Raucous (29 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

They stood waiting for the same thing but with a different twist.  A stand-off waiting to explode.  They made a show of having guns, like two old-age street fighters opening hands and showing they only had bare skin and knuckles, they had made obvious the weapons they carried.  Rollin, Chamberlain and Christian had edged forward, the glow from the headlights making the uneven surface of the path an easy obstacle.  They stopped five metres from Raucous, Rollin showing his bleached porcelain teeth in the biggest grin of his arrogant life. 

“The van still in there?” Rollin asked.  “Untouched?”

Raucous stepped back and moved his right arm to make an elegant gesture of ushering their route through to a ballroom of wondrous design and adventure. 

“It’s all there,” Raucous said, bowing his head slightly.

Rollin refused to move.  He stared, waiting for Raucous to look up.  Raucous waited, smiling inside.  He looked up.

“No exchange of possibilities?” Rollin asked.  “A discussion on who and how this goes down?”

“We want Christian, you want the gold.  The van in there is never going anywhere, so you need to move it.  That’s going to take a while.  You won’t let us leave till you have, so there seems no point in discussing certain elements until you see the job at hand.”

“And that’s the way you think it will go?”

“No, there will be violence and death, but we have to give the easy route a chance to breath, don’t we.  We are awaiting the arrival of Parker and then, I believe, we’ll see which way things go.”

“And Charlotte?” Chamberlain asked.

“She looks after herself.”

Raucous saw Chamberlain look quickly to his left, off into the edge of the wood.  Chamberlain’s stressed panic left through rapid blinks, an unbelieving confusion of what was there. 

Raucous nodded.  He knew what was there; he knew how it would be.  He turned, as Roach did.  Raucous reached out and placed his hand on Roach’s shoulder.  When Roach saw he surged forward but Raucous held and squeezed, stopping Roach’s forward movement.  Roach, drew his right hand back ready to strike his restraint away.  Raucous moved his head slowly side to side.  Roach didn’t understand, he could see that, but he needed him to trust.  Raucous shook his head again and Roach stopped pushing.

Each of them watched Parker usher Charlotte into their opening.  Parker held Charlotte’s left shoulder as he walked behind her, his right pushed his gun against her back.  Charlotte looked confused rather than scared, uncertain and questioning more than panic.  They walked slowly, Charlotte’s hands free at her sides.  No one spoke as Parker walked Charlotte past Raucous and Roach.  Parker gave them no attention, he walked toward Rollin.  Charlotte turned as she came level with Raucous, she opened her eyes wide and shook her head.  This was a message but Raucous looked to Roach and Roach was as blank as Raucous.

“Another impasse, it would seem, Mr. Raucous.  A second bargaining chip, as it were,” Rollin said.

“Changes little,” Raucous said.  “One or two, the price is the same.  The van in there for the people here.  Uncomfortable for Charlotte, but really changing nothing.  We are all going to be here a long time while you move that metal.”

“We are men with brains that plan.  We have a small team of local helpers waiting for our call.  We give them the coordinates and they will arrive in no time with the required muscle and required equipment to be gone very quickly.  You have very little time to make a move.”

******************************************************************

Parker nodded to Rollin, serious face, as if this were part of the plan, a knowing look to say, I told you so.

              "Which team are coming?"  Parker asked.

              "Eight men.  My men," Rollin said.

              "Trusted?"

              Chamberlain, face of a man who has woken from a night out to find himself in the bed of his female boss, could not decide who his eyes deserved.  He flicked his vision from Rollin to Parker at high speed.  Understanding ebbed further away and Chamberlain relaxed his grip on Christian.

              "As much as men faced with riches can be," Rollin said.

              "Have you called them in?"  Parker asked.

              "Not yet.  I needed to know we were at the right location."

              Rollin took his smart-phone from his back pocket.  He was awkward in movement as his right hand gripped his gun and he reached to his back-right pocket with his left hand.

              Parker turned to Raucous and raised his eyebrows. Raucous understood but was not going to make a move, not yet.

              "We still want Christian," Raucous said.

              "In due time," Rollin answered.   He looked up.  "You," he said, staring at Charlotte.  "Go stand with your boyfriend."

              Charlotte glanced at Parker.  Raucous saw the look but couldn't read its meaning.  Parker pushed her firmly in the lower back and she stumbled forward, caught her step and walked to Christian.

              Rollin used his thumb to scroll through names, looking for a number.  He was making mistakes and shook his phone in anger.

              Charlotte stood facing Christian.  Chamberlain moved his gun left to right, holding his aim on each for a second before the next.  Raucous saw Charlotte taking deep breaths, like a sniper searching calm before a shot.

              Something was wrong.  People were acting like they had a plan, and that he, Raucous, was integral to its start.

              Charlotte lurched forward and knocked Chamberlain's gun from his hand.  The metal clicked as it hit a stone on the floor.  She grabbed Christian and pushed him, and started running.  Rollin whipped his head to Chamberlain.  He looked at the gun on the floor.  Rollin raised his pistol and aimed at Charlotte's back as she ran toward Raucous and the car.  Raucous saw the scene, slowed it down.  Charlotte was too slow and too far from cover.  Rollin had a choice on who to shoot first, Charlotte or Christian.  Raucous looked at his own gun, which lay on the floor where he had thrown it.  No time to dive roll and shoot, no time at all.  The muzzle on Rollin's gun exploded, smoke and fire belched out.  He turned his eyes to Charlotte, expecting her to fly through the air, hoping she would fall close enough for him to try and save her.  He hoped Christian would be the target.

              Charlotte was still running.  Christian was still running.  Raucous looked at Rollin. Rollin looked at his gun, surprised.  Rollin aimed again and fired.  The barrel flash and noise, but he missed again.  Neither Charlotte nor Christian fell.  Charlotte and Christian hit the car with a thud, scrambled around its rear edge and crouched down next to Roach, the car between them and Rollin.

              Raucous looked back to Rollin, who had Raucous sighted along the barrel of his gun.  Raucous watched the muzzle flash once and twice.  He saw Parker step across, three meters in front of Rollin and directly between the gun and Raucous.  Rollin fired again and no one fell.

              "He was telling the truth," Charlotte said.

              Charlotte started to laugh.

              Raucous watched Parker.  He saw Rollin's face and its total confusion.  Chamberlain picked up his gun and stared into space.  Raucous looked at where he and Roach had thrown their weapons.  He took a step toward them.

              "Don't go near them, Raucous," Rollin shouted.

              Parker turned.

"He can't hit you, Raucous," he said.

"He's a pretty lousy shot, but he'll get lucky soon enough," Raucous replied.

"You can't hit anything with blanks."

Rollin looked at his gun, the one Parker supplied. He pointed it at Parker and fired three times and kept pulling the trigger when the magazine was empty.  Parker didn't flinch.

Chamberlain screamed and marched forward, his gun raised at Parker's head.  Eight shots, each closer than the last.  When it was empty, Chamberlain threw his gun at Parker.  Parker ducked, the gun flew over his head, and he drove his right shoulder into Chamberlain's gut.  Chamberlain flipped, and landed winded on the floor.

Parker turned slowly to Rollin.  But his calm face caved.  Rollin was crouched.  He was lifting his trouser leg, pulling a real gun from his ankle holster.  Parker turned and ran for the protection of the tree line.

Rollin stood.  He saw Raucous grabbing his gun from the floor but decided on Parker.  Rollin aimed quickly at the moving figure of Parker.  He fired three times.  Parker flung himself into the trees and was lost from view.

Rollin turned his attention to the car.  Raucous had taken his gun and was sat on the end of the line.  Roach, Charlotte, Christian and Raucous sat with their backs pressed hard up against the side of the car.  They were breathing heavily.  Raucous held two guns.  Rollin was moving, he could hear his footsteps.

"You calling them in, Rollin?"  Raucous shouted.

"I already did," Rollin said.

Raucous looked up at the where the road they had used to drive in, broke the top of a hill.  He saw what he needed to see.

"See those lights up there, Rollin?"  Raucous asked   "That's them."

They all watched headlights break in the distance, a mile away.  Roach was smiling. 

"What colour are those lights, Rollin?"  Roach asked.  "Red and blue, flashing light.  They are all under arrest, Rollin.  It's all over."

"Bullshit," Rollin shouted.  "I see one of your heads pop up.  It's getting shot off."

They heard Rollin moving.  No one tried to look.

"I guess Charlotte explained what happened.  The incident," Raucous said. 

              Christian didn't move, or make any sign of recognition.

              "She took you to the ODEON, right?"  Raucous asked.

              Christian turned his head slowly.  His eyes were focusing somewhere else.

              "I'd like to apologize," Raucous said.  "We were friends.  We fell out.  Women.  Never should let them get to you.  But I did.  I got mad, lost control.  The robbery, the situation.  No excuses, no real reasons either.

              "I threw you off the balcony.  You and Charlotte.  Together.  I nearly went myself.  Wish I had.  I got arrested.  I didn't run.  I sat up there on the ledge, waited and watched you two bleed out.  Thinking.  Not understanding.

"You had funerals.  A lot of people went.  Not me.  Obviously.  Seems Jim spirited you away, with the help of officials in return for information.  Charlotte can tell you more about that.  But Parker found out, knew about Charlotte, knew about you.  Jim wanted to protect his daughter, and he owed you.

              "Are you even listening?"  Raucous said.

Mitch nodded. 

******************************************************************

Rollin headed toward the barn.  Raucous motioned for the three to stay where they were.  Raucous, staying in a crouch, was on his feet.  He dropped one of the guns in Roach's lap. 

Rollin was placing gold bars into a canvas rucksack.  Raucous didn't see how many, but the bag was full.  Rollin jumped down from the van and dragged the bag behind him.  He raised it up and placed the straps over his shoulders.  He saw Raucous and raised his gun.

"No need to shoot," Raucous said.  "I'm not stopping you.  You'll never get away. And if you fire, I'll fire back."

Rollin stared, deciding.  He kept his gun trained on Raucous and backed away into the wood.

Raucous let himself smile.  Parker, Chamberlain and Rollin were finished.  They couldn't escape this.  They would be picked up.  The number of officers Roach had called in was too high for three old men to slip through.

Raucous heard Christian before he saw him rush past.  Christian held Roach's gun and was sprinting like a drunk to where Rollin had vanished.

Raucous saw Chamberlain had gone.  He watched Roach stand and move to where Parker had jumped.  He looked at Charlotte.  She shrugged, stood and sprinted after Christian.

"And I'm the reckless one?" he said.

CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

Parker had not stumbled far.  Roach could not see the blood trail.  The ground was thick and uneven and dark from the shade of the undergrowth.  He saw the gun glisten.  Bent down and picked it up.  It was sticky to the touch.  Blood splattered the barrel.  He didn’t need to walk far.

He saw Parker clearly, slumped against the roots of a large Oak.  He was bleeding from his stomach but he refused to place his hands on the leaking wound.  He sat with his hands palm down on the earth at his sides.  His eyes were not focused, but he watched Roach walk toward him.  Roach stopped a meter-and-a-half from where Parker’s feet rested in thick mud.  Parker closed his eyes and was happy in the thought that even now, in his dying state, sitting down, unarmed, men were cautious in his presence. 

Roach watched Parker breath with difficulty.  Every expansion of his chest brought a wince as skin pulled at the hole in his stomach.  Parker tried to take as little air as possible.  Parker opened his eyes and watched Roach.  Roach had let his gun drop to his side.  He appeared to be a curious boy intrigued at the process of dying, a country boy seeing his first real animal drift away into death. 

“You understand that people are shit,” Parker said.  “Without redemption.”

“Save me the speeches, Parker.  We have nothing to say.  You won’t make prison, and I won’t make it quick.”

“The religious are the worst, with their high minded superiority,” Parker said.  He then caught his breath and winced as he chuckled to himself.  “We go to church so we’re OK.  Anything goes during the week, but Sunday we say sorry, please forgive, and away we go.”

Roach looked around, he listened for noise.  He heard only the sounds from his vicinity, Parker’s difficult breathing, rustles and insects creaking.  Roach crouched down. 

“And you’ve lived the life of the morally superior being,” he said.

“I include me.  I include you.  I include everyone," Parker said, "Each with varying degrees of severity, everyone inflicted with the humanitarian disease of conceit.  Chop off the roughest edges, make bargains, play off weaknesses, make decisions.  The evil of the few to help the masses.  It’s a joke.  You can all go to hell.”

“Your life is at an end," Roach said.  "Bitter ranting, from a man who blew it.  Stop fighting, just go,”

Parker looked at his stomach, shook his head in disbelief.

“I found nothing I like," he said.  "Saw evil, did what some would call evil myself.  Achieved nothing of note.  But no one ever has.  An accumulation of knowledge and deeds that cause hurt and pain.  There’s no sense in any of it.”

“You’re ranting, Parker.  There’s no sense in what you are saying.  And I’m a man you’ll never convince.”

“You see it different?”  Parker asked.

Parker sat up quickly.  He reached out his right hand and grabbed Roach by the trouser leg.  He stared into Roach’s eyes.  “Do you see it different?”

Roach pushed Parker away with ease.  Parker had no strength left.  He banged back against the tree.

“No, I don’t,” Roach said.  “But I’ll not drown in it.”

Parker reached behind to his lower back.  He managed on the third attempt. Roach raised his gun and stood, taking a step back.  Parker’s hand reappeared.  He was holding a knife.

“This is old,” he said.  “As old, if not older than me.” 

Parker looked at the blade, trying to roll it in his fingers.  He tried not to move his neck; he used only his eyes, and clutched the handle.  Pain shot through his body with the force he used.  He clenched again knowing the pain would come, but made him alert.

“Hurt a lot of people with this," he said. 

Parker looked at his knife, trying to read the memories it held.  He looked up at Roach, closing his eyes for a second when he saw Roach stiff and ready to shoot.

“How many did you save?”  Parker asked. his voice was fading.  “How many lives did you leave destroyed by apathy?  The big goons came down and took away your proof.  So what do you do?  You shrug and say, let’s move on to the next project, let’s start another game.  In all those years you saved nobody.  But you destroyed yourself.  And now here, at the end, you have me.  A no one, someone you hate, someone even I’ll admit is insignificant in everything.”

Parker choked a laugh, he winced and gritted his teeth he tried to inhale but he couldn’t find the capacity for the oxygen he needed.  He struggled for air, like a winded man, he stared, angry that he might not finish.  He rocked back and forth but refused to touch his wound.  He snarled and nodded.   

“Congratulations,” Parker said.  "Your twenty-five years service of detective work paid off.  A man at the end of his career, having done all the harm he could, gets to die.  That’s justice.”

Roach let his gun drop to the floor.  He sat down, cross-legged facing Parker.  They stared at each other, kids playing who-blinks-first.  Parker held on, shaking and rocking, trying to go out dignified.  His eyes drooped and closed.  His chest quivered then stopped.  Roach sat watching Parker, minutes passed.  Parker still.  Roach stood, he leaned forward and down, balancing on his right leg.  He took the knife and slipped it into his jacket pocket.