Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (39 page)

Twenty Nine

Eddie Smith paces up and down his temporary office. Chief Shaw watches him from a chair facing the DA’s desk. A mirror on top of some large cardboard boxes catches the DA’s reflection. Eddie stops dead in the center of the room.  ‘Shit!’ he yells. 

‘How the hell did this happen? How the hell did I not see he was unstable?’ Chief Shaw is looking at the DA’s reflection in the mirror. Fire and brimstone accompany every word and the DA’s pace grows quicker.  Shaw sits back and lets Eddie vent his frustrations.

‘I was good to him! I let him come back…. I insisted he come back…..To save him. Is he that stupid to think that sleeping with Tasha, a key witness, would fly with me? Did he think I would never find out?”

‘Obviously it pissed Connor Chase off something rotten,’ Shaw comments.

Eddie shakes his head in annoyance.

‘The mayor wants to ask the president to issue a state of emergency, but I fear it will only make the situation worst. This thing with Chase is causing more than a ripple; it’s starting to strain our police force and fire and rescue teams. We need to lock down this thing now, or we could be in the shit.’

Chief Shaw gets up from his seat and faces the DA.

‘We can’t do that.’ 

‘Why not? We go in, get them. That’s it. What’s the hold up?’

‘It’s a little more complicated than that. Our intelligence says they have every exit booby-trapped with explosives. They have sentries stationed everywhere in the building, all armed with automatic weapons and explosives.’

Eddie shakes his head. ‘Intelligence, what fucking intelligence would that be?’

Shaw turns back to face the mirror in the clunky office. 

‘Intelligence from the units stationed outside the M.I.T building.’

The DA starts to laugh ‘How can they possibly know there are sentries in the building and that they have booby-trapped the entrances and exits? My Harvard educated brain can distinguish bullshit from ballistics.’

Shaw looks down at the floor.

‘You know everything you need to know,’ he says quietly.

‘Well good.’ The room is silent. The DA smiles and walks out of the room as if his point is made more valid by his absence.

Chief Shaw pulls his cell phone from his pocket and punches in a text. He hits send, all within seconds, as if he wants the message out there as quickly as possible. He stares bleakly at the LCD until it reads
“MESSAGE SENT.”
He scrolls down to the sent box and rereads the message he just sent.

“Hourly report A.S.A.P”

Shaw puts the cell phone back in his pocket and gets up from his seat. He spots a pack of cigarettes on the DA’s desk and swipes a cigarette out of the pack. He lights it up and throws the pack back onto the mahogany desk and walks out of the office.

Thirty

A flashing light, the unmistakable hum of vibration rattles the cell phone violently, nearly twisting it three hundred and sixty degrees rotation on top of the operating table. Nathan grabs it and reads the text message. He looks around nervously and shuffles the cell into his inside bomber jacket pocket.

John who has come to at the sound of the phone near his head on the table looks up at Nathan with a half-smile. His face is covered in blood from the beating he had sustained at Nathan’s hands.

‘So much for ‘
I‘m not going to knock you out, John, I promise
,’’ John says.

Nathan smiles.

‘I’m sorry about that. But if I did not do anything, it would look bad and blow my cover.’

John’s eyes widen

‘You’re a cop? I knew it!’

Nathan shakes his head. ‘No I’m not a cop! I would appreciate it if you don’t blurt out shit like that.  You’re going to get me killed.’

John nods his head in agreement.

‘I can’t control what happens to you, if I’m dead, can I?’ Nathan smiles, ‘Call me Nathan. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

‘How are you going to do that??’

‘Thankfully, I’m not the only one trying to help you and the people who work here. There’s a heavy police presence around the building. SWAT is here. Helicopters are flying above us. No way anyone is getting out of here without being shot or rescued.’

John puts on a brave face. ‘
Shot or rescued
it is then’

‘Don’t worry John. You’ve just got to sit tight now and wait. In the meantime, tell me everything you know about this place. Why is everyone being held hostage? And most importantly, why you are the one being tortured?’

‘I don’t know. I’m just the janitor.’

Nathan pats John on the shoulder to comfort him.

The door to the torture room opens and the guard rushes in, heavy framed and heavy footed. He slams the door and faces Nathan. He hurtles towards Nathan, his fists clenched at his sides.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ the guard shouts.

‘Nothing’

‘Exactly, you’re doing nothing. I set you a task, and you’re doing nothing. The prisoner is awake. Did I not say to carry on the interrogation once he wakens?’

‘Yes you did, and he hasn’t given me anything useful. He is just the janitor. Maybe we have the wrong man.’

John remains spread out on the operating table. He breathes sporadically. The chains around his wrists have dug into his skin and blood runs down his arms from his wounds. 

The guard smiles; His hands remain at his sides.

‘Your opinion is not relevant here. You were given an order.’

‘I did what you asked. I found nothing.’

The guard’s yellow teeth gleam through his tight bloodless smile.

‘Well if he hasn’t got anything useful to tell us, I don’t think we need him.’

Before Nathan can do anything, the guard pulls out a handgun. As if in slow-motion, Nathan sees the guard raise his arm and place the barrel of the 9MM firmly against John’s head. John’s eyes drift back to face the guard and the heavy set man fires the gun at point blank range into his forehead.

The weapon recoils and jolts the guard’s arm a few milometers up from its shooting position. A faint, but vibrant muzzle flash lights the dimly lit room. The light ricochets off the metallic surface and is replaced with an explosion of red. Shades of John’s life are plastered all over the floor and up the Guard’s arm.  Blood drips off the gun barrel.

The guard face’s Nathan and lands a punch squarely in the middle of Nathan’s wide-eyed face.

Thirty One

2006: SIX YEARS BEFORE BOARDING THE TRAIN

‘Okay class. In two weeks, you’ll all graduate. I thought we would have a discussion about what everyone plans on doing after high school. Will you go to college? Will you get a job? I want a serious class discussion! Let’s keep it clean and positive,’ Mrs Gardener said.

Mrs Gardener wears a short, classy dress. Her legs are tanned and she sports knee high black boots. Her white frilled blouse is buttoned up. At 39, she still makes 18 year old boys pay attention in class—probably more to how she looks than what she says.

Jason Bordello sits at his desk at the back of the class with the troublemakers. Jason was at the back of the classroom because he chose to be, it was his decision. That surprised Mrs Gardener, but Jason’s work was adequate for passing grades and his demeanour was quiet. He wasn’t a troublemaker, more a quiet rogue. He stared at her with his deep steely cold blue eyes. She sometimes looked back.

Today, the class lacked enthusiasm. She could empathize; it was near the end of semester. ‘Most of you are tired,’ she told the predominantly male classroom, ‘but this will be an excellent way of marking down your futures. After all, you are all growing up! Some of you will go to college; others have jobs waiting for you when you graduate. I’m interested in hearing what everyone will be up to. This will be the last time many of you will see each other. Wouldn’t it be nice to know what our friends are going to do once they are no longer in your life?’

‘We’re not dying Mrs Gardner,’ a student says.

Mrs Gardner laughs.  ‘I know Trent. But I’m going to miss all of you’

She wipes a tear away.

‘We are all dying,’ Jason says quietly. His voice sends a chill through the room, all the way from the back of the classroom. He sits slumped over his desk twiddling a pencil.

Mrs Gardener looks at him. So does the rest of the class.

He sits up and stretches.

‘There’s no need for negativity, Jason,’ Mrs Gardener says.

Jason laughs. The chill in the room is like ice cracking under pressure.

‘There’s nothing negative about the truth. You people live in this bubble of goo and think the world is made of marshmallows and green pillows. The world is not paved with gold. People die horrific deaths every day, and the only thing you all are worried about is what half assed job you are going to get when we leave this shithole. There is no dream job or college. Harvard is just a building; Life is about hardship and struggle. That’s what makes a man. That’s what makes a woman. You can’t build character on good living. Character is built through stressful times of pain and sorrow. Not Saturdays at the mall at a 75% off sale. Fairy tales of happily ever after and once upon a time don’t exist. People need to stop thinking about themselves and start thinking about the greater good. Life is not about what you get out of it, but what you give it. To answer your question, Mrs Gardener, I will be making a difference. Be it good or bad, as long as I make my mark on this world, I will die a happy man. So enjoy your spring breaks, your student loans and your so called education. Because before you know it, you would have learnt everything you did not need to know, and missed out on the only thing you need know. Don’t fucking take notice of what other people are doing, because before you know it everyone will be doing it and it will be old news. Be unique, be the originator. Make sure your slice of apple pie is humble enough that everyone wants a bite.’

The classroom is silent. The silence stems on for a while until the class erupts in cheers and applause. The smile on Mrs Gardner’s face is wider than anyone has ever seen before.  The cold look of steel is momentarily gone from Jason’s eyes.  He sits half grinning at his ovation while spinning his pencil on the table with one hand.

Thirty Two

‘So you’re here to see who?’ The guard scans Frank’s photo id badge.

Frank ruffles his hand through his hair.

‘I’m here to see Jacob Reach.’

The guard hands the photo ID back.

‘That might be a problem, Mr McKenzie. Not everyone gets a visit with the Defence Minister just like that. I’m going to have to run your name through the system and get clearance.’

The guard reaches for his radio and brings it to his mouth.

Frank stands outside the government building in broad daylight, feeling exposed and in danger. As his hands clench in anger, the voice of Jacob Reach approaches him and the guard.

‘Hey, Harry, don’t worry about it. I have Frank pencilled in for a visit.’ The guard puts his radio back in its holster. Jacob stops beside the guard and says something into his ear.

‘Understood, sir,’ the guard responds quietly.

The uneasy feeling Frank had comes back with a vengeance. He does not like whispering, especially if it is about him. Before Frank can say anything, the big security gates open up and Frank gets back into his car. Jacob walks to the passenger side and tries opening the door. As Frank contemplates whether this is a good idea, he unlocks the door for Jacob and waits till he gets in. They drive off into the government complex  in silence.

Thirty Three

The four hours on the train feel like years, and Crystal bites her nails right down to the skin. She is on edge. Opposite Crystal, Jenifer, is now fast asleep, resting her head against the train’s vibrating window. She looks uncomfortable when the train swerves side to side on the tracks.

Jason is next to Jenifer. He isn’t fast asleep, nor facing the window. Jason is staring at Crystal. Crystal’s once immaculate manicure is destroyed. Jason stares a hole in to her that feels evil. She wants to tell him where to stick it, to stop looking at her, but she can’t.

She wonders why she disapproves the promiscuous relationship her friend Jenifer and Jason are having. Jason is a good looking man who has more than charm and looks. He oozes with everything that Hollywood and pop culture says are acceptable. Maybe she is jealous of Jenifer’s new found Romeo.

She giggles.

Jason smiles and leans forward. ‘What’s so funny, Crystal?’ She shakes her head.

‘Nothing. Why would there be anything funny?’

‘Well, call me old fashioned, but the last time I checked when someone giggles, it usually involves something funny!’

She smiles.

‘Oh, she does have a smile then! I was wondering when I was going to see that gorgeous curvy smile again,’ Jason says.

Crystal feels more at ease though still a little uncomfortable.

‘Look Jason, we got off to a bad start.’ Her bounces in time with the train’s movement.

‘You have been nothing but nice to me.’ Jason’s southern accent is soothing and calm
.

Crystal flicks her hair away from her eyes. Jason reaches out and lays his hand on top of hers. His touch is comforting
 and calculated.

‘I don’t have a gripe with someone looking out for a friend. If I was a beautiful girl traveling with a beautiful friend, I’d be cautious as well. You can’t be too careful these days. There are a lot of creeps around. But I’m not one of them.’

Her hand sweats beneath his from nerves. It feels right, yet so wrong.

‘It’s not that I think you’re a creep, but maybe you’ve chosen the wrong girl’

‘Is that so?’ Jason leans close and inhales as if he’s savouring her perfume. Close enough to seal the deal.