#coringa

Part 23 -

I hurriedly changed into jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on my hoodie and a baseball cap. My feet were relieved to be in sneakers again as I gathered up the cardboard box I had set by for this part of my operation. I assembled and taped it, sticking the address on the top. Then I hurried down to the 24 hour internet café and printed off a false FedEx invoice for the property opposite my target, before hailing a cab and riding it to Fiskin Avenue. I had my handgun stashed in my beltline, but it didn't do much to alleviate my anxiety at how badly wrong everything could go in a matter of seconds. The crushing weight of what I had to achieve was terrfying as I stood in front of the open door to the old building, my heart was in my throat and I felt like I was going to throw up I was so scared.

I stepped inside and walked as confidently as I could into the offices, just like the guy I'd threatened for information had said. There was no one inside to my absolute joy, and it was stupidly easy to get into the room with two desktop PCs inside. I could tell Alexe wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the major players in the city -The ones like Maroni. If he was, there would have been some security. It was becoming so clear that there was a new-money arrogance to Alexe, and a self-assurance that no one could take him on.

I had hoped that I would be able to copy some of the files to a USB stick or CD, but quickly realised my terrible oversight. Of course the computers were password protected. After trying the obvious things like 'password1234', I began to panic. Instead I hurriedly crouched beneath the desk and decided to take the part itself.

I popped out the side panel of the first tower and disconnected the wires to the DVD drive which sat in front of the part I needed to access. I unclipped it and removed it with trembling hands. Then I slid off the cover and connectors to dislodge the hard drive and withdrew it. I stuffed it inside the cardboard box.

It didn't take to long to put everything else back into the right slots and clip the cover back on. I moved onto the second one, expecting to be discovered any minute. As soon as I had disconnected the second drive and the computer towers were back together, I realised another potential hitch in my plan. If they tried to use the computers and realised the drives were gone before the raid, someone might get wise to the fact there was more going on. What if they tried to get rid of the girls or move them on? There was a rising lump in my throat as I considered this. There were too many variables...

I decided to try and buy time in case anyone did attempt to log on by deliberately turning off the power at the wall and cutting into the cables. I did my best to make it look like a rat had chewed into them. Then I turned the power back on and stood up with the closed package in my hand.

I cautiously slipped back out of the room, closing the door behind me and heading for the entrance hall. I was about five paces from it when a voice called out.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

For a moment I considered running but knew doing so would arouse suspicions and lead to a chase. No, the best thing to do was act calm and unassuming. I turned around smiling. I'd make them attribute it to stupidity rather than malice.

"Ah, sorry. I got this parcel to deliver and I got the wrong address. Which side is 37?"

The burly man approached, looking skeptical.

"Here look," I said, placing the package on the desk and fumbling in my pocket to withdraw the fake invoice.

I held it out and he snatched it from my grasp, scanning over it. His prickly demeaour dropped by a fraction as he handed it back and held open the door so that I could exit onto the street.

"It's the opposite side of the street," he said, with a look that clearly conveyed he thought I was far too dumb for my job.

As I squeezed past, I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust from the insane amount of stress. My legs were like jelly as I walked away but no one ran to stop me. So I just kept walking. One foot in front of the other. I just kept on walking until I had rounded two corners and frantically flagged down a taxi.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I laughed in giddy shock as soon as I made it back into the safety of my hotel room, locked the door and jammed the chair under the handle again. Immediately I flicked on the TV to try and drown out the sound of someone's music coming from the room above me and people shouting down the hall. I flopped down onto the bed, kicked off my shoes and pulled my spoils - the hardrives - out of the box, turning them over in my hands for a while in disbelief. It felt like a dream. I truly expected to get caught... I had been extremely lucky so far. I would be dropping one off at the DA's office, and one at a location only Renée Montoya would know to collect it from. If the DA had a copy, and her, then it was more likely this couldn't be swept under the rug again, and after what was still to come, I'd make sure peoples' eyes were on them all.

I sighed as whatever cheesy nineties sitcom was running on the TV. I was watching, but not really taking it in. I just had to hope and pray that the Ibanescus didn't realise what had been taken from them, and who by. One of them had seen me, afterall, and if someone tried to access the computers, they would soon be able to see what had happened. Everything was about timing. Only some of it could be controlled...

I laughed a little to myself, thinking life is rather like that. Timing. Always sbout timing...

Missing the bus could put you in the path of an oncoming car, or a lover... make your day, or break it. How long did any of us have left? Who should be counting the seconds? How late is too late?

Time is a great healer, or so they say. It's also a thief. It waits for no one. It's the most valuable thing a man can spend - and once lost, never found again. If you waste time, time wastes you. What's the secret to all good comedy? Timing; without it, your jokes won't land. Time was not on my side, but it also wasn't against me. I had to hope I could pull it off, that was all I could do. Blindly, if I had to.

Again I sighed and laid back on the bed. I was exhausted and whether I liked it or not, I would need enough sleep to stay sharp for the grand finalé of my plan. I had several hours to kill, so I might as well try to rest, however paranoid I felt that the Ibanescus, J, or even the cops, were after me...

I curled my body up into a foetal position with the hardrives clutched to my chest and a knife beneath the pillow. Exhaustion would take me into my subconscious, but danger still loomed over me. Before I knew whqt was happening, I was falling. Like Alice down the rabbit hole.

I found myself in a desolate place. A decimated landscape. It was all mud as far as the eye could see, the only breaks in the horizon were the bark stripped poles of blasted trees. The sky was as red as a wound while I struggled through the mud. Across duck boards and around great tangled spools of barbed wire, until I came to a dug out - a scar in the ground. Seeing a ladder, I clambered down, slipping and falling from the fourth rung into yet more mud. It covered everything. A reddish clay, caked on every surface.

The angry sky began to pour rain down over me in a torrent of misery and I wandered the maze of trenches stretching out in front of me. I was ankle deep in water. Still I saw no one. Suddenly, ear splittingly loud, the sound of machine gunfire hit me like a wave. The ground rocked beneath my feet and the air cracked with the sound of shells exploding nearby.

Terrified, I squated and threw my arms over my head. The most primeval part of me was scared, scared like an animal. Scared like I wanted to find some cave to crawl into. Still I saw no one. No evidence of the war that was apparently raging around me. A warzone where the soldiers where absent. With renewed terror I ran, darting round corners, over sandbags, splashing the mud further up my legs.

In the sly way that dreams do, everything suddenly changed. I found myself in a totally different place and was slow to notice. Accepting it as normal. Before me now was a towering staircase. The room was dimly lit, but I could make out that it was at least five flights. The steps were narrow and supported by old metal girders and ornate railings, spiralling into delicate designs. I felt that something was at my heels and lurched forward, scrambling up the steps, at times on my hands and knees, as I stumbled, my limbs still slick with wet mud.

As I finally made it to the top floor, the crispness of the cold nighttime air hit me. It was a kind of clocktower, I could tell from the enormous shadowy husks of the bells, metal giants compared to me. I skirted around them towards the clockface. The clicking of the internal mechanisms and the movement of the hands was incredibly loud and I paused for a moment in the glow of the enormous round pool of light it cast. How strange it was to be stood on the wrong side of time like this.

Jarringly, with a fluttering of heavy fabric, a large figure dropped from somewhere above me down to my level. He landed with a thud on the wooden platform. A cloak as dark as the shadows around him splayed out like a black ink blot. As he drew himself up to full height I cried out in startled fear. He rushed forward which only made my terror rise. I scrambled away from him, not wanting to turn my back. I was going too fast. Before I knew what was happening I had crashed through the glass face of the clock tower.

As my body ruptured the glass, I tried to throw myself forwards, somehow managing to grab ahold of the balcony stonework of the floor immediately below. The wind whipped at me as I dangled over a drop into oblivion. The city cars crawled like ants below me and I screamed as terror overcame me.

My limbs trembled as I clung desperately to the ledge, the rough grit of the stone scoring into the skin of my fingers and palms. My feet scrambled for purchase against the sheer face of the tower and I desperately tried not to let my right shoulder drop over the edge; I was propped up at the elbow and through sheer force of will beginning to drag myself up, up and over. If I could get enough of my torso back inside, I could make it. I cried out with the exertion and the pain in my arm as the muscles strained in protest.

As suddenly as the mysterious batman had dropped into the picture, he had semmingly vanished again. Dissipated like mist over the river.

Now I could make out a different silhouette. Of course, it was him. I couldn't run away this time. There he stood, in his purple pinstriped dress pants and blue shirt, looking even more dishevelled than he usually did, with his trouser braces hanging loose at his side and his tie undone and flapping in the wind. His tangled, green-tinted hair waved around him as he started directly at me, eyes peering out of the all-too-familar black circles.

"Help me!" I called out in total desperation.

He slowly advanced, as thunder rumbled around the black sky, briefly silencing the ever present noise of Gotham city. He knelt down about a pace in front of me, and I clawed at the air, aiming for his outstretched hand. Drenched in the rain and mud, I was a wretched creature. Like Adam reaching out for the hand of God. Like Victor Frankenstein's creation, seeking his guiding hand.

"Please-" I begged.

I had no strength to say anything else. Another flash of white lightning illuminated his face as he remained just out of reach. His expression turned my stomach. It was stoic, callous even. I redoubled my efforts to save myself at the sight of his dead eyes. Suddenly his hand closed around my wrist, and he pulled a little, offering me just a little additional strength. A spark of hope. I began to rise a little further towards salvation, so close to the point of safety. I pushed harder, thinking I could get up and over to safety.

My eyes met his, hoping to see something kinder in them this time. Instead, I was met with a faint glimmer of sadistic amusement and I noted the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. I watched in despair as a real grin joined the permanent red smile.

I knew then. I was wrong to think he would help me.

His arm which had been pulling upwards, slowly stopped, leaving me dangling, watching my struggle. He was enjoying it. I knew what was coming and there was nothing I could do stop it. He was like a cat toying with a mouse. His grip began to loosen. I stopped struggling. I didn't scream. A hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes at my attempts not to give him what he wanted. I was spoiling the sadistic satisfaction he was withdrawing from the moment. He looked down at me again, this time with the same disappointment that a child might regard a broken toy with.

Then he let me go. I began to fall. Time seemed to slow almost to a stop as I lurched down, watching him silently as I did. He began to laugh. Even as I fell, and couldn't see him anymore, it was like it followed me. It was so loud. Ringing in my ears. Poking its way into my brain.

Tag List

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MASTERLIST CONTINUED II ⬇️