Day 270 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 15 (2119 Words)

 ©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

REPEAT OFFENDERS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 15

Mike was feeling a lot better, his head was clear and the strength was definitely back in his limbs. Whatever it had been that had been plaguing him had moved on, or gone into remission perhaps. He had not forgotten the confessing Brian Prime and his supposed knowledge of what was happening to him, as it was happening perhaps to them? He honestly felt like the weight had been lifted and the fever had now passed, he did not realise before how hot it had been until the ill feeling passed and then the sweat on his body cooled, pressing clammy between his clothes and skin.

He was not giving away the advantage he had for the moment, though he had been so very weak and dizzy he had been aware of what was happening around him as the balance of power shifted multiple times in the room. Now there were guns, people making plays for control and a cop, from nowhere. As much as he did not trust the Brian that had put him in this situation, the tables had turned so much in the last few minutes that they were aligned once more.

The cop was aligned with the other Brian and the other Ivan, the one they had left behind, oddly in similar circumstances with a blow to the back of the head in virtually the same spot that he had been rendered unconscious. If he had believed in fate or Karma there would have been something to make of this, in reality it was human nature to scrabble for control and power. Nature hated a vacuum and human nature hated a power vacuum.

So he kept his recovery to himself, and remained lying on the floor, watching and listening to the activity around the room. Brian Prime was laid out similar to him and his face was white, pale from the shock of being sliced open, a cloth had been applied to his wound, wet and cold it staunched the bleeding which was shallow but because of the ragged nature of the blade was a nasty wide rent in his cheek. His eyes were open but unseeing, whatever was going on behind them was totally internal and he was not processing in the real world.

Ivan Prime, the one they had 'left behind' was taking cover behind some shelving and the cop had moved to well within Mike's line of sight, if only he were armed he could have taken the shot and then the balance would have shifted again. Brian Two, the one who had hidden the cop was not taking sides by his actions, he was waiting to see where the chips were going to fall, a sensible option, but one that ruled him out for Mike's plans to take the machine back and take control of the situation. Ivan Two, he was going mad and unbalanced obviously, great for scaring people when you needed that, but in a pinch you could not tell what he was going to do.

His new 'team' needed to be cemented, he had to take out the cop, first. Then Ivan Two and Brian Two, get back to the original team. That left Harold White the Bank Manager. He was easily forgotten and given all that had been revealed Mike was unsure that he would be of any future use. The way he figured it there was one or two good options. If there was still time, and he was unsure of exactly how honest Brian Prime had been about all of this, but if there were still the option to create one more new universe, prior to the vault being robbed... no wait, they did not actually rob the vault this time did they? Ivan Two and Harold can't have had the time to circle around and get back to the warehouse in time to … or could they?

The main thing would be to get to a point before the cop he had killed. That cop was dead, there was no two ways about it if the Brian's were to be believed, and logically they must have been correct. Why lie about such a thing? Why try and deceive your way back to the warehouse if not to try and suppress the very truth they had uncovered?

Out of all the lies and half truths that Brian had used to get them to this point, the unravelling of his story and the lengths he went to in trying to cover that up, that spoke truth louder than any statement up till now.

The question was how to retake control and to ditch the excess baggage, personnel wise. Brian Prime would not likely object to the ditching of the new Ivan, he had not objected the removal of Ivan Prime from the team after all. Would he accept a turnaround on the other Brian though? He appeared to have taken great pains to keep multiple versions of himself alive for some reason, something to do with whatever ailed them perhaps? They could not leave behind a person like Brian Two though, no more than they could leave behind Ivan Two either, not now they knew how to work the machine. That was one very good reason to get rid of the Two's both of them at the same time.

Harold could stay or go, alive or dead it made little difference. If he stayed then he'd be arrested on on the run for ever. Either the cops would get him or the organised crime family that owned the contents of the vault, one quick call would put them in the picture of Harold assisting in robbing them, albeit a different version of them? Maybe that did not make any sense, but he bet that if the sort of people who killed indiscriminately and held honour and trust at such a high premium in their support structure were aware that the Manager had a duplicate, and that there was even a sniff of impropriety around their stash of untraceable gems? One way or another Harold was going to be a dead man. It may even be a mercy to take him out of the game right here and now.

If he had a gun, then he could just about manage it from this vantage point. He had a clear line of sight to the cop and then Ivan Two was closer still, Brian Two and Harold White would be easy pickings. He'd only need four bullets, or two bullets and a knife. Or maybe two bullets and his bare hands. That would be infinitely more satisfying to take the scientist and wring his scrawny neck, right in front of Brian Prime, remind him and Ivan Prime who was in charge again. Then the bank manager would be.... an afterthought? A loose end.

Then luck, fate or Karma handed him his opportunity much sooner than he could have even hoped for.

“There's back up on the way Ivan. Just throw the gun out and we can talk about a plea deal. You stay in there, armed and ready to shoot and … well you just dig the hole deeper every minute don't you?”

Ivan Prime said nothing but he could see Mike lying on the floor and stared straight at him, seeing the light and fire in his eyes. Then Mike decided it was time to start his plan in motion.

He winked at Ivan Prime and they knew instantly what the next move was.

Ivan Prime for his part was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. He trusted neither man, but at the end of the day the one lying on the floor incapacitated and supposedly out for the count was his associate, they had a history and while Mike had already turned on him once, it was better than doing a deal with the cop.

“I should have known better.” Ivan eventually said and raised his hands, the gun held lightly in one hand between two outstretched fingers. “You can't trust a cop, not even one to act in his own best interest. I mean you can't even trust a bent cop, can you? No, no fucking way.”

“Slowly, on the floor, kick it over here!” George was not watching anyone else at this point he just had the gun trained on Ivan Prime. Ivan Two ignored what was going on, tears were forming on his cheeks, brimming over and spilling out as his mind back tracked over what he had done, and who he had done it to. Justice was not on his mind, but retribution was, and he was the one owed it in his own reckoning.

Harold and Brian Two were waiting for the scenario to play out, ready to make their determinations and decisions when it was clear what the outcome was going to be.

“Fuck you.” Ivan Prime spat and fiddled with he safety switch, leaving it on while trying to look like he was putting it on. Then he gently laid the gun on the floor, then spun it away with a half hearted kick.

The hand gun flicked around and around like a Catherine Wheel, spinning rapidly but covering the distance over the floor very slowly.

“Stay where you are, officers will be here any minute.” On cue the sound of sirens broke through the night sky for about 15 seconds and then just as rapidly stopped again. George rolled his eyes, he bet that someone set them off and set off a panic in the detective who had called it in, maybe even himself, and hurriedly turned them off again. He smiled a half smile and nodded to himself.

“Fucking uniforms.” he muttered under his breath but the timing was perfect as far as convincing the men he was dealing with that he was not lying. He saw the gun on the floor, inches away from the two incapacitated men, just lying there and making no move to grab the gun. By the look of them neither one was capable of doing anything about it anyway.

Best to leave no avenues for things to go wrong. Keeping an eye on the two Ivans he moved forward slowly. One of the two with his hands in the air on his knees, and the other his head in his hands, leaning on his knees. They looked like a dramatic exercise, one man acting in different emotions in the single scene. He was not looking at Mike when he came to the gun, he stood straight and looked about the room, clocking where Ivans were, where the two men at the table were and that they had not moved and then gun below his feet. Keeping a close eye on the Ivans he tried to move the gun with his foot, looking to sweep it away behind him to safety where he could retreat and have both guns in his possession.

The gun however was not there, and he moved his foot around frantically to find it without taking his eyes off the Ivans, one of whom was smiling broadly at him.

He looked down finally and saw the barrel of the gun in the hands of a man who still looked like death warmed up, but had recovered enough to hold the gun shakily in both hands and pointed at his midsection. George was in the process of swinging his own gun around to try and point it at the man on the floor, Mike was his name according to what the others had told him, when the first of three rapid fire shots caught him in the abdomen, punching through his clothes and making the flesh and blood fly out of the back of his body where they exited. It was too close to miss and too close to stay lodged in the body.

He slumped to the ground on his knees and was reward with a single bullet in the chest as he knelt face to face with the man that killed him.

Mike was grinning and stumbled to his feet, the weariness and fatigue not quite gone one hundred percent, but he had the weapon, he had the cop and he had the upper hand once more.

“Turn the fucking thing on and let's get out of here before they...”

A loud bang-bang-bang echoed through the room and glass rained from the ceiling as the wounds blossomed on Mike's shirt, the impact of three bullets, two from George's gun and one from Joe's came blasting through the skylight and shredded him where he was trying to stand. 

Day 269 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 14.5 (1929 Words)

 ©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

REPEAT OFFENDERS

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 14.4

“I swear to god he sounded just like you, like he could be your brother. Except I've met your brother and frankly... one of you must be adopted.” Joe Bell was trying ton convince George that the man on the phone was his doppelgänger. Joe did not think for a second that what he was about to walk into involved a real doppelgänger, instead it was a way of passing the time. Ribbing a colleague and psyching him out was a precinct pastime, and even on serious cases like this one, no opportunity was missed out.

“Kiss my ass.” George came back with, it was hardly original but then again being the butt of the joke was not something he was used to being. George was more senior, he had the upper hand in the office and not many would try and lay anything on him. Joe and he went back a long way, they hard almost the same length of service, but George was definitely the more senior, the more respected of the two.

Joe did not get chances to make George the one to be uncomfortable very often and this was a thin excuse on a case that was extremely important to get right, but if he could solve the case, make fun of Detective Samuels and bring a cop-killer in within twenty four hours? All good for Detective Bell.

Technically they were not solving the case so much as chasing down a lead from a rat, a rat that squealed to George and not him. So there was another excuse to take Samuels down a couple of pegs, he was infringing on Bell's case. It was not like George would have stolen credit or taken the win in the 'closed' column for himself, but this was a big case and Bell had been having a dry time of it recently. He could use the win and he could definitely do with a little more respect from the others on the team, so beating George to the punch would be a good thing. And a little humiliation would not be bad for the detective's reputation as a no-nonsense stickler for the rules.

George always did the right thing, he was known for it to a fault. You never told Detective Samuels about cutting corners or doubts in your case, he would not let the little things slide, he'd always be on the side of the law, the right and the justice they served. Joe thought that George would shop his own grandmother if she broke the law. He could imagine him declaring it necessary, and then telling her of his disappointment in her breaking the law in the first place.

“Is this it? Does not look like much of a hideout, looks a bit industrial, quiet.” George cast a sideways look at Bell as he said that, now that it had been spoken it made a lot more sense. “Yeah, yeah, I can see it now.”

“Good to see you catching up Detective.” Joe smiled, this was going his way spectacularly.

They parked the car around the corner from the building, set the car alarm and walked the next few hundred feet in relative caution, watching the various windows and corners for signs of life and activity. The building itself was lit up from the inside, a series of windows that ran the length of the roof, high off the ground showed there were lights on inside what looked to be a high ceilinged warehouse space. Joe walked the length of the alleyway that ran the side of the building and found the door in the side wall near the docking bay or roller door entry point. He walked casually by it and then a few feet away turned around and walked back equally at ease and for all the world looking like he was just strolling by for a walk.

“Do you think they saw?” Joe said as he regrouped with George at the entrance to the alleyway on the dark street, out of the flood of light from a street lamp across the road. The street was poorly lit on their, and so the only light sources were on the opposite side of the road, any pedestrians wanting to be seen would be on the other side, not where the cops were casing the building.

“Camera?”

“Yeah, above the door and to the side, Infra Red too, I could see the make, I know it.” Joe had clocked the security camera above the doorway, too high from the ground to be disabled or interfered with easily.

“Pretty expensive kit for a warehouse, in a … well let's just call it not well maintained, area of town.” George picked up his radio and called dispatch and made a quiet call for back up.

Joe was eyeing up the building across the alleyway and was getting an idea. “You see what I see?”

“Dead People?”

“What?”

“Jesus Joe, it's a joke. The sixth.. oh forget it, what?”

“There.” In front of them and out of sight of the door cam was a fire escape on the building that was opposite the warehouse. The ladder ran to the roof of the building, which looked abandoned with the graffiti and boarded up windows. They could easily get on the ladder with the help of a nearby dumpster. Given the amount of slogans, tags and obscenity plastered up and down the walls of the building, it was obviously good enough to carry their weight like it had the vandals 'redecorating' the walls.

In a minute they were on the fire escape stairs and they made the way slowly up the levels of the four storey building and eventually clambered up the final ladder to the flat roof with a perfect view into the next building, seeing directly into a part of the room, where they could see machinery and two people standing near it.

“Bingo.” George was looking at Ivan Two, with the fresh scar cut into his face and his hands raised as if someone was training a gun on him. This did not look like a slice of life they were prying into, this looked like a criminal enterprise, they had seen their fair share. That cut was not accidental, there had been violence done here and it looked like there was violence to be done again.

“Who is he talking to?” Joe could see that Ivan Two was saying something, though he looked far from frightened despite his 'held up' pose.

“Whoever has the gun I assume.” George said, not knowing that at the moment the person who was at the other end of the stick up was actually himself.

“We need a better look.” Joe was muttering to himself and looking about the roof for an advantage of some kind. The angle they were at meant they could not see into the other half of the room to get the whole picture. The building they were on was half the length of the warehouse and the roof next to them further down the alleyway was actually shorter than the warehouse by a few feet and would not have given them the height they needed.

“Wait for back up and then we can figure all this out.” George had an ill feeling about what was going down, his cop sense working over time and giving out warnings.

“I've got a plan.” Joe said suddenly rubbing his hands together.

“Save me from your fucking plan, please... oh you have got to be joking!” George started off with sarcasm but it turned quickly incredulous as he saw what the plan was. “No, no, no. Don't be an idiot Bell.”

And that was all Joe needed to convince himself to do it. The disapproval of the person he had a vested interest in showing up tonight, he had to be better than George on this one, it was going to be a big win. Thinking outside the box and taking risks, that would be the key to cracking this and getting the credit. Waiting for back up, following the procedure and being sensible would be forgotten in the heat of collaring a cop killer. They had no evidence that this man with the fresh scar was the one they were looking for, maybe it was whomever was holding him at gunpoint, but they needed to know more before the booted thuds of uniforms disrupted proceedings.

“Fuck you, going to do it.”
There was a long aluminium ladder and some painting gear on the roof, rollers and tarpaulins, maybe a forgotten effort to curb the graffiti and cover the walls again. The tarp was rotted and the paint cans rusted but the aluminium ladder looked sturdy and structurally sound. The alley was small enough to brace the ladder across the gap and then it was a perilous crawl across the gap to the roof of the warehouse, and then a clear and unobstructed view.

“We don't have a warrant.” George put an arm out to stop Joe but he knew the argument before Bell even raised it.

“An obviously, and more importantly freshly, injured man, appears to be being held at gunpoint, and we have an informant telling us a cop killer is in there? Exactly how much more 'exigent' do you need circumstances to be?”

George nodded and stepped aside, taking the end of the ladder and helping Joe carry it to the gap. They worked to put in place silently as possible, causing a little rattling as it settled across the gap. Subtle movements were impossible with the amount of torque on the far end of the ladder, with a single person it would have made much more noise, George was resigned to helping out his colleague's insane plan. He put his weight on the end that was resting on their rooftop and held the ladder firmly as the other detective made his way slowly across.

Joe got off the other end of the ladder and waved back across the alley way to signify his arrival. He walked to the nearest skylight and knelt down, looking into the depth of the room below and then George saw him sit down, heavily on the rooftop.

What had he seen? When Joe knelt forward again he leaned in closer to the glass of the skylight and peered long and hard before pulling his mobile phone from his pocket, disabling the flash and carefully, not showing the glowing screen to the skylight, taking the picture at an oblique angle and then looking at his phone for a long time before looking back to George.

“What?” George mouthed and shrugged. He pointed at the ladder and indicated that Joe should come over and hold the base for him to come across and join him. Joe looked a bit panicked then and waved him back. Instead he shook his head and then rechecked his mobile, looked back at George and then back at the screen.

A few button presses and then two things happened at once.

His mobile phone went off and he saw that Joe had sent him a picture text. He was about to open it when they heard the gunshot and the ricochet. Joe pulled his own weapon and George Samuels clambered across the ladder unaided, fuelled by adrenaline and forgetting about checking the picture on his phone.