Accidents Waiting to Happen (49 page)

“You bastard.
 
What gives you the right to kill people for profit?”
 

Tyrell unlocked his fingers and pointed at Josh.
 
“You do.
 
You and all the others like you, who coming rushing to this company, to me, and ask to be saved.
 
Those with AIDS who fucked one too many times with the wrong John.
 
The sick that are hoping for the miracle cure that will never come.
 
And people like you, who rustle up a shit-storm so big, only money can buy them out.

“But I solve all that for them.
 
They just sign a piece of paper and all the bad stuff goes away.
 
I grant them a second chance.
 
The opportunity to live out their days in fine style until I decide they can die.”

“Until
you
decide they can die,” Josh said.

“Yes, me.
 
And you wouldn’t believe how many are willing to sign up.”

“You disgust me,” Josh said.

“Why?
 
You’re all going to die anyway.
 
It’s inevitable.
 
Once you’ve made a settlement your life is no longer your own.
 
It belongs to me and it’s my decision when it should end.”

“Oh, bullshit.
 
People weren’t dying as quickly as you liked so you started wiping them out to balance the books.”

“Admit it, Josh, you don’t care about the other people, only about you.
 
You’re pissed that your life has caught up with you.”

“My wife and child are dead because of you.”

“No, your wife and child are dead because of you, Mr. Michaels.
 
Your problems killed them.”

Josh went for Tyrell, throwing the chair aside and sending it crashing into the other next to it.

Suddenly, a bullet turned the corner of the desk blotter into confetti and a chunk of wood exploded up from the table taking a pen with it.

Josh froze in his position.

Tyrell smiled.

“Josh, you should have played along,” Bob said.

Chapter Thirty-two

Dexter Tyrell’s grin broadened by the second.
 
It was a winner’s smile.
 
His cold eyes sparkled with delight.
 
Josh could see it, everybody could see it—he had lost to Tyrell.
 
Josh shook his head in defeat and turned to his friend.
 
Bob pointed John Kelso’s semi-automatic pistol at Josh.
 
His fear evident, the gun trembled in Bob’s hand.

Not Bob, it can’t be Bob.
 
How long has he been involved?
 
He couldn’t believe his best friend had sold him out.
 
When had Bob’s part started?
 
When John Kelso turned up in California?
 
Or had Bob known Josh had signed his own death warrant when he made the viatical settlement?
 
No wonder Tyrell hadn’t looked concerned at Josh’s accusations, he already knew the game was rigged in his favor.
 
A week ago, he would have hated Bob for his betrayal, but now, he had no more hate left.
 
He was prepared for the executioner’s bullet.

“Bob,” Josh said.

Bob swallowed hard.
 
“Shut up, Josh.
 
I’m not too good with guns and I don’t want to shoot the wrong person.”
 

Josh braced himself for the next shot to rip through his brain.
 
He didn’t fear his life ending; he welcomed it.
 
He couldn’t wait for that bullet to pierce his skull and end his misery.
 
Josh had lost everything he held dear—his wife and child burnt alive in their home, one friend murdered and the other, the betrayer.
 
All he had left was his life.
 
Now the betrayer had him in his sights.
 
It would be a fitting end for Josh, he’d done everything for the right reasons, even the bribe had been for the benefit of his daughter, but every decision he made had only wreaked more havoc.

Tyrell laughed.
 
“Oh, dear, Mr. Michaels, you’re not a good judge of character.
 
I bet you didn’t see this one coming.
 
You’re always putting your trust in the wrong person.”

Josh ignored.
 
“Just do it, Bob, if you’re going to.”

“Josh, you don’t understand,” Bob pleaded.

“I don’t care why you did it.
 
I just hope you were well paid,” Josh said, defeated.

“Don’t worry, Josh, Bob will be well looked after.
 
He knows when there’s a good offer on the table.
 
I think that’s part of your problem.
 
You don’t know a good opportunity when you see it.
 
If you’d done the right thing and drowned in your car, just think of all the destruction that you would have saved your family and friends.
 
A lot of people wouldn’t be dead, if you’d thought this through.”

“Just order it done, Tyrell.
 
I don’t need to listen to your crap.”

“Oh, good God, no.
 
You don’t think we’re going to kill you here, in my office?
 
What do you take me for—an idiot?
 
We’ll take you somewhere,” he said.

“I think you’re an idiot, Mr. Tyrell,” Bob said, the gun still aimed in the direction of the other two men in the office.

Bob’s remark knocked the smile off Tyrell’s face.
 
“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Josh.
 
I had to do it this way.
 
He offered me a deal and I took it.
 
It was the only way to get this close to the man.
 
I was meant to come here to make a deal after you were killed, but I couldn’t let him do it.
 
Once I found you and you told me Kelso was dead, I made a change of plans.
 
I told him I was bringing you here to get rid of you.”

Josh felt as confused as Tyrell.
 
Bob’s rambling was going straight over his head.

“Kate and Abby aren’t dead,” Bob added.

They’re alive
?
 
Josh comprehended the revelation, but it was too much for him.
 
He buckled at the knees and slumped against Tyrell’s desk to catch his fall.
 

“What are you doing, Bob?”
 
Fear and caution crept into Tyrell’s question.

Bob produced a small tape recorder from his pocket.
 
The spools were revolving and the record button was depressed.
 
“It was the only way I could see us trapping him,” he said to Josh.

“You’re making a terrible mistake, Bob.
 
Give me that tape,” Tyrell commanded, “and we’ll forget all about this.”
 
His hand edged towards the phone.

“Shut the fuck up before I shoot you.”
 
Bob’s hand shook now.
 
If the gun went off, the bullet could go anywhere.

Like a gunslinger in a shootout, Tyrell reached for the telephone on his desk.
 
Reacting to the draw, Bob instinctively aimed and fired.
 
The bullet went wild.
 
The vice president grabbed the handset.
 
Bob fired again.
 
Tyrell screamed as the second bullet pierced his hand, splitting the handset in two.
 
The receiver exploded and electrical sparks sizzled amongst the push button keys scattered like broken teeth.
 
Tyrell clutched his bleeding hand to his chest.

“Don’t make another fucking move.”
 
Bob looked as shaken as Tyrell did.

Tyrell whimpered and clutched his injured hand.
 
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and bound it around his palm.
 
Bob wasn’t taking any chances and kept the gun trained on Tyrell.

“Kate and Abby are alive?” Josh asked.

Bob’s eyes flicked from Tyrell to Josh and back to Tyrell.
 
“Yeah.
 
I made the deal with this son of a bitch and he told me Kelso was planning to blow up the house.
 
I got there before Kelso did and I got them out.
 
I know I should have told you when I caught up with you but I needed you to help make a convincing story.
 
I’m sorry.”

Josh didn’t care about Bob not telling him.
 
He could be angry with his friend later.
 
He wanted out of this place, as far as possible from Tyrell and his filthy company.
 
He wanted to go home to his family and fix everything—put everything back the way it used to be.
 
But then he remembered that life could never be the same, not now that Bell had told him about her disease.

“You two won’t get away with this,” Tyrell said.
 
Sweat clinging to his forehead, Dexter Tyrell’s face was a mask of pain, but he didn’t feel the pain Josh felt.

Josh lunged for Tyrell in his chair.
 
The vice president flinched, anticipating a beating.
 
He turned his head away and raised his hands up to his face.
 
His body collapsed into a fetal position.
 
Josh held a fist above the executive’s head, ready to strike, but hesitated when he saw the picture on the desk.

Josh snatched up the framed photograph from Tyrell’s desk.
 
It wasn’t a picture of his wife or a loved one, but the cover of some business magazine featuring Tyrell himself.
 
Josh smashed the picture frame down on the corner of the desk.
 
The frame shattered and pieces of glass and broken wood fell from Josh’s grasp.
 
Josh dropped what was left of the frame.
 
He picked up the largest of the pieces of broken glass and held it like a knife.

“Give me your arm,” Josh snarled.

“What?”

“Give me your fucking arm,” Josh barked.

Tyrell remained curled in a ball.
 
Tyrell yelped like a wounded dog when Josh snatched the man’s good arm out.
 
He banged Tyrell’s left arm onto the desk blotter.

Bob rushed forward.
 
“What the hell are you doing, Josh?
 
We have him.
 
He’s finished.”

“Don’t come any closer, Bob.”

Bob did as he was told and looked on in fear.

Raising the shard of glass, Josh slashed it across Dexter Tyrell’s wrist.
 
He yelped again.
 
Blood filled the laceration and crimson poured down the sides of his arm onto the blotter.

“Don’t fucking move,” Josh bellowed at Tyrell.

Josh jammed his foot into the pit of the vice president’s stomach.
  
He put his right arm on his right knee and drew the makeshift knife across his own wrist.

“Josh,” Bob said.

Dropping the glass fragment, Josh took his foot out of Tyrell’s gut.
 
He interlaced his fingers with Tyrell’s fingers, so both cut wrists touched.
 
The two men’s blood mixed.
 
Josh pressed down on their wrists with his other hand ensuring their blood mingled.

Tyrell looked on in disbelief.
 
He flashed his gaze at Josh, then at the bizarre ritual performed upon him.
 
Slack-jawed, he said nothing.

“Good, we’re blood brothers, Tyrell.”
 
Josh applied more pressure to their combined wounds.
 
Blood oozed out from between their arms like jam squeezed out from an overfilled sandwich.
 
“I’m infected, Mr. Tyrell, and if luck is on my side, so are you.”

“Oh, my God.”
 
Bob fell into one of Tyrell’s club chairs.

“What have you done?” Tyrell demanded.

Josh enjoyed seeing the fear in Tyrell’s eyes.

“My blackmailer, my ex-mistress, murdered by your boy, told me one important fact before she died.
 
She was diagnosed HIV+.”
 
Josh relished the moment.
 
The words HIV+ struck terror into all those who had contracted the virus and it was no different for Dexter Tyrell.
 
Josh smiled at the fear in Tyrell’s eyes.