Stiffed (17 page)

‘The shopping mall.’

‘You’re going to meet them in the shopping mall?’

‘It’ll be safer with lots of people around,’ she says
sleepily.

Not for the shoppers it won’t!  Jesus.  If Juan
, Kate, Redneck and Cowboy start a gun fight there could be carnage.  And God knows what’ll happen to Sally.  I increase my efforts on the knots.

As if on cue, t
here’s the sound of a keycard in the door and it opens, Juan filling the frame.

If looks could kill I’d be six feet under. 

Kate lifts her head and smiles coyly at him then slides slowly back off of me. 

‘Hi
, Honey,’ she says as if sitting half naked astride a tied-up captive is an everyday occurrence.

Juan strides
purposefully across the room and slaps my face.

FUCK!

If that had been any harder he’d have taken my head clean off my shoulders.  I can taste blood in my mouth and my eyes are watering.  Talk about the jealous, possessive type.  I’m tied up for fuck’s sake.  He thinks this is my doing?  Mind you, Kate clearly managed to seduce him earlier in the day when she was bound and he’d been left to guard her.  Perhaps he was worried I’d been trying the same thing.  Fat chance.  Seduction has never been one of my strong points.  Especially when the woman is sober.

‘Juan!’ Kate has draped herself
over him, rubbing her hand on his chest, swooning.  She’s watched too many old black and white movies.  ‘Juan, honey, I was just having a little fun.’

He shrugs her off.  ‘Well
, play time is over.  Come on, we need to go.’

‘What about me?’ I ask.

‘What about you?’ Juan says, stepping forward and roughly tugging the gag back up into place.  ‘You’re staying here.’

‘But what about Sally?’
I try and say. 

Heaven
knows what they hear, probably just a load of moaning.  For God’s sake!  I need them to take me with them.  How the hell am I going to rescue Sally tied up here?  And if she doesn’t have the cap or know where the hell it is they’ll think she’s being stubborn when actually she’s genuinely clueless.  Telling them that Sally has the cap was a dumb idea.  Another in a long string of dumb ideas.

I struggle in the chair.

Juan steps back towards me and arcs an open hand down towards my head.  I flinch and try to duck.  The hand stops an inch away, then gently pats my cheek.  With his other hand he holds a flick knife just beyond the end of my nose.

‘You
be a good boy now, do y’hear?’

I nod my head.

‘Good.’

He pricks the
tip of my nose, which is surprisingly painful.  A bead of blood forms then drips onto my chin. 

‘Juan, baby, let’s go,’ Kate says
from the doorway.  She’s fully dressed, her shades back over her eyes, the gun held casually at her side.  Her demeanor gives the impression that this is just another day at the office.

Juan puts his index finger on the next drop of blood then wipes it down my forehead.  He smiles and s
ays: ‘Don’t try anything stupid, okay.  We’ll be back shortly.’

He heads to the door, closing it behind him.

Try anything stupid?  Of course I’m going to try something stupid. Stupid is what I do best.  I’m going to try and escape and then rescue Sally.  How much more stupid do you want?  I struggle against the bonds.

8

Only dead fish go with the flow

Maybe there’s something in this cross-armed business.  I’ve managed to get my hand half out of the loop, but I can’t work it fully past the cord.  It’s stuck on the base of my thumb. 

I thrash about a bit, but it resolutely refuses to budge.

For flip’s sake!

I take a deep breath
, clench the muscles in my arms, and pull as hard as I can, the phone cord digging painfully into my digits.  With a pop, my hand flies free, clattering into the desk. 

YES!

I roll my shoulders and stretch my arms, then tug the tie and washcloth free and I lean down and undo the bonds tying my legs. 

Unbelievable.
  I’ve actually managed to free myself.  This could possibly be the first time I’ve achieved something positive all day.  All I have to do now is get to the shopping mall and rescue Sally. 

Piece of cake.

I head for the door, stopping as I pass the bathroom.  I step in and glance in the mirror.  I look like a bomb survivor.  If I try and enter the mall looking like this the security guards will either turn me away or hold me and call the police.

I
remove the bloodied shirt and once again wash my face and neck, rinsing the blood away.  Then I step back into the bedroom and scout around.  Juan’s bag is in the closet.  I root through it and pull a fresh grey t-shirt free, slipping it on.  I head back to the mirror and take a look. 

I still resemble the victim of a mugging
, but it’ll have to do.  The t-shirt is oversized and on the front is written ‘Memphis’ with a redbird standing on the ‘h’.  I feel like a traitor.  The Crusaders would kick their asses.  Well, maybe on a good day with the team blessed with charms.

I
peek out into the corridor, which is empty.  I scoot left along the hall and down a flight of stairs, finding myself in the reception lobby.  I dash outside and set off across the parking lot.  On the far side of the road, beyond an enormous car park, is Green Gables Shopping Mall.  I have no idea where they are going to meet in there or what the hell I’m going to do when I find them other than perhaps try and create a diversion, snatch Sally and make a run for it.  She might be a cold-hearted, frigid bitch, but she’s our cold-hearted, frigid bitch. 

And
friends look out for each other, even if they seemingly don’t like one another very much.

* * *

By the time I reach the west entrance to the mall my feet feel as if they’ve been clamped in a vice and I’m drenched in sweat yet again.

I slow to a walk as I approach the doors.  Inside the mall is cool.  It’s also much busier than the mostly empty car park would suggest, filled with dozens of
recently released school kids seeking shelter from the blistering sun. 

The mall is
a couple of hundred meters long, split over two levels, with a large round atrium in the middle and two smaller atriums at midpoints from the centre to the west and east entrances.  The upper floor is open, with regular bridges linking the two sides, and the roof is glass letting natural light reach the lower floor.  I head up the escalator.  I’ll be able to see both floors from the upper level. 

At the top
of the climb on the right hand side is a sports shop.  The vague outline of an idea is starting to form.  I dash in snatching two Crusaders caps from a stand – one for myself, one for Sally.  I veer left and grab a baseball bat, then head to the checkout.  I dump my purchases on the counter and fish my wallet from my back pocket.

‘Since when have you been a Memphis fan?’ Kevin Leahy, the store manager asks. 

I’ve got to know him reasonably well over the past five years.  His wedding to Martha was the first I did as a reporter on the Spring Times.  I also covered the christenings of his two children and he’s a regular at Crusaders’ games.

‘Since, never.
  I needed a clean shirt, this was all that was left in the drawer.’  I don’t have enough cash so I drop my credit card on the counter.

‘Stay right there.’

He steps out from behind the counter, heading across the store.

‘Kevin,’ I yell after him.  ‘I don’t have time for this.  I’m in a hurry.’

‘I won’t be a second.’  He hurries back with a Crusaders shirt, the bottom of the ‘C’ growing into a hand holding a sword that cuts through the lettering.  He pulls the tag free.  ‘Get that off,’ he orders, slipping in behind the till again.

‘I just want the caps and the bat.’

‘I’m giving you the shirt.  My gift.  There’re half price in any case.’  He picks up my credit card and swipes it.

If the police are monitoring that kind of thing they now know where I am.  They’ll know soon enough in any case, the kind of scene I’m hoping to make.

‘Thanks, Kevin,’ I say whipping off the Redbird’s shirt.

‘What are friends for?’ he says looking up.  ‘What the fu … hell happened to you.’
  He’s pointing at my bruising.

‘I fell down the stairs,’ I say quite t
ruthfully, tugging the Crusaders shirt on.  ‘We were moving a dead body and I lost my footing.’ 

That’s what true friends are for, I think but don’t add
; the people you trust to help to move dead bodies.  And who stick by you when the shit has well and truly hit the fan. 

‘You’re shitting me, right,’ Kevin says, laughing.

‘What do you think?’  I take the card and slip my wallet into my back pocket.  I adjust the strap at the back of one of the caps and put it on, pick up the second cap and the bat and head towards the entrance.

‘Hey, Tadhg, what do you want me to do with this?’

I glance back.  He’s holding up the Redbird’s shirt.

‘I don’t care; give
it to charity.’

‘You’re not going to do anything stupid with that bat are you?’ Kevin asks.

‘Hit a home run,’ I answer, exiting the store and picking up my pace.

* * *

I continue along the spine of the mall, glancing down every few meters.  There’s no sign of Kate and Juan or Redneck, Cowboy and Sally.  I can’t for the life of me work out how Juan has persuaded his fellow Memphis mobsters to turn up without promising them the money.  Why would they think that Kate wants Sally from a swap?  If that’s part of the deal. 

I reach the first atria and scan the open space. 
Nothing.

I can feel a panic growing in my chest, my ribs tight as if a monster is about to explode from within. 
Maybe I’ve already missed them?  They’ve made their exchange and already headed on their separate ways. 

I press on. 
I’m walking so fast, I’m just below a trot.  People are giving me a wide berth.  Clearly I look like trouble, my face a mess, clutching a baseball bat, acting like I’m searching for somebody - your everyday psycho on the prowl.

A
food court occupies the central space of the main atrium.  The middle is taken up by tables, the outer edge circled by vendors.  Placed throughout are large plant arrangements, tall palm trees reaching up to the same height as the upper floor.  The place is busy, mainly mothers with young children or teenage children in small groups.  The ceiling consists of a large glass dome, though given the scorching temperature outside, today it is screened by a set of blinds. A set of escalators descends into the centre of the tables area.

I
lean on the railing and stare down at the throng.  Off to one side I spot Kate and Juan, standing by themselves, looking anxious and furtive, a sports bag hanging off of Kate’s shoulder.  I scan the atrium again, but I can’t see Redneck or Cowboy. I’ve managed to get here before them, giving me time to try and work out a course of action. 

A
nd then they appear, entering from the east wing, Redneck and Cowboy flanking Sally. All three are wearing Crusaders caps.

I don’t know what Juan has said to them, but the presence of three caps is g
oing to upset Kate no end.  Not one of them is her own personal cap, but she won’t know that and she’ll want to take possession of the correct one.  My spare cap seems surplus to requirements so I leave it on a bench, hopeful that it’ll find a deserving home.  I head for an elevator; the escalator is far too exposed.

I still have no idea what exactly I am going to do.  I’m playing it purely by ear. 
Which given I’m clearly an amateur at this kind of stuff, as evidenced by the day so far, is hardly confidence inspiring.  It would be even less so for the diners if they had any inkling that a wannabe John McClane was about to attempt a Die Hard moment.  They should be running for cover.  Instead, they’re eating, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the potential mayhem about to be unleashed.

I exit the elevator and head towards
where Kate and Juan are waiting, hefting the baseball bat in my hands.

Redneck, Cowboy and Sally are standing three meters or so from Kate and Juan
, separated by a set of tables and chairs.  I pause trying to decide what to do.  From where I’m standing I can’t hear what’s being said.

This is all going to be over in a minute; I need to do something. 

I glance around, my eyes fixing on a fire alarm panel.  Without knowing what I’m going to do subsequently, I walk to the panel, pull back the bat and poke it forward, shattering the glass and tapping the alarm button.

Immediately the mall is filled with the loud wailing of the fire alarm siren.  I’m already moving
back towards Redneck.  Around me people look at each other quizzically, then reluctantly get to their feet, gathering their bags, and start moving towards the exits. 

I jostle past them and somehow I make it as far as Redneck, Cowboy and Sally without being spotted.  As
I draw near I pull back the bat then swing the hard slither of wood as fast as I can, slamming it into the side of Redneck’s right knee.

There’s a loud crack. 

It’s a sweet stroke, his knee cap heading for the bleachers.  He lets out a high-pitched yelp, followed by a howl, and drops to the floor.  I’ve already begun to pull the bat back for a second swing.  As Cowboy turns, fumbling to pull a gun from a holster under his left arm, I start to swing the bat back again. 

It’s going to be a close run thing.  The bat arching, Cowboy’s arm extending. 
The world drops into slow motion, the bat creeping towards the gun, Cowboy’s face pulled in an angry scowl.

The wood connects with
the gun, the world drops back into real time, and the pistol sails off towards centre left field.  The crowd in my head goes wild.  Crusaders lead 2-0.

I grab Sally with my left hand and start to pull her away, barely conscious that I’m yelling at
her.  Juan is already starting to climb over the table and chairs.  Kate’s mouth is open in a silent ‘O’.

Whatever I’ve said to Sally finally seems to have sunk in and she has turned and is scrambling to push her way through the crowd
that’s heading for the exit.  I’m following her, one hand still holding the bat, one hand pushing her forward.

There’s a loud bang behind us
.  In front of us a coffee pot in Mrs Field’s Cookies stand explodes.

Fuck
!

I shove Sally to her left.

Behind me several people start to scream and the relatively orderly exodus rapidly descends into chaos.

There’s the crack of another shot, followed by anot
her.  The sleeve of my Crusaders t-shirt gains a rip.

FUCK!

In this position I’m protecting Sally’s back, but we’re not making enough progress.  Either Juan or Cowboy will almost certainly catch up with us soon.  I grab hold of her waist, slowing and passing her, telling her to take hold of my shirt or trousers.

We continue on at a slightly
quicker pace as I clear kids and mothers from our path, the bat no doubt leaving some ugly bruises as I use it to try and steer a path.

There
are two more loud bangs then suddenly we’re clear of the crowd at the start of the east wing.  Compared with the food court it’s barely occupied.  Up ahead in the next atrium is a display of movie posters and people streaming around a popcorn concession stand.

I grab hold of Sally’s hand and we start to run.  I glance back at the throng, but
there’s no sign yet of Juan or Cowboy. 

I might actually have pulled this off.  The plucky amateur succeeds against all the odds.  Go Crusaders!

It soon becomes clear, however, that we have a problem.  Sally, for all her effort, has little pace and is already out of breath.  She’s unfit and she’s carrying a lot of excess weight.  I’m tugging her along, trying to encourage her, but she’s in danger of falling flat on her face, her upper torso travelling faster than her legs can take her.

We’re barely halfway
along the wing when Juan bursts from the crowd.

‘Stop or I’ll shoot,’ he yells at us.

I veer left towards a women’s clothing shop.

There’s a loud
retort accompanied by the large plate glass window shattering.