Chapter 10: Back at Karina's
Jeff grabbed the door handle, then turned to Freddy. "You sure you're up for this?"
Freddy gave the younger cop a mock-glare. "What is this, my first day of nursery school? Course I'm up for it. Just open the fucking door already."
Jeff pulled open the door giving a deep mock-bow, and Freddy punched him on the shoulder as he walked by. The brick building with its narrow windows gave no indication of what was inside: Karina's Fine Diamonds was one glitzy place. Display cases lined three walls, and a huge square island of glass cases took up the middle of the floor, manned by five clerks.
Coming up behind Freddy, Jeff let out a low whistle. "Jeez, will you look at that," he murmured.
It was Sunday morning, which meant that there weren't many customers around. A young couple was looking at rings on one side of the island, and the available clerks turned polite smiles on Freddy and Jeff as they walked up.
"Jeffrey Andrews, LAPD," said the young cop, flashing his badge. "We're here to speak to the manager."
The clerk nodded. "Mr. Goins has been expecting you." She motioned towards a man in a suit standing near the back by an open display case.
Freddy and Jeff strolled over and introduced themselves. "Nice to meet you," Mr. Goins was saying. He smiled uneasily and dry-washed his hands. "You mentioned over the phone that you were interested in working with my store, but I'm still not quite sure what you want from us."
As Jeff explained the situation to Mr. Goins, Freddy leaned against a glass case and looked around the store. It had been another quiet Sunday morning, a lot like this one. But he hadn't started the job inside the store. No, he...
...was standing outside, nervous as hell, sweaty palm sticking to his gun. Leaning against the narrow pillar of brick separating the two glass doors he was guarding. Brown was parked across the road, and the other guys had just gone in. There'd been some shouting at first, no shots fired, and now it was quiet. But shit, he was fucking scared. He hadn't been sure about this, about the cops letting the robbery go ahead, but Holdaway had said... what had he said? It was a "calculated risk", that was it. He'd said they had to catch Cabot with the loot. Well, fuck Holdaway, because Freddy was about to have a fucking heart attack waiting here. About thirty seconds had gone by. The job would take two minutes, tops. And then, God willing, they'd be out of –
High-pitched sound ringing clanging hurting his fucking ears and what the fuck someone had pulled the alarm! "Shit," Freddy hissed under his breath. He whirled around and pushed through one of the doors. Sweeping his gaze across the room, he quickly took in the situation. Blue was on the left, Blonde was on the right, Customers and employees were kneeling on the ground, and Pink and White were coming out of the back to see what was going on.
BLAM!
Freddy nearly jumped out of his skin. There were a few stifled screams. And Blonde... he was pointing his gun at a clerk who slumped over a display case, blood pooling over the top of the glass. Poor bastard had pulled the alarm. Fuck. White was shouting at Blonde, who wasn't paying any attention. Shit, it'd been Freddy's job to make sure this situation didn't get out of control! But now a shot had been fired and a man was dead and he'd fucked it all up and the cops would move in from across the street and then all of his work would be for fucking nothing but then at least it wouldn't be his fucking problem anymore.
BLAM!
"Jesus Christ, Blonde!" Pink yelped, lowering his hands from his ears. Blonde had just fired a shot into the skull of a woman kneeling on the floor in front of him. One of the other clerks who had been manning the central display case with the alarm-puller. Now what was Blonde doing? Oh shit, was he –?
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Down they went like bowling pins. It was a fucking execution. Freddy felt a huge lump of ice deep in his gut. The customers and other employees were screaming. Shit, he had to do something. Blonde was a fucking madman, he had to do something! Holdaway had told him not to break cover no matter what happened, but what did you do when one of the guys started killing people? And what the fuck was Blonde doing, pointing his gun at the others kneeling on the floor? Oh, shit...
Shots rang out and bullets flew, smashing glass and bone. Blonde stood, cool as a cucumber, slowly working his way around the room like a lethal carousel. One of the customers, a black girl, scrambled up from the floor and ran for the back as Blonde silenced her screaming boyfriend. He deftly filled her with bullets, narrowly missing White who dropped to the floor to avoid fire. Blonde calmly reloaded and finished his work, a grim, staring, methodical psychopath.
By the end of it Freddy's mind was a panicked blank, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Shit, he had to be dreaming, this was a motherfucking dream, no way could this be happening, no way –
White was yelling at Blonde, pissed as hell as he got up from the floor brushing glass from his clothes. Pink had ducked into the back for cover, but now he poked his head out and stared at Blonde like he was fucking nuts. Blonde took off his shades and carefully cleaned them on his shirt before slipping them back on. And Blue? He was standing quietly in a corner by the window, looking out onto the street. "Hey!" he yelled, causing White to cut his angry rant short. "It's the cops!"
White and Pink dashed across the store, carefully avoiding bodies and glass, and looked out of the windows. Freddy looked through the glass door he had entered and watched the boys in blue haring across the street, firearms out. There were over a dozen of them. Thank fucking god. The cops were moving in and this would all be over soon.
Mr. Blue still had his cigar clenched between his teeth as he calmly checked his gun. Jesus, the jewellery store had turned into fucking Bosnia and that old thief was the calmest of them all. Fucking unbelievable. Blue was looking out the window, and over shrill sound of the alarm Freddy could hear one of the cops speaking through a megaphone. Ordering them to put down their weapons and come out of there. Freddy glanced across at White, and the older man's jaw was set. Freddy realized there was no way in hell he was going to surrender. Oh fucking hell...
Blue smashed the window with his elbow. He raised his gun, aimed, and fired almost casually. The voice over the megaphone abruptly stopped.
"Shit," Freddy whispered shakily, looking at Mr. Blue by the window, Mr. White checking his guns, Mr. Pink cursing nonstop under his breath, Mr. Blonde strolling over to another window and preparing to open fire.
Almost simultaneously Blonde and Blue began shooting, and the cops started to shoot back. Freddy rolled and took cover behind the narrow pillar separating the two glass doors. Bullets were shattering the glass; he was stuck under heavy fire. He couldn't even pretend to attack the cops. All he could do now was take cover and pray to god he wouldn't get shot. That would be fucking irony, wouldn't it?
He glanced to the side where White was firing through a window with two guns at once. Freddy could tell he was doing damage. After a while, the amount of bullets coming in grew much less than the amount of bullets going out. And no wonder; the robbers had a fucking brick wall to hide behind whereas the cops had jack shit.
Sirens and roaring engines – a second wave of cops, responding to the alarm.
"Shit!" Pink shouted, ripping off his shades and peering cautiously through his narrow window. "We got fuckin' patrol cars coming!" He took a wild look around the room and bolted to the back. Was he getting the fuck out of there? Was he grabbing the loot? Freddy didn't give a flying fuck right now.
Screeching tires and hysterical yelling – Mr. Brown had just pulled up.
"C'mon, we gotta go." White was shaking him by the shoulder. Freddy allowed himself to be helped to his feet, and he and White stumbled out of one of the bullet-ridden glass doors. Brown had brought the car up half onto the sidewalk, and was shrieking at them to hurry the fuck up. Freddy stared at the cops, dead, injured, who the fuck knew. Some of them were still firing, too, and from the sound of it Blonde and Blue weren't stopping either. White grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him into the backseat.
Sirens louder, more patrol cars racing down the street and emerging from alleys, burning rubber. Uniformed cops tumbling out and taking cover behind open doors. Brown looked out of the driver's-side window as White clambered in after Freddy. The glass shattered and he let out a grunt, his head jerking back.
Freddy couldn't believe it – their driver had just been shot in the fucking head!
Mr. White seemed to come to the same conclusion: "Shit!"
"You okay, man?" Freddy asked, leaning forward, then felt sick for caring so much.
"He fuckin' shot me!" Brown screamed. It was a fucking miracle that he was still talking.
White wasn't going to waste time wondering why Brown was still alive. "Get us the fuck outta here!" he bellowed. Mr. Brown floored it, and they took off down the road. Leaving cop cars behind them to surround the store, one peeling off in pursuit. Brown weaving in and out of traffic, half-blinded by the blood flowing down his face. A wild drive, outstripping the pursuing cops, Freddy and White hanging on for dear fucking life, barrelling into an alley, turning to avoid a dumpster, and smashing into the back of another car –
"Freddy?"
Back at Karina's. No blood, no broken glass. Freddy gasped, realizing just where he was. Jeff was looking concerned, and the manager – Mr. Goins – was staring at him like he was a fucking lunatic. Freddy realized he must have been staring off into space for some time now. His hands were shaking, and his heart was bashing against his ribs.
He could've sworn that ten minutes ago he'd been in that very store, caught in the middle of a robbery gone wrong. He'd been there, he'd actually been living it. Jesus Christ, it was just like it had been with that fucking song. Flashbacks, re-living past events. This time it hadn't been triggered by a song, but by the fucking store. PTSD as Dr. Moss would say. Shit.
"Excuse me," said Freddy, managing to sound almost normal. "I gotta go out – get some air –"
Outside, gulping, gasping, cold sweat, heart pounding, he sat down on the sidewalk and rubbed his hands over his face. "Fuuuuuck..."
This was getting serious. This flashback PTSD shit was really fucking with him. But he couldn't go to Dr. Moss or a fucking confession right now. And he sure as hell couldn't avoid the store, because it was Vega's last target and their only chance of catching the motherfucker. All he could do was hope that when the shit came down, he wouldn't fucking lose it.
A/N: I've been looking forward to this chapter, because I enjoyed working out what exactly happened during the robbery. Goins is the surname of Ordell's lawyer in Jackie Brown. I haven't planned a connection; I just like recycling Tarantino character names! I'm having a bit of trouble with the next chapter - the "showdown", so to speak - so it may be a little longer of a wait than usual. Reviews are welcome!