Deadly Treatment (2 page)

N
ight was starting to take hold of the LA skyline. In an area just south of Inglewood, Vince and Scott sat in their car watching the employees leave a warehouse.

In recent days, the men had used their well-practiced way of scoping a job. They’d each taken an independent and individual look at the assignment they’d been given; each had special talents and areas of expertise when it came to doing their work; therefore, they approached the job from two different directions. This meant most of the obstacles and potential disasters were revealed before they could create a problem. There was also another, more superstitious, reason for this method of undertaking an assignment, one that went all the way back to when they first met. But tonight, with all the preliminaries taken care of, it was time to get down to business.

‘Okay, that’s the last one,’ Scott said.

‘About time, I thought he would never leave,’ Vince grumbled.

‘You know, you’re always bitching about one thing or another. Don’t you ever give it a rest?’

‘I wouldn’t have to bitch if you got your facts right. You told me the place is always clear by six-thirty.’

‘Well, you checked it out too.’

‘Yeah, but you’re in charge of the staff.’

They continued to bicker as they watched the last worker lock the door and then double check to make certain it was secure. The man walked to his Buick, started the engine, and made his way out of the street, driving past the two men as he went.

Having ducked as the Buick drove past, Vince and Scott straightened up and watched as the red taillights made a left turn into the main road.

‘Now, the place is ours till the morning.’

‘You’re sure about that, are you?’

From the glove box, Vince snatched two ski masks; as he put on his own, he threw the other one at his partner.

‘Come on. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I don’t have to hear your whining voice!’

‘Maybe we should wait…’

‘Just put that on and pop the damn trunk, will you!’

‘Temper, temper,’ Scott said as he fumbled around by his knee in search of the trunk release switch.

They made their way round to the trunk and pulled out a couple of flashlights, a crowbar, two gasoline cans, and a sports bag filled with newspaper. Slamming the trunk lid down, they jogged across the street over to the warehouse door. Using the crowbar to crack the door’s wooden frame, they were inside in a matter of seconds. Laying the Jerry cans down, Scott called out to see if anyone was there.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Vince asked, bemused.

‘Double checking! Arson is one thing, but there’s no way I’m gonna chance a murder.’

‘I told you, the instructions said the place is empty till the morning.’

‘They also said they’d all be gone by 6:30! Anyway, if no one’s here, why are you worried?’

His partner had no answer to that one.

They shone their flashlights around the warehouse: a wall of floor to ceiling boxes on one side, sewing area with stuffing and patterned fur in the middle, and a small, partitioned office near the rear. With their curiosity aroused, they went to the boxes and ripped one of them open. Staring up at them was a giraffe’s head.

‘Stuffed animals! A warehouse full of stuffed animals. Why would he want us to burn stuffed animals?’

‘Ours is not to reason why, my friend,’ Scott recited.

‘What is that, some kind of quote?’

‘Yep, ends with — ours is but to do or die.’

‘Well, it sounds stupid.’

‘I think you sound stupid.’

They continued to argue as they walked back to the door, picked up the bag and gasoline cans, and then moved on to the office.

How do people work in a place like this? Vince wondered.

The office was tiny, and there was paper strewn all over the desk. The LCD computer screen was almost hidden behind mugs, ashtrays, and what looked like lunch. The three-drawer filing cabinet was overflowing with files that looked as though they’d just been shoved back in; the place was a mess.

‘I thought I’d just walked into your room,’ Scott joked.

‘Fuckin’ hardy har har
. Let’s do this and get out of here.’

‘Don’t know why we brought our own paper, there’s plenty here,’ Vince continued as he unzipped the sports bag.

‘Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.’

They unscrewed the Jerry cans and doused the room with gasoline; the toxic aroma immediately filled the room. Backing out of the office, they laid a trail of flammable liquid all the way back to the warehouse door. Scott set down his can and pulled out a box of matches.

‘Wait a second,’ Vince said as he ran over to the boxes and pulled out one of the four-foot-tall giraffes. Shoving it under his arm, he ran back to the door and picked up both cans.

‘Okay, go ahead.’

Scott shook his head as he stared at the toy, and then he lit the match and dropped it onto the gasoline trail.

As the flame raced towards the makeshift office, they ran from the building and crossed the road to their car. Scott jumped into the driver’s seat and popped the trunk while Vince with giraffe under his arm and Jerry cans in his hands, ran to the back of the car to throw the cans into the trunk. Keeping hold of the giraffe, he then ran round to the side of the car and opened the rear door shoving the toy onto the back seat, getting slightly tangled in the animal’s long legs.

‘Will you hurry up!’ Scott yelled.

Finally, freeing himself from the toy, he slammed the door shut. Ripping off his ski mask, he turned to open the passenger door and came face to face with a young boy on a bike.

Without thinking, he grabbed the boy, yanked open the back door again, threw him inside, and followed in behind him. As the door slammed, Scott put the car into gear and sped off. The boy was struggling and squirming, but Vince held him tight. The boy then began to yell. Quickly, Vince put his hand over the boy’s mouth and stared into his eyes.

‘Listen kid — you shut your mouth and sit still, or I’ll break your fuckin’ neck — Understand?’

Fear flashed across the boy’s face as he stopped moving and closed his mouth.

Satisfied he had the kid under control, Vince looked out of the back window and watched as the fire took hold of the building.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Scott yelled as he looked in the rearview mirror.

Vince turned his attention to the kid beside him. The boy was staring out of the window at the red and yellow flames that leapt from the building’s roof.

‘Just drive; I’ve got this covered,’ he said as he pulled the kid around.

‘Get down there on the floor and close your eyes,’ he barked at the kid.

They drove to one of their usual drop-off sites and swapped the stolen car they’d been using with one they’d hired for a few days. As his partner drove, Vince dipped into his bag and brought out some duct tape and a blindfold. He tethered and gagged the boy, then put the blindfold over his eyes. With all of this done, he relaxed back into the seat as they drove on to Huntington.

T
he contract had started in Chicago; everyone thought it would be a simple catch and return mission; after all, how far could this guy go? Evidently, they had underestimated Cain.

It had been another long day of driving, and as Elwood stood at the gas pump filling his SUV to the brim, he listened to the engine tick as it cooled. He used the time to stretch his back and neck using techniques he’d learned from watching hours of in-flight videos countering DVT. With all the driving he was doing, chasing after Anthony Cain was literally becoming a pain in the ass.

To be honest, it didn’t really bother him where Cain’s trail led; he was being paid to do a job and being paid handsomely; so why worry. Generally, Elwood was contracted to intimidate people, silence them, or make them vanish; the latter was something he was particularly adept at doing. He was a professional at his job, cold and detached, and only took pleasure in his work if the targets were disrespectful, arrogant, or down-right abusive. Elwood found those traits personally intolerable, and therefore, extremely punishable. 

The contract’s initial meeting with employer, Paxton, had been brief but specific. He’d been told the target, Cain, had mysteriously disappeared from his hospital room in the middle of the night. The nursing staff had discovered him missing and raised the alarm, immediately calling Paxton as per the strict terms of their agreement. Review of the security video had shown Cain leaving the hospital alone; so, anything sinister such as abduction or kidnapping was ruled out; but this also made it even more bizarre. Leaving the hospital was not something a man in Cain’s condition should be doing, and certainly not without informing Paxton where he was going. After checking that Cain hadn’t gone home or to his mother’s, Elwood was contacted and then contracted. Essentially, the mission was to get Cain back quickly — alive or dead.

Elwood went straight to the hospital and checked out Cain’s room. Paxton had ordered it to be kept locked following his disappearance, which to anyone other than Elwood would seem strange, especially since there was nothing of any particular value inside. But Elwood had been on the payroll for a number of years now, and nothing really surprised him.

The visitors’ register had shown that Cain’s secretary was the last person to see him, so Elwood paid her a visit. After a not so gentle chat, Elwood learned she’d delivered some very confidential files to him, files that should never have left the corporation’s inner sanctum.

Cain needed to be found and stopped immediately. Elwood guessed that the old adage
desperate times call for desperate measures
was already in play — and as Elwood read it, Cain was already way past desperate.

A call from Paxton to Cain’s doctor had confirmed there was no chance of a cure; ‘I give him less than a week’ he’d said matter-of-factly. Therefore, the most plausible conclusion was that Cain was going to cause trouble, and the best guess by all was he would probably go straight to the press. So Paxton called in a few favors to ensure this route was completely road-blocked.

As it turned out, the press had not yet been contacted, which seemed strange to Elwood. Paxton’s next call had ensured there was no chance of Cain leaving the country. Elwood admired the extent of Paxton’s contacts.

What remained was the corporation’s trove of homeland enemies contained within the files; and although Elwood’s contract was to return Cain, he was also to intimidate, silence, or
vanish
all corporate enemies Cain made contact with.

Elwood had put out his own feelers and was lucky enough to get a hit. It seemed that after leaving Chicago, Cain had shot straight to the fast-paced and ultimately fast-talking city of New York.

Elwood got to New York quickly, but Cain had already been and gone. Unfortunately, Cain’s contact there had been very uncooperative, and although he gave up Cain’s next port of call, he was unwilling to be persuaded not to change his own misguided point of view, so Elwood changed it for him — silenced with his silencer.

Having confirmed that Cain was meeting with the corporation’s enemies, Elwood had reviewed all the files that Cain possessed. All roads seemed to lead towards the West Coast; after all, that was where the biggest threat was. Elwood had good contacts in California, so he’d called ahead to set up his own roadblock. If, in fact, Cain made it that far, he was going to show up at a place that no longer existed.

Elwood thought about the long drive ahead and checked his watch; oddly, time was dragging for him, while conversely, running out for Cain. The pump clicked off, he replaced the nozzle, and then prepared for another day of eating on the run: fast food and gas station snacks — his line of work had earned him the nickname of
the fixer
. When this project was done, he was really going to need to get back to the gym and fix himself.