The Immortal Harvest (26 page)

He landed heavily on the back of the man and he heard him let out a grunt as they both impacted the tiles. He noticed that the man was wearing the clothes of an intern.

Joe moved quickly to subdue the man and with his knee in the guy’s spine, he struggled to pull one of his arms up behind his back. He clamped his hand across his mouth.

“Make one move mister and I’ll break ya arm, y’hear?” He whispered hoarsely into the intern’s ear. He could feel his head nodding acknowledgement to his question.

“Justen, come over here and check his pockets while I hold ’im down,” Joe said to Justen who leant further back towards the wall and shook his head. Joe could see that he was scared.

“C’mon boy, he aint gonna hurt ya. He aint goin’ no wheres, are ya mista?” Joe said as he twisted the arm further, eliciting a groan of pain from his captive.

Justen slowly crept towards the two men and then bent down and carefully slid his hand into the right pocket of the intern’s coat.

Joe could see a surprised expression on the young boy’s face as he slowly pulled out a handgun and gave it to Joe.

“Well well, what have we got here? That’s a mighty fancy weapon for an intern. Whatcha got in the other pocket? You be careful boy, he could have anythin’ in there.” Joe said sternly and then gave the arm another twist.

His captive shook his head and tried to speak.

“No! Don’t…..”, Joe clamped his hand tighter to silence the intern.

“You keep quiet – go ahead boy.”

Joe watched as Justen felt inside the other pocket and heard him let out a sharp yelp of pain.

As Justen pulled his hand out Joe could see the source of his pain. Justen had a syringe imbedded in the palm of his hand. Justen quickly pulled it out and then whispered “Help me Joe….” as he collapsed on the ground beside him.

Instinctively, Joe grabbed Justen’s wrist and felt for a pulse, he was relieved to find one but then a surge of anger rushed through him and he yanked back hard on his captive’s arm.

“What’s in that needle mister? If you’ve harmed the boy you’re a dead man,” Joe said as he pulled his hand away from the intern’s face to let him answer. At the same time he pushed down harder onto the man’s spine as he pressed the gun into his captive’s temple.

The man grunted and struggled to speak through the pain.

“I tried… to… warn you. The…boy… is…alright. He’s just asleep. It’s….a sedative.”

“He better be alright ya hear? Who are you people? I don’t know what’s goin’ ere but I know you lot are up to no good.”

“My name is Baxter, I’m with the FBI. I’m on your side.”

“You don’t look like no FBI agent mister Baxter.

“You look like one of them fellas thats had me tied to a bed,” Joe said as he twisted his victim’s arm harder and twisted his head around to have a closer look at his face.

He heard the victim grunt harder and his pleading became more insistent.

“Listen to me, the boy’s name is Justen Peters he is looking for his Mother. If you let me up I can take you to her.”

Joe relaxed his grip slightly and looked sideways at his victim.

“How do you know he’s lookin’ for his Mama?”

“Look Joe, I’ve already told you, I am an FBI agent. We have a file with their photos in it. Now get the hell off me before I have you arrested for obstruction.”

Joe looked across at Justen who was still motionless on the ground.

“Ok, I’ll let you up but you better not be lying to me, ya hear?

“Just in case I’m gonna keep this gun on ya and you’re gonna carry the boy to his Mama. If you are telling the truth I’ll give ya back ya gun ok?” Joe said gruffly as he let Baxter’s arm go and took his knee out of his back. He stood back and let Baxter get to his feet.

*     *     *

Baxter’s initial surprise had given way to anger and a degree of humiliation when he realised that he had just been subdued by what appeared to be a much older man, although he had some consolation when he spied the Special Forces tattoo on the old man’s arm.

He stood up slowly, his body aching from being held down, especially his arm. He rubbed his arm and took a breath. He knew he had to choose his words carefully.

“As I said my name is Baxter, Senior Special Agent Baxter of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I was in the field gathering Intel. I was attacked and I woke up in this hospital. In fact I was looking for Justen and his Mother.

I managed to locate his Mother in this hospital not more than an half an hour ago. I freed her and asked her to assist some other captives to escape whilst I went for back up.”

“Are there other FBI folk coming?” Joe asked sarcastically. “Where are they? Are they dressed like interns too?”

“They will be here soon.” Baxter lied. He needed Joe to think that he was not alone.

Unfortunately he could tell that Joe seem unconvinced. He bent down to pick up Justen, cognizant of the fact that Joe was keeping the weapon pointed towards him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to aim that thing at me while I’m carrying a child do you?”

“Don’t you worry mister; if I have to I’ll shoot you in the head and catch the boy before you hit the ground.”

Baxter could see the determined look on the old man’s face and he realised that he should not underestimate him. Besides that, he also realised that if he played his cards right, Joe would make a great back-up for him against Stringer and any other bad guys in this house of horrors.

He knew that without his medication, it was only a matter of time before the insidious presence in his brain rendered him ineffective.

As they made their way up the corridor, Baxter in front carrying Justen, and Joe closely behind them, he realised that someone had to have reset the Fire Alarm and they could have only have done that from the Security Control office.

He also realised that this office would have been the perfect place for someone to access all of the building’s security cameras.

I bet Stringer is monitoring the security cameras
, he thought as he suddenly felt very uneasy as he watched the little red light on the camera slowly blinking as if it were scrutinising them as they passed.

He hefted the unconscious form that he was carrying to redistribute the load. Even though Justen was only six, he was beginning to get heavy. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his shoulder.

As he struggled, he felt a wave of nausea roll over him as the throbbing in his head also intensified. He took a deep breath and suppressed the nausea and the pain. He knew that he needed his medication but also knew that his own needs would have to wait.

The boy and his Mother were a lot more important. He had to safe guard them and gain Joe’s trust if he were to take down Stringer.

He still felt a little bit confused as to the relevance of Stringer and his relationship to this house of horrors. Lingering questions persisted. He decided to analyse them later, for now he needed to get to Sylvan before Stringer did and get the boy and his Mother to safety ASAP.

Murdoch was fuming. He had just finished delivering a fresh body to the hospital when he received a call from the super bitch.

He was all set to get his fill of beers and whores. He had even planned to ditch the deadwood and drop Judas off at his old ladies house.

All I wanted was a few hours on my own for fuck sake,
he thought as he swung on the steering wheel and headed in the direction of the homeless refuge.

The super bitch had given him his orders, he didn’t like them but he had no choice, as long as they were lining his pockets, he kept providing his unique services. He had picked up the briefcase and received his briefing. His pocket bulged with a fresh wad of cash.

He looked across at Judas and saw the usual vacant visage. He felt a huge amount of contempt for the man. He was a moron.

If he wasn’t my sister’s boyfriend I would have dumped his body with the Doc as soon as I met him,
he thought as he snorted and then wound down his window and spat a huge wad of phlegm into the path of a passing taxi.

He wound the window back up as heard the familiar whine from beside him.

“Where the fuck are we going Murdoch?”

Murdoch stared out through the windscreen and grumbled his answer. “I’ve already told you Judas, we have an important errand to undertake.”

“Huh? What errand, I thought you were gonna drop me off. I thought we’d finished.”

“We’ve been re-tasked. There’s been a change of plans.”

“What the fuck are ya talking about? I gotta go home, Missy is expecting me.”

“Yeah, well stiff shit, Missy can wait. Here, call her and tell her you’ll be late,” Murdoch said gruffly as he threw his mobile phone at Judas. “And give that phone straight back, you’ll break the fucking thing.”

Murdoch ignored Judas who struggled to use the phone. He swung on the steering wheel again and pulled the van into a kerbside space half a block from the homeless refuge.

After parking the van he stumbled out of the driver seat and went to the rear of the van and hefted on the van’s sliding door.

He grabbed an old leather document bag and reached into it to pull out a shotgun which had had its barrel shortened. He also pulled out a handful of shotgun shells and put them in his trench coat pocket.

He opened the front flap of his trench coat and tucked the shotgun into the other pocket which was much longer and seemed to be made for that purpose.

“Ya got one of them for me?”

Judas’s voice made him jump slightly but he suppressed it, he could not show any form of weakness. A surge of anger swept through him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You would blow your fucking foot off if I gave you one of these and then Missy would kill me.

“Here, you can take the Glock, but keep the safety on until we get inside, do ya understand?” Murdoch said as he pulled the Glock out of the bag and pointed it at Judas.

So tempting
, Murdoch thought as he watched as Judas took the gun from him barrel first and then proceeded to peer down into the barrel of the pistol.

“Is it loaded,” he asked as he shook the weapon and clicked the trigger a couple of times.

Murdoch shook his head in disbelief, “Unfortunately, no it’s not loaded. Here, give the fucking thing back and I will load it for you and if I ever see you do that again, or point the thing at me I will shove it up your arse and blow your brains out. Do you understand me?”

Murdoch seriously considered leaving Judas in the van but then thought better of it as he knew that at the very worst Judas could at least stand still and just point the gun at whoever he told him to.

Knowing my luck the idiot will shoot me

He decided against loading the weapon and gave it back to Judas.

“Come on, we got a job to do,” Murdoch said as he grabbed the bag and trudged away towards the entry into the homeless shelter.

He mounted the steps and burst through the main door. The shelter was full of derelicts and drunks all sitting at tables slurping on small bowls of soup and cups of coffee.

They all looked up from their respective meals when they heard the first gunshot ring out from Murdoch’s direction.

“Listen up losers, this shelter is closed. Pick up your crap and get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah, you heard the man, fuck off!” Judas shouted as he ran along the tables tossing bowls and cups onto the floor.

He cuffed one of the older homeless guys around the back of his head with the butt of the Glock and shrieked with laughter as the old man fell to the floor amidst the pools of soup and coffee.

“Come on, get up and get ya ugly arse out of here old timer, before I whack ya again.”

Judas was just about to hit the old man again when he was interrupted by a rather officious voice.

“Stop! What is the meaning of this? Who are you people? What do you want?”

Murdoch lowered his shotgun and pointed it at the group of people who had come into the dining area from the kitchen.

“Which one of you is in charge of this freak show?”

He watched as the group separated and a tall middle aged woman with striking red hair moved forward and approached Murdoch.

He smiled as he realised the woman did not seem to be put off by the fact that he was pointing a lethal weapon at her.

“You in charge?” he asked as he thrust the weapon further forward.

“Yes, I am Sister Beatrice. I am responsible for the care of the homeless in this neighbourhood.

There is no point robbing us, we do not have anything of value here. If you would like to take a seat we can give you some food.”

“I don’t want your stinking soup Sister, and we are not here to rob you. We are here to shut you down.”

“Excuse me err Mister…?”

“Yeah, the names Murdoch and this idiot here is Judas.

“A fairly appropriate name wouldn’t you say Sister?” Murdoch said as he pointed at Judas and smiled.

“Well Mr Murdoch, I don’t know what you are talking about, but this Shelter is owned and run by the Sisters of Mercy. You have no right to barge in here and pretend like you own the place.”

Murdoch smiled again as he slowly pushed his hand into his bag.

“Ah well you see Sister, your people might own and run the shelter but the people that I work for just bought this building. It says so right here on this document.

So if they own the building they get to choose who can use the building and unfortunately they don’t choose you or your Sisters. So me and Judas here are giving you exactly five minutes to get your stuff and get the hell out of here.”

“Ahh Murdoch I don’t think ya sposed to say ‘hell’ to a nun,” Judas said quietly as he pointed his gun at Murdoch.

“Shut the fuck up Judas, and what did I tell you about that Glock? I swear to God if it wasn’t for Missy…” Murdoch spluttered furiously as he strode across towards Judas who had seen the murderous look and had quickly retreated.

Murdoch watched as the idiot fled and disappeared out the doorway.

Murdoch stopped and turned around to face the nun.

“Ok you heard me Sister. This shelter is officially closed. I suggest you make arrangements to clear out before we come back, and don’t think I won’t hurt a nun. I’m pretty much fucked as far as the afterlife is concerned.”