Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (47 page)

Seventy Three

Officer Mullins leans against the wall next to Chief Shaw’s office door. He stares at the name engraved on the foggy glass. He knocks with two swift heavy thumps.

A muffled voice acknowledges the knock and Mullins opens the door. A bruised Chief Shaw holds a tissue to his bloodied nose. He nods at Mullins and points towards the seat facing his desk.

Mullins accepts the invitation. Shaw plods along the width of the room and pours himself a drink. Mullins shakes his head, declining Shaw’s offer of whisky.

Shaw returns to his desk, sighing deeply.

‘What happened?’ Mullins asks.

Shaw takes a sip from his tall glass and removes the bloody tissue from his nose.

‘We found Frank.’

‘I gathered that. That’s why I’m here instead of leading my convoy. I meant, what happened to you sir?’

‘We found Frank. That’s what happened.’

‘Frank did that?’

‘Yes. That’s beside the point though. I need you and your men as an extraction team to work with Frank. You will follow him into the M.I.T building and rescue the hostages. Any resistance, you meet with lethal action. You use whatever means are necessary to secure the safety of every hostage in that building.’

‘So we’re a go on this? Washington agrees?’

‘Not exactly, I’m working on that. I have a conference call with the Secretary of Defence in a few minutes. I’ll run the plan through with him but I need you ready with your team. We’ll execute it immediately.’

‘Understood, Sir.’

‘Meet Frank down in the parking lot. They’re setting up another convoy there.’

‘Okay.’ Mullins rises from his chair and walks towards the door. He stops dead and faces Shaw again. ‘So you told him about his brother?’

Shaw pours himself another drink from the bottle on his desk. ‘I did not. The guy’s a loose cannon. He did this to my face for fun. Imagine what he will do if I tell him his brother bit the bullet. I don’t want him on some revenge mission for Adam.’

‘With all due respect, Sir, I think he already plans to make Chase pay.’

‘For Tasha? He’s just mad because he got found out. McKenzie has only ever loved one woman. She was killed ten years ago, not ten hours.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so. Keep your nose out of his business. Now scram!’

Seventy Four

‘Radio me when that asshole manages to get down here,’ Frank says into his radio as he makes his way to the parking lot. Several officers pass him, each acknowledging him with a look of respect.

Frank enjoys his reputation. He thrives on it. He walks down the sparsely lit hallway and reaches the bathroom. He opens it and goes to the urinal. He unzips his fly and hears something.

He looks around and sees nothing. The cubicles are all vacant. He carries on until something grabs him by the back of the head. It forces his face into the dirty urinal. His head cracks against the ceramic and busts his nose open. He tries to draw breath.

The urinal flushes and water streams into his mouth. He chokes hard. He wiggles, struggling to breath. His clothes are drenched and he manages to escape the grip.

Immediately his head slams into the urinal again. Then he is thrown into the tiled wall. Tile chips as the impact of his weight makes fragments fly in all directions. A crack in the wall bears Frank’s blood. He is knocked to the cold sticky floor with a thud. His vision goes dark. He tries to open his eyes. The bathroom door creaks open and he manages to catch a glimpse of the door as it shuts, a mere shadow of movement in the darkened room. The door opens and footsteps rush towards him

‘Officer down.’ Someone grabs him. ‘I repeat, Officer down in the first floor toilets. Requesting medical assistance,’ the voice says.

The man grabs Frank’s head and pushes it towards his knees.

‘You okay, Frank? Can you hear me?’ Frank can’t respond. The pain is excruciating as he tries to open his eyes.

‘Frank, look at me.  Can you hear me?’

Frank fails his attempt to stay conscious.

Seventy Five

The view is distorted by the fish eye effect of the rifle’s scope. Reporters are on the ground surrounding the area like snapping fish after bait. Flashes from the cameras cause lens flare to appear on the scope.

The man in the suit sighs in frustration and waits for his mark. He flicks through the PDA beside him on the ground, pulling up various bits of information. He pulls a metal rod from his pocket and attaches it to the PDA. Pointing the rod towards the sky a few feet over his head, he looks down and sees the reading:

“12 Miles per hour wind speed. Southern quarterly dip.” He puts the rod back in his pocket and presses a button on the PDA. ‘This is Romeo 171,’ he speaks. ‘Wind speed and direction are as calculated. T
ango one
arrival estimated in less than ten minutes. The target will come from the east. The wind will affect the shot, but nothing that I can’t handle. We are a go. I repeat, we are a go.’ ‘Affirmative.’ a musty voice replies from the radio.

He unclips his earpiece and puts it back in his pocket and peers through the powerful scope. His finger rests on the side of the rifle. From the east, a convoy approaches in the distance. The image is blurry and he winds the scope in. The image stabilizes. It is four cars. American flags ripple in the wind as the cars approach. He cocks the bolt, his breathing slows. He looks down at his PDA and pushes a button. A timer counts down seven minutes. A roar from the crowd erupts below as the President of the United States of America approaches.

Seventy Six

‘This is bullshit. You say the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, but you won’t let us go into the building and rescue the hostages? It sounds like you don’t negotiate with anybody!’ Eddie shouts into the phone. ‘I’ll take full responsibility and report back when it’s done.’ He slams the phone down and turns to Chief Shaw.

‘We’re going to M.I.T to diffuse this situation.

Shaw looks on, impressed.

‘How did you manage that?’

Shaw takes a drag on his cigarette.

The door bursts open and two officer’s rush into the room. ‘Detective Frank McKenzie has been attacked in the communal toilets.’

‘What?’ Eddie quickly starts to follow the men out of the room. He signals them to wait outside and turns to Chief Shaw. ‘You don’t have anything to do with this do you?’ ‘What the hell are you on about? Why would I do anything to Frank?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe because he smashed you up pretty good a half an hour ago.’

‘The guy’s a nut job. I find it hard to believe anyone would cross him.’

Eddie is visibly unconvinced.

Shaw comes with Eddie as they follow the officers to the situation room. Frank is on a stretcher, a damp cloth held to his head. The cloth is bloody, his face is a mess of bruises and welts. Eddie makes his way over to Frank who sits up straighter. ‘What the hell, happened? ’ Eddie reaches the stretcher and pushes one of the EMT’s out of his way.

‘I’m fine. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.’

‘You don’t look fine, Frank. Someone bashed you pretty good.’

Frank winces in pain and flexes his neck from left to right.

Shaw moves closer. Eddie warns him off with a facial expression. Frank looks up and extends a nod to Shaw. Shaw makes his way toward them.

‘You okay Frank?’ ‘I’m okay. Look, I apologize for earlier, I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you.’

Shaw smiles.

‘A bump to the head makes you into a wordsmith, Frank?’

‘If you want me to hand in my badge, I’ll--’

‘There won’t be any need for that, Frank,’ Shaw interrupts.

‘We convinced Washington to allow us to make a move on M.I.T.,’ Eddie changes the subject. ‘You’ll be leading an extraction team to bring Chase in, DOA. Obviously, we want the Hostages rescued.’ Frank hoists himself off the stretcher. ‘What did happen, then, Frank?’ ‘I was taking a piss
when all of a sudden my head was being rammed repeatedly into the urinal. It knocked me for six. I couldn’t ID the attacker. Whoever it was was mighty strong.’

‘Okay, I’ll get a snag on the CCTV and ID the perp.’ Shaw promises. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

Frank nods and Shaw walks away. The busy incident room ignores the two men standing in its center. Eddie pulls Frank close.

‘Have you doing anything that could make you look like an idiot on the CCTV?’

‘No course not.’

‘I don’t want him pulling the footage up and seeing you drunk on your ass and falling all over.’

‘I won’t disappoint you, Eddie’

‘After the attack on the chief, if I find anything out of the norm on that tape, I swear I’ll kick you out so fast you’ll do backflips to your crappy Ford Capri!’

‘We can’t all afford a Mercedes, you dick.’

Seventy Seven

The hooded man watches Jason come back into the cabin with Crystal by his side. He pulls her by the hair and pushes her to the floor. Her head hits the metal with a twang. Passengers gasp and the dark woman turns towards the hooded man. She nudges him to get his attention away from Jason. ‘If you’re going to do something, you better do it quick.’ He faces her.

‘All in good time,’ he says calmly.

Crystal lies on the deck face down, motionless with fear as Jason looks down and smiles. He cocks his weapon.

A well-built man stands up a few feet from the hooded man and moves closer to the dark woman. 

Jason makes his way to the disruptive big man.

‘What is your problem?’ ‘Let us go!’ screams the man.

Jason shakes his head, ‘Haven’t you seen enough violence for one journey?’ Before the man can answer, Jason socks the man with a closed fist. The blow sends him flying and Jason laughs out loud.  ‘The bigger they are…’ He then aims the 9MM hand gun and fires a few shots into the downed man. The man’s body twitches and Jason plants a few more shots into him. The twitching stops. Jason looks at the gaping hostages and wipes his brow. ‘Drag the body to the next carriage,’ Jason commands . ‘Get rid of the other one as well.’ he points at the hooded man. The hooded man gets up and drags the first body to the second carriage and quickly makes his way back to drag the fresh one away. His breathing is heavy. Opening the door leading back to the main compartment, he sees Jason watching him through the broken glass. He spots a fire axe attached to the wall next to the door.

Jason smiles at the hooded man. ‘I wouldn’t risk it unless you want to ride back there with the rest of the heroes.’

The hooded man gingerly makes his way back to his spot on the floor. He kneels down and looks up at Jason.’

What’s your name?’

The hooded man doesn’t reply.

‘A man of few words, ay? That’s a good thing. The model hostage.’  Jason raises his hands up like a preaching pastor. ‘Now this, ladies and gentleman, is what a hostage should do. It’s natural to want to take my head off. It’s natural to want to kill me. It’s natural to want safety and comfort away from the big bad man with the AK and side arms. But this man right here is probably going to be the only surviving passenger. Do you know why? Because he does exactly what I ask of him. Stop your bitching and crying, people. Stop trying to be heroes. Start being like this guy.’

The hooded man stares at Jason as he walks away, across the bloodied floor. He sits down on the seat at the far end of the cabin.

Seventy Eight

The bolt on the rifle snaps back. The sound reflects the feeling in the air.

The man aims the scope and cars pull in. One patrolling Lexus is stationed at the front. Blue and red spiral from the car’s windshield. Doors on the front car open. The neon lights hit the shadows and block the sun.

Two armed men disembark from the front car just as the stretch limo pulls up and grinds to a halt.  Another Lexus pulls in tightly behind the limo.

Beads of sweat drop down the side of the man’s face as he steadies his aim. For a long moment, no movement comes from him or the cars below. The only thing moving is the flag attached to the hood of the limo.

The crowd erupts in cheers as armed men open the far door of the limo. Matt black shoes peek from the limo door and hit the ground. The president emerges from the car waving. Applause echoes along the street.

The man steadies his rifle as the wind picks up slightly. He nervously moves his finger to the trigger. He pans over the president’s head, waiting for the right moment. Two armed guards take each side of the president and walk with him down the street. The Lexus at the front with the red and blue lights reflect off one of the guard’s sunglasses.

The man aims and presses the trigger.

The bullet dips in the wind and hits its mark. A red mist splatters the guard’s sunglasses with residue. The crowd screams as the sound of the bullet catches up. A sea of police men cordon off the area of the convoy. One of the guards pulls out his side arm and sweeps the area. The secret servicemen bend over the president as he lies on the pavement. Blood pools around the corpse.

The panic from the onlookers is loud and hectic.

The rifle man is downstairs in minutes as he makes his way through the hotel's kitchen. He pushes through the pots and pans and slams the fire exit door open. Chefs look at each other in confusion as the sound of sirens echo in the distance.