray and looks back up at Frank.
‘Get ready then. Meet the others in the parking lot. Get a flak jacket and some heavy weaponry. We are going in strong. This is strictly off the radar. We can’t let them know we are coming. These bastards have police scanners.’
‘No problem Sir. I’m sure they won’t even suspect a thing.’
Shaw grins at Frank and takes another toke of his cigarette.
‘Even if they do laddie ,that won’t stop the wrath of Boston’s finest crashing down their walls and cuffing every motherfucker in the building!’
Twenty Nine
Diary entry number Seventy Eight
Dated 25th of December 2012
The time has finally come. It is the day after my reckoning, a mere twenty four hours after all my hard work was pressed upon the eyes of the world. Now these eyes bore deep into my soul. They claim that I am a mad man, but they do not know of my life. They do not know of the pain and suffering you have caused me. It is time for them to know the full extent of my power and witness the cleansing of this putrid city. They think they can stop me, but they are wrong. You can’t stop fate. You can’t stop the inevitable. For when it’s time for the message to end, so will the heritage of this city. Boston will always be known for the love story between me and you. Will they won’t they? That is the question. I guess people will have to see for themselves. I can assure you I will get my own way eventually, even if I have to slay a hundred more to make my point heard…And they will hear me.
Eli
Thirty
‘What do you mean you can get me out of here?’
Roxanne puts her hand over the girl’s mouth.
‘Not so loud. Do you want to advertise our escape to the whole world?’
The girl shakes her head as Roxanne lets her grip go, the girl breaths in a sigh of relief.
‘So what’s the plan?’ The girl asks as she looks around the tightly spaced cell.
‘The Machete Man sits outside of the cell on a nightly basis. He practically sleeps on the stool. He keeps guard near our cell. He can overlook all of the cells from that spot. Sometimes he falls asleep. He likes to drink a lot. What I need you to do is cause a lot of fuss. He doesn’t like people making noise. He gets irritated easily. He will come into the cell and try and shut you up by force. Meanwhile, I’ll pretend I’m asleep, and when he enters to give you a beating, I’ll stab this into his neck,’ Roxanne says as she palms a crude makeshift shank.
‘Machete Man?’
Roxanne shakes her head in annoyance.
‘Yes…That’s his name.’
The girl laughs.
‘Says who?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just what I call him. What does it matter anyway?’
‘It doesn’t, it just seems a bit, I don’t know, 80’s B movie if you ask me.’
‘Well I wasn’t asking you.’
‘Fine.’
‘Good.’
The girl looks around the cell once more.
‘So when are we going to do this?’
‘When he comes out of the killing room.’
The girl smiles at Roxanne.
‘The Killing room?…Never mind.’
Suddenly the Killing room door opens, and the Machete Man stumbles out. He’s holding a bottle of rum as he makes his way towards the stool next to the girl’s cell. He peers into the cell and waves candidly.
‘I hope you two are getting along well,’ he mutters as he sits down next to the cell. The two girls smile at each other as he starts to sing loudly in his chair.
‘Not quite yet. We want him to get as drunk as possible. The guy’s a brick house after all,’ Roxanne whispers.
‘Oh this is going to be fun,’ the girl says quietly.
Roxanne gives the giddy girl a sideward look.
‘This isn’t a game. He’s dangerous. We need to be careful,’ whispers Roxanne
‘I know. Let’s just get this over and done with.’
Thirty One
Humphries is still in the back of his limo uninterested in the traffic and reeling in anger. He’s fed up of the excuses that his driver has been throwing at him. He’s not stupid nor was he born yesterday. He recognises the tall lawyers building the second time round. He’s clocked the building four times now. That’s four times they have driven around the same road. He suspects them of something, and he is right, but he has to play his cool. It could be a diversion. They could be driving him around to distract him from something. They could also be driving him around because they are expecting something to happen. It could be many things. An assassination, a job they are doing behind his back or it could be the simple fact that they may be truly lost. The window between the driver and him is playing with his mind. Any second now he is expecting the window to come down, and a double barrel shotgun to blast him to pieces. Paranoia has always been a factor in the mental stability of Humphries. Being like that has saved his life on many an occasion. It’s a gut feeling he feels on a regular basis. He’s got that feeling now. He doesn’t know quite what to do. When he does know is that he will react to it and get himself out of trouble.
The problem is he doesn’t know why he’s being driven around in circles. He trusts the driver and most of all, he trusts his right hand man Antonio. They have not shown any signs of cracks or distrusting characteristics since being employed by him. One thing he does know is his men will stand by him till the end, so it can’t be the driver or Antonio can it?
He finally has enough. He taps on the window with his ring finger. The brash clanging sound of his jewellery echoes off the glass. After a few seconds of silence, the window comes down. Antonio sticks his head out to be greeted with a 9mm to his face. The gun is being held by his boss, Humphries. Antonio’s face goes pale white as he stares at the cold dark barrel of the gun. His boss’s fierce stare is as prominent as the look of dismay in Antonio’s eyes.
‘Stop the fucking car…NOW!’ screams Humphries.
The driver pops his head around to see the commotion unfold in front of him. He hits the breaks hard. The car comes to a screeching stop. Humphries signals Antonio out of the car. As he complies, Humphries lets himself out of the li
mo. They both exit the car at the same time. The limo is idle in a backstreet, adjacent to the Chinese restaurant downtown. Humphries picked this section of the road because he knew this would be the most secluded. One thing about driving around in circles is the fact that you can plan something like this out pretty easily. He planned this down to a tee. Antonio’s expression looks as if he has been beaten. As if his boss has won. This intrigues Humphries. He knew something was amiss, but this is definitely intriguing indeed. He takes a gamble with his next words as he aims the 9mm at Antonio. The driver remains stone cold still at the front, not daring to look at his gun wielding boss.
‘So you thought you could get away with it?’ Says Humphries as he tries to crack this mysterious case of diversion.
Antonio smiles.
‘How long have you known?’
‘Long enough Antonio…How could you? After everything I’ve done for you and your family?’
Humphries is still fishing, He doesn’t have a clue what Antonio is on about, but he’s sure he can trick him into enlightening him.
‘That’s just typical of you isn’t it? You think that this is only about you…Well it isn’t Humphries. This is about the whole Boston family. We need change and you are quite frankly not fit to run this syndicate anymore. That’s why I got the girls kidnaped, and that’s why their bodies are scattered around the bay in Christmas boxes.’
Humphries couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. His right hand man was admitting to kidnapping the families’ trafficked workers and selling them on. He thought that this was a hit on him not a confession of stolen property. After all the time he had spent consoling in Antonio about how much these girls meant to him and how much they needed to find the culprit, he felt that his most trusted member had betrayed him.
‘Those girls were my property. I bought them out of the sex trade to work in our many businesses. To give them a better life and you go and sell them on?’
‘A better life? They are whores; they don’t deserve a better life. We would be losing money on them. You’re crazy buying them for insane amounts of cash only so you could play the knight in shining armour and rescue them, feed them… and house them? What are you, the welfare office?’
‘What I do with my money is my business.’
Antonio smiles as his boss’s hand starts to tremble while holding the gun.
‘And to think you weren’t going to sleep with them….all that money and not even a fucking blowjob. I guess now they have been well and truly fucked. I was sure to give a few of them a nice fuck before cutting their mangy heads off!’
‘You fucking no good son of a bitch. I’ll make sure you pay for this Antonio.’
Humphries pulls back the hammer on his 9mm.
‘Where are the rest of them?’ he asks
‘They are down the old warehouse in the sewer system where we used to hide the coke. Darrel has them down there. He’s the one who bought them off me. I told him he could use the warehouse seeing we don’t use it anymore, plus you wouldn’t have suspected a goddamn thing seeing that you’re on the good old straight and narrow now.’
Humphries breaks a gold filled smile at his associate. He swings his arm and pistol whips Antonio in the head. Antonio hits the ground hard. Humphries turns around and looks at the driver of the car who’s still staring straight at the windshield.
‘You can look you know,’ Says Humphries as he puts his pistol away.
The driver cautiously turns his head to look at his boss.
‘I didn’t know anything about that Sir,’ says the driver
Humphries smiles.
‘What did you know about then?’
‘Well sir, the reason we were going around in circles is because Antonio told me that they had a hostage back at the depot. He didn’t want you to find out because he thought you would overreact.’
‘A hostage?’
‘Yeah some cop.’
Humphries shakes his head.
‘Fuck sake. Help me get this piece of shit in the car.’
Suddenly Humphries cell goes off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out.
‘Hello?’
Theirs a long silence as Humphries shakes his head and grunts. He finally says something.
‘Don’t worry, I have it under control. Your daughter will be found sir…Okay…yep…speak to you soon.’
He turns to the driver who’s just finished stuffing the unconscious body of Antonio in the trunk.
‘The back seat would have done…anyway, that was the Mayor. His daughter was taken, and he was beaten up not more than two hours ago. He swears he saw a few of my men down there. I have assured him that I have it under control. I think it’s best if we make our way down to the depot. This shit needs to be taken care of.’
Thirty Two
‘We are going in strong, so I want everyone on their guard. The building in question is a two storey depot that houses the Humphries cleaning Contractor Company. There will be resistance, especially if they truly do have Mullins held hostage,’ says Frank as he skims his hand over the schematics while gesturing to the officers in front of him. One of the officers puts his hand up.
‘Yes…,’ says Frank
‘So you don’t actually know if Mullins is in the building? So we could be raiding a building that has nothing to do with the investigation?’
‘We don’t know for sure if he is in there, but the likelihood of him being in danger is too great to ignore. A patrol car is already on the scene a safe distance away. He radioed in earlier and told us that he had spotted Mullins’s Mustang.’
‘What if he isn’t in there?’
Frank shakes his head at the intrusive questions.
‘If he isn’t, then he isn’t. What more do you want me to say?’
The officer quietens down.
‘We will be entering from the front. First signs of contact must be reported using the usual methods. If you come across any hostiles, then the mission mandate states that lethal force is allowed. Good luck out there and let’s bring our man back home.’
The group of officers don their flak jackets and assault rifles as Frank starts to feel his headache come back. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pill container. He empties a bunch into the palm of his hand. He chucks them into his mouth and swallows them dry. An officer spots him and walks towards him.
‘You okay Frank?’
The sound of the offices voice startles Frank. He quickly puts the pill container into his trouser pocket and turns to face the curious officer.
‘Yeah I’m okay…Just a little headache.’
‘Good, wouldn’t want you to be distracted on the job Frank.’
Frank forces a smile.
‘Nope…We wouldn’t want that.’
Thirty Three
‘What’s your name?’ Roxanne asks as she feels silly for taking so long to pop the question. It’s not like her to be that ignorant to not even have the common courtesy to ask a person’s name, let alone after being in the company of that person for more than three hours. She felt untrained in dealing with people. Being locked up for four years will do that to a person. Samantha Reynolds understood.
‘My name is Samantha.’
‘I’m Roxanne…Sorry about not asking sooner.’
‘Oh it’s okay, considering our circumstances, I don’t blame you one bit. I didn’t even ask you what your name was.’
‘True…As bad as each other I guess.’
The two girls laugh and then suddenly stop as they realise where they are. It’s like they had forgotten for that brief moment in time. They felt as if everything was normal and then reality came crashing back down and hit them like a ton of bricks. It came in the form of the Machete Man yawning on his stool. The fear that ran through both of them at that minute was unexplainable. They had nearly waited long enough for the killer to fall asleep and suddenly they found themselves laughing and joking. He could be waking up because of their giddy slip up and all that
effort would have been for nothing. Thankfully the Machete Man remained in a deep sleep. Even the bottle of Rum slipping out of his relaxed grip and hitting the floor didn’t do much in the way of waking the sleeping menace. The two girls sigh in relief. They wanted the man to be in a deep sleep that way Roxanne could finish sharpening her makeshift shank. It was nearly done.
‘Just one more minute and we are ready,’ Roxanne says quietly while Samantha keeps a close eye on the killer a few yards to the right of their cell.
A few minutes of silence go by; the only audible sounds are the heavy abrasive breathing of the Machete Man and the light rubbing sound of the shank on the floor. Finally, the knife is ready. The tip of it curves at a crude angle much like the points of winkle pickers. Roxanne silently gets up off the floor and quietly makes her way towards the rickety bed that’s attached to the wall. She gets in and puts the covers over her. She holds the knife close to her chest like a knight would hold his sword before entering battle. She believes this is going to work, it has to work.
Right on cue, Samantha starts to sing extremely loud. It doesn’t take long for the Machete Man to stop snoring. His loud breathing is replaced by the sounds of Samantha hitting a few dreadful high notes. She hears the Machete Man get up from his stool, the bulk of his weight lifting off the wooden chair cracks through the hallway and echoes off the walls of their cell. Samantha’s singing grows louder as Roxanne hears the Machete man tap on the metal bars.
‘Shut the hell up or I’ll make you,’ the simpleton says as he struggles to be heard over the loud voice of Samantha. The next thing Roxanne hears is the jangling of keys and then the sound of the locks turning. The door slides open and the heavy footsteps of the Machete Man creak through the cell. Samantha’s singing is starting to get quieter as the huge bulking man comes closer. Roxanne opens her eyes and quickly rips the wool bedding off her. Her eyes are met with a shard of light that’s surrounding the shadowy figure of the Machete Man. She makes her move and springboards herself off the bed. Her arm is raised as she grips the shank and extends it deep into her target. She hears the singing stop and feels the hard plastic hit his neck. It goes in easily enough and comes out easier. Her face is covered in blood as she hangs onto his neck while striking him with her knife. She keeps stabbing him. Each time the Machete Man screams louder in pain. His screams turn to gargling sounds as he goes down onto one knee. Samantha looks on in dismay as she watches her cellmate hack at the man’s neck. After another barrage of strikes, the man falls flat onto his stomach. Roxanne’s arms are still gripping him as she frees herself from his deadweight. She looks at the stunned and shocked Samantha. Roxanne looks down at the lifeless corpse that’s oozing blood. She struggles to turn him around.