06:30
Unknown
Okay, frantic ones, I know you're dying to find out what happens next, so let's not waste a second. I now declare this chapter open.
******
Chapter Eleven:
The cop car dropped Ted and Mary back at 'her' house. They'd ridden in silence, knowing that any conversation between them would likely be listened to carefully by their driver. For all they knew there might even be a mic to record anything they said - so they said nothing. Once deposited, Ted bid her a hasty goodbye, leapt into his car and made his way over to the studio to collect his briefcase from Gloria. He was going to need it for the plan he had in mind.
As he drove, he thought back to earlier that morning when he and Karen had made love. Recently, he had noticed a difference in Karen, in that she was more like the woman that he, Ted, had known and not so much like the one that Ben was married to. The hardness was most likely a facade to cope with Ben's fickle and often immature nature and to attract his attention when he neglected her. Had Mary been the only 'other woman', he wondered, or did Ben have several lovers dotted around the city? He was unsure about his feelings for his dead brother; on the one hand, familial loyalty dictated that Ted seek out his killer - or killers - and punish them severely as best he was able. Either with the full rigour of the law or instant justice - he didn't much care which. However, on the other hand, he felt dead inside when he thought of Ben, and the regard and esteem in which he had formerly held him had dissipated like a phantom in the fog. Much like his love for Mary. Funny how the people closest to you so often cause the greatest pain.
Gloria was waiting at the door of the studio with the briefcase, and waved to him when she saw him drive up. "Here you go," she said, "mind telling me what you're going to do with it?"
Ted winked at her. "It's probably better if you don't know," he said, "that way you can't talk me out of it."
"I thought it might be something like that," she said, and sighed. "There's something in the case that you might need... if you use it, lose it... I'd rather not see it again." She looked as if she was about to cry. "Good luck," she said, and ran back into the building. His curiosity aroused, he opened the case and looked inside. Tucked under one of the flaps for holding papers was the edge of something metallic... and Ted immediately knew what it was.
"Now where did she get that?" he wondered.
******
Ted needed a drink. It was unlike him, but for what he had planned, he needed to steady his nerves. He stopped outside a bar that he and Ben had sometimes used on their infrequent nights out, slid the case under his seat and got out of the car. Inside the bar, he looked around and realised that, somehow, in the daytime it looked more faded and dusty and dingy than it had on his and Ben's nighttime visits; then, it had seemed warm and inviting... exciting even... but the truth of it was that it was a bit of a dive. It didn't matter - he wouldn't be visiting the place again.
"Scotch," he said to the bartender. He paid for his drink and tipped the glass to his lips, swallowing its contents in one go. "Right," he thought, "better get on with it... before I change my mind." Suddenly, he felt something pressed into the small of his back. "Don't turn around if you know what's good for you," a voice said. He didn't have to - he could see in the mirror on the other side of the bar that it was the driver from the diner who had rear-ended Karen's car. "There's a fire-exit at the end of the corridor to the gents... make your way over to it... and remember I'm right behind you." Ted put down his glass and made his way in the direction of the toilets, his heart and mind racing furiously. How the hell was he going to get out of this?
Karen wondered what had come over Ben in the last few weeks. These days he seemed more like his brother - softer, quieter-spoken, easier to get on with - just a nicer person. At least, he was when she wasn't giving him a hard time over something, and taking out her frustrations on him by trying to needle him into an argument. She being doing it more out of habit in recent times - it had become a routine in the early days of their marriage, a ritual almost, to get his attention. Nowadays it was different. Although the old Ben resurfaced at these moments, there was still a difference - as if his heart wasn't in being the brash, loud, 'hey look at me' guy that she'd wed. At first that was what had attracted her to Ben, but it soon wore thin, and Karen realised, in hindsight, that the very qualities that seem so fascinating and alluring at the start of a relationship, are often the very same ones that we find irksome and irritating further along the line. Ben was friendly to everyone, which she had liked at first, but that soon became tedious when he'd spend his time engaged in conversations he'd strike up with anyone nearby when they were in a restaurant or a club. He paid attention to everyone but her and it was infuriating. She wanted him to have eyes only for her, and to delight in her conversation and winsome ways, but it was almost as if he was bored with her - or worse, didn't even notice she was there. These days, he was more attentive, and even a better lover, taking care to satisfy her and not just himself. Ben's previous attitude during lovemaking had seemed to be "There's an orgasm here for one of us - race you to it," but that was no longer the case. He just didn't seem like the man she'd married, but the literal truth of that was, for the moment at least, lost on her.
Ted stood before the fire-exit doors. "Open them and go through into the alley," the gunman commanded. He obliged, but his mind was still racing, deliberating his next move. Then he made it. On hearing the doors behind them swing shut, he suddenly turned his body sideways and thrust his full weight into the thug. In turning, the gun was no longer in his back, but he had to move fast before his assailant could regain his armed advantage. Grabbing the guy's wrist, he thudded it off the wall, causing him to drop the weapon, and Ted launched himself into a frenzied attack with a flurry of punches on the man's face, then stepped back to see the result. He'd expected the hood to be stunned, but he seemed unaffected, just like in dreams Ted once had in which a pursuer just shrugged off his blows and continued advancing, all the while smiling smugly - like Harold Sakata fighting Sean Connery in Goldfinger. Springing right back at Ted with a steely glint in his eyes, the attacker's intent was clear - if he hadn't had murder in mind to start with, her certainly did now. Ted felt a sense of panic, but he realised he had to keep his head about him. He had never been a fighter, but he knew his life depended on what he did next, and he had to do it in a clinical, controlled way, not just strike out wildly and hope for the best . He butted his forehead into the guy's nose, then followed through with a punch to his throat, causing him to drop to his knees with a gurgle. Then he jabbed him in his left eye with two fingers, and grabbing him by the hair, battered his head off the wall... again, again, and again. Then he let go and the man's upper body fell forward and hit the ground, writhing spasmodically as the man groaned in shock and pain. Now that the hood was no longer a threat, Ted simply abandoned self-control and promptly laid into his head like a football, kicking it repeatedly against the wall, alternately stamping on it just for the hell of it. He never knew before just how exhilarating it could be to inflict serious damage on another human being, but he didn't care... he was enjoying this. The bastard deserved it anyway. Ted kept kicking and stamping until the groans subsided and the man lay still. Ted turned him over and extracted a wallet, looking for his driving license; if he knew who his attacker was it might give him a clue as to why he was still being targeted. The name on the license meant nothing to him... Lou Springer... just another nobody, though it was a name probably familiar to the police. Then he picked up the gun, slipped it into his pocket, and made his way out of the alley before the two of them were discovered.
Things are drawing to a close now, I reckon. Another chapter or three should wrap things up nicely. See you in the next one.
"Scotch," he said to the bartender. He paid for his drink and tipped the glass to his lips, swallowing its contents in one go. "Right," he thought, "better get on with it... before I change my mind." Suddenly, he felt something pressed into the small of his back. "Don't turn around if you know what's good for you," a voice said. He didn't have to - he could see in the mirror on the other side of the bar that it was the driver from the diner who had rear-ended Karen's car. "There's a fire-exit at the end of the corridor to the gents... make your way over to it... and remember I'm right behind you." Ted put down his glass and made his way in the direction of the toilets, his heart and mind racing furiously. How the hell was he going to get out of this?
******
Karen wondered what had come over Ben in the last few weeks. These days he seemed more like his brother - softer, quieter-spoken, easier to get on with - just a nicer person. At least, he was when she wasn't giving him a hard time over something, and taking out her frustrations on him by trying to needle him into an argument. She being doing it more out of habit in recent times - it had become a routine in the early days of their marriage, a ritual almost, to get his attention. Nowadays it was different. Although the old Ben resurfaced at these moments, there was still a difference - as if his heart wasn't in being the brash, loud, 'hey look at me' guy that she'd wed. At first that was what had attracted her to Ben, but it soon wore thin, and Karen realised, in hindsight, that the very qualities that seem so fascinating and alluring at the start of a relationship, are often the very same ones that we find irksome and irritating further along the line. Ben was friendly to everyone, which she had liked at first, but that soon became tedious when he'd spend his time engaged in conversations he'd strike up with anyone nearby when they were in a restaurant or a club. He paid attention to everyone but her and it was infuriating. She wanted him to have eyes only for her, and to delight in her conversation and winsome ways, but it was almost as if he was bored with her - or worse, didn't even notice she was there. These days, he was more attentive, and even a better lover, taking care to satisfy her and not just himself. Ben's previous attitude during lovemaking had seemed to be "There's an orgasm here for one of us - race you to it," but that was no longer the case. He just didn't seem like the man she'd married, but the literal truth of that was, for the moment at least, lost on her.
******
Ted stood before the fire-exit doors. "Open them and go through into the alley," the gunman commanded. He obliged, but his mind was still racing, deliberating his next move. Then he made it. On hearing the doors behind them swing shut, he suddenly turned his body sideways and thrust his full weight into the thug. In turning, the gun was no longer in his back, but he had to move fast before his assailant could regain his armed advantage. Grabbing the guy's wrist, he thudded it off the wall, causing him to drop the weapon, and Ted launched himself into a frenzied attack with a flurry of punches on the man's face, then stepped back to see the result. He'd expected the hood to be stunned, but he seemed unaffected, just like in dreams Ted once had in which a pursuer just shrugged off his blows and continued advancing, all the while smiling smugly - like Harold Sakata fighting Sean Connery in Goldfinger. Springing right back at Ted with a steely glint in his eyes, the attacker's intent was clear - if he hadn't had murder in mind to start with, her certainly did now. Ted felt a sense of panic, but he realised he had to keep his head about him. He had never been a fighter, but he knew his life depended on what he did next, and he had to do it in a clinical, controlled way, not just strike out wildly and hope for the best . He butted his forehead into the guy's nose, then followed through with a punch to his throat, causing him to drop to his knees with a gurgle. Then he jabbed him in his left eye with two fingers, and grabbing him by the hair, battered his head off the wall... again, again, and again. Then he let go and the man's upper body fell forward and hit the ground, writhing spasmodically as the man groaned in shock and pain. Now that the hood was no longer a threat, Ted simply abandoned self-control and promptly laid into his head like a football, kicking it repeatedly against the wall, alternately stamping on it just for the hell of it. He never knew before just how exhilarating it could be to inflict serious damage on another human being, but he didn't care... he was enjoying this. The bastard deserved it anyway. Ted kept kicking and stamping until the groans subsided and the man lay still. Ted turned him over and extracted a wallet, looking for his driving license; if he knew who his attacker was it might give him a clue as to why he was still being targeted. The name on the license meant nothing to him... Lou Springer... just another nobody, though it was a name probably familiar to the police. Then he picked up the gun, slipped it into his pocket, and made his way out of the alley before the two of them were discovered.
******
Things are drawing to a close now, I reckon. Another chapter or three should wrap things up nicely. See you in the next one.
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