A TANGLED WEB
CHAPTER 9- HIDE!
Chief Collig was in a meeting at Bayport Police Headquarters. He felt his cellphone vibrate and took a surreptitious look. A text from Frank Hardy.
Backup now, Porte Bonheur. Found Joe. Trapped in basement. At least 3 targets. Help. RSVP
Collig stood up so fast his chair went over. The other officers in the room gasped. Collig ignored them as he replied to the text.
On way.
Then he ran, grabbing his personal radio as he went.
...
Frank had done what he could. He had quietly stacked every bit of furniture he could move behind the cupboard door, contacted the cavalry then armed himself with a wooden mop handle. There was no way out for them. He would have to hope the police arrived before Gilchrist noticed Joe had gone. Or before they needed a mop.
Finally Frank felt he could do what he'd wanted to do from the first second had seen his brother lying on that floor. He took off his jacket, sank down beside Joe and covered his naked body, giving him back his dignity. He stroked Joe's cheek tenderly, his eyes dwelling on his unconscious brother's injuries. He leant forwards and kissed his forehead.
'I'm here Joe, if those bastards want to hurt you again, they'll have to come through me' he whispered.
He allowed himself to revel in the moment, resting his forehead against Joe's for a few seconds. Relief, tension, anger and fear swam round his mind. What had Gilchrist meant by Joe being ready to die and him having had a gun? Frank's hand stayed on Joe's neck, feeling that pulse. He closed his eyes, made himself breathe deeply and slowly began to regain control of his heaving emotions.
Frank looked back down at Joe, a lump formed in his throat. He looked like he was dying, fading away before his eyes. Frank longed for those blue eyes to flutter open. He longed for Joe to know he was with him. But he knew Joe was better unconscious until he could be filled with pain-killing drugs. He didn't try to bring him round. He didn't really think he'd be able to. Joe's pulse was still weak, his breathing was still shallow. He had to be in shock from loss of blood and dehydration.
Frank didn't know how long they could be there. He needed to take stock of Joe's injuries and see what, if anything, he could do. Thankful for the front line first aid course he'd selected as his own 'break' from the investigation, he began a gentle 'top-to-toe' examination of his brother. He moved the jacket around as he worked to keep as much covered as possible.
Head- bruises, cuts, jaw swollen but not dislocated. No soft spots in the skull. Neck…side- multiple needle punctures. Not good. Neck and upper back- no obvious fractures or deviations (just as well after he'd been moved from his cell in such a crude manner!) Front- extensive bruising. Baton marks. Boot marks. Cigarette burns. The four or five ribs on his left side looked not quite right. Fractured? Arms- more cuts. These ones were small and precise- inflicted slowly and deliberately. Also bruising plus more injection sites. Right arm.. Joe's forearm was horribly swollen and coloured dark blue and red, although it seemed stable. Possible fracture. Groin and legs- bruising, cuts and abrasions. Feet- marks from baton strikes.
Frank paused for a moment, mentally steadying himself again. He gently manoeuvred Joe into the recovery position so he could check his back. Among the marks that matched those on Joe's front were bite marks. Bite marks. And dried blood from the assault Frank had been hoping he dreamt.
Trying retain perspective and not allow himself to get overwhelmed, Frank made himself go through the injuries in his head, putting them in order of clinical importance.
1. Potentially the injections. What's he been given and is that why he's unconscious?
2. Fractures- ribs and arm. Possible associated internal bleeding. Risk of creating further instability if moved. Risk of ribs puncturing lung (lucky I carried him right side down. Damn lucky, Frank added to himself).
3. Internal damage due to, well due to any number of horrendous things that had been done to his little brother.
He needed fluids, fast, to give him a chance of fighting back. He needed a hospital.
At that moment, a muffled explosion came from upstairs. The police! Collig must have thrown caution to the wind to be here already and to launch a direct attack- only 20 minutes had passed since Frank had sent the text. Frank heard shouting and gunfire being exchanged. Chairs were knocked over and guns cocked across the hall in the kitchen.
All Frank's attempts at keeping calm and objective went out the window. He sat down on the floor as far from the barricaded door as he could and pulled Joe gently on to his lap, keeping the injured arm across Joe's body. He lowered his cheek on top of Joe's head and started to rock gently, long arms wrapped around his injured brother. He shut his eyes and prayed.
…
It felt like the firefight went on for hours. It was probably 10 minutes.
Frank heard Gilchrist shout 'get Hardy- we need a hostage'. He held his breath, knowing the door of Joe's former cell was being opened…..
'What the f…' Gilchrist screamed. 'find him, NOW!'
Frank could hear doors in the corridor being torn open. Then somebody tried their cupboard. 'IN HERE!' a voice yelled. The door, and the barricade, started shaking as someone's body weight was thrown repeatedly against it.
Frank gently laid Joe back down on the floor and picked up his mop handle. He stood facing the door in a fighting stance, Joe behind him. He was ready to defend his brother to the last if Gilchrist got through. 'Come on, Collig.' Frank murmured.
There was another 'crash'- it sounded close. The stair door?
Frank heard shouted warnings from the police, then shots being exchanged. Another crashing door, more gunfire. An anguished scream. Then…silence. Broken by Collig's voice. 'Secure the floor, secure the floor!' The sound of doors crashing open, heavy feet running. More shouted warnings from different voices. An exclamation from the room next door. 'We've got bodies, sir!'
'Shit, is it them?' from Collig. More shouting.
Then the mop cupboard door was hit. 'This one's barricaded, sir'.
Collig's voice yelled 'Stop!' There was a pause. Then Collig spoke again, a little quieter. Gentler. 'Frank? Joe? Where are you? Are you okay?'
Frank found his voice. 'Chief?'
'Frank. Three suspects neutralised, premises secured throughout. You can come out, son.'
It was over. It took Frank a moment to accept it, then he started tearing apart the barricade. He opened the door. Chief Collig was standing outside with what appeared to be a small army of officers clad in riot gear poised for action beside him. Frank and Collig stood eye to eye.
'Are they dead?' Frank asked, his face expressionless.
'They're dead.'
'Good. Saves me a job. I need an ambulance for Joe, Chief.'
Frank walked back into the cupboard and crouched down beside the prone body of his brother, putting a protective hand on his chest.
'There's one outside. I'll have them sent in. You've done good Frank. I don't know how the hell you got here, but my god you've done good!'
Frank didn't reply. His burning need to kill Gilchrist and his henchmen was gone. Not sated, just faded into irrelevance now they were dead by someone else's hand. All that mattered was Joe. He needed Joe to live.
