Boston Blood: The first Frank McKenzie Thriller (16 page)

Eddie nods at Mullins sympathetically

‘I understand kid; we all want to do more. How do you think I feel being cooped up in this office all day? We all want to be the guy to take this sucker down. Truth is we can, we all play an integral part in the success of this case. My job is to run the ship; your job is to be the much needed man on the streets. There’s a lot more going on in Boston then what’s happening down in the M.I.T Building, we need people like you to man the streets and make sure the city doesn’t turn into a playground for chase and his so called followers, is that clear?’

Mullins nods

‘Good, now I want you to go down to the garage and meet your team. We want you to lead them on point, and search down town for any signs of Frank. You will be leading them into possible hostile areas, if there is any form of resistance from Frank or any of Chase’s men on  the streets then plant a couple of bullets into their legs, I want them alive and able to talk. I’m trusting you kid, you have shown initiative, if you play your cards right you could be bumped up to Homicide after this is all over.’

Mullins lights up with smile and he nods emphatically.

‘No problem sir, I’ll make sure I’ll bring Frank home.’

Mullins and his partner walk away from Eddie and make their way out of the Incident room. Eddie smiles to himself, a self-smile of satisfaction. He takes out a cigarette and lights it up, inhaling the smoke as if he was victorious already. He strolls over to his office and walks in, shutting the door behind him. He gets out his phone and starts mashing the buttons. He takes another drag on his cigarette and smiles as he looks down at the message he just typed.

“It’s done” The message reads.

He clicks send and flips the phone back shut. He chucks it on to the sofa carelessly as he walks over to the mini bar. He once again pours another drink; the sound of the liquor hitting the tumbler is music to his ears, as he raises the glass in the air saluting himself, he downs the whisky. 

Fifty Six

The year 2006: SIX YEARS BEFORE BOARDING THE TRAIN

Mrs Gardener is standing on her suburban porch watching the traffic go by. It’s a delightful evening of colours jumping out of the sky. The stars are shining brighter this night more so then she had ever seen. It seems as if the air its self is cleaner and the people passing by saying hello are more forgiving. She has always gotten along with her neighbours, but living in suburbia has taken its toll on the way she sees most people. It seems people change when receiving bonuses on their already meaty cheques. She isn’t one of them, or so she has always thought. Mrs Gardener has always enjoyed the good things in life, but what most people see as the luxuries in life, she sees as burdens. She enjoys good wine and people. Enjoys looking after kids and gets a tremendous satisfaction when cooking for her mum and dad on thanksgiving. People see her as a giving person, while she sees herself as a shadow of what she wants the world to be.

While she carries on watching the light traffic go by her family style home, she snaps back into reality as a car horn on the street jars her conscious. She shakes her head in disappointment as she notices two men shouting at each other a few hundred yards down her street. They are both out of their cars screaming obscene words at each other while holding up the traffic. She walks into her house, opening the classic style porch door within a door. She strides into her living room and admires the view, as it’s pristine and clean, as if she is expecting someone. She glances at the time on the clock on her wall. She starts to strip down to her French underwear. Her body looking immaculate and well-kept as if she goes to the gym regularly. Her front door bell rings and she turns around, walking over to the door she opens it wide and sees his face. She grabs him and pulls him into the house, closing the door behind, she pushes him up against it and starts kissing his neck.

‘Hello Mrs Gardener’ He says

She carries on kissing him, finally looking up at him and smiling.

‘Hello Jason’

Fifty Seven

Fredrick is tiring by now. The long crawl through the air ducts is one filled with cramp and hot air, as the sweat drips down his forehead he turns around to Nathan who is a mere few feet away.

‘It’s funny how an air duct for the AC can be so damn hot’ Whispers Fredrick

Nathan laughs quietly as he taps Fredrick on the leg

‘It’s okay man, let’s just keep going. We need to get out of here.’

‘Why are you touching me again? I told you star, I’m no batty boy’

Nathan stops crawling and punches Fredrick in the leg

‘I told you, I don’t know what that means, but I’m gathering that now you said that, you assume I’m gay, well I’m sorry to disappoint you, I’m not a batty boy. You call me that one more time; I’m going to kick your ass!’

Fredrick grabs his leg in pain

‘Why you do that for man? You crazy or something, you want to fight me, the man who is saving you, in an air duct? You crazy white boy’

‘Racism is not the answer Fredrick. Have I called you a black boy?’

Fredrick shakes his head

‘No, but if you did I would make sure I cave your face in bombaclart’

Nathan hears voices in the room below them. He signals Fredrick.

‘Be quiet, there’s someone below us’

‘No shit, there’s a whole bunch of people below us, guards, hostages, guns, explosives.’ Says Fredrick

Nathan and Fredrick carry on crawling through the air duct for a few minutes. They come across a T Junction.

‘Which way should we go? Asks Fredrick

‘How am I supposed to know, you’re the one who came through here.’

‘I know star, it’s just its different on the way out’

‘What do you mean different? They did not change the dam air duct layout in a day’

‘I know it’s different because I’m going the opposite way aren’t I, you stupid or something?’

‘I don’t think I’m the stupid one here, course you’re going the opposite way, that’s how backwards and forwards work!’

Fredrick turns back around to Nathan, this time squaring off to him, pushing Nathan back a few steps. Nathan pushes Fredrick back. Fredrick swings for Nathan, but Nathan ducks out of the way, while the punch lands firmly on the metal walling of the air duct, rattling the structure with a humongous clang. Suddenly the floor beneath them collapses as both men fall through the air duct into a room, landing hard on some concrete flooring. Both men dazed look at each other in spite as they sit up to draw breath. Nathan looks up at the ceiling and notices the massive hole in the air duct where they were crawling in a few seconds prior. Nathan looks at Fredrick who appears to be worse for wear as he grabs his arm, clutching it in pain.

‘Are you alright Fredrick?’

As Fredrick gasps for air, he’s hit in the back of the head with an AK47. Fredrick’s head snaps back to the ground, hitting it with a bloody thud. Nathan jumps in fear as he turns around to see a barrage of armed guards taking aim at him. Behind them, Connor Chase walks into view holding his trademark gun.

‘Glad you could join us Nathan, you gave me a scare. I was worried you left without saying goodbye’

Fifty Eight

Frank picklocks the padlock with a hair clip, he looks around making sure that no one is in his vicinity. He hears the clip snap in the lock.

‘Shit’

Frank takes a few steps back from the rusty warehouse door and takes another look around his surroundings. He notices the nearby layby where cars are sweeping by at high speeds. Frank times his actions. He notices headlights coming down the layby to his right, glistening through the chain link fence separating him from the road. Frank ducks to avoid the beaming lights. The car sweeps by with a whoosh. Frank peaks up over the fence and sees no oncoming traffic. He gets up and walks over to the nearby door once again. He draws his weapon and fires a shot into the padlock. It snaps and buckles at the force of the bullet. He smiles to himself.

‘That should do it’

He takes the buckled padlock off the door hinge and throws it on the floor. He opens the door to the warehouse and is greeted with a sheet of black. The whole room is pitch-dark. He manoeuvres himself into the black, feeling the wall for a light switch.  He finds it and flicks the switch. The light bellows through the room, hitting his eyes with a fierce penetrating ray, obscuring his vision, making it go red for a few moments. His eyes refocus and light up with joy as he looks upon a mass of weapons and ammo stockpiled to the ceilings.

He walks over to the assortment of heavy weaponry and picks up a bolt action Remington MSR sniper rifle. He cocks the bolt back and pumps out a .338 calibre bullet that lands on the stone floor of the warehouse with an everlasting echo that dampens into the night. The smoke coming from the side of the rifle plumes into the air, as Frank cocks the bolt back one more time for good measure. He enjoys the sound of the projectile hitting the floor, as he takes aim with the MSR; he scopes into the far distance of the warehouse. He aims down the sights, four hundred meters; he flicks the laser sights on and takes a deep breath, his finger hovering over the trigger, twitching with excitement.

Fifty Nine

‘Okay men, this is it. We are going in for a sweep of down town Boston. I’m splitting you up into teams of ten. In total there will be ten teams. Each team will take on a certain block, in which I will relay that information closer to the execution of the sweep. In the next hour there will be a ten truck convoy riding down Boston. Each team will have a point man for the operation. I will call out the teams in a minute. Each of you will have a number on your shoulder. That number will correspond with your team. So for example if you pick out a number one, then you will be part of team one, and so forth. The selection of numbers will be random; you will pick out the numbers from a box. After picking your number, use the Velcro strap to put the number on your shoulder, then report to your team’s point man. I will announce the point men for the teams now, so bear with me.’ Says Chief Shaw

Shaw announces the point men in a random order. Each man steps forward and turns around, forming a line across the width of the car park, facing the on looking officers. Shaw steps in front of the selected point men, he paces up and down, looking on at the remaining men.

‘Okay team eight will be led by officer Santiago. Team nine will be led by Officer Phillips. Finally team ten will be led by Officer Mullins.’

Mullins steps forward and joins the point men in formation.

‘Okay team leaders disperse to the convoy area and line up next to your numbered truck. The selected men will join you once they get their numbers randomly assigned to them. I will come and brief each one of you in the next thirty minutes.

The selected team leaders leave the formation and walk up to their assigned vehicles. Mullins walks up to his number ten truck and looks around at the other men down his left, each leaning against their trucks. Truck number nine’s point man nods his head in acknowledgement. Mullins nods back. He takes a deep breath in and swallows hard.
Something just doesn’t feel right
he thinks to himself. 

Sixty

Sandra Austin pushes the hot water button on the vending machine. The water spills out of the plastic nozzle flowing into a polystyrene cup. She then hits the cappuccino button. The machine hums and sputters as it delivers its powdered coffee into the cup. She bends down and grabs the steaming beverage out from under the dripping nozzle. She takes a sip from her drink and pulls a face. Her work colleague standing next to her laughs in amusement.

‘Tastes like shit right?’ He asks.

Sandra nods her head in agreement.

‘What the hell are we doing down here? It’s a damn train station, nothing news worthy is happening, unless you count bad coffee and train delays as news.’ He asks

Sandra takes another long sip of coffee

‘I don’t know Mike. Just stick to pointing the camera in my direction and leave the questions to me.’

Mike puts the camera on his shoulder and points it in Sandra’s direction. He pans a shot from her feet up to her chest, focusing on her bust.

‘Stop being immature Mike and save the space on the hard-drive. We don’t know how long we are going to be here do we?’

Mike nods reluctantly, putting the camera back on its tripod overlooking the tracks.

‘Why do you think Bob asked us to set up on this platform specifically?’ He asks

‘It could be one of many reasons. One of them could be someone famous or of importance is going to disembark on this platform.’ 

Both Sandra and Mike stare down the tracks in anticipation of the train’s arrival.

Sixty One

Frank is stocking up on ammo and weapons in the warehouse. He has the MSR rifle slung across his back and two 9mm’s hoisted on his belt. He grabs a twelve inch army knife from a box on a shelf above him. He suddenly spots a box next to it that has the word “
EXPLOSIVES
” tattooed on its side.  He reaches up and grabs the box. He settles it down on top of a stack of crates towering to his chest level. He tries to pry the wooden box open but is unsuccessful. He looks around for something to help him open the stubborn box. He spots a crowbar resting near his feet, he grabs it and splits the explosives box open, revealing a medley of frag grenades. He grabs three and attaches them to his belt, using the supplied frag clips in the box. He closes the explosives box and puts it back on the shelf. He spots some black face paint on the shelf under the boxes of explosives. He grabs the round shoe polish like tin and opens it. He starts to apply it to his face and arms. He rips the remaining sleeve material off his tatted shirt and pastes his arms in the paint. The dried blood on his skin is masked by the dark camouflage like substance. Suddenly he drops to his knees in pain as he grabs his head, his finger nails digging deep into his skin, scratching at the surface like a cat at its scratching post. The images of pain and suffering resurface in his psyche as he claws for sanity. He screams in pain as he uses the crates to steady himself back to his feet. The voices in his head are thumping away at his conscious as he relives the day’s events, the killing of Tasha, the bloodshed in the hallway, the massacre at Connor Chases home.