Boston Blood: The first Frank McKenzie Thriller (11 page)

Connor brushes himself down and sits back on the crate staring deep into the lens once more.

Thirty six

‘It was risky coming down here Frank. They have an APB out on you, things could have gotten bad if any one radioed in your name. You would have gone up like a Christmas tree and then what?’ Jacob Asks McKenzie while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Frank is sitting down on a chair facing Jacob’s official looking office desk. He looks around the room and notices the large paintings of Jacob on the wall, like a stately home would have back in the eighteen hundreds. He thinks to himself. Asks himself one question,
why so much grandeur?
Frank has come across a lot of people in the political game in his career. All of them share the same characteristics when it comes to life style. Cut from the poor, give to the rich. Most media like to portray certain politicians as
“for the people”
but a lot of them don’t take into account the huge expenses these men and women take while furnishing their buildings, dressing their selves up for functions and driving limos to the airport while hopping on to private jets for globetrotting.

‘Nice office Jacob’ Frank remarks.

Jacob looks around the office trying to figure out if Frank was being a smart ass or the latter.

‘Thanks’ He replies.

‘It’s very stately wouldn’t you say?’ Says Frank

‘Yeah, you’re probably right there. It does its job though.’ 

Frank shakes his head in disappointment while lighting a cigarette up, his second cigarette in twenty minutes.

‘Tell me something Jacob. Why do you need all those pictures of yourself in the office? Do you forget what you look like or something? Surely a mirror would do the job just fine. No need for portraits of yourself. It’s just my opinion.’

Jacob nods in agreement, sipping his coffee examining Frank’s question with his eyes.

‘It is what it is Frank. I’m a successful man in my field. For all my hard work I get certain perks, that’s life, heck that’s my life! Is it wrong that I enjoy a certain level of success that most people do not reach? No, it’s not. Is it wrong that the government wants to cut your pensions despite your hard work for the state? Yes. Do I give a rat’s ass right about now? No. You’re here to discuss our agreement not my life style.’

Frank’s face is alight with anger, its shows. He gets up and stretches, while smoking his cigarette silently as if he was putting an exclamation mark on his opinion.

‘You know what Jacob’ Frank says abruptly while exhaling.

‘What Frank?’

‘You’re right let’s just get on with this. So how are you getting me the gear that I need?’

Jacob gets up from his seat and paces the width of his desk while looking at Frank cautiously.

‘There is no gear Frank. You can’t just expect me to magic what you need out of my ass. That’s not how it works. You need to give me time.’

Frank dismisses Jacob’s remark with a swatting motion of his hand.

‘Don’t give me that shit Jacob. Why the hell did you agree to me coming down here if you were not prepared to help me out?’

‘I would have thought that you would have worked it out by now Frank, being the detective and all’

Frank slams his fist on Jacobs’s desk to emphasize his anger.

‘Don’t Bullshit me Jacob!’

‘Look Frank I’m sorry but I’m the damn Defence Minister to the United States Government. This job means more to me then getting paid. It’s a position that I have worked my way up to since leaving the Marine Core seven years ago. I’m a black man doing a white man’s Job. We may not get another black President any time soon, but I can assure you that if we do, I’m going to be the next one. I can’t be risking my career let alone my freedom helping a fugitive break into the M.I.T research building and kill someone on a personal revenge trip, even if that person happens to be my best friend and former bunk mate at the core. Sorry Frank.’

Jacob exhales deeply and pats his pockets down. He reaches into his inner suit and takes a cigarette out. He lights it.

‘I’m sorry Frank.’

‘You’re sorry? Is that supposed to make me feel any better? If you’re not going to help me then why am I here?’

Jacob looks Frank Square in the eyes. The tension in the room is heavy as Frank dissects Jacob’s harsh stare. Jacob’s eyes dart to the intercom on his desk. Frank reacts.  He gets up and covers the intercom with his hands so Jacob cannot operate it. Jacob shakes his head in disappointment.

‘There’s no use trying to stop the inevitable Frank. You are going to get caught, sooner or later.’ Frank pulls the chord out of the intercom. The room is filled with a static buzzing sound for a few seconds.

‘Looks like you have already made your mind up, sooner seems to be what you’re batting at the minute Jacob. Like every true great batsman, you’re going to strike out,
sooner or later
.’

Jacob leans into face Frank nose to nose over the desk, both men staring each other down, both men with their hands on the table, both men waiting for the other to react.

‘Looks like we have a problem here Frank, not only have you got a warrant out for your arrest, you also have your self locked down in a government building with highly trained men. You lay one finger on me and you will be taken down. You may recall me talking to the guard at the gate. I told him that if you are spotted by yourself in the building then they have permission to shoot on sight, you are not leaving here without me letting you go!’

Thirty Seven

Chief Shaw pours himself another double.

‘Whisky in the early afternoon helps me think’ He says

Commissioner Alvarez remains seated while reading the newspaper in Shaw’s office. He is a slender and tall man of Mexican descent, he is known for his loyalty to the working officers of the Boston PD and the so called suits, an every man’s man. Chief Shaw overshadows Alvarez not by height but by demeanour and manner. Shaw’s New York Irish accent is worlds apart from the well-spoken tone of Commissioner Alvarez. The commissioner crosses his legs. His shiny shoes reflect the light in the room. Well-polished, his suit is well pressed. Shaw feels underdressed standing across the room to the well-tailored Alvarez. Alvarez rests the newspaper on his legs. Every action he depicts is as elegant and swarve as his $4000 suit. He looks up at the chief of police with a smile. Shaw thinks to himself how surprised he is that the man sitting across the room hasn’t got a gold tooth, considering his high price suits and style, its only befitting that the man have a gold tooth.

He laughs.

‘What’s funny Mr Shaw?’ Asks Alvarez

Chief Shaw takes another swig of whisky. The ice hits his teeth and makes him cringe. The clanging sound echoes around the room,
another drink.
He pours himself another double, braces himself, and clears his throat.

‘Nothing sir, it’s just been one of those days. I’m glad you made it down here okay. I heard that they shut down the airports after Connor Chase made his way into our lives.’ Says Shaw

Alvarez smiles and takes a sip of coffee while surveying the Chief’s body language over the rim of the cup.

‘I think you mean
“minds”
Chief Shaw.’

Shaw takes another sip, this time being more cautious of the ice in the glass hitting his teeth, using his mouth as a shield.

‘I don’t think I get you sir.’ Says Shaw

‘Not many people do Mr Shaw. What I meant was, when you said Connor chase made his way into our lives, I think you meant minds’

Shaw shakes his head

‘No sir. I meant lives’

Commissioner Alvarez gets up from his seat and pats himself down. He walks over to Shaw and puts his hand on his shoulder.

‘If Connor Chase was in my life, then I’d be scared to walk out of the door. I would be looking over my shoulder every ten minutes, watching and waiting for him to show up. Connor Chase is nothing more than fear in my head.’

Shaw looks Alvarez up and down, taking in the splendour of his apparel.

‘I’m quite sure that the people he’s holding hostage find Mr Chase very much in their lives sir.’

‘That may be, But to me he is just a number, a number that has to be eliminated out of the equation. Life is a formula Shaw, and Connor Chase is fucking up the formula!’

Shaw is shocked at the outburst of Alvarez. He takes another sip of whisky trying to take the edge off.

‘We are doing everything we can to capture Chase and his men’ Says Shaw

‘Obviously it’s not enough Chief seeing that you know where they are located and still have not intercepted them!’

‘It’s not that easy sir. Protocol has to be followed. It’s a public building sir. There are hostages involved and heavy media coverage on the case. We cannot jeopardise the safety of those hostages by bum rushing the place. More lives will be damaged than saved.’

Alvarez turns his back on Shaw and walks up to the drinks carbonate. He pours himself a double and drinks it in one shot. He turns to face the Chief of police.

‘I did not tell you to bum rush the place. I just want results and I want them fast! People’s lives are at risk here and not to mention Washington is breathing hard on me at the moment. They want this thing sorted out fast. They do not want a shit storm, so control it.’

‘Understood sir’ Says Shaw

Alvarez cracks a forced smile.

‘Look Shaw, you have ten hours to distinguish this Chase situation. If you don’t succeed then the FBI will take over all on-going operations out of this building.’

Shaw shakes his head in disappointment. Alvarez puts his empty whisky glass down on Shaw’s desk and makes his way out of the room. He pats Shaw on the shoulder and walks out of Shaw’s office, closing the door behind him.

‘Ass hole’ Mutters Shaw

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his mobile phone. He looks at the menu in anticipation.

‘Still no messages, what’s going on Nathan?’ Shaw asks himself

He puts the phone back into his pocket and pours himself another drink.

Thirty Eight

Nathan’s eyes open to a circle of humanity surrounding him, all looking down at him while he lies on floor catching his breath. His vision is blurry, unclear. He immediately realises what is going on. The pain in his jaw reminds him of the punch that he suffered not too long ago. The ominous crowd reminds him of where he is. Blurry vision or not, a few dozen guns pointed at his face is enough to make him snap out of his daze. The guards keep their guns drawn at Nathan as he slowly sits up with his hands raised.

‘Relax fellas’ Says Nathan calmly

The butt end of an AK47 strikes Nathan’s face knocking him back to the ground. Dirt splatters onto his face from the impact. He spits out a bloody tooth. The pain is back again.

‘Shut the hell up!’ says the AK47 swinging guard

Connor Chase pushes his way through the circle of animals surrounding Nathan, gun in hand. His pack smiles at his presence, cheering and jeering as he signals them for quiet.

‘Looks like you’re a bit banged up there Nathan my boy!’ laughs Chase

Nathan scrambles back up to a seated position.

‘Ah ah ah, don’t you move!’ Says Chase

Nathan bares his surroundings and scans the area for an escape route,
none found.
He doesn’t like his chances. He closes his eyes preparing for the worst.

‘Look at me!’ Says Chase

Nathan follows the order and looks Connor square in the eyes.

‘That’s better. Now I know that this may come as a shock to you, but you are being held prisoner now.’

‘No shit’ says Nathan

The guard with the AK47 kicks Nathan in the face sending him back down to the ground with a thud.

Connor puts his arm in front of the guard’s chest to stop him pouncing on Nathan.

‘Not yet Mike, You’ll have your fun I promise you that!’

The guard called Mike grunts in understanding.

‘Looks like we have a problem Nathan, It seems that my crew have taken a disliking to you. I’m not quite sure why that is; maybe you can shed some light on the matter.’ 

Nathan once again sits himself back up; now blood is pouring out of his mouth like a waterfall spurting out of a rock face. He wipes his bloody mouth off with his dirty sleeve and takes a deep breath.

‘I don’t follow’ Says Nathan

‘I’m sure you don’t. I’ll fill you in, you see Nathan my men are good hard working men. You could say they pull their weight around here, and maybe you don’t. I think that could be a good enough reason. I don’t know maybe you left the toilet seat up and someone needed a crap and they had to take the time out of their day to put the damn seat down. Maybe you pissed on the seat, so when they did manage to get the seat down they had pissy hands for all of their hard work!’

The surrounding men chuckle at Chase’s remark; he turns to his men and gives them a stern look that stopped the chuckling dead in its tracks.

‘As I was saying, maybe you’re just an ass hole and nobody quite likes you. I can reason with that, I have noticed that you have one of those faces that I just want to punch…no offence of course. Could it be that reason Nathan? Is it because you have a stupid face?’

Nathan shrugs his shoulders in confusion.  Chase’s face fills with rage and he cocks his gun.

‘Answer me god dammit!’

He points the gun in Nathans direction, the cold barrel touches Nathans scull and sends shivers down his spine.

‘I don’t know why they don’t like me!’ Nathan pleads

Chase pulls out a mobile phone from his pocket, Nathan’s mobile phone. Nathan’s Adams apple sinks deep into the back of his throat.

‘I believe you left something on the operating table next to poor old Hodgey, God rest his soul. Why have you got a mobile phone on you? I told everybody when they started that mobile phones are not allowed on the job. Outside communication with the world is prohibited. It could jeopardise the mission. Why do you have the phone?’

Nathan says nothing, just stares down at the floor.

‘Okay fine, don’t tell me, you’re only hurting your self boy!’