Chapter 11: The Broken Door
Wood pieces were flying everywhere. They consumed Arthur's vision. So much for getting out of here undetected.Dodging the brunt of the door fragments, Arthur once again instinctively reached for his weapon. Feeling the .22 and not his Glock, Arthur instead rummaged through the depths of Eames' suit jacket. Arthur felt something warm pulling at the back of his shirt, but he ignored it once more, managing to grab a handgun before the door was completely obliterated.
It all happened in a second. The man burst through the entryway, and Arthur steadied his gun, taking aim. I can handle one man, Arthur thought fleetingly. Then he saw the bullet proof vest, SWAT helmet, and the AK-47. Full tactical gear. Never mind, we're screwed.
Shoving his hand into his pocket, Arthur grabbed the black detonation box and pulled it out. Thumbing the control labeled "FRONT DOORWAY", Arthur tried to make eye contact with Eames across the room. If they were going to die, Arthur preferred it to be on their own terms.
But Eames wasn't looking at Arthur. He stood frozen in place. He had traded his kitchen knife for a raised gun, Arthur's Glock. His head was cocked to the side, and the firearm was slowly lowering from its position in his hand.
Arthur's pose was similarly still, except his stance was situated more for a last stand than surrendering, as Eames' response suggested. Eames, what the hell are you doing?
"Bloody hell, Eames." A muffled voice, decidedly British, sounded behind the tactical helmet. "This is not the scene I was expecting. Less like Independence Dayand more like a bad night at the pub." The man shouldered his AK-47, freeing his gloved hands. In the charged silence following his pronouncement, the man removed his helmet.
Brown curls sprang free of their confines, and the man immediately leveled his gaze at Arthur, evaluating, pulling the strapped AK-47 off his back once more. "There must be something I'm missing here, Eames. Because if this man is the threat you rang me for, either he's invincible or you've gone soft." The man looked around, noticing the tied captive. "It looks like you've stopped one. Why not another?"
"No, no, no." Eames was hurried but reassuring. He gestured towards Arthur to lower his weapon. "The queen didn't forget the parking brake today, David." Arthur's brain processed Eames' statement and its odd wording. Definitely some kind of code, he decided. "David, this is Arthur," Eames waved towards Arthur, continuing, like they had all just bumped into each other in a coffee shop. The man tied to the floor followed Eames' gesture as well. He hadn't spoken during the whole exchange, but at the mention of Arthur's name, glared towards him.
Switching his attention once Eames mentioned his name, Arthur regarded the other man,David, guardedly. Arthur's handgun was still firmly aimed at the man's torso. David returned the inspection with renewed interest, looking over Arthur's figure critically. "You're Arthur." David said finally, making the statement sound more like a question than a fact. He seemed oblivious to the person-shaped hole he had left in the door, leaving the occupants exposed to the street as he moved further in the café. "I thought you would be… taller, mate," David said, eyeing Arthur up and down. His head swung back over to Eames. "This is the same one that has saved your arse numerous times, correct?"
Eames looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. "I've helped him a fair bit too, David. The man did get shot last week. That's why I'm in this bloody mess – he royally pissed off a client and we came for answers. Speaking of which – why are you here?"
"Why am I here?" David sidestepped around the three men, examining the scene. He picked up a fallen coffee pot, setting it back on the counter. "Didn't you send the SOS?" He questioned, slinging the automatic rifle over his shoulder again. He bent down, retrieving Eames' Heckler & Koch from where it had fallen between a table leg and the floor.
"SOS?" Eames inquired, puzzled.
"Eddie sent the signal," Arthur interjected, speaking for the first time. He holstered his gun resignedly, realizing that he wasn't going to receive the green light to shoot this armed man in the near future. Pity. "He's in the stock room somewhere. Panicked, almost tried to shoot me with this," Arthur said to Eames, gesturing to the .22 caught between waistband.
"Tried to shoot you? How is it I didn't notice this?" Eames asked, frustrated. At the beginning of Arthur's reply, Eames held a finger up. He shoved the Glock away to stuff a napkin into the tied man's mouth, as he had begun opening it to interrupt. Appeased, Eames then scooped the knife off the floor, waving it threateningly in front of the man's face before standing back up fully, returning to the conversation.
At this point, David placed the AK-47 on a nearby table, still walking around. Arthur moved as well, following a few paces behind him distrustfully. Moving into the hallway where the bathroom was located, David slid away the chair Arthur had propped up against the handle. He then swung the door open wide, revealing a bound and very pissed off woman. "Hello, there, sweetheart," David said, snatching back his grip on the door handle in mild surprise.
"And how did I miss that?!" Eames exclaimed, his voice rising higher as he took in the gagged woman.
"You were fighting," Arthur explained reasonably, moving in front of David to drag the woman out. "Let's continue this conversation somewhere else," Arthur said, handing the rifle back to David, while noticing disapprovingly that the safety was off. "I hardly think we can just stroll out, now that your friend, Mr. Eames, broke through the door so inconspicuously."
"Actually," David began, "I think we can do just that, mate." He started moving again, heading farther back into the shop - where Eddie was hiding.
Arthur ignored David's nonsensical comment. He dropped the woman next to her bound partner by the front door, but out of view. Arthur gestured for Eames to follow him in tailing David back to where Eddie was.
"Let me tie her up for transport first, Arthur," Eames said. "I'll meet you back there. As much as it pains me to say it, don't let David kill Eddie. We're in enough of a mess as it is." Arthur nodded his affirmative, already moving towards David's retreating back. Eddie doesn't deserve any worse of a day,Arthur thought, no matter how much I wanted to kill him for that SOS call.
Jogging back, Arthur burst into the cramped stock room behind David. He took in Eddie's raised hands and shaking body in the corner. "You look ready to piss yourself," David remarked, jerking his hand in a movement that commanded Eddie to stand up. "I take it that you're the scared shitless owner that placed the unnecessary SOS call?"
Arthur pushed past David, grabbing one of Eddie's hands. He unceremoniously hauled him to his feet, saying, "Let's go out here, Eddie." Arthur tried to project a sense of safety to the jittery barista, keeping his body between him and David. Eventually, the three of them made their way back into the main room, where the tied man was furiously trying to wrestle free of his knots. The woman, on the other hand, sat wearily, staring dully at the floor as Eames tied her feet together.
Arthur guided Eddie back to one of the bar stools, finding one not saturated with spilled coffee. "What were you saying about being 'undetected'?" Arthur asked David skeptically. David was lounging insouciantly at one of the tables by the shuttered windows, his feet propped up on the wood. He had his gun in his lap, and was polishing a knife from his combat belt absentmindedly with the edge of his shirt.
"Eames and I made a pact years ago, to help each other if the need ever arose," David said, not looking up from his grip on his black shirt. "So, Iacquired, you could say, these radios for us to communicate. But a few months ago, some Asian man approached me saying he was Eames' friend. He knew that we had a deal going on." Eames moved from his spot on the floor to lean against the coffee shop counter, right next to where Arthur stood. "Apparently this bloke owed you something good, Eames, he claimed you did a job for him. But he gave me his business card, and said to call him if I ever found out you needed help."
"Saito," Arthur breathed to Eames.
"So," David continued, slipping his newly polished knife back into his belt. "I called him after receiving the SOS, when I was looking for a cabbie to get me over here, quick. I had barely spit out a few words about the situation before this posh-looking car came screeching to a stop in front of me. He already knew where you were, it seemed, and dropped me off a block from here." Arthur shook his head in amazement at Saito's influence. It seemed the man was inescapable. Although I never imagined he would be keeping tabs on us like that, Arthur thought, puzzled. I didn't think the man cared about anything but the success of his business ventures.
"But how could he get us all out of here without being arrested, David?" Eames asked. "That man never does anything by halves, but I doubt he can magically fly us out of here."
"No," Arthur said, catching on to where David's tale was heading. "But I bet he canbribe enough people to erase security footage, and maybe even afford a decent cleanup crew." David shot an approving sort of frown Arthur's way.
"Not bad," David said, impressed, swinging his black boots to the floor with a clunk. "He said he could take care of the mess, although Eames would owe him, whatever that means." David rose from his seat, placing two hands on the back of his utility belt, stretching out his back. "I'll grab my helmet, and one of you can swing the vehicle around to the back entrance. If any bystander sees anything, I have a license to be an Authorised Firearms Officer. I can say our two friendsare terrorists. As long as no one gets too close, they won't see that it's forged."
"I assumed Saito said he would handle the police, as well?" Arthur asked, walking over to help Eames tie the man's legs, and release him from the beam.
"Something like that," David said, slipping his visored helmet back on. "Do we need to take care of him?" David asked, jerking one gloved hand towards Eddie. "Or can he be paid off?"
Arthur, under no illusions about what 'taken care of' meant, quickly said, "He'll be fine," before Eddie could stutter anything out.
Are you positive we can we trust this guy?" Arthur said quietly to Eames, both of them still bent over the man. "He seems… unpredictable."
"I'm sure," Eames stated quietly, climbing back to his feet. And then, louder, "We're ready, David. I'll get the car. It'll take a few minutes with traffic, so stand by the door and look official," Eames directed. With one last nod at Arthur, Eames then slipped out of the broken front door, keys in hand. David followed behind him, stopping to stand in front of the hole, back to the outside.
Arthur treaded over to swipe Eames' suit jacket off the floor, wincing as he did so. David noticed, glancing over from his place by the entryway. "When were you going to let Eames know that your stitches tore?" He questioned, fingering his rifle.
Arthur's eyebrow rose, and Eddie gasped behind him, obviously noticing for the first time the way Arthur's shirt stuck to his back in reddened clumps. Arthur, unruffled, looked appraisingly at the combat-ready man. He had made the realization only seconds before the comment. "You're more observant than you seem," Arthur said neutrally, slipping the suit jacket on.
"I don't know whether that was a compliment or not, but I'll take it," David replied. "I can see why Eames works with you - he likes the ones with staying power." Arthur chose not to reply, walking back over to the bar stools.
"I'm sure our friend will be over soon to clean all of this up," Arthur began to Eddie, gesturing towards the mess that the café had become. "But we're taking you at your word that you won't mention any of this. We really can't have this getting out." Eddie began to nod frantically in agreement. "And if it does - " Here Arthur paused, his tone turning more professional, steely. " – you really don't want to see me again."
"I – I understand, Arthur." Eddie was still in shock, but managed to speak.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder lightly, now hyper aware of the strain in his shoulders. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have met in separate circumstances," Arthur said truthfully, slipping away from Eddie. "I need to go into the bathroom for a minute," Arthur called to David. "Try not to kill any civilians while I'm gone."
Arthur walked over to the stock room collecting the things he needed before heading into the toilets, flicking the light on. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu crashed over Arthur. He sighed, shrugging out of his jacket. Peeling off the white dress shirt, Arthur noted the way the sleeve clung to his left arm, the fabric still damp with brown coffee stains. His skin was still overly pink and tender underneath, evidence of a first-degree burn.
Not bothering to catalog the extent of the damage re-inflicted to his back, Arthur slapped a white pad over the wound, before winding gauze around it. Good for now, he thought, and reluctantly buttoned up his dirty shirt before slipping back on the suit jacket.
Going back into the hallway, Arthur saw that David had dragged both captives to the back of the shop, near the rear door. "Eames should be here any minute," David said, as though Arthur had never left the vicinity.
"I'll go check," Arthur volunteered. He went to the rear door and pushed it open, surprised at how heavy the plain grey metal was.
Arthur poked his head outside, gazing around. Behind the café was an alley that ran the entire block of shops, with dumpsters and trash bags scattered around the wet ground. The backs of the buildings were plain, except for the occasional fire escape. No windows were apparent, oddly enough. Arthur judged that there was definitely enough space to drive the Land Rover through. Satisfied, Arthur was about to swing his head back in, but noticed something black protruding from the adjacent rooftop. Squinting, Arthur tilted his head up to better assess the mysterious cylindrical object. He barely managed to jerk his body back in reflex when heard the telltale pop. "Shit!" Arthur said, the door banging shut in front of him.
"Was that gunfire?" David asked, springing forward, AK-47 in hand.
"Yes," said Arthur, surprisingly calm for someone who had just come this close to being shot. Again."Our captives apparently have some friends left over, one being a sniper on the rooftop."
"This man really wants you dead, yeah?" David asked rhetorically, moving next to the captives. "Let's just ask - "
"What?" Arthur asked, coming over to join him. He stopped as soon as he saw the reason for the interruption.
The men stood in silence side by side, Arthur in his weathered suit and David in his combat gear, staring down at their male captive. He was slumped against the wall. The bullet meant for Arthur had barreled farther into the shop after missing its intended target, only to be blocked by another obstacle – their hostage. Who was now bleeding out onto the tiled floor.