Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (35 page)

Nine

The cold surface of the interview table made Frank uneasy. For years, it was him on the other end of the darn thing. Now he sat staring into the eyes of a person who obviously thought this was the break he’d waited for the make or break B.S that would determine whether he played desk jockey the rest of his life or commanded the desks.

The officer tasked with interviewing Frank was a run of the mill detective. Jet black hair combed back in a style that would make the Fonz proud, he also had a thick Italian accent, it was rare to find a guy that mob- like working on the right side of the law.

‘Now listen here, Frank,’ the man tells him, ‘I’m in charge of this room. You may have been Mr. Big shot for a while, but now I’m the guy standing in the way of your freedom. If I was you, I’d suck it up and hand over the reins because you’re going down and I’m taking over,’ the detective says.

Frank smiles. This detective only wanted one thing from Frank:  his job.

‘Look here, Detective….?’ Frank pauses.

‘Detective Loupe,’ the brash detective answers.

‘Okay Detective Loupe, I have already explained what happened to the DA. I’m not saying anything else until I speak to someone who doesn’t look like a 70’s character out of some B-movie. Someone I can take seriously,’ Frank adds, chuckling to himself.

Detective Loupe smiles, showing his pearly whites, gums and all.

‘I don’t think you are in a position to make demands, Frank. You blew up a public building. You’re lucky that no one was hurt in the explosion.’

‘No one was hurt was because I got everyone out before the building exploded.’

‘Oh yes. That’s right. I forgot. How silly of me. I should be listening to the man that threatened 50 plus people with a firearm. How noble. Not to mention, you physically assaulted two guards, one who is in the hospital with a broken nose.’

‘He’ll live.’ Frank is growing impatient with the detective.

‘Yes, he will, Frank. I’m not sure whether you will. See, Terrorism is a serious crime. And treason? You blew up a building in your own country and you work for the government. Those are some serious charges, Frank, the sort that result in the electric chair.’

Frank gets up and walks to the detective. ‘Look here, pal, I don’t know why you’re wasting my time. I did what I had to do. If I didn’t you’d be looking at a lot more than a few scuffed up rent-a-cops and some hurt feelings.’

‘Calm down, Frank. You seem edgy. It’s a shame that you can’t take one of your pills now, isn’t it? Oh that’s right. Frank here has a drug problem. You should have been a tad bit more careful before handing yourself in with those pills in your pocket.’

‘Those are prescribed by my doctor, Sherlock.’

‘Maybe so, but I’m pretty sure that the department frowns on you needing such drugs. That sort of dependency doesn’t bode well for a high score on your psychiatric profile.’

Frank smiles at the detective. The door to the interview room opens and the DA walks in. Eddie signals Detective Loupe out of the room and closes the door behind him.

‘What took you so long?’ Frank demands.

‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’

‘Okay, I’ve already explained what happened.’

The DA holds up his hand to stop Frank from talking and undoes his cuffs.

‘Look. This isn’t my doing. It seems you have friends in high places who understand why you did what you did. They want you to carry on with the investigation. You are the one Chase seems comfortable talking with. You have a rapport with the guy.’

‘I beg to differ, but I won’t turn down a case for a jail cell,’ Frank says.

‘Good, because I need to get you down to the incident room.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s Connor, He’s on the phone, and he’s demanding to talk to you.’

Ten

Frank and the DA walk into the incident room where chaos is becoming a familiar sight. Cops and detectives are gathered around a phone, staring at it like it’s possessed. In truth, it is. It’s possessed by the voice and soul of America’s most wanted man, Connor Chase.

The DA looks cautiously at Frank before he picks up the phone. ‘Be careful what you agree to do for this psycho this time,’ he says. The swarm of officials around the phone part as Frank walks over and grabs it. He coughs to clear his throat. The whole room goes quiet.

‘Ah, you’re there, then,’ Connor says

‘Yeah. What’s so urgent now that you had to call me? You should be concentrating on getting yourself ready for the biggest man hunt in history.’

There is silence on the other end of the line.

‘Me and you have unfinished business,’ Connor finally says. ‘The thing is, I have some more jobs and I need them done today.’

‘I’m not doing any more jobs for you, Connor.’

‘Well I’m sure I’ll be able to convince you, Frank. Most people need a subtle nudge in the right direction from time to time. When I nudge you, there isn’t going to be anything subtle about it.’

The phone goes dead and Frank slams the receiver down.  Eddie puts his hand on Frank’s shoulder for comfort. ‘He’s messing with you, Frank. Don’t let him get to you.’ ‘What he’s planning to do?’ Frank stabbed an agitated hand through his hair. ‘He’s already done so much in one day. How many acts of pure evil can he have planned?  Can it get any worse? I know for sure it can,’ he answered his own question. ‘And it will, Eddie. Mark my words, it will.’

Eddie pats Frank’s shoulder sympathetically and walks away. Frank is left feeling helpless. Not for himself, but for whatever poor soul Chase gets his hands on next.

Eleven

Frank has felt like this before. By now, he’s a pro. He knows how to mask his feelings while interviewing people. He knows that a slight hole in his tactics invite a showdown, in an interview room anyway, this time however, he masks something else. Frank is all too familiar with getting high on Veratril. He’s done it for 2 years. He knows how to “be himself” in front of people. Except now.  He doesn’t know how to be himself at this moment in time.

He takes the needle out of his arm. He feels a slight sucking sensation when the needle pops out of his vein. It is the first time Frank has felt this feeling, but he sure as hell knows why people are hooked on their first spoonful. A euphoria surrounds him as he rises from the floor of the bathroom. He feels dizzy, but for the first time in a long time, he also feels calm.

The body builds a tolerance to things it consumes regularly.  He wondered if he will ever grow tolerant of this new sensation. It is a telling day, a day Frank will always remember. It is the day he realises his edge is gone. His only salvation will be regaining that edge—and it is being put away in the kind of baggie a diabetic would carry around. But Frank isn’t a diabetic.

He embraces the euphoria a few more moments until there is a knock on the door. He shakes himself back into control. Deep breath in; deep breath out. Invigorating as heroin is, he doubts his colleagues will embrace the idea of a smackhead detective.
You got to do what you got to do
, he tells himself.

‘Yeah, be one minute. Just whipping,’ Frank shouts to the person on the other side of the door.

He hears an amused laugh but the knocking continues. Frank opens the door to a female detective waiting at the entrance of the men’s bathroom. She smiles.

‘Excuse me, Sir. They are asking for you in the incident room. It’s urgent. Will you come with me?’ The woman looks Frank up and down. ‘Unless you’re busy,’ she adds.

Frank smiles at her and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He must look like a mess, he realises so he cracks another smile.

‘Spicy food doesn’t agree with me, Mam. I’m truly sorry you have to witness this.’ The woman smiles and walks away, inviting Frank to follow.  He hopes everyone else buys the spicy food line.

Twelve

People in the incident room are too wrapped up in what is on TV to take notice of Frank’s appearance. Connor Chase is giving a speech on what looks like a handheld camcorder. Surrounded by militia-like men with heavy weapons, they all stare into the camera. Their eyes are visible but nothing else. They all wear ski masks. All but one man. Connor wears nothing on his face. He is bare and proud as he rants into the camera. The headline scrolling beneath him reads:

“
M.I.T building Taken by Terrorists
”

Frank watches and listens to what Chase spews on live TV. The profanity in his speech is censored by the news channel, which tells Frank the message is pre-recorded.

‘I stand before you, a victim of the Free world’s Liberal ways. A world where information is exchanged for the almighty Dollar. A world where people are numbers and their true value is measured in equity. I stand here today as a man who will be branded a terrorist, a serial killer, and a lunatic. But I stand today with my people; people who are the same as me; people who work for a living; people who are unlucky enough to have no job; I stand here today in my United States of America. I have transgressed according to the laws of this land. I have killed my fellow man, but let it be known that those people who have died at my hands are better off dead than witnessing one more day of America and the worlds ludicrous price of so-called freedom. So why I am on TV? I’m here to declare my war on America, a war that will divide the tyranny that this country so fondly embraces. I’m here to teach everyone a thing or two. My mission has begun. Every hour, on the hour I will release a little more information.  In 12 hours’ time, the talking stops and the business begins.’ Frank pulls himself together as Eddie walks to him with a scowl on his face. Frank braces himself for whatever is coming.

‘I can’t believe this shit, Frank. How in the hell did Connor Chase manage to get into M.I.T? I thought M.I.T specialised in security. You're telling me
 a paranoid hick with a small army can get in there undetected?’ Eddie’s scowl embraces his face like a new found mask.

‘I don’t know, Sir. Is there any word on whether he has hostages?’

‘You don’t declare war on somebody without having some advantage, a bargaining chip that will make us play nice. The sort of upper hand that will stop us going in there and massacring him and his army.’

‘All bets are off then,’ Frank says. Eddie just looks at him.

Thirteen

In the 50 minutes since Connor plastered himself all over the news, the media hasn’t helped one bit. They are over dramatizing an already dramatic situation. Frank ponders the fact as he stares daggers into his mug of black coffee.

He’s had time to get a quick bite to eat from the canteen before Connor’s next appearance, which is now less than 10 minutes away. Franks looks at his watch, it has been a long day and it is barely done. There is still a long night to get through.

Nine minutes, he thinks.

Frank didn’t want to be known as the guy who once had it all: a wife, a couple of kids, and a promising career. He’d lost both the wife and children because he couldn’t leave his work at work. He liked to bring it home, including all the pill popping that came with it. He’d almost lost the job. Now he was back.

He needed this job. He needed to get Connor Chase and secure his future. Call it selfish, but Frank didn’t care.

He looked down at his watch again. Eight minutes to go.

Time moved slowly. He sipped his coffee and looked around the canteen. He was the only one there. Maybe no one else had the stomach to eat or drink anything, but he wasn’t just anyone. He did what he needed to do to look after himself. It was the only way to keep focused on the case at hand. But guilt was setting in. He shouldn’t have taken that hit of heroin an hour ago. He regretted it; the feeling of not being in control weighed heavy on him.

Maybe that’s what made him who he was. His demons were ever present, nibbling at his subconscious. Maybe that’s what fuelled Frank McKenzie. He realised the drugs would consume him and destroy him, but he needed the edge normal detective’s didn’t have. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire;
 He needed as much heat as possible going into this thing. Then it hit him.

Fourteen

When Frank made the short walk from the canteen to the incident room, he was too late to talk to the DA. The news was on
 and a live feed of Connor Chase played on the TV. What Frank wanted to say to Eddie had to wait. Business had just picked up.

Connor stood in the same room as before but only two guards stood with him this time. The small army was gone. Frank could only dare think why. Static sounded from the microphone and Connor Chase cleared his throat.

‘I am here to answer why I’m doing this. I imagine that's what's everyone wants to know. As you can tell, I’m not shy about showing my face. My fellow comrades in this revolution are. They wear their masks because I’m the one everybody is interested in. Don’t get me wrong, these men are important. Without them, I could not do this. Five years of planning are behind us and the movement is finally underway. Forty five heavily armed men are with me and they shall remain armed until the last minute. They are willing to lay their lives on the line. Our cause is a noble one. With every revolution, there is a face. I am that face. That’s why mine is not covered. The ski masks are symbols of what we want to achieve. Every man on earth has the God given right to be anonymous. That right has been taken away by the US government, with its census collecting and information harvesting. I’m here today to let the US government know that this will stop. It will stop today! I have one hundred and ninety three hostages with me. They all work here. They were easy pickings when we took this building. How much are they worth to the US government? Does our government value its citizens? I’m not after money, and I'm sure that will come as a shock to you; but I am just as serious as someone driven by greed. I want change, I want a 28th amendment. It shall be a law in which every person has the right to their privacy and the right to defend it at any means necessary. Just like I have the right to protect my home from invasion by force, my privacy and that of my fellow Americans will be protected by international law. If you don’t have privacy, what have you got? If my demands are not met, then I shall kill all the hostages. I’m going all in; I expect nothing less from the government. Please don’t waste my time by trying to be heroes. It’s as simple as this: You have seven hours to make an amendment and to have it take effect. If you do not comply, it’s game over for the hostages.’ The TV screen goes blank for a second before cutting back to the news anchor. Frank looks at the TV. Connor Chase isn’t just some paranoid killer. The man is spearheading a home grown militia. The group itself poses a threat, but with the news coverage, this group could cause a tidal wave of support from right winged nationalists who eat up his propaganda.

‘This is bad.’ he says to himself.