Deadly Treatment (13 page)

Scott quietly pushed himself back into the corner and held his breath as the dark figure drew nearer. With nowhere to go, Scott knew he was about to be discovered, and by the looks of it, stumbled upon. Since he hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, he hadn’t opted to bring any weapons with him; there were a few tools in the kit bag, but unzipping it would be sure to give him away. The best he could come up with was the flashlight, pretty pathetic if up against a possible gun. Although the dark shape seemed to be coming towards him, it wasn’t heading there directly, it appeared to be taking its time, almost pacing out its steps —
maybe he doesn’t know I’m here
, Scott thought.

So, armed with just a flashlight and hopefully the element of surprise, Scott went on the attack. Best-guess aiming the unlit beam in the direction of the figure’s head, he waited until he heard the unusual scraping noise again. He clicked the light on, instantly flooding the figure’s face in blinding light. In one quick movement, he jumped up and was about to swing the weapon around to hit the figure’s head when he realized the man cowering under the light was clutching three sticks of dynamite taped together with wires and a small black plastic box.

‘What the f…!’ the startled man yelled.

Stunned, both men stared at each other before Scott broke the silence. ‘Who are you? And what the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘I should ask you the same question,’ the man answered coming out from behind his raised arm.

‘WHO’S THERE?’ echoed a voice from the other side of the building.

Scott clicked off the flashlight and both men dropped down to the ground.

‘You’d better get out of here, or I’ll call the police,’ the guard yelled as he drew closer to the two men. ‘Go and do your tagging someplace else,’ he continued, the light from his flashlight running around the walls and floor searching for the men.

Both men had taken up positions either side of the long corridor and were protected from the guards view by concrete.

‘I mean it – I’ll call the cops if you don’t leave NOW.’ The guard’s voice was starting to waver as he drew near the end of the corridor.

‘Hey, over here!’ Scott called out, drawing the guard’s light and attention, while the man — now without the dynamite — snuck up behind him and hit the guard on the head with a plank of wood, rendering him unconscious.

Both men stood over the guard and stared at each other.

‘Look, we’re obviously here to do the same job,’ Scott said. ‘Let’s get the guard out of the way, do the job, and then find somewhere to talk about it all.’

‘Agreed,’ the other man nodded.

They seemed to instinctively know what the other was going to do, and somehow formed a perfect team. Scott went back to the corner and picked up his gear. Then he stopped to duct tape the guard before making his way to the main gas inlet valve. The other man proceeded to set the dynamite, and then slipped out to get the dark sedan he had parked on the roadside. When he returned, he drove to the back of the building and loaded the still unconscious guard into the trunk; then he drove around to the front to meet up with Scott.

Having attached a length of hosepipe to the main gas draw off valve, Scott carefully positioned the tube to start pumping the flammable gas into the heart of the structure. With the dynamite primed and ready to go, there would be no need for him to waste any time setting up timer charges. He left the building and jumped into the passenger seat of the sedan as he directed his new partner up the hill to the vantage point where his truck was waiting. 

They pulled up behind the truck and got out of the car; standing side by side, they looked down at the site. Scott nodded to his new accomplice who pulled a phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and waited for a moment as the phone connected. If you could slow down time, you would have heard a series of booms as each of the sets of dynamite exploded in turn and ignited the gas that had seeped into the building. But from where they stood, all they saw was a daylight-bright burst of flames, followed immediately by a deafening, thunderous roar that came up the hill and hit their chests. It was a truly magnificent, awe-inspiring sight they would both have loved to hang around to watch unfold. However, since they’d been the ones to cause it, they knew they needed to go.

Scott followed the sedan to a side street near the Bakersfield Plaza where they abandoned the car. In a few hours it would be busy, so they parked it in a tow-away zone leaving the driver’s door open and the trunk lid slightly ajar. Comfortable that the guard would soon be discovered, they silently drove across town towards Ming Avenue to find a diner for breakfast, both happily agreeing on the IHOP in Wible Road.

‘I guess we should introduce ourselves,’ Scott started once they were seated comfortably in a booth. ‘I’m Scott,’ he said sticking out his hand.

Reluctantly, the other man shook it, replying, ‘Vince.
’

An overly happy waitress arrived at their table and asked if she could take their drinks order. Both opted for coffee and Vince ordered an orange juice. Once the waitress left, Scott continued.

‘Okay, so now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way — who the hell sent you to torch the building?’

‘Who the fuck do you think you are? I should be asking you the same question, what were you doing at my job?’

‘Your job? Your job? What makes you think it’s your job?’

‘Alright, this is gonna get us nowhere. Let’s agree for the time being that the job is both of ours. I take it that like me you were hired to this job, and you’re gonna protect your employer.’

Vince nodded his head slowly.

‘Well, I guess that we’ve both achieved our goal then — and provided we keep the fact that there were two of us to ourselves, we’ll both get paid with no harm done.’

For a moment, Vince thought about what Scott said, and then a big smile crossed his face. ‘No harm except for the Europorium,’ he laughed.

Scott laughed with him and they both relaxed a little.

The bubbly waitress returned with a coffee pot and two mugs; after filling them both with the hot java, she pulled out her pad to take their food order.

Both men were famished from the night’s work and ordered the three eggs and pancakes breakfast with side orders of bacon and sausage links. Once again, with the waitress gone, they began to talk. It didn’t take them long to figure out that aside from the obvious, they actually had a lot in common. They were both from LA, both around the same age, both supported the Raiders, both came from similar size families — the list went on and on, and soon they were chatting like old friends.

It turned out they had both become firebugs at an early age, and after their breakfasts arrived, they began to open up about the jobs they’d been doing. Scott started with his oil drum pranks and Vince topped it with a story about exploding gas cans. Scott raised the bar with tales of vacant property damage, and Vince countered with another, slightly bolder story. Little by little, their stories got bigger and bigger, and their voices, laughter, and bravado grew along with them.

Finally, as the diner had begun to fill with its regular patrons, their waitress came over to ask them to keep the noise down. Only then did they realize that they’d been there for a few hours. They settled the bill and left the diner, and then travelled back to LA together in the flatbed, continuing to chat all the way.

Arriving just before noon, Scott dropped his new friend off in the city; they exchanged numbers, and agreed that since they both had unique ways of approaching a burn, if they worked together they would be an amazing team. From that moment, they became business partners and — aside from Vince’s brief tour of duty — virtually inseparable.

‘We’re almost there,’ Vince grunted, breaking the silence.

Scott nodded and straightened up in his seat as Vince continued to drive in concentric circles towards the Costello house. A small group of kids suspiciously eyed the car as it slowly drove closer; it had all the makings of a drive-by, and the group visibly relaxed as the car passed them without the windows rolling down and uzis blazing out.

‘This whole area could do with our help; maybe we should contact the local authorities and offer our services,’ Scott joked as he stared through the car window at the run down houses and burnt out cars that cluttered the streets.

From what Joshua had told them, you could almost set your watch by his mother’s routine. Up at 6:00 A.M. and both of them out the door by seven o’clock. Drop him off at school, then a fifteen-minute walk to the IHOP diner to work the breakfast rush and through to the lunch shift. At 2.30 her shift finished, so it was a quick break, and then the 3.30 bus the eight blocks to O’Finnigans for the dinner shift. She was there until 7.30 P.M., and then caught the 7.45 bus back home for 8.15 P.M.

They had asked him why his mother worked at two different diners and been told that his mother preferred to work at O’Finnigan’s where she got on well with the boss and tips were better due to her accent, but unfortunately, they weren’t open for breakfast.

A few more corners and they turned in to the Costello’s street. ‘It’s that one over there,’ Scott said as he pointed at the Costello house.

Vince drove past the house and pulled the car up to the curb. The men then looked back through the rear window at the house with a blue Ford compact parked out front.

‘I thought the kid said that they didn’t have a car,’ Vince puzzled.

‘According to him, they don’t have much of anything at all, certainly not a car; she takes the bus everywhere.’

‘Well, it’s after nine, so maybe she’s got a friend staying over.’

They hung around for a while checking out the house and hoping her friend would leave so they could see who it was, but with nothing happening they drove back home.

‘Well that was a total waste of fucking time — here’s a quote for you — Don’t listen to stupid, old, inane quotes!’ Vince said sarcastically

Inside the Costello house, Malone and Taylor were congratulating Erin on the fantastic job she’d done in the TV studio.

‘You think I looked nervous?’ she asked.

‘No, you were great,’ Taylor praised.

‘I did lose it a bit,’ she said, slightly embarrassed.

‘No more than would be expected,’ Malone added.

‘I thought they said they’d show Joshua’s photo and the warehouse on the wall behind us,’ Erin said perplexed.

‘It’s called a blue screen, it’s all to do with the magic of TV. When they show it on TV later, it will all be on there like they said.’

The interview had already played live that afternoon, so while they waited for the rerun to screen, Erin put the coffee on.

A
fter the initial shock of Daniel’s revelation, Shannon asked for some proof of identity. ‘Give me your driver licence,’ she barked. She checked first, and then got the guards to double-check the card. Then she carefully studied the photo of his first birthday. For some reason, she didn’t ask where the photo came from, and consequently, Daniel didn’t feel the time was right to show her the letter that had arrived with it.

Comfortable there was no impending threat to Shannon, the guards left them alone in the office.

With the guards gone, neither of them knew exactly what they should do next. Should they hug and kiss like long-lost family, or shake hands like complete strangers? The result was neither; Shannon pulled up a chair beside Daniel, and they both just sat there looking at each other.

After a long pause, they both spoke at the same time

‘I didn’t mean to stalk you’

‘So what are you doing here?’

Embarrassed, they went silent again. After a clumsy — you go first; no, after you — start, they nervously exchanged some basic information about themselves: a “how’s the past twenty or so years been for you? — can’t complain, how about you?” type of conversation.

There was a knock at the office door and Shannon’s boss interrupted them. ‘You’re gonna have to vacate the office now; security needs to get back in,’ he said as he tapped his watch and added, ‘your ten till six shift starts in seven minutes.’

Shannon feigned annoyance after her boss closed the door; but in truth, she was quite thankful. The time her shift would provide would let her settle her nerves and give her a much-needed opportunity to figure out how to best handle the appearance of her son.

‘My shift finishes at six; how about we meet up then? Maybe go grab something to eat?’

Daniel immediately agreed. They sort of hugged uneasily and awkwardly, and then quickly broke away as Shannon went off to do her shift. Daniel decided to so some sightseeing to fill the time.

As Shannon worked, she thought about what she would discuss with Daniel later;

The first question that jumped into her mind was
Why now?
Quickly followed by
How did he find me?
And of course,
What does he want?
An explanation
was all she could come up with; he was bound to want an explanation, and on that matter, she had no idea what she could say to her son. How could she explain abandoning him more than twenty years ago? How could she explain what those twenty years had done to her — and in turn, what she had done to others? Many people would say the truth is always the best place to start, but with all the long bouts with alcohol and the drug-filled years, finding the
truth
within the rare lucid times would be difficult at best.

Normally, she excelled at her job as a croupier. She was fun and entertaining, quick-witted, but even quicker with her hands. She smiled as she fleeced the punters, and to the casino owner’s pleasure, they would come back for more. Today, however, was not one of Shannon’s better days. All tables were monitored, and from the casino’s point of view, while there are wins, and there are acceptable losses, there are some losses that trigger a card counter or some other scam alert.

Groups formed around Shannon’s blackjack table as cheers and whoops of delight came from players who were betting large, doubling down, splitting, hitting, and winning heavily as her mind wandered and her concentration drifted.

On more than three occasions during her shift, she was shoulder-tapped and moved along to another table by the pit boss, and then she was finally told to go to the staff break room and relax until the end of her shift.

By the time Daniel reappeared at six, looking rested and eager to talk, Shannon had been goaded, embarrassed, chastised, and docked pay; in fact, she was anything but relaxed. She still didn’t know what she would tell Daniel; all she could come up with was to tell the truth — and like that had ever gotten her anywhere.

The moment they exited the Casino, Shannon lit a cigarette and drew deeply on it, her nerves were shot, but she tried her best to hide it. They walked down the strip to Lucky’s, a diner she knew. It used to be called Lucky Cherry’s, but with all the crank and lewd calls thinking that it was a brothel or strip bar, the owner lost his cherry.

They slipped into a booth, and the waitress came over and said a familiar ‘hello’ to Shannon. ‘And who is this young man?’ she asked.

Shannon simply replied, ‘Daniel,’ and left it at that.

After ordering a burger and fries for Daniel and a chicken salad for herself, once again there was silence.

There were so many questions Daniel wanted to ask, but he waited patiently for her to begin. Shannon, having agonized long enough about what to say, was finally overcome by fear. She didn’t need her past coming back to haunt her. She was happy now wasn’t she?

‘Tell the truth and get rid of him,’ she thought.

‘It was a lifetime ago,’ she started.

‘You really don’t have to explain,’ Daniel lied.

‘Maybe I don’t,’ she shrugged, ‘but I’m going to anyway, you have a right to know what happened.’ She paused again.

‘Your father was handsome, or at least I thought so at the time, and I, well let’s just say, I was younger — when I think back to how we must have looked together…’ She paused as she reminisced.

‘Wow,’ Daniel thought ‘She’s going to tell me the whole story.’

‘Actually he was quite a bit older than me, and I was so keen to rebel from my strict up-bringing that I was a perfect catch for him. We met at a club in Hollywood — and don’t get me wrong — I targeted him as much as he targeted me. It’s probably safe to say that we used each other. I was the young, attractive, and naïve girl, and he was…’ She stopped and looked at Daniel.

‘I take it this is why you’re here; It can’t be for money ‘cause I don’t have any, so you’re shit out of luck there — you must want to know where you came from,’ she snapped at him.

Daniel reeled a little at her abruptness, but nodded in agreement.

‘Mum and Dad hated him, but I didn’t care. We had so much fun together in the beginning, we moved from city to city, Vegas to ‘Frisco, Sacramento, and then back to LA. Always looking for fun and looking for action. And my, how we found it. Seems that when you like to party, people like to party with you. We went to clubs and raves, partying up at hotels, and then on to friends’ houses.’

Daniel grew slightly restless.

‘So you two were rich then?’

She laughed. ‘I certainly wasn’t … but I truly believed your father was.’ Once again she paused for a moment as she thought about proceeding.

‘Turns out he wasn’t that rich after all. That’s why we moved around so much. Our lifestyle was being funded by scams and robberies! He was good though; no one could prove beyond any doubt that he was the one robbing them — and the scams, well that’s the best bit about a good scam, the victim often doesn’t work out who has actually scammed them; especially when we made it look like we’d been had too!’

She was actually beginning to look proud as she opened up about her life.

In shock, Daniel’s mouth dropped open. ‘My dad’s a crook?’

‘More of a grifter than a crook,’ she replied, a little disgruntled.

‘What’s his name?’ Daniel asked

‘Daniel, like you. I guess you would have called him Daniel Carter senior, but we all called him DC.’

‘DC?’ Daniel looked puzzled.’ Why did you call him by his initials?’

‘It was trendy back then to have cooler names than those you were given, sort of anti-establishment, punk rock, and all that. Truth was, he was really into DC comics though, had been since he was a kid, apparently,’ she smiled.

For some reason, that made more sense to Daniel.

‘When I first met DC, I thought he owned a very successful business. He took me to his office; it was only a small place; he worked there alone, but he looked really busy. It was located in a business center in a tiny strip mall in Anaheim, not too far away from Disneyland. The mall only had the basics as far as shops: a deli, a Mail Box shop, a pharmacy — you know the type.’

Daniel nodded

‘We pulled into a parking spot in front of the shops, and he told me to wait by the car while he went to empty his mail box. When he returned, his hands were full of letters and he had a big smile on his face. He had a great smile…’ Again she paused.

‘We opened the mail in his office; the envelopes either had a check in them or a request for more information; on his computer he made a note of the companies that sent him checks; they got another invoice; all the rest got trashed.’

Daniel could see where this was going.

‘I really believed he was running a hugely successful business; the amount of invoices and checks he was doing was amazing. I only found out months later that it was a scam. He was just sending off bogus invoices to companies in the hope they would pay them. The ones that did pay got another invoice the next month; the ones that didn’t, or questioned the invoice, were just deleted from the list. The number of companies that simply paid invoices without question was amazing.’

She laughed out loud.

‘We lived the highlife on fraudulent invoices.’

‘So he
is
a crook!’ Daniel exclaimed.

Shannon ignored the remark and carried on.

‘He was full of surprises too. For instance, out of the blue one day, he told me to pack my things, that we were going on a trip overseas. On the way to the airport, I kept asking him where we were off to, but he just said it was a surprise. Spontaneous trips and nights out were becoming commonplace, but this was the first — and as it turned out — the only overseas vacation we took together.

‘In the cab on the way to the airport, my heart was full of butterflies. When we got to the airport, I was really excited when we joined the United Airlines check-in line headed for London.’

Daniel was conflicted; on one side, he wanted her to speed up the stories; he wanted to know everything; but right now he only wanted the highlights; he could fill in the details later… he also didn’t want to do anything to stop the flow of her story.

‘Our
vacation
in London was a continuation of our life here in the States. We were met at Heathrow by a chauffeur holding up a sign with our name in block capitals. He looked very proper, complete with the uniform and hat. He picked up our cases and escorted us out to a big black car; I don’t know what make it was, but it looked expensive and had leather seats and champagne in the back. We stayed in the Dorchester Hotel on a road by the big park, it was so posh.’

Daniel wondered if this story had a point to it, thankfully Shannon sped the story up.

‘Next day I woke late to the sound of DC coming back into the room. He was whistling away with his hands full of strawberries, Champagne, and oddly, an umbrella.

“Guess where we’re going today,” he teased as he held up the umbrella.

‘I had no idea, and I told him so.

‘“Wimbledon, he said – centre court!”

‘We had a fantastic day! Drinking the finest wines, eating strawberries dipped in cream, and getting high. He told me to make the most of it as we had work to do the next day’.

‘You went to center court at Wimbledon?’ Daniel was impressed. Shannon didn’t notice.

‘The next day we picked up a case of tennis balls, and some marker pens, then we made our way towards Wimbledon again. He chose a position by an alley on one of the main streets leading to the stadium. Then he told me the plan. From his pocket he produced a Wimbledon tournament brochure with all the main tennis stars profiles and backgrounds… but more importantly, their signatures. The plan was for me to copy, as best I could, the stars’ signatures onto the tennis balls, and then sell them on the street as authentic mementos. We had a roaring trade; people were lining up to get a keepsake from their favorite star, My hand and wrist got sore from all the signing, but it was a blast tricking all those limeys. They had no idea what was going on; I just kept appearing from around the corner with a new batch of souvenirs. See, he
was
a rogue,’ she laughed.