by Jack Parker
Victor watched as Sheridan continued to pace back and forth by his tableside. He winced when hands clamped down suddenly on the edge and Sheridan was leaning over him with another grin.
"You know, when I found out Gabler was a pillow biter it blew my fucking mind," Sheridan made a gesture to this effect. "Kurt? Gay? I mean of all the fucking guys I ever met…I don't know how I could've ever seen that shit coming. And the idea that he would turn on me for that wily, manipulative little fuckboy was a real kick in the ass. That Eaton kid is one sly motherfucker—when I found out a few weeks ago that he roped you into this, too?" Sheridan laughed. "Jesus, I mean how good must this guy's dick taste that he's got both of you numb-nuts clamoring for a mouthful?"
"What we did was fucking wrong," Victor stated quietly. "I never should've agreed to a kidnapping in the first place."
"But you did, Scotty. You agreed. You're not this stand-up guy you think you are, okay? This holding yourself to some phantom higher standard shit always hacked me off." Sheridan huffed irritably and scratched his throat. "You're as guilty as the next prick. Having a conscience in this business doesn't make you a good person, it makes you a fucking hindrance. It makes you suck at your job. At the end of the day you're holding the exact same money in your hands as the rest of us dirty crooks, so get the fuck over yourself."
Victor didn't particularly like hearing his worst self-doubts vocalized by someone he fucking hated, but a guilt trip was currently the least of his worries. "At least I wised up and got out. If you'd done the same then none of this would've ever happened."
"Right you are. None of this would've ever happened," Sheridan conceded, planting a hand on his chest. "I never would've found out that my so called friends were fucking me over. I never would've been recruited by the most powerful crime lord in England. I never would've gotten my very own mob. Kind of makes it seem like the only thing that was ever holding me back was my connection to shit-kickers like you."
"Get off your fucking high horse, Casey. If you wanna kill me then just do it."
Sheridan slapped his shoulder. "Kill you! Ah, Victor. You always were a funny guy. Nah, see, if I can say anything about you it's that you're useful. That brain of yours is somethin' else. Any job I ever had that seemed impossible, I always knew that Victor Scott was my ticket to pulling it off, and wouldn't you know it? You continue to prove me right."
Victor sneered. "I'm not helping you do shit."
"You don't think you're helping me do shit," Sheridan corrected. "Ya see, now it's your turn to play the kidnap victim. And you should be flattered, let me tell ya, 'cause the asking price for your ass is out of this world."
"Emery won't pay it," Victor said with a glare.
"Oh he will," Sheridan countered. Then he bent down, his face close to Victor's, eyes murderous. "And as soon as he signs it over, I'm gonna slit his devious little throat from ear to ear. And his big dumb boyfriend's, too." He slowly straightened up, studying his victim for a moment longer before roughly patting his bearded cheek. "Then, I'll have a chance to think about you."
Victor bristled and watched as Sheridan sauntered out of the room, giving one last smug leer at Ludkov before disappearing.
There was a long silence before Ludkov spoke. "I must apologize for not shooting him in the head those two years ago."
Victor looked out at the wall and sighed. He hoped that Sheridan wasn't right. He knew that Emery would hand over his fortune in a heartbeat for Victor's life. That's just the sort of guy he was, and it was gonna be the death of him. Victor just prayed he could rely on Kurt's levelheadedness to stop him before he did something that stupid.
* * *
Kurt stood stone still, heart pounding, head fuzzy as the phone rang again. This time it went directly to voicemail. Emery had deliberately shut off his mobile. In frustration he pitched the device in his hand hard against the wall of the train car where it cracked apart.
"He got up," Georgie was babbling. "I saw him get up—he's not hurt."
"He soon will be," Kurt panted slightly. He looked out at the passing city from the van's open door and crouched, gripping the side of the doorway and trying to gauge speed.
"Don't!" Georgie cried. He felt her hands on his shoulders and he stumbled back when she pulled him.
"Get off of me," he ordered, shoving her away.
"If you jump off here you'll break your neck!"
"I'm going after him."
Georgie shook her head. "You've got to wait until the train slows down. Listen to me, for god's sake—you're not thinking clearly." Kurt turned back to the open door and Georgie jumped at him, yanking him away once more. "Stop it! You ought to care enough about him to keep from being killed, you bloody idiot!"
Kurt snapped. He instantly rounded on her, snatching her by the front of her jacket and slamming her up against the opposite wall. She coughed out a breath and grabbed at his hands as he glared wildly at her. Her eyes were wide, her breath fast. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his fist and there was fear on her face. Real fear. Of him. Suddenly Kurt felt revulsion. She was not a child, but for a moment she seemed terribly akin to a helpless sixteen year old girl that he still vividly remembered. Small, fragile, and convinced that a cruel thug like him was going to needlessly hurt her. He quickly released his grip and staggered a step back.
Georgie hung tightly against the wall and evaluated him with extremely wary eyes, but his face must've showcased his horror because she gradually relaxed.
"He's going to be killed," Kurt rasped by way of explanation. "I can't stand by. I can't let him do this. I can't face it—not again."
"Kurt," Georgie said carefully. "I understand, please believe me. There is only a very, very small handful of people on this earth that I give a damn about, and over half of them are now currently sitting in that compound. But leaping off of a train into bloody concrete isn't going to help matters. It will only render you incapable of making it back to him."
Kurt shook his head and began pacing. "This is precisely what Thompson wants. It is willfully walking into a trap."
"At least this time we know it." There was a long silence before she began again. "I know that you don't trust me. You certainly don't like me. But you must believe me when I tell you that I'm on your side. I will die before I let anything happen to Emery Fletcher."
"Why?" Kurt demanded without looking at her.
"Because it's my only chance at atonement."
Kurt met her eyes.
Georgie swallowed. "And I've got to have it. I've simply got to."
Kurt looked away and continued pacing.
It was ten more minutes before the train finally began to slow near an industrial park. Kurt hung out the door and as soon as the speed was safe he hopped to the ground and marched, Georgie jumping to catch up to him. His eyes scanned the wide lot around him and began to evaluate the cars spotting spaces here and there before heading to the closest serviceable one. Georgie began trying the doors to no avail. "I can pick locks," she noted, searching the area for something to use. "I only need a wire or a lace or something of that—"
Georgie was cut off as Kurt gave the driver's window a sharp crack with a found crowbar. It shattered inward, followed by a shrill alarm, and he snaked an arm in to unlock the door before slipping inside and disabling the siren near instantly. As soon as he unlocked the other doors she climbed in, looking around to make sure they hadn't been seen.
"Alright. The tried and true method it is," she said. Kurt could feel her gaze on him, but he was momentarily preoccupied with his task of attempting to pry open the steering column. "What's our plan of action?"
"Infiltrate the facility whilst avoiding detection." Kurt felt that should be rather obvious. "The fray should be ongoing, provided Hennessey's simpletons haven't fled. It should offer enough cover."
"Naturally, but to what end? How are we going to find Emery and get the others out?"
"As I've said before," Kurt yanked and the plastic panel f
ell away, exposing the wiring. "Thompson's organization is a serpent. I'll worry about collecting what's mine after I've cut off its head."
Georgie studied him tensely for a moment before speaking. "You and I know better than anyone that vengeance will be a lost cause with him."
Kurt began to carefully strip away the wire casing with his pocket knife and spared her a neutral glance. "Do you envision any future for us in which he lives?"
Georgie looked back at him, then fixed her gaze out the car to watch for passersby. "Best get a move on, then."
Kurt connected the wires and the car jumped to life.
* * *
The darkness of night offered much needed protection as Emery slunk carefully through the train cars towards the overtaken laboratory. Frequent spates of gunfire still echoed across the scene, louder and louder as he approached. He stopped in an angled cluster of cars to peer out at the building carefully. From here he could see that Hennessey's men, no longer under his command, were not taking the bait, having pulled back out of range from the building and forcing the Dutchman's men inside to edge out in pursuit. Victor and Ludkov had to be inside. It was the closest thing to a stronghold in the area and the Dutchman was surely going to keep them close at hand. Emery checked his weapon quickly before heading around towards the back gate.
It still lay wide open. Dead bodies littered the pavement inside, both Hennessey's and the Dutchman's, but the remaining forces had pushed in beyond the gate and left it unguarded. Emery mentally studied the firing pattern and determined that the nearest warring group was about a hundred feet from the entrance hidden by stationary supply trucks. Emery made his move quickly and reentered the compound, stopping against a wall and crouching down to keep himself behind a standing power supply generator when a group of men rushed by. He swept the lot with his gaze and looked back to the laboratory carefully.
The front entrance was of course compromised. It was where the surviving gunmen of Hennessey's first party still seemed to be focusing all of their fire judging by the racket emanating from that direction. In the meantime Emery could see that the side of the building he was currently facing had another door. Men intermittently exited this door with guns, scattering to fan out and overtake their attackers. This would have to be his in. Emery waited until another group of men dashed out from it and vanished before he rushed forward, catching it with his foot before it could close and hurriedly slipping inside. He was immediately greeted by a stairway to his right and a hallway directly ahead, well-lit and with voices echoing down at him from the other end. He quickly slid over and wedged himself between the stairs and the wall to avoid being spotted as more footsteps tromped towards the door. Here he took a moment to gather his thoughts, safe from view as men clambered around him.
He'd made it inside, but now what? Emery didn't know the design of this facility and he had no idea where Victor and Ludkov might have been taken. He couldn't very well search room by room, floor by floor. Emery thought for a moment before whipping around and beginning to scour the walls. His eyes landed on a mounted fire extinguisher cabinet and surely enough, next to it was a posted fire evacuation map giving him a clear layout of the building as well as all of its exits. It was comprised of three floors. Men were filing out from the first and crowding up at the third to maintain a vantage point from which to fend off Hennessey's men, which meant that the second floor was the most protected and where his enemy, along with his prized captives, was sure to be. Emery waited for another stretch of silence around him before he began to trek carefully up the first flight of stairs.
When he reached the top of the stairway he kept close to the wall and peered around the doorframe. He caught the backs of two men walking away down a long corridor that veered off to the right. Emery scanned around as best he could and tried to get a plan in place. There had to be some way to find out where his men were being kept without having to physically search every inch. From the map below he was able to gather that this floor mostly consisted of testing rooms, but god knows what purpose any of them actually served under the Dutchman's ownership. With few other options, Emery made his way down the sterile white hallway towards the center.
Only ten feet in he heard footsteps approaching. Shit. He looked behind him and ahead, assessing quickly that he would not be able to backtrack in time. He shot left into the men's bathroom for cover and hoped that he wasn't seen. He left the light off and pressed himself against the door rigidly. The footsteps were still coming closer, but had not increased in pace. It was unlikely that he'd been noticed, however they continued to approach the door steadily. Emery backed up into one of the stalls and quietly latched the door shut in the dark. A few seconds later the door to the restroom opened and the light flicked on overhead. Emery kept still as he heard shoes squeak across the floor before a sink turned on. Then it turned off and there was some shuffling, the sound of tapping, and he cautiously leaned to the side to peer through the gap between the door and the side of the stall.
He realized with simultaneous fury and terror that the man in the bathroom with him was Casey Sheridan. There the bastard was, right bloody there, leaning over and snorting up a great line of white powder he'd dumped along the counter's surface. Getting high in the fucking toilets while the world waged war around him. Emery clenched his teeth and before he could stop himself he was launching forward out of the stall, throwing himself at the man and knocking him hard into the counter. Sheridan barked in shock as Emery's hand to the back of his neck forced his face into the mirror with a hard thud.
"Jesus fucking—!" Sheridan cried, but almost instantly met Emery's eyes in the mirror and his face fell hard.
Emery glared back at him, keeping his gun pressed into the back of Sheridan's head.
"Ho-ly shit," Sheridan said, holding up his hands and sniffing violently. "You nearly gave me goddamn heart attack!"
"That's not all I'm going to give you," Emery hissed. He didn't fully know what his plan was here, but his anger was completely taking over. This was all Sheridan's fault. All of it, and here he was, ripe for the picking. Emery could kill him right now once and for all.
"Easy, ea—just relax, kid, Christ!" Sheridan spouted as his eyes darted between Emery's and the door.
Emery shoved him forward again. "Shut up. Keep your bloody voice down or this glowing legacy of yours will come to an abrupt end in the shitter. Is that how you'd like to be remembered?"
"Okay. O-okay, shit, just…" Sheridan rubbed gruffly under one eye as his face began to twitch. "Look…look, don't do anything stupid, alright? For fuck's sake, Eaton, you're in no fucking danger here. Thompson needs you. He's not gonna kill you."
"No, he's going to kidnap me. Use me for my fortune and hold my mates over my head. I've had enough of being a hostage for one lifetime, Mr. Sheridan, so that's an offer I'm planning to decline."
"Do that and you're dead," Sheridan said. He fidgeted, licking his lips and keeping his hands up. "Listen to me, kid. I'm tryin' to help you out here. We're on the same side."
"For as long as it suits you," Emery amended. "I might have been naïve when you first met me, but I would have to be every bit as high and as stupid as you to think everything will turn out right if I just play along with his plan."
"Okay, I get that you've grown a pair over the years. I get that. Maybe old Kurt taught you a few tricks, huh? Maybe you've been doin' good for yourself. But you can do so much fucking better. Seriously, this guy can make you. Right now you're surviving, but you could be thriving. Just think about that for a goddamn second. You could be one of the most powerful fucking guys in the country."
"At the expense of the lives of the only people I care about."
Sheridan shrugged emphatically. "Hey, that's just how it is. Friends die in this business. Believe me, I know."
"Not mine." Emery pressed the gun harder into the back of his neck. "Now where are Victor and Ludkov?"
Sheridan sniffed again and grimaced. "They're in the med bay."
/> "Show me."
"Ah come on, man…"
Emery leaned in closer and channeled every bit of the venom he felt into his voice. "It's not too late to clog that sink drain with whatever's left between your ears. Do you really suppose I need one more reason to want you dead?"
Sheridan visibly swallowed and sneered, but it was a sneer of defeat. Emery shoved him hard out the door, gun still on him.
"Jesus, where did you even fucking come from? I mean how did you get in here?" Sheridan was asking.
"Keep walking," Emery bit in return.
Sheridan glanced back at him as he was pushed along. "I'm sort of impressed. I'm not gonna lie. I didn't see this coming."
Emery remained silent.
Sheridan huffed and Emery was irritated by the faint smirk he could make out. "Fuck, cut me some slack for god's sake. I mean if it weren't for me you and loverboy never even woulda met, but do I get any credit there? Of course not. Instead all of you fuckers just turn on me when all I ever did was try and make the situation a win-win for everyone. I pulled you out of the fire and this is the thanks I get."
Emery was infuriated at that sentiment because he couldn't immediately refute it. He revered Kurt for his role in the kidnapping but condemned Casey Sheridan. Which of course seemed only right considering the circumstances, but the way the man twisted the story to pardon himself was outrageous. "A fire you had every intention of throwing me back into," Emery reminded.
"Well shit, you can't blame me for thinking of my own neck first and foremost."
"How much further?" he demanded.
"I don't know, like a few hundred feet that way," Sheridan pointed the finger of one of his raised hands. He glanced continuously back over his shoulder as he walked. "Can we just fucking talk about this for a second? It doesn't matter if I show you where your pals are, you're never getting out of here alive and neither are they. Not if you aren't willing to compromise."