The Nephilim (41 page)

It was some time before Garrick was able to hear Benedict screaming that at him. The damage to his hearing from all the blasts was terrible. But he couldn't imagine that Benedict was any better. In fact, since he was just as close to the blasts and less well barricaded he had to be in even worse shape. But it was his mind that counted and Garrick knew that it was breaking. There was a touch of hysteria in the thief's screaming. More than a touch. He was on the edge. He had probably been going there for some time. His repeated failures to kill him had been robbing Benedict of his sense of accomplishment, and he'd been losing faith in himself. Without that he was vulnerable to the darkness within him. And at some point it had no longer been about the money. It had only been about killing him. Grimly, Garrick knew it was time to complete the job. He also knew how to do it.

“So….. What made you decide to fuck an angel?”

There was a time for polite and a time for direct and this was the time for direct. He had to bring the act firmly into the thief's thoughts. He had to make him remember that moment. Relive the act. And relearn the darkness that he kept trying to hide from.  The answer he got was a wordless scream. But it was also the answer he'd wanted.

Then Benedict fired the grenade launcher again and the world exploded.

More of the ceiling came down on their heads. More of the floor above as well. Dust and rubble was everywhere, blinding him. There was screaming too, and some of it was coming from Garrick as he realised he'd been hit by something. Something that had sliced through an arm. His shooting arm. He could feel warm blood trickling down and knew there was too much of it to be good. But if he was this bad, how bad did the ageing thief have to be? He was practically bringing the building down on top of himself. And he kept doing it.

Benedict fired three more shots into the ceiling between them, and piece by piece the second floor started becoming the first. And the only thing Garrick could do as Benedict went mad was try to find shelter against the back wall of the clinic and hope that it held as his barricade was slowly covered in rubble.

Eventually the explosions stopped. The dust settled and even the ringing in his ears eased a little. Garrick poked his head up cautiously. Could it be that Benedict was out of grenades? Or that he'd injured himself too badly to continue? Or was the thief laying a trap?

“You still alive thief?”

“Die!”

Benedict shrieked at him, his voice high pitched and shrill, the madness clearly having taken hold. His angry yell was immediately followed by the sound of a machine pistol firing. But the shots were wild. He wasn't aiming at all. He'd just raised the weapon above the rubble and squeezed the trigger. He held it down until the entire clip had been fired.

It was a stupid thing to do. It was the sort of thing gang bangers did, never thinking of the obvious consequences, the most important one of which was that it left you without bullets. But worse for Benedict, he was shooting at a hunter with near perfect aim. Even in the half light Garrick could see his hand with the gun in it. A moment later he shot it.

Benedict screamed like a little girl and the gun went flying. That Garrick knew, was his chance. Benedict was out of grenades – he hoped. He no longer had a weapon in his hand. His mind was broken, judging from the screams. And with a little luck his main hand was injured. So he got up and rushed toward him.

More truthfully he hobbled quickly in Benedict's general direction, trying to crawl over and around the piles of rubble between them and hoping for all he was worth that his leg held up to the challenge. But the principle held. And soon he was in position. He could see Benedict, or a lot of him lying on the ground, holding his hand and barely paying him any attention at all as he nursed his wound and cried. He didn't just cry though, he screamed, and occasionally he yelled at himself. The chances were that he had no idea that Garrick was there.

Benedict's hand was bleeding copiously. His leg was sodden with blood. And something heavy had fallen across his hip, pinning him down. He was completely helpless. If he wanted to Garrick had the chance to end this forever. He raised his weapon and pointed it at the thief's head and knew that this was the moment it could all end. It was oh so tempting.

“Crap!”

With a sigh Garrick realised that he couldn't kill him. He wanted to. He hated the thief with all he had. And yet something stayed his hand.

Maybe it was pity? Some sort of sympathy for the old man and his broken mind. Because his mind was definitely broken. Shattered. Benedict lay there, crying and mumbling to himself. Occasionally he even screamed as some sort of nightmare took hold of his mind and he threw his hands in front of his face, seeking to ward off whatever phantoms he thought he saw. He'd obviously suffered a complete psychotic break and Garrick knew that there was no guarantee he would recover.

Maybe it was the fear of what the Choir would say if he did kill him that held him back? There was no doubt that they would be upset. Garrick knew that. And he did wonder why Cassie wasn't there with him, telling him to stay his hand.

Or maybe it was simply his training and his duty returning to him? You did not shoot a helpless suspect. You arrested them. And Benedict was helpless. Shooting him would be a crime.

Whatever it was that made him rethink, it was enough, and though he didn't want to, he eased himself back from the edge.

“Toss your weapons away and put your hands behind your head!”

Garrick repeated himself several times as he covered Benedict, all the time wondering what he was going to restrain him with. He didn't have his cuffs on him. The thief however, didn’t comply. All he did was lie there and grab at his injured hand while he screamed and cried. And then he carried on babbling to himself like a mad man. Ranting words that didn't make any sense.

In the end there was nothing else to do except stand there and cover the thief until the police finally arrived. And watch a man collapse into complete psychosis as his mind appeared to disintegrate. It was one of the most horrible sights he'd ever seen. And to know that he was the one responsible for it was not an easy thing to accept. This man had been a bad man. He had done terrible things and hurt a lot of people. But no one should suffer what he was going through.

It was surprising how long it took for the police to arrive. But then they'd probably been trying to set up a perimeter and keep people away while the hospital was being slowly destroyed all around them. In time though a group of heavily armed, black clad officers arrived and he was able to identify himself and his prisoner to them.

After that two of the officers grabbed Benedict, pulling him out from the rubble. Initially they went to tie his hands behind him but stopped once they realised that one of them was badly broken. He screamed with pain when they tried and the blood caused the plastic tie to slip off. So they gave up.

And then it was time to do the walk. The one thing he almost never got to do. Normally he was there at the take down of a suspect, but only as one of many and the arrest was never his. He was usually happy enough with that. This time however, he was part of a contingent. Two officers took the lead, two more held Benedict by the shoulders and half frog marched him, half carried him out of the clinic and down the corridor. Finally two more followed and Garrick walked with them. Although pointed at the ground, Garrick kept his gun at the ready, and felt like he'd earned another million dollars with every painful step he took. It might have been better if he wasn't in pain and trailing blood from his arm as he walked. It would have been much better if Benedict hadn't been crying and babbling incoherently.

It might not be a victory as far as the Choir was concerned. In fact they'd probably be upset. Diogenes and his own people might still have some problems arising from the shooting. He didn't know how much evidence was left to hide or fake. And Garrick was still injured, homeless and carless. But he had finally got his man. This was as close to victory as he was ever going to know.

Things just got better when they reached the lobby to the sight of officers everywhere, clapping. They knew Benedict had finally been taken down. They knew this was a big moment. Maybe it was the blood loss talking but as far as he knew it was finally his moment. And maybe after this he would finally get some recognition by the press for a job well done instead of being ridiculed for being shot. Feeling a little like a rock star Garrick holstered his weapon.

Suddenly a shot rang out.

Everyone reacted as guns came out and people started yelling. Garrick was yelling too, but in his case it was in pain. He'd felt the sting of a bullet in his buttocks and he knew it was bad. What he didn't know was how it could have happened. Benedict hadn't shot him. He was still being led away by the black clad tactical officers. No one else looked to have been shot. And yet he was hurt. Maybe badly hurt.

He looked down to see a trail of blood running down his leg. A lot of blood. And he knew then that he was going to be going back into surgery. There would be more doctors and more days laid up in bed. And by the feel of things as his vision began to darken, it was going to be soon. And all he could think as he stood there was that it just wasn't fair.

“Not a-bloody-gain!”

But of course it was a-bloody-gain. He knew that as he started to lose the last of the strength in his body and saw the floor rising up toward him. Getting shot seemed to be his lot in life. He just hoped it wasn't going to turn out to be by another officer.

Chapter Twenty Eight

When Garrick woke up he knew that a lot of time had passed. Many hours if he was any judge. But he also knew that he was alive, even if it was getting tiresome being shot. But somehow, he seemed to keep surviving. He also seemed to be spending a lot of hours staring at hospital ceilings. He was getting tired of the view.

Naturally the first thing he did was wiggle his fingers and toes, checking to see that he still could. And when that happened he worked on his arms and legs. That was enough to tell the others he was awake.

“Maricia.”

He looked up to see Katarinka sitting on the side of the bed, tugging at the sleeve of her companion beside her, and he wondered why they were there. Shouldn't there be doctors and nurses? Or failing that an angry deputy director? But at least he wasn't hand cuffed to the railing this time. That had to be a positive.

“Kid?”

“You're all right! The doctor's finished the stitching ages ago and there's some bandages. But mainly they say you need rest.”

“And to stay away from guns!”

Maricia butted in and suddenly both of them were laughing like five year olds. But the fact that they were laughing had to mean things weren't as serious as they could have been. And of course she'd reminded him that there was one thing he needed to find out fast.

“Are we safe? Benedict released the information.”

“We know. Enquiries started being made hours ago. Several investigations are being talked about. There's also some stuff going to the media. But we think we're ready. And Benedict's gone completely mad. So how much weight anything he says will have is anyone's guess.”

Garrick was relieved to hear that, and more to see her smiling and looking relaxed. Of course there were no guarantees. He knew that. But that was at least something. And there was another question he badly needed answered.

“Who shot me? This time?”

It was a strange question to have to ask he thought. Until now each time he'd been shot he'd known who had done it. But this time he didn't and he had to know. And he had to find out if he was going to be shot again. It was always possible that Benedict had hired some more assassins.

“This time it was actually an FBI agent.”

Maricia, was trying to keep a straight face as she said it for some reason. But she wasn't doing a very good job of it. Meanwhile Katarinka was snorting uncontrollably as she tried to keep from laughing.

“But they're putting it down to an accidental shooting, and the officer involved will be spoken to in due course.”

“Accidental shooting?” That didn't sound right to him. He was never accidentally shot. People were always trying to kill him. It was the way of the world. Save that now that Benedict was in custody it hopefully wouldn't be happening any more.