by Marie Reyes
The receptionist passed them both a temporary pass, and they hung the lanyards around their necks. John swiped his pass and walked through a metal turnstile and all they could do was follow compliantly. Piper placed her pass against the scanner, but the light flashed red. Her heart thumped so loud she could hear the blood rushing past her ears and her hands gripped tightly around the plastic card.
"Try this one honey." Jackie held out a new pass, and Piper passed her the old one. When she held the new one to the scanner, the light flashed green, and she took a deep breath.
"Follow me," John ordered. They walked past the elevators, remaining on the ground floor and their footsteps echoed on the varnished tile floor. They walked through a set of double doors and past the washroom.
"I need to go," Piper said, worried about the answer. No matter what awful things had happened, or were going to happen, she still needed some dignity.
"Fine. Just keep in mind, I have your friend here, and if you're not out in three minutes, you know what'll happen. Don't make me regret this."
"I won't." Her voice broke, but she knew she couldn't cry. If she brought attention to them, she knew she would regret the repercussions.
The bathroom was clean, bright, and smelled strongly of floral air freshener. She ran into the stall and tried to get this over with as soon as possible. As she relieved herself, she rested her head on the door in exhaustion. Another woman entered as she came out her stall and smiled at her briefly. It would be so easy just to tell this person she was in trouble. They were even playing on their phone. It would be so easy for them to call 911. She couldn't take the risk and rushed out the door.
Other workers passed them in the corridor, oblivious to what was going on. They took a left, then a right, and the conference room sat at the very end of the hall between a set of double doors. He stopped as they passed a vending machine. "Get a drink."
"What?" Kristen asked.
"We folk can't get through a meeting without coffee. You want to look natural, right?"
Kristen got herself a water from the fountain, and Piper pressed the black coffee button on the machine and it whirred as a thin stream of coffee poured into the cup. They walked to the double doors, attempting to keep their cups steady. They didn't belong here. Kristen tried to pretend she was an actress in a role. It was just pretend.
Everyone looked at them as they entered an auditorium full of people. Luckily, they didn't look for long and went back to talking amongst themselves in their little cliques. John took a seat closest to the door and gestured for them to sit down beside him. Kristen finished her water and placed the empty cup on the floor by her feet, but her throat was still dry. He was right next to her, and the gun was tucked away under the waistband of his slacks. If she did something right now, maybe it would all work out, or maybe all hell would break loose.
She wanted to scream. She had to do something, but she had no idea what. Either way, she felt like she was making a monumental mistake. A group of three men walked up the central aisle and made their way down the row of seats in front of them. As soon as they had taken their seats, they turned back. "Who's your new friends?" One of the guys smiled at Kristen, revealing a perfect row of straight, white teeth.
"Hi. I'm Kristen. Ohio branch." She shook his strong, firm hand, hoping he wouldn't notice how clammy hers was.
"I'm Malik." He smiled again. "I didn't know they asked you to look after the Ohio lot," he said, turning to John.
"We've got a shy one." He held out his hand to Piper, and she shook it weakly.
"Sorry if we look a little... worse for wear. We went to town on the hotel mini bar last night," Kristen tried to sound casual.
"Say no more. Are you two sticking around?"
"Uh, yeah," Piper said without thinking.
"I'll keep that in mind. If you fancy a drink after this, let us know. Oh, this is Scott and Darnell by the way."
"Nice to meet you," Kristen said, as a middle-aged man in a suit stood up on the podium with a slide show ready to go and introduced himself.
"Can anyone tell me, the three stages of money laundering?"
Around half the room raised their hands, including John. She wondered what the odds were when the man up front selected John to answer the question.
"The three stages of money laundering, are placement, layering, and integration."
"Good, good. Placement, layering, and integration. Can anyone tell me what these things all mean?"
Kristen looked at the back of the heads of the men in front of her. They had barely spoken, yet she hated to think of anything bad happening to them. To think that they worked with John yet had no idea what was going on in his head. As the man went into detail about fraud, she considered whether she would be strong enough to tackle John to the floor. If she could just hold him down long enough for Piper to grab the gun, then this entire room of people would leave with their lives.
Piper was also trying to make eye contact with her, but John shot them both a glare. He was on guard now, and his hand hovered over his hip, where he stashed the gun. Now he was sat down, she noticed what she suspected was ammunition bulging in his pocket and she wondered how much he had on him. Worst-case scenario, how many people could he actually kill?
"Any questions anyone?"
"Yeah, I have a question." John stood up.
"Go on."
"Where do you get off?"
"Excuse me?" The man boomed over the microphone. The audience were all looking their way, and her face burned with awkward embarrassment and fear.
This was it. They both knew that gun was coming out. Kristen hurled her full weight at him, knocking him sideways off his chair. She leaped from her seat and jumped on top of him, holding his hands down to the ground. Piper rushed from her seat, feeling around for his gun. One of his hands slipped from Kristen's grasp and his elbow hit Piper right in the eye and she covered her face with her hands.
"What is going on here?" the man in front shouted, getting ready to walk off stage to intervene.
Scott pulled Kristen off of him. "What are you doing?" he yelled, holding her arms back. You Ohio lot are crazy.
"Let me go," she screamed. "He's got a gun." As soon as she said the word gun, screams came from the audience and the sound of panicked movement filled her ears. Scott had let her go, and she tried to stop John from getting the gun, but it was too late, and in one second flat, he had it pointed in their direction, eliciting more screams. People pushed at the fire exit door, but it would not budge.
"The fire exit is out-of-order people. Come on, I'm not an idiot," he shouted over the crowd, barely audible above the commotion. Despite the distance, John managed to take out the presenter in one clean shot, and as blood exploded from his head, he dropped to the floor. The panic escalated, and everyone hit the deck.
Chapter Forty One
The familiar sound of ringing was louder than ever, and Martin wondered if he was still alive. How could he be? He felt disorientated, but no more in pain than he was earlier. He knew he was alive when bile rose up in his throat and he vomited on the floor. Convinced he couldn't breathe, he started coughing and spluttering. A hand came down on his shoulder. "We're here. It's okay."
In his mind, it was Piper talking to him through the ringing. "I'm dizzy."
Isabella let out a high-pitched banshee wail. Her call of death cut through him as if she was screaming for both of them. The horror of everything was encapsulated in that one sound. Maybe she had seen him and that was why she was screaming. Maybe he was torn to shreds. Maybe he was a pile of body parts scattered on the floor.
"Martin. Get up!" she yelled. "You have to get up." She pulled him up by his shirt and he leaned against her. He looked down at his arms. Sure, there were bits of metal sticking out of him like porcupine spikes, but they were still attached. He wriggled his legs and leaned his neck to one side.
"I'm okay?"
"Yes. You're going to be okay." She was laughing now whilst tears stil
l streamed down. "I'm free. We're free. We're alive." The laughing grew hysterical as she looked over to the door. Martin swiveled around on the floor to face the exit and retched. Connor lay slumped against the door. Never in his life had Martin seen that much blood. He couldn't make out any of Connor's features. It looked like his right arm was hanging by a thread and there was a huge gaping wound in his gut. Martin looked away when he realized part of Connor's intestines were poking out. He couldn't be here.
They needed to get out. Isabella stepped over Connor's body and into the hallway, and as Martin followed suit, a hand grabbed his leg. "Fuck," he yelled, as Connor grasped at his calf muscle. How could he still be alive? He looked like a zombie rising from the grave. Martin got down on his knees in the pool of blood that spread out around Connor's body. It was slick on his hands and soaking into his jeans. Connor clutched his stomach, crying out in agony, trying to keep everything in place, and Martin pulled his hand away and watched the blood gush out.
"Help. Please," he whispered hoarsely. Martin could see his life fading right before his eyes, and he liked it.
"Go to hell," Martin said as he got up and went back to see Aadesh. He had no doubt that he was gone, but he didn't want to leave him there alone. Isabella must have run off, so it was just the two of them. He sat, crossed-legged, and held Aadesh's hand in his. "We did it. You did something amazing. You are brave as hell. No one will forget that." When he heard sirens, he let out a sigh. It was over. All of it. They did it. They caught Alex McBride's killer. They saved a girl from being butchered. His life meant something. It didn't take long for the police to find him, shortly followed by paramedics. There were people everywhere and finally, he felt safe.
~~~
Once again, he was in the back of an ambulance, but this time, the hardship was over. He couldn't see Piper or Kristen when they took him outside. He asked after them, but no one knew where they were. But he knew they must be okay, because Connor was always just on the other side of that door. Wherever they were, he couldn't wait to see them.
Whilst the male paramedic stuck something in his ear a police officer asked, "Did you see the other man?"
"Other man? Aadesh? He... He's dead."
"No. The other person keeping Isabella hostage. She informed us that there were two men involved. Have you seen him? Is he in there?"
"The what? Who?" His blood ran cold.
"There was another man involved."
He tried to get up, but the paramedics kept him where he was. "What are you talking about? Where are my friends? Where's Piper? Kristen?"
"You need to calm down. Relax. Please."
His phone was crushed on the floor in the school. He had no way of contacting them. "Can I borrow a cell phone? I need to check on my friends."
"When you get to the hospital. Martin, you've sustained a massive trauma. You need to lay back and let us do our job." He couldn't. How could he? This couldn't be happening. He could barely process what had happened to Aadesh, and now, he could be the only one of them left. If he wasn't so weak, he would have screamed and shouted. It was so unfair. Who the hell was this guy? He wished he could pull out the shards of metal in him and just take off. If anyone could find them, it would be him.
Chapter Forty
Two
John shot Scott square in the forehead. Malik ran for his life and Darnell fell to his knees. "Scott." He leaned over him. "Scott." He looked up at John. "You killed him. You asshole. You..."
"Stop it!" Kristen yelled, but a bullet hit Darnell in the chest.
"Shut up. Just shut up! I'm trying to think." John rubbed the back of his head with his hand and walked on the spot. It looked like he was freaking out, like he realized what he had done. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere. Most of the crowd were still and silent, as if he wouldn't be able to see them if they didn't move. Some people cried, and some still tried the fire exit. "Why don't we play a game I like to call, corporate bullshit bingo. The rules are easy. Come up with a corporate word or phrase that you hate and if you come up with a good one, you live. I'm sure Alan on the podium up there had a few good ones up his sleeve for today. You. You start." He pointed his gun at the nearest person he could find, a girl who was wedged in-between the chairs, quivering in fear.
"I don't know."
He sighed. "Come on Beth, you know this. You've been in as many meetings as I have."
"I don't know," she cried.
"Fine. I'll let you off. You're not one of these people. You deserve better things. Why don't I give you an example? Going forward. Why not just say, in the future, or from now on? Going forward. Next." He moved the gun to the man who cowered in the row next to her. "Go."
"Uh," he stared up at John, pleading with his eyes.
"We don't have all day. Remember, you said that to me once."
"Customer journey," he spluttered.
"Good one. I like that. Why is everything described as a journey these days? My weight loss journey. Employee journey. Customer journey. What bullshit." John smiled and turned on his next victim. "Not sure how you're going to top that, Jenny."
"John don't do this." She stood on her knees with her hands held up in front of her. "I'm begging you, please. I've always liked you John. Please don't do this," she said between sobs. John turned at the sound of the double doors opening behind him and he fired straight away. The bullet hit the door, chipping at the wood, and whoever had tried to enter, had ran off.
Chapter Forty
Three
Now the adrenaline was all burnt up, Martin lay there. He'd had numerous tests, and was only found to have secondary blast injuries, but he felt like shit, even with the strong painkillers. All the shrapnel had been removed, except for two pieces that were embedded deeper than the rest.
He was covered in stitches from head to toe and now sported a bald patch on his head where they had shaved his hair to make it easier to stitch up one of his injuries. He worried if the insurance he got would cover his injuries, after all, he had put himself in harm's way. Everything had spun out of control, and his friends were out there somewhere, and he had no idea where. A doctor he recognized almost zipped past him.
"Excuse me!"
"Yes. How can I help?" He backed up.
"I need to see Isabella Torres. She was at the scene with me. She knows what's going on. The bomber, he didn't work alone. There was someone else. Please. He has my friends," he pleaded.
"I will check, but I have someone else I need to tend to first." He rushed off before Martin could get another word in. This was torture. He needed answers, but all he could do was lie here, trapped in this bed.
No one was around. The cannula had been taken out. He could just slip out. No, he couldn't. He was dressed in this stupid, flimsy gown, but he couldn't just lie there doing nothing. Surely If he slinked out of hospital, his treatment wouldn't be covered. Maybe he could find Isabella in the hospital on his own, find out what was going on.
He knew Piper and Kristen wouldn't have just left him there. Someone took them. If he waited, surely the police would have some information for him. They asked him a couple of questions at the scene, but they still weren't here yet for more formal questioning, probably to give him time to recover, but he wanted to speak to them now. They must have talked to Isabella already.
Despite being tired, it didn't hurt too much when he lifted himself up, just a dull ache. These painkillers were good. He swung his feet off the edge of the bed and pressed them against the cold floor, slowly putting his weight on his legs until he was stood up. He didn't feel particularly stable, but he told himself he could do this. Just one foot in front of the other. He didn't make it far before his legs buckled beneath him.
~~~
Martin came to, with a doctor and a nurse over him. "What happened?"
"You tried to get up and walk, that's what happened. You need to rest. You're in pain. Your body is trying to heal. I know you're anxious to find out what happened to your frien—"
A newsreader stood outside the office he had only been at the day before, and a huge crowd had developed. He had never seen so many emergency vehicles all in one place. A headline scrolled underneath, which he needed to squint to read. Shots fired in the offices of First Choice Insurance. Office workers held hostage.
This was not a coincidence.
Chapter Forty
Four
"STOP!" Kristen yelled at the top of her lungs.
"What!" John took his attention away from terrorizing the employees of Best Choice Insurance.
"You, you are killing innocent people, people in the same position that you are. These people have to put up with everything you have, and you're killing them."
"You don't get it."
"No, you don't get it! So your customers are dicks. People are dicks. Everyone. You, me, them. Everyone has their own shit they are going through. You murdered my father. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Huh? Do you? Talk about Connor being pathetic. You. You! are pathetic. Get over it. Grow up. What the hell is wrong with you?" Every ounce of anger she had clung onto since she had found her father's body came out in one explosion, and she screamed at him with everything she had. He hadn't seemed fazed by anything that had happened so far, until now, and he even took a step back in surprise. The gun waved as he pointed it at her, his arm shaking with rage. "Do it. Go on. You loser! You fucking loser! You took everything from me. You need to know what a pathetic piece of crap you are. Go on. Shoot a poor defenseless girl to make yourself feel better. Either way, you're going to end up in jail where you belong. You can rot there. Or maybe you'll shoot yourself first. I don't think you'd do well in prison."