Deadly Treatment (6 page)

‘That’s just great,’ Scott said as they drove around the block.

‘24 hour security
and
guard dogs!’

‘You gotta love a challenge,’ Vince added with a smile on his face.

They drove down the alley behind the job; the view wasn’t much better. Their target had a steel door and the windows had steel bars bolted over them. The only bit of good news was the security company had no windows facing the alley at all. Vince took panoramic digital shots of their target as their car slowly drove past. They took another pass around the front, and once again Vince took discreet snaps of both the job and the security company. As they passed by one last time, one of the security company’s vans was just pulling into the garage. They stopped and watched it enter, and then returned to the house.

They downloaded the images from the camera to the PC and set the pictures to automatic slideshow. The photos rolled over on the computer screen as both men watched — diligently looking for the best way in, and pausing it every now and again when something took their interest.

‘It’s got to be around back,’ Vince said.

‘Well, aren’t you the clever one,’ Scott added sarcastically.

‘Thought I’d help you out, cause you were spending too much time looking at the front.’

‘I happen to be looking at the security company.’

‘Sure thing, whatever you say… I’m just pointing out, that even with a key for the front door, we have no idea when the guards from next door will show up. Hence, it’s better to go around to the back.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ Scott snapped.

‘Well excuse me for breathing,’ Vince came back.

Both men fell silent as the images on the screen flashed back around to the rear of the building.

‘Can we get a key for the back door?’

‘No, there’s no lock on the outside. It’s one of the old push bar fire exit doors. Plus, take a look at this,’ he said handing him one of the internal room photos supplied by their contact. The room looked like some sort of kitchen area with a sink and table. To the right of the sink were boxes of what looked like office stationary piled from floor to ceiling. Near the ceiling, two letters I and T were visible from behind one of the boxes — obviously part of the EXIT sign.

‘I take it our door is behind that lot?’ Scott asked

Vince nodded.

‘So much for fire safety.’

‘The good news is none of the security sensors work at that end of the building — so without a doubt, the back is the best way in.’

Both men went back to looking at the computer screen.

‘What about the air conditioning duct?’ Vince suggested.

‘Have you discovered some miracle diet?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, unless you’re planning to lose fifty pounds this week, there ain’t no way you’re gonna fit in a duct that size.’

‘Point taken. I need a breather, you want a snack?’

‘Yeah sure.’

They went to the kitchen where Scott grabbed some cold chicken and salad from the fridge while Vince put the coffee on.

‘Best make the kid a hot chocolate too. I can slip him another sedative to make sure he sleeps through the night,’ Scott called over as he took two plates out of the cupboard.

‘Well, at least he won’t need any more food; after that burger, I doubt if we’ll need to give him breakfast tomorrow,’ Vince joked.

Scott added, ‘Yeah, but the kid’s too small for his age. Don’t want him wasting away.’

They both stopped and looked at each other as they thought about the size of the boy.

‘I’ll get the blueprints for the air conditioning vent,’ Vince said with excitement.

‘It might be a bit of a squeeze, but I think the kid will fit,’ Scott said.

‘I’m not concerned about that; I’m more worried about how we can get the kid to do the job.’

‘Leave that to me. I’m gonna need you to do that bad cop routine you do so well though,’ Scott said smiling.

‘Sure, what’s the plan?’

‘Just follow my lead.’

They both.

As they entered the room to see Joshua, they were surprised to see him sitting on the bed.

‘Hey, Joshua, how come you’re awake?’ Scott asked.

Still blindfolded, he looked in the direction of who was talking. ‘I dunno, just can’t sleep. When can I go home? You promised,’ Joshua asked and started to whine.

‘I did promise, and you will, soon. Now, I’m going to take your blindfold off, okay?’

Joshua nodded slowly, and Scott reached around and untied the blindfold. The kid blinked rapidly as light flooded his vision and his bound hands quickly rubbed his eyes as he tried to get them to focus.

Scott waited a moment as he let the kid adjust.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

Joshua turned to look at him, and again slowly nodded.

‘My friend and I have a job for you,’ Scott said as he looked at Vince.

Joshua followed his gaze and when he saw Vince standing staunch at the door, he immediately looked to the floor.

‘Don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you.’

‘Not if you do as you’re told,’ Vince growled.

‘What do you want me to do?’ the kid asked timidly.

‘We want you to start a little fire for us.’

Joshua took a sharp intake of breath.

‘It’s okay; you’re not going to get hurt. You do this for us, and we can get you back with your mother. But, if you don’t do it, then I’m afraid you’ll never see your mother again; my friend here will make sure of that.’

‘You promised you wouldn’t hurt me,’ the kid protested.

‘It’s not you my friend will hurt, Joshua, it’s your mother.’

‘You can’t… You won’t…’

‘I can and I will!’ Vince roared as he smacked his fist into his hand.

Joshua shrunk back down on the bed.

‘Now, are you going to do this little favor for us?’ Scott asked, already sure of the answer.

The kid nodded.

Scott set about telling him what they needed.

S
ince there was little Daniel could do with the Joshua Costello case at the moment, he was in his home office working on a logo design for a new brand of mouth freshener. It had been over a year since he and Malone had set the business up, and he was now getting a regular stream of jobs — particularly with their newfound stardom.

The design business had been set up more out of necessity than any grand empire-building scheme. He often reflected on how he’d arrived here. He’d grown up in an orphanage turned Catholic school in San Francisco, and had been taken under the wing of one of the Sisters there. He had an aptitude for design, and she helped him nurture his gift, everything from simple pen and paper drawing to intricate creations on the computer. Unfortunately, when he left the orphanage, he found friends and he found petty crime — mainly shoplifting and boosting cars.

He was relocated to LA where he started a career in Computer retail sales with a company called the Computer Warehouse, and that was where he met Malone. Malone had been in desperate need of help in the wonderful world of online research. It turned out that Malone was looking for his abducted daughter, Mary, and for some extra cash, Daniel was happy to assist. Funny thing was, once again Daniel got into some trouble of his own, but Malone was there to bail him out — so as it panned out, they needed each other!

A fifty-fifty partnership was formed between the two of them; Malone provided the set-up funds and Daniel was to create a design company — getting paid for doing something he loved to do.

A loud knock at the front door made him jump. He got up from the computer and went to see who was there. Previous experience had made him cautious.

‘Hello?’ he shouted through the closed door.

‘Fedex. I’ve got a package for this address.’

Daniel looked through the spy hole and the impatient face of a man in a courier uniform filled the view. Comfortable with the sight, Daniel opened the door.

‘Sign here please,’ the courier said as he presented a small handheld computer for Daniel to sign.

Daniel checked the details and saw that the package was for him. He signed the screen, thanked him, and closed the door. The sender’s address was the orphanage he’d grown up in. Intrigued, he took the package into the kitchen and laid it on the counter. He wondered what his past could possibly have sent him.

With apprehension, he took a knife from the cutlery drawer and slipped it under the tape that secured the FedEx envelope; then he turned the pack upside down and shook out the contents. A white A5 envelope fell to the counter. Daniel watched it land and then stuck his hand inside the pack to see if there was anything else inside. Satisfied that the pack was empty, he put it down and returned his attention to the envelope.

‘To Daniel’ was written in blue ink.

‘Strange,’ he muttered to himself, and then reached for the knife to open the envelope.

Sitting snugly inside the crisp white envelope was a yellowed, aged, unaddressed envelope. Daniel immediately thought it was becoming a stupid game of pass the parcel or a modern version of a Russian doll. His curiosity had turned to mirth as he slipped his thumb under the envelope flap and pulled out a letter and a photograph.

His smile turned sour as he read the letter from Sister Elizabeth and stared at the picture.

E
lwood stared across the dining room table at Dr. Turnbold. The house oozed money, with lavish white carpets and furniture laced with black and gold Versace finishing. Huge family portraits hung from the walls, and photos of the doctor were scattered all around the house; all of which came as no surprise to Elwood. 

Turnbold was tied to a chair, and Elwood was quizzing him about the visit from Cain.

‘Well, Doctor, I have to say I don’t believe a word you’re saying. I’m going to ask you what Cain said to you one more time — and believe me, if you lie this time, things will not go very well for you —
or
for your family.’ Elwood’s voice was soft but his words were anything but.

‘You people don’t scare me anymore, your threats, court injunctions, lies they’re all tired and old. Cain told me everything; so go ahead and do your worst. And you can tell your boss that your antics today are going to make me an even richer man — I’m going to sue you and your company for kidnapping and distress. Now untie me, and get the hell out of here!’

Arrogance and disrespect flashed through Elwood’s mind. He smiled, got up, and walked slowly behind Turnbold.

‘Now, what we seem to have here, Dr. Turnbold, is a lack of understanding. We don’t seem to be seeing eye-to-eye — time to change that!’

With one hand, Elwood grabbed Turnbold by the hair and pulled his head back to face him, while his other hand hooked under the man’s chin. With Turnbold’s face pointing skyward, Elwood tightened his grip on the scalp pulling the skin taut across his face and making his eyes bulge. With Turnbold violently shaking in his chair, Elwood casually moved his hand from his chin to the side of the terrified man’s left eye, and with a swift stab of his thumb popped Turnbold’s eye completely out of its socket.

Turnbold screamed in pain as the ball of his eye bobbed around on his cheek, tenuously connected to his head by the ocular nerves and muscles. Elwood’s hand quickly covered his mouth and he leaned in to talk.

‘In medical terms, it’s known as globe luxation, the more you move, the more strain you’ll put on the blood vessels that are connecting your eye to your head. Break them or leave the eye outside of the head for too long and I won’t be able to save it, so I suggest you stop struggling immediately.’

Turnbold froze still.

‘Now, it’s time to tell me everything I want to know and remember — clock’s ticking.’

‘I just don’t believe you.’ said the voice on the phone.” Cain was trying to get a meeting with the CEO of the Aquarius Medical facility in Albuquerque.

‘You have to understand I have information that is . . .  you’ll find extremely beneficial to your facility’s future; it really will answer a lot of your …’

The CEO interrupted, ‘I’m sick of you and your
corporation’s games, I’m not going to see you, and quite frankly, I don’t know whether to be disgusted or embarrassed at your call. Either way, just crawl back into the hole you came from.’ The CEO hung up, inadvertently saving his life.

The finality of the dial tone left Cain speechless. This was Cain’s first big rejection and it took him a while to recover. He really couldn’t feel too badly about the conversation — not after the way his corporation had treated this facility. With his confidence shaken, Cain decided it would be good to talk to a friend, so he picked up the payphone and dialed his old secretary Gina’s cellphone; the automated message told him the number he’d dialed was no longer in service. After dialing it again and getting the same message, he started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He immediately dialed his old office number and asked to be put through to her.

‘I’m sorry, but Gina no longer works here; she left for Europe a couple days ago,’ came the reply.

Cain’s unease had turned to fear, he knew damn well what
left for Europe
meant. Quickly going through his notes, he punched in the number for the man he’d met with in New York.

‘Hi, can I speak to Dr. Allport,’ Cain coughed into the receiver.

‘Unfortunately, Dr. Allport is no longer with us.’ The voice on the other end of the phone was somber.

‘Don’t tell me he’s gone to Europe too, has he?’ Cain asked, bracing himself for an answer that he just knew would be bad — but the reply was much worse.

‘Dr. Allport was shot dead in a home invasion.’

Cain hung up the payphone in stunned silence; his mission wasn’t just getting people into trouble, it was getting people dead.

His head throbbed as he confronted a real dilemma; what should he do? Should he involve his LA contact and ultimately put another life in almost certain peril, or should he realize his ex-employer would never let him go through with what he was doing, and simply quit.

He suddenly felt weaker and more exhausted than ever. Weaker than he’d felt when his doctor delivered the life-changing news of his deadly illness, weaker than when his boss dictated the only course of therapy available to a man in his position, and even weaker than during his time in the hospital throughout all the numerous and worthless treatments he’d received. His cough had returned: a lung-stinging, chest-destroying bark.

As his breath came back, so did his resolve.

‘I won’t die without the truth being told,’ he announced staunchly to no one but himself, but he was equally sure he wasn’t going to put anyone else’s life at risk.

The throbbing in his head subsided and a plan formed; he’d break into his LA contact’s office at night, load all the information onto their computers, and send it out to the world — it was time to get it out to the press — contact all media big and small, from blogs and tweets to global news corporations. Surely, someone would listen and someone would tell his story. It was what he should have done at the start.

Elwood left Turnbold’s house and called his boss.

‘I think you have a bit of a problem. Cain is not just giving out copied forms, he’s got a flash drive too — and according to Turnbold, it’s got virtually
everything
on it.’

He nodded as his boss rattled off orders on the other end of the phone, and then replied, ‘Yes, Turnbold is silenced. Thanks to one of your prototype drugs, he suffered a very violent seizure and a massive coronary — actually unpleasant to watch. Sure, I’ll fire off a report, and then head straight to LA. I’ll contact you when I know more.’