by Adam Maxwell
eleven
Elias screamed orders and two men who looked like they were built from anger and ball-bearings barged into the room, flanking him and wielding pistols like they actually knew what to do with them. Once his mook’s guns were trained on Violet and Katie, Elias’ cool returned like an elastic band twanging back into shape.
Violet he recognised, of course. The other one he hadn’t seen before. Their appearance was unexpected, but he had a lid on it now. He walked behind his desk, slamming his shoulder into Violet as he walked past. He was pleased to see she didn’t dare react. Elias bent over and opened the bottom desk drawer, from which he retrieved a bag of zip-ties.
“Miss Winters,” he said, tossing the zip-ties to his guards.
“Mister Croft,” Violet replied. One of the meat-sacks pulled her hands together behind her back and wrapped the plastic tie around them, pulling it tight so it cut into her skin. Violet winced in pain.
“And your friend? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“And you’re not likely to,” said Violet. “She’s the silent type.”
Katie’s guard yanked her arms behind her back then pulled the zip-tie around her wrists. She didn’t react.
“On your knees, both of you,” said Elias as he examined the chaos the pair had created. “How did you get in here?”
“Oh, you know me,” said Violet. “I can walk through walls.”
Elias’ eyes flashed around the room, looking for any indications of incursion.
They never look up, she thought.
“I thought our business was concluded,” said Elias. He walked over to the painting of Zenker and adjusted the angle slightly, before running his hand lightly across the mantelpiece.
“There was a problem,” said Violet.
“Oh?” Elias sat himself down in the chair behind his desk.
“You paid me with monopoly money, you fat fuck.”
Elias slapped his hands on the desk and let out a short, loud laugh. “Monopoly. Very good.” He bared his teeth in a mock-smile. “Money is money. Even counterfeit. You could have spent it.”
“Not the point. You hired me because of my reputation, and I don’t want a reputation for accepting funny money.”
“So, what… you decided to give it back to me? You dumb bitch.”
Katie inhaled sharply and glanced at Violet, who countered with a micro-shake of her head.
“Oh, and I bet you thought there'd be some real cash in the safe, so you could make a little trade, teach me a lesson?” he continued.
“Something like that,” said Violet.
“And you think you have a reputation?” He laughed and turned to Katie. “Are you part of this reputation?”
Katie shrugged her left shoulder.
“Answer me,” he said and gestured to Katie’s guard, who slapped her across the cheek. It flared red but she didn’t react. “Answer me!” he screamed.
“I told you, you porridge-brained little shit,” said Violet. “She’s the silent type. She doesn’t speak. Ever.”
Elias stared at her for a long moment, as if the concept she was introducing him to was a bullet made of jelly fired right at his stupid face. He shook his head.
“Never mind that,” he said, this time gesturing to Violet’s guard who, in turn, slapped her.
“Slapping? Really?” asked Violet, spitting a gob of blood onto Elias’ pristine carpet. She watched the weave of the wool absorb it, instantaneously turning liquid into stain, then she cleared her throat and affected a shrill, mocking tone. “Oh I’m Elias Croft the big, bad gangster and the only thing I can think of to deal with a woman who’s cleverer than me is to slap her…”
Elias stared at her again, the processors in his brain overheating with the effort of trying to calculate what the hell her game was. In the end, he gave up and went for the direct approach.
“What do you think will happen here?” he asked. “You break into my office and get yourselves caught. Do you think I’m going to let you both go?”
Violet grinned. “Is that what you think is happening?”
Elias stood up behind his desk. “I don’t care what’s happening. I’m what’s happening.”
Violet laughed and looked across at Katie, who smirked back at her.
“He’s what’s happening,” Violet mimicked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
Elias was turning a novel shade of mauve.
“If I say I’m what’s happening, then I am what’s happening. Shut up. Hit them both again.”
The sound of hand against cheek echoed around the room once more, followed once more by Violet’s laughter. The guard wasn’t happy about the laughter and balled his hand up into a fist, punching her once, twice in the face. Blood ran from her nose and mouth. With the bruises blooming on her eye and cheeks, she looked like something from a horror film.
Violet tilted her head left, then right, as if stretching the muscles in her neck. This time, when she smiled there was a crimson outline to each of her white teeth.
“What’s happening is that we are putting this money here to frame you. Once that’s taken care of, we’ll walk out of here with Zenker’s ashes and then—”
Elias was whooping with laughter now. “You! You’ll frame me?” Tears streamed down his face. “You?” He banged his fists on the desk and walked unsteadily over to Zenker’s painting.
A seriousness settled on him like lies on a clairvoyant. “Looks like I’ve pissed on your party then, doesn’t it?” he growled, waving a hand at the two women trussed and on their knees.
“So it would seem,” said Violet and then, mustering her best I’m definitely not being sarcastic voice, she added, “You’ve certainly outsmarted us.”
Elias, too eager to believe what she was saying, didn’t look back at her. “Tell me, how would I even get arrested? The police in this town are as bent as…” he trailed off, metaphors failing him.
“Not all of them,” said Violet.
“Perhaps not, but that’s hardly the point now, is it?”
And right then, Violet knew she had him. Flustered, confused, but more importantly cocksure. All she had to do was give him one last prod and he would do the rest of the work for her.
“I suppose not. And anyway, you had me completely foxed,” said Violet, her eyes scanning the room. “I found your safe, but I would never have found Zenker’s ashes.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Elias puffed out his chest and threw back his shoulders. “And even if you’d found where I kept them, you wouldn’t have been able to get at them.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” he sneered.
“Bet I could.”
“Nope.”
“How come?”
“You would have needed this.”
He held up his thumb.
“What do you mean?” Violet asked, frowning. “I’d need evidence that you have a tiny penis?”
Elias moved to hit her himself this time, but the bloodied mess he’d already made of her face seemed to give him pause. And then he smirked. Pleased with himself for teaching this troublesome woman a lesson. His eyes flicked from his prisoners to their guards, still standing with their pistols drawn.
Violet caught the smirk and sucked air through her teeth.
“Well, I can’t stick around all day I’m afraid,” said Violet. “Boring conversation anyway…” And then she added with sudden animation. “Katie, you’re up.”
“Wha—” Elias began, his head cocked to one side in confusion.
Katie got to her feet and the shouting started once more. First Elias, shouting to the guards to subdue her. Then the guards themselves. Ordering her to get down, the bullying tone in the voices stretching, raising in pitch as she rose in height, the guns waving at her as if they were made of rubber. Katie pulled her hands apart sharply and the zip-ties fell to the floor.
She rubbed first at her left wrist, then her right, massaging the red marks the ties had created,
then she took a long, deep breath. Only two of the men were an immediate threat. Her own guard was a couple of metres in front of her, Violet’s guard more to the middle of the room, also out of immediate striking distance. The unarmed Elias lay beyond them.
Katie bent down in the pose a runner would adopt on the blocks. The volume of the shouting reduced at what the men assumed was a pose of supplication. She waited a moment for them to relax, before shooting out her right hand and grabbing the poker from its holder by the fireside. With unerring accuracy she hurled it towards Violet’s guard. It spun through the air, slamming into the back of his hand and catching his forearm for good measure. The result was exactly as she expected. Violet’s guard dropped his gun and clutched at his arm, the metacarpal bone definitely bruised, probably fractured.
Katie hadn’t expected the guard to burst into tears, but there was sometimes an unexpected bonus in these situations.
She rose to her full height once more, as her own guard advanced on her, gun outstretched, safety off, ready to shoot. Looking at the trajectory of where he was pointing if he pulled the trigger, it would hit her in the gut. Not ideal. She moved forward too, opening up her arms a little, flexing her considerable muscle to show this little wannabe exactly what he was dealing with. He wasn’t scared, kept coming, arm straight, ready to fire.
Well, he wasn’t scared yet.
Katie raised her hands in mock-surrender. The gun was only a metre away now. If he pulled the trigger they’d be unlikely to get an ambulance to her quickly enough to stop her bleeding out.
No need to worry, though.
She lunged forward, almost clapping her hands together over the gun. Almost. But not quite. Her left hand grabbed the barrel, her right hand the butt and she twisted it, still in the guard’s grip, through one hundred and eighty degrees. At the same time she yanked the gun towards her so it was down by her side, the muzzle pointing safely at the wall behind her.
The guard’s face changed, his jaw hanging open in fear and surprise, then a millisecond later contorting in pain as Katie carried through. The guard continued gripping the gun and Katie continued to turn it, which had the effect of doubling him over onto his knees, his arm locked straight in her grip as she lifted the gun higher. The air filled with screams once more, but this time not the screaming of demands. These were the screams of panic. Katie twisted the gun further and the butt came out of the guard’s palm, but his finger was still in the metal of the trigger guard. She stared him in the eye as she lifted his arm up high in the air then puckered her lips and blew him a little kiss as she gave the gun one final twist.
It came loose with a crack like dry twigs. Katie held the gun upside down, the barrel lying flat in her hand. She looked down at the whimpering guard, writhing on the floor at her feet. After a moment, he seemed to come to his senses and used his feet to push himself backwards, away from this monster. He clutched his hand to his chest and Katie assessed the damage. His index finger hung as flaccid and loose as spaghetti. Proximal phalanges shattered beyond repair. Middle and distal phalanges almost certainly broken too. She eyed him carefully. Despite the screaming and howling, he wasn’t done. There was a hatred, a fury, scorching his eyes.
Usually they just passed out at this point. This hateful, furious behaviour was most disagreeable.
His howling was showing potential that it might reach a height only dogs could hear, and yet still he continued. His back reaching the solid wood of the desk, he pushed himself upright. He slapped his undamaged left hand on the wood, whatever he was trying to do clearly a work in progress, but progressing nonetheless.
No. She wasn’t going to have that.
The guard winced as Katie took a step towards him. She plucked the metal fountain pen from its holder. The guard’s hand remained splayed, flat on the desk as he tried to leverage himself to his feet. He looked up at her cold, blank, expression and for a split second was silent, his face contorting into a mask of pleading. But it was a plea that was not to be granted, as Katie slammed the pen into the back of his hand, lodging it firmly in the wood of the desk beneath. At last the screaming stopped, as the guard’s body could no longer take the pain and he passed out.
Katie gave a little nod as if mentally ticking a task off an internal to-do list, before her gaze tracked to Violet who was, by now, lying on her side on the floor, completely unable to get out of the zip-ties. Katie raised a judgemental eyebrow.
“Shut up and get on with it,” was all Violet said as she repeatedly yanked at her bonds.
Katie smirked and shrugged, turning back to the first guard. His head went left and right and left and right until he saw what he was looking for; the gun he’d dropped. Katie shook her head and pretended to jump forward. The guard flinched and backed away before awkwardly reaching inside his coat with his left hand and pulling out a knife. Katie shook her head once more and waggled the, albeit upside down, gun in her left hand at him.
The guard gave this a moment’s thought before Katie pulled back like a shot put thrower and launched the weapon at him. The pistol arced through the air and struck him square between the eyes. There was a nasty noise, like a hammer hitting a brick, and the guard fell to the floor, the consciousness drained out of him.
“Your left hand? Really?” sneered Violet.
Katie turned to her, her face as innocent and comical as a sniggering child. She lifted her right hand and swiped twice through the air, as if she was holding a rapier.
“Over too quickly is a bloody dumb excuse. You spend too much time watching movies.”
Katie rolled her eyes and stalked over to her latest victim, giving him a nudge with her foot before collecting the knife and both the guns from the ground. Turning around, she stood over Violet, who had managed to get her hands in front of her but was still firmly trussed. Katie raised her eyebrows at her friend.
“I know you told me how to do this,” said Violet, “but, no, I can’t get out.”
Katie dropped the knife and the tip embedded itself in the floor between Violet’s feet. Violet glared at her. Katie grinned and gave her a wink before spinning around to deal with Elias.
“Yes!” said Violet to Katie’s back. “Didn’t need the knife. I got there in the end. On my own. Without it.”
Violet stood up, shook off her ridiculous sense of accomplishment, and walked over to stand side by side with Katie.
“Would you like my colleague to stamp on your fucking throat?” Violet asked Elias, sweetly.
Katie stared at him, waiting for the response. It came in an instant — a massive adrenaline dump that set his legs twitching.
“No,” he whimpered, shaking his head a little too long.
Violet gestured to the bodies of the two guards and Katie gave an exaggerated sigh as she grabbed two zip-ties from the bag on the desk, then dragged her feet over to the farthest of the prone guards with all the grace of a sullen teenager.
“Whu…” Elias’ mouth was moving, but not many actual sounds were coming out. “What…”
Violet rearranged her face into a fake smile. “Aw, sweetie,” she said, spilling saccharine-sweet sarcasm. “Did you think the little girlies were here to stomp our ickle feetie-weeties?”
She shoved out her bottom lip and pretended to wring the tears out of her eyes. Behind her, Katie had placed the first guard neatly against the wall.
“Listen, I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” said Violet, catching Elias’ gaze and bringing it back to her and away from Katie. “I wanted you to catch us in the act.”
“It—” Elias didn’t get any further than a single syllable.
“The safe was easy for a woman of my not inconsiderable talents.” Violet pretended to polish her nails on her lapel and inspect them. “And we brought back all of the crap you paid us with.” She riffled a stack of notes in the safe, picking out a few bundles and throwing them to Katie, who shoved them in the guard’s jacket pockets.
Violet took another handful of notes and wandered
over to the second guard, his body still hanging awkwardly from the hand skewered to the desk. “For your trouble,” she said, scattering the bundles of fake cash around his feet.
“You see, when the police arrive they’re going to find you have an awful lot of this monopoly money on your person, so you’re going to be in a bit of bother.”
“That’s your plan?” he began quietly. “Don’t make me laugh.” He still sounded a country mile away from being able to laugh, like a little boy threatening the headmistress, but his self-assurance was returning. “I own more cops than you own pairs of shoes, love.”
“Oh no,” said Violet, shocking him into silence once more. “My well laid plan is suddenly and irrevocably ruined by your insightful mansplaining.”
He stared at her, his eyebrows shifting about on his brow like two trucks performing synchronised parking manoeuvres.
“You think I’d have come this far and not taken that into account?” Violet continued.
His eyes burning with hatred, he shook his head just enough to acknowledge Violet’s question.
Katie towered behind Violet, cocking her head to one side to take in the broken, drooped form of the remaining guard. Elias eyed her nervously.
Violet clicked her fingers in front of his face, bringing him back into the moment, forcing him to focus. To listen. “Concentrate, shit for brains. I’m talking. She’s not talking, I am.”
Katie turned to look at Elias and gave him a resigned smile.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. "You know that I can buy my way out of this, but you did it anyway?”
Violet nodded then pulled her shoulders in tight, grinned and put her hand over her mouth. “Tee hee!” she said.
Behind Violet, Katie had braced her foot against the desk and was tugging at the pen in the back of the guard’s hand. With every tug, Elias gagged.