Stiffed (27 page)

‘Hang on a second,’ Jason says wheezing, maneuvering his vast bulk into the car.

I don’t wait for him to close the door, thumping my right foot onto the accelerator.

We fly backwards, narrowly missing the silver car Young Barry had been driving.  Jason slams his door closed with his good hand and I set off down the driveway, bouncing over the weeds, crunching my way up through the gears, my left and right feet trying to sync the clutch and accelerator and failing.  I manage to reach the front gate without stalling and turn left onto the road back into Carrick Springs.

I can’t see Kate.  Her head start
was only a few seconds, but she’s taken full advantage.

‘
Nice car, man.  You want me to drive?’ Jason asks.

‘No!’  I work my way up the gears
, then keep my foot firmly on the floor.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course, I’m sure!  How are you going to change gears and steer at the same time with one arm?’

‘
I could manage.  Just don’t blame me when you freak out.’

‘Why the fuck am I going to freak out?’  The Saab accelerates quickly, the landscape flying past.  I scan the dashboard and steering column levers trying to find the headlights.

Jason is shaking his head.  ‘When all this is over I’m getting you checked out by a head doctor, a pscyhi … psychi-something.’  Jason reaches over and turns on the lights.

‘Psychiatrist.’

‘Exactly. Why the fuck are we chasing her for in any case?’ He asks.  ‘She’s loony tunes.  With a machine gun.’

‘
She’s going after Aldo Pirelli.’ 

‘Great, let her.
  He deserves it.’ 

‘I’m worried a
bout collateral damage, not him.  She’ll kill everyone in the place.’

The first red and blue swirling lights appear on the horizon, popping up from under the interstate highway.
  I guess it’s better late than never, though I don’t know what’s taken them so long.  Maybe that whole fucked-up experience only took up a few minutes and was over before they could be reasonably expected to respond; maybe the hotel is so isolated passers-by never heard the shots; maybe they’ve been busy dealing with all the other crap that’s been going on.  Who knows?  I’ve no conception of time at this stage; the day just seems to have stretched on forever.  Even the rescue in the shopping mall seems half a lifetime ago.   

‘And you’re going to stop her?
’ Jason says as if I’ve lost the plot.  ‘Jesus, Tadhg, just let the psycho-bitch go.  Let this whole … thing go.’

‘No way.
  You saw what she did to that man mountain back there.  Somebody has to stop her.’

‘Yeah, but why the
hell does it have to be you?’

‘Us.’

‘Us?  No fucking way, man.’

‘Then why the fuck
did you waddle out after me?’

‘To try and stop you!  I’m your best friend for
God’s sake.  It’s my job to save you from yourself.’

The police car hurtles past us, its siren blaring.  Two more are approaching.  I glance down at the speedometer; we’re touching a hundred miles an hour
and still gaining speed.  I think I can spot Kate ahead of us passing under the interstate.  If she was making a run for the Canadian border she should have turned onto it.  Instead, she has continued on towards the town.

‘To save me from myself?
  If you’d been doing that you’d have told me to kick her out seven months ago!’

‘I thought she was kooky, not psycho.  And you wouldn’t have listened.  You were too busy playing hide the salami.  For
God’s sake, Tadhg, will you slow the fuck down!’

The two additional police cars zip past.  In the mirror I can see the taillights of one of them flare red as it
brakes.

Damn
.

‘I thought best friends were meant to tell each other everything,’ I counter.

‘This is about Annabelle’s Delights, right?  Annabelle told me you were pissed.  She asked me not to tell anyone.’

‘Anyone, not everyone!
  How the fuck could you keep that a secret?’

As we shoot under the interstate a large truck pulls out in front of us.

‘Tadhg!’ Jason yells, his voice shooting up an octave.

I swerve round it, keeping my foot firmly on the floor.

‘For fuck’s sake, slow down!  We can’t save anyone if we die on the way!’

He has a point.  I ease off a little, but not too much.  In the mirror, I can see red and blue lights chasing after us.  Even odds
, it’s Gerlach.  If he can get nothing else on me today, he’s going to do me for speeding.  And littering.

As we near the outskirts of Carrick the traffic is starting to build.  I zip in and out
of the vehicles, overtaking at speed.

‘Tadhg, man, will you
take it easy.  You don’t even drive!’

Huh.  He’s right, I don’t drive.
  I hate driving.  I’m scared stiff of driving.  The last few miles have been on auto-pilot; too hopped up on adrenaline for my fears to have surfaced.  I guess it’s like riding a bike; you don’t really forget how to do it.  And I seem to be doing a pretty good job.  Maybe I’m cured?  Maybe I just needed to get back up into the saddle?  Or maybe I don’t give a shit anymore?  I can see Kate’s black Taurus clearly now.  She’s about a hundred and fifty meters ahead, weaving in and out of the traffic.

‘Annabelle’s Delights,’ I prompt
, trying to get Jason back on track.

‘She needed the money.  I lent it to her.  She employed me to set up the software side of things.  It’s what I do.’

A police car and an ambulance zip past us on the far side, heading for the Foxboro Hotel.  They’re being pursued by two news vans.

‘And you coul
dn’t tell me?  Wouldn’t tell me?’

We zip through a red ligh
t, the cross-traffic honking their horns.  Another misdemeanor to add to the arrest list.

‘I signed a confidentiality clause.  What difference does it make?
  So I work for Annabelle, big fucking deal.’

‘
You
own
a third of the company.  You never told me.’

‘If I’d told you, I’d have broken Anna’s trust.  She’s my friend as well.  What if I told Anna or Sally or Paavo your secrets? 
Whoa!  Fuck!  FUCK!  Slow down.  FUCCKKKKK!’

‘
You could have got a tank through that gap.  You’re a multi-millionaire and you …’

‘On paper,’ he interrupts.

‘You’re a multi-millionaire and you still live at home with your parents.  How is that right?’

‘How is it not right?  I like it at home.  I see my parents every day.  I can look after them.  I can get on with my work.  And my best friend only lives three doors away.  It’s fucking perfect.’

Okay, fine, he’s right.  I’m being an asshole.  I’m always being an asshole.  Ask Sally.

Kate is now only fifty meters or so ahead of us.  I
slow down to her pace.  In the mirror I can see that the police car is only a hundred meters or so behind us, its lights flashing, siren whooping.  What we need now is a nice tight alleyway strewn with cardboard boxes full of rubbish we can speed down.  Instead, we cross over the river into the old part of town.

‘Except when you ask me to help you move bodies,’ Jason continues.

‘Yeah, sorry about that.  Sorry about everything.  How’s your arm?’

‘Busted.’

‘But you’ll live?’

‘Yeah, but I won’t be doing any press-ups for a while.’

I snort a laugh.  I doubt he’s ever done a press-up in his life.  Even extending his arms, his stomach would probably still be on the floor. 

‘He won’t be breaking anymore arms where he’s gone,’ I say.

‘Paavo said he’d be sending him to the other side.  Did you know he was in the Rangers?’ 

It seems that everyone is confiding their secrets in Jason.  And like a good best friend, he’s
now passing them on. 

‘Yeah, he was a cook,’ I say. 

‘He had to kill whatever they ate.’

That figures. 

We turn right at St Mary’s church.  By American standards it’s ancient architecture, erected by the town’s founders in 1687 and rebuilt in 1738 after the original burnt down.  We skirt Turner Square then hang a right again, then a left.  The Grill is halfway down the block.  Kate has already pulled to a stop, double parking, and is entering the bar carrying the Uzi.

* * *

Patrons are starting to pour out the doors as we try and push our way in.  The doormen are so distracted, trying to manage the chaos, that they don’t bother trying to stop us from entering the bar.  So far no shots have been fired, but Kate barging through the place covered in blood, holding a machine gun, has certainly had an effect. 

There’s a band on the stage playing a cover version of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. 
They’re too lost in the song to have picked up on what’s happening.  They’re at the bit where it slows to a stop then the bass line starts before the lead guitar starts howling over the top of it.  Somehow the song feels appropriate.

I push Jason in front of me and tell him to clear a path.  He starts to protest.  ‘I’ve got a broken arm.’

‘Just fucking do it, Jason.’

Nothing cleans a path like a three hundred and fifty pound beaten
-up Korean stinking of BO waving a pistol with his one good hand.  Except maybe a flamethrower. 

We pass through the bar to the back
where it’s practically empty.  There’s no sign of Kate.

‘Tad!’

I glance over my shoulder.  Sergeant Gerlach is pushing his way through the crowd.

‘Stay right where you are!’

I do the first thing that pops into my head – I run for the nearest door.

‘Tad!’

I burst through the door into the hallway I’d been in earlier.  I dash for the stairs and bolt up them, taking them two at time.  The landing is empty.

Where the
hell did Kate go?  I open the door in front of me.  It’s an empty office.  I move to the next door.  It opens into a small meeting room.  I step inside but it contains nothing but an oval table surrounded by chairs.

As I step back out I crash into Jason’s stomach.

‘What the fuck are you doing, Tadhg?’ he wheezes.

‘What do you think I’m doing?’

‘You wanted to stop a massacre. It didn’t happen.  She has a machine gun; all we have is this pistol.’

‘Stay where you are,’ Sergeant Gerlach says from the top of the stairs.  ‘Put your hands in the air.’

We both comply. 

To be honest
, it’s a relief that this whole shitty, clusterfuck of a day is at an end.  It’s a miracle that, not only am I alive, but my injuries extend to no more than cuts and bruises.  At least we did finally manage to get rid of Marino and Junior, or at least I hope we did.  I imagine the charge sheet is going to go on for several pages.

‘Put the gun on the floor!’

Jason leans forward slowly and drops the gun.

‘Now put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.’

Down the corridor the Uzi kicks into life.

Oh shit
!

I dash towards the sound.

‘Tad!’ Gerlach yells.

I burst through the door
into the room next to the one I’d been held in several hours ago.  It’s a plush office, fitted bookcases circling the walls.

Kate swings round
, the cap pulled low over her eyes.  She’s pointing her pistol at me, her eyes manic.  Pirelli is slumped over a mahogany desk, its green leather inlay turning gradually to a reddy-brown.  Annabelle’s contract has been rendered null and void.  The Uzi is on the thick pile carpet at Kate’s feet.

‘It’s out of ammo,’ she says, noting my gaze.
  ‘He offered me a deal.  He’d bring me into the organization.  Give me protection.’

‘I take it you turned him down?’

‘He can rot in hell.’

I’ve no argument with that.  The world will be a better place without Aldo Pirelli. 
My guess is that hundreds of people would like to thank Kate for what she’s just done. 

‘I’m going to leave now, Tadhg.  I suggest you get out of my way.  There’s been enough killing today.’

I have no argument with that either.  I stand to one side.

Kate steps past me out into the hallway.  There’s a brief scuffle
, then Kate shouts: ‘I’ll blow his fucking brains out.’

I exit the room to find Kate holding the pistol to Jason’s head, Gerlach pointing his gun at them.

Oh God!  Another Mexican standoff.  Jason came with me to try and save me from this kind of madness, now he’s experiencing the full effect.  Not for the first time today.

‘Put the gun down, Kathy,’ Gerlach orders.