Chapter 12: Dream A Little Bigger
The act of observing - a tic, a trigger. It was an old habit from his time in the military. Or maybe from being a point man for so long. He didn't really know. He observed everything, and it saved his life on many occasion, this being one of them. If he hadn't paid attention today, Arthur would be the one bleeding out onto the cold floor.
"Well, fuck me in the arse." In just one sentence, David summed up how Arthur felt about their current situation.
They stared at the ragged hole marring the front of the nameless man's shirt. The fabric was quickly becoming saturated, turning ominously dark with blood. Arthur was the first to react, lurching away suddenly, trying to find something with which he could put pressure on the wound. Jogging back with an apron in hand, Arthur watched David swiftly cut off the man's shirt with his newly polished knife.
As soon as the cloth was completely removed, Arthur knelt down. He paused with the apron in hand, not yet applying pressure. "That's tough luck, mate," David remarked. Arthur was inclined to agree with him. The bullet had penetrated a little off the middle of the man's torso, near his left pectoral. And unlike Arthur's injury, which had been situated high enough for repair; this man's wound was deeper – centimeters from his heart.
"He's going to be dead before we get into the car," Arthur said, disappointed. He stood back up, apron forgotten on the ground. Even Arthur, who understood just how important this man could be to the operation, knew a lost cause when he saw one. "We'll leave him here," Arthur decided, moving away from the man. Out of courtesy, he dragged the woman out from behind the other captive. Arthur might be cold, but he wasn't oblivious. He wouldn't fancy being bled on by a mortally wounded comrade.
"How important is this man to your operation?" Arthur demanded, ripping the gag out of the woman's mouth. He needed to know fast - they could theoretically bring the man and pretend to have him alive. If he was important, that is.
The woman coughed violently once the cloth was torn from her mouth. She continued to hack for a few more seconds, choking on her suddenly unobstructed airway. David shifted impatiently next to Arthur, obviously thinking about the threat waiting just on the other side of the metal door. "Well?" David commanded, nudging her with his AK-47. "Tell us what you know!"
"Geeve me a second, alvight?" She protested. Finally, her body stopped shaking. "I've already told vou, I haf nothing to tell you. I'm not vith dis man," the woman spat, jerking her head towards the other bleeding captive. "I am Hans' vife and I can tell you - " Arthur had heard enough. He didn't have time for this, for people to try to manipulate his emotions by bringing his dead coworker into this.
Bending down once more, Arthur roughly stuffed the gag back into the woman's mouth. He stood still next to David, quickly brainstorming options in his head. Nothing was looking good.Alright. Breathe. If I was in the car, how would Eames plan to get my attention?
"Alright, you know London better than me," Arthur said to David, ignoring the woman's muffled protests through her gag. "How long would it take Eames to maneuver down the street, up the main route, and loop back into this alley?"
"Well," David began. "It's a right pain to get through these narrow touristy roads on a weekend like this, and this street is right near that art gallery. You know the one, that place all of the pretentious blokes go to in their spare time?" Arthur stared at him in silence, urging him to get to the point. David, continued, unhurried, "Maybe fifteen minutes? Twenty, about, if South Street has all of those damn hawkers - which I assume they do, seeing as how it's prime time for the tourists."
Arthur tried to calculate how much time they'd wasted already, just standing here. "Hypothetically, if one of us tried to catch up with him, do you think we could stop Eames before he drives into the alley? Which is a one-way death trap, considering the sniper."
"I don't see how your car could go faster than his in this traffic," David answered, puzzled. "On top of that, mate, you'd have to be mental to leave this shop after all this racket we've made."
Arthur was already moving by the time David finished, taking out the detonation remote from his pants pocket. He slipped it into the front pocket of his suit jacket. "We need to get to the front of the shop," Arthur said abruptly, motioning for David to bring the woman."Let's go." Without waiting to see if David was following, Arthur turned and walked away.
Eddie was bent over cleaning the counter as Arthur came back into the front of the shop. He looked up in surprise at Arthur's return. "I thought you were leaving, Ar - "
"Not now Eddie," Arthur said, cutting him off brusquely. "Do you have alcohol in here? Some extra oil for the burners, maybe?"
Eddie stared at Arthur for a moment, nonplussed.
"I have extra petrol in case I ever needed it," Eddie replied slowly, after a moment. His gaze shifted over Arthur's shoulder as David came back in, dragging the woman with him. "Is there something wrong? Where's the other bloke your boyfriend tied up?" Arthur didn't bother correcting Eddie about his 'boyfriend'. He was too focused on the mention of petrol.
What is Eames to me, anyways? I definitely can't call him just a colleague anymore… he saw me in my boxer briefs. Ugh. Focus.
"Where's the petrol, Eddie?" Arthur demanded.
"Right in the stockroom, by the door. Why - " But Arthur was already gone, striding into the back. Thirteen minutes left to get Eames' attention - at most.He ducked into the other part of building, sidestepping the expanding pool that was forming around the slumped man on the floor.
Scooping up the canister from the edge of the stock room, Arthur jogged back to the front of the store. Spying a small refrigerator, Arthur swung open the door, taking two glasses of Coca-Cola out. Twisting both caps off, he impatiently turned the drinks upside down. The fizzy liquid splashed out onto the floor. "What are you - " Eddie began again, but this time was shushed by David, who was watching Arthur with keen contemplation.
Arthur placed the now-empty bottles onto one of the few café table left undamaged. He could feel three sets of eyes on him as he left once more, knocking open the door to the toilets.
Now, where's that handgun Eames mentioned?Arthur felt the edges of the mirror, his fingers skating over the cool walls. One of his nails caught on something near the bottom, and he stopped, his healing left hand closing around a familiar grip. Tugging, his searches revealed the hidden silenced firearm. I'm glad Eames apparently has some foresight.
Arthur had accidentally opened the hinged back of the mirror while removing the handgun. A label caught Arthur's eye. Finally, some luck. Arthur snatched the bottle labeled 'Rubbing Alcohol' off the shelf, leaving the mirror open as he paced back into the main room.
"Here," Arthur called mid-stride, tossing the firearm into the air. David caught the weapon out of its smooth arc, twirling it experimentally while examining the silencer.
"Thanks, mate," David said, slinging his AK-47 over his shoulder once more.
Twelve minutes, Arthur thought, edgy. He opened the can of petrol, pouring some into the Coca-Cola glasses. Stopping when the bottles were three quarters full, Arthur came over next to Eddie, snatching his apron from off the counter. "I'll repay this too," Arthur said apologetically over his shoulder, gesturing impatiently for David's knife. Distractedly, David handed the weapon over, preoccupied by his new handgun.
Arthur made quick work of tearing the apron into shreds, stuffing the pieces into the necks of the bottles. Satisfied with his handiwork, Arthur poured rest of the rubbing alcohol onto the strips. He handed the knife hilt-first back to David, reaching into Eames' suit jacket. Arthur felt the outline of a lighter, in the same place where he had felt it earlier. Eames, if I survive this, I might actually admit to you that you're not as dumb as I thought.
"This is how it's going to go," Arthur began, spinning to face David."I expect a few people waiting outside for us, friendly or not - on foot, in vehicles, you name it. I assume they let Eames go because he's not the man they're after – which is me, that is. Or maybe they did catch him and he's being tortured in the back of a car right now.
"I hope not. Regardless, when I go out the front door -" here Eddie made a noise of complaint, and David uttered a grunt of disapproval, "– there are going to be people after me. Hopefully not going for kidnapping, not murder, but we don't know. That's why we're going to distract them." Arthur reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the remote. He nodded towards David. "You're going to cover me as I go out the front. Knowing Colin, he paid top dollar for a man on top of the building.
"I saw a motorcycle parked next to this shop as we came in, and the glare at the bottom of those curtains -" Arthur jerked his jaw towards the blinds on his right, "– suggests it's still there. It's going to take time to hot wire it. So to buy that time and make a distraction, and hopefully signal Eames to circle the block - " Arthur held up the blast remote, his finger hovering over 'BACK DOORWAY', " - we're blowing up the café."
Eddie slumped to the floor, head in his hands.
David grinned. "You're bloody mental, mate."
"No," said Arthur, snatching up the two bottles in one hand. "I was once told by someone that I need to dream a little bigger." Time to ignite some Molotov cocktails."I'm just following their advice."
Eleven minutes.
That's all Arthur estimated he had before Eames would arrive at the alley behind the shop. If Eames went back there, he would be dead, killed by the sniper. And if Eames died, as far as Arthur was concerned, that meant they were all screwed too. Not to mention I would feel guilty for dragging him into all of this… Please notice something's wrong, Eames.
Feeling the time slipping away, Arthur quickly explained his plan to David. Eddie listened in the background, messy counter forgotten.
Against Arthur's original plan, Eddie piped up, volunteering to go outside first. He claimed that he would be less inconspicuous than David going to scout - and while Arthur couldn't disagree with that, he harbored doubts about the safety of that plan. Jansen's men would hurt anyone to get to Arthur.
Arthur told Eddie as much. Against Arthur's hopes, it just seemed to rile the blond-haired man up even more.
"You've gotten me into this whole mess, Arthur," Eddie argued, running his hand through his undercut agitatedly. "I'm stuck. And while I'm not a huge fan of the company you keep, I'm still convinced that you're an alright sort of bloke." Eddie stepped closer to Arthur, who was not persuaded. "If I can use the excuse of taking out the rubbish to look for snipers, I want to bloody do it." Eddie crossed his arms defensively in front of him, point made. Arthur back gave a sympathetic twinge of pain looking at the motion.
Nothing good ever happens when we stray from the plan."Fine." Arthur snapped. "We don't have the time to argue. Here, Eddie." Arthur shoved the trash bin at him from behind the counter, as well as a comms unit he had found in Eames' jacket. Arthur had the matching one in his ear. The situation felt eerily similar to the CurrencyCorp job to Arthur - except nothing like it at all. I'm trusting an unarmed, untrained, ignorant civilian with espionage tech, in front of assassins no less. If only Eames could see me now.
"Time to go outside," Arthur said briskly. "David, at my signal, get on the roof. I'll be climbing out the side window now, and you'll follow after me."
And that was it.
Broken bits of glass tinkling, Eddie was whistling a surprisingly cheerful tune as he ducked out the destroyed front door. By the time both of his legs had reached through the other side of the hole, no living person was left in his café.
Arthur and David had already dragged themselves out a window at the back of the stock room, previously covered by boxes of styrofoam cups. David levered their captive out after them, cutting the bonds off her legs and hands. He looked at her. "Any funny business and I strangle you with Arthur's tie," David muttered. "Good luck mate," he whispered, turning to Arthur, clapping a hand onto his shoulder. Arthur flinched in pain. "Sorry," David hissed, retracting his hand quickly. With a final wave, David began his ascent of the fire escape, handgun pointed at the woman in front of him. Arthur rubbed his shoulder as he watched them leave.
As soon as David began the climb, Arthur started counting in his head. 1,2,3,4…it would take them another two minutes to get on the roof and toward the front - far enough to be out of the blast zone. 8 minutes until Eames reaches the alley.Arthur was quickly running out of time. 24, 25, 26…
"'Ello. Wh-what am I doing? Carrying the rubbish out, that's all." Arthur jumped a little as Eddie's voice suddenly sounded in his ear, too loud and very nervous. Shit. Who's talking to Eddie now?
Arthur inched forward in the narrow alley that bracketed Eddie's café and a bookstore. Arthur could faintly hear another voice in his earpiece, too far away from Eddie's microphone to be decipherable. "There was a break in this morning," Eddie was saying. "No, the perpetrators left before I could do anything. They were fighting over - "
And that was when Arthur pressed the button.
The horrendously loud sound of shattering brick, mortar and glass penetrated the normal atmosphere of the London side street. The explosion's blast flung Arthur's body forward like he was made of paper. He landed hard on his chest and knees, arms flung out in front of him to preserve the petrol-filled bottles. Arthur's ears were ringing, his head pounding. He rose unsteadily to his feet, clumps of cement falling off the back his suit jacket. Creeping forward to the edge of the alley, Arthur could distantly hear cars beginning to honk. I hope Eames noticed that. Nearing the edge of the buildings, Arthur paused to spit some blood that had pooled in his mouth, an aftereffect of biting his tongue during the explosion. His only link to Eddie, the comms unit, had been ripped off his ear. It lay in the debris underneath Arthur's feet, cracked, broken - useless.
I hope everyone's in position, Arthur thought. He pulled out his gun, keeping it concealed under the tattered suit jacket. And then stepped out into the sunlight.
It was chaos.
At the very least, chaos for London.
Cars were stopped everywhere, passengers and drivers alike searching for the source of the explosion from the interior of their vehicles.
Standing at the lip of the alley, Arthur quickly noticed three things.
First, that Eddie was lingering by the trash on the other side of his shop- but not by choice. An intimidating man in an ill-fitting black suit was physically caging him in.
Second, Arthur could see the gawkers pointing up at Eddie's roof, presumably at someone. By their expressions, Arthur's guess was that it was David, looking official and menacing in his combat gear. Well, I can only hope.
And, lastly, that Arthur could see other people, dressed in similar black professional clothing. He picked out at least five people looking a tad too alert, scanning their surroundings intensely as they walked along the shops. No one had seen Arthur yet - but it was only a matter of time.
Alright, Eddie. You just need to distract him a little longer. David will bail you out… hopefully.
Arthur switched his gaze back to the curb in front of him, where, just as he predicted, a motorcycle was still parked. It gleamed an obnoxiously bright in the afternoon light.
Arthur strode fully out of the alley, keeping his head down, posture unassuming, even with the two Molotov cocktails swinging in one hand, the other cradling his gun inside his jacket. Miraculously, Arthur made it over to the red bike without any unwanted attention. He swung his leg over the leather seat, feeling tightness in the back of his shirt, the motion pulling at dried blood.
Slipping his hand off his gun, Arthur leaned forward to look at the motorcycle in front of him. He pried off the ignition cover, glancing up as he did so. The man talking to Eddie was suitably occupied, but one of the other men in black suits was making a pass back toward Arthur. Shit.
Rapidly separating two red wires from the rest, Arthur disconnected the cables. Careful not to touch the ends of the bare wire, Arthur stripped them with a lockpick from his jacket. The man walking was seconds away. Locating the brown starter wire, Arthur felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. He stripped it in the same manner as the other two. Glancing up once more, Arthur saw the second man stop next to the first, interrogating Eddie.
Eddie, to his credit, kept a poker face as he spied Arthur over his shoulder. He motioned broadly back to his shop, drawing the men in.
A muffled crack sounded from roof, followed by a louder pop. The two men looked away from Eddie, their heads snapping up, but Arthur did the opposite, focusing more intensely on his task. That must be David - shooting at someone with the silenced gun.
Wires completely bare, Arthur took the lighter out of his pocket. Here we go.Striking the wires together, a spark flew off, followed by the roar of the motorcycle's engine as it came to life. Arthur revved the engine, keeping it going.
At the sound of the gunshots, the men had completely disregarded Eddie, looking for a way to scale the building. They jumped at the sound of the motorcycle's engine. "Fuck!" Arthur read one of their lips over the noise of the engine. "There he is!"
I'm going to die,Arthur thought suddenly. They're professionals - they're not going to miss at this distance.Arthur moved his lighter under the cloth of one of the two bottles, but knew in his gut that he wouldn't be able to ignite them before he was shot.
Just as he was about to flick the lighter, accepting death, Eddie suddenly sprinted at the men, tackling from behind their unsuspecting forms. "GET AWAY, EDDIE!" Arthur shouted over the roar of the engine, his bottle aflame. Eddie barely managed to roll away from the scrambling men before the bottle left Arthur's hand, exploding on impact. Arthur didn't stick around to watch the cocktail hit its targets, gunning around a stationary Volvo.
The occupants, who had stopped to gape at the previous explosion, screamed as the Molotov cocktail hit, engulfing the men in a blazing inferno.
Arthur punched the gas once more, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic as the remaining bunch of Jansen's men yelled to each other. Another person, this time a man holding a Glock, fell to the ground as a shot echoed from the roof. A man took aim at Arthur, the barrel of his gun aimed for his chest. Arthur weaved, and the bullet narrowly missed his thigh, embedding itself into the metal frame of the bike. Please don't hit the gas tank,Arthur thought feverently. I think I'd rather get shot again then die in an explosion.
He kept his body as flat as he could, trying to become a harder target for the marksmen. More gunshots sounded from above. Hopefully that's David and not someone else.Arthur guided the motorcycle across the lane of oncoming traffic, and jumped it onto the opposite sidewalk, sparks flying.
A pingsounded next to Arthur as a bullet ricocheted off a metal post next to him. He looked back, and saw the woman in black who had fired the shot. Still driving on the pavement, Arthur turned backwards on the bike, safety be damned. The woman fired again, blowing off a piece of the handlebar, centimeters from where Arthur's hand rested. Arthur aimed back at her and squeezed the trigger. The woman stumbled backwards as the bullet clipped her side.
Whipping back around, Arthur corrected his steering, narrowly avoiding a shrieking pedestrian in the process. He had reached the end of the sidewalk, bouncing off the curb and back into traffic. Cars honked angrily as Arthur accelerated once more. A gunshot sounded from behind him, close once again, and Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see a black vehicle four cars behind him, the passenger aiming a handgun out the window. Great. Arthur turned around to lose the car, and realized that the road was huge, spanning three lanes. Gridlock was everywhere.
Bracketing the traffic was a throng of vendors and tourists alike, the noise of humanity overpowering. Arthur cut across two lanes, and then past a cab. The driver laid on his horn. I'm never going to find Eames like this.Arthur zigzagged ahead through as many vehicles as he could, clipping someone's side mirror in the process. A policeman blew his whistle from his place at the next traffic light, running towards Arthur.
The light was changing, but Arthur carved around the corner anyway, the sleek bike tipping near horizontal to the ground. Making a quick decision, Arthur shouted a warning as he revved the bike back over the curb. He came to a screeching halt, startling a family of American tourists. "What the hell are you doing?!" the man in a baseball cap screamed.
Arthur unholstered his gun to check for his tail, and the man backed up, pulling at the back of the boy's shirt in front of him.
"Have the bike," Arthur offered graciously, throwing the motorcycle to the ground. He pushed past the frozen family, unlit Molotov cocktail in his other hand.
Thrusting himself into the crowd of people in front of him, Arthur twisted in between pedestrians, straining for a glimpse of the black car that had been tailing him.
He seemed to be alone.
Arthur had set up a rendezvous point a few streets away for David. He hoped the man managed to get out with their captive, and that the surviving hired guns either went after Arthur or were killed. There can't be an infinite number of them... right?
Walking up to another curb, Arthur realized he was parallel to the alley behind Eddie's shop. It was on his right, and as far as he could tell, unoccupied. The sniper was nowhere to be found on the roof. Now where's Eames?Arthur twisted around, scanning the sea of traffic. A horn blared to his left, and Arthur instinctively raised his gun.
A pair of elderly women gasped in front of Arthur, scuttling backwards. One of them dropped her handbag in surprise.
"Darling? What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Eames was leaning out the window, sporting his trademark smirk. His expression slipped as he spotted Arthur's gun. Arthur pushed past more tourists, watching them frantically dial 999. Great, now the police will be after us as well.
Arthur slid in next to the Eames, shutting the door behind him. "We need to go, now," he said. "Do you have more bullets?"
"In the glove box," Eames said, shifting the car into gear. "I parked over here after I saw the explosion in the alley. I had my suspicions, and they were confirmed when a man hurried out of there, carrying a rifle." At Arthur's look, Eames continued, "No, Arthur, I didn't get to question him. He ran like a bat out of hell. I assume you have a tail?"
"A black BMW, I think. I lost them minutes ago on a motorcycle, and the police are going to swarm this place any minute, Saito's influence aside. We need to get to the rendezvous point, find David."
"Alright," Eames said, executing a sloppy U-turn. "We'll take the back way. Jansen may be a rich little wanker, but he doesn't know this city like I do."
Arthur had to admit, he and Eames made a good team. En route to the rendezvous point, the black BMW managed to find them again. Eames cursed, because it meant they would have to ditch the Land Rover. Looking over at Arthur, he said simply, "Let's give them hell." Arthur rolled into the backseat, bringing the AR-15 out of its duffel bag. He handed Eames the last Molotov cocktail, along with Eames' jacket, directing him to the lighter. "You've been busy while I was gone, love," Eames remarked. Arthur ducked as a bullet shattered the back window. Glass fragments rained over his body, coating his injured back. Fantastic.
Eames grunted unhappily. "Ready, darling?" He eased up on the gas, coasting next to the other car.
Arthur was ready. Not wasting a second, he pulled the trigger, shattering his own window, and then the windows of the other vehicle. The gun continued to rapid fire, and Arthur ducked under the sill as he heard bullets fly back in response. Soon, it was quiet, and Eames accelerated once more. Metal crunched loudly into a building behind them.
"You're unhurt?" Arthur asked Eames, shoving the automatic rifle back into the bag. Glass clattered everywhere around him, littering the back of the car. Arthur shuddered to think of what the exterior of the Land Rover looked like. Riddled with bullet holes, probably.
"As always, darling," Eames said in response. "I am a little pissed I didn't get to use - " Eames cut off as Arthur was sliding back into the front seat. Eames stopped him, a hand on his back. Arthur flinched away involuntarily. "When did this happen?" Eames asked severely, motioning angrily towards Arthur's bloody back, evidence of his torn stitches.
"We need to leave this car," Arthur said in response, beginning to wipe fingerprints off the dashboard with the suit jacket. "Otherwise the MI6 will find my other identity for the U.K."
Eames sighed, pulling the car over to the side of the street. "We're talking about this. But right now, I'm going to use this Molotov to blow up my auto."
Idling by the pavement in a stolen Ford Fiesta, Arthur fidgeted next to Eames as they waited at the rendezvous point. Eames, being the petty friend that he was, was giving Arthur the silent treatment. He was annoyed that Arthur hadn't mentioned the resurfaced injury earlier.
Looking tattered and tired, David finally stepped out of the shadows, the dark-skinned woman walking next to him. She stepped into the back of the vehicle first, quickly followed by David, who let out a huge sigh as he slid into the interior.
Eames barely waited until David had most of his body inside, peeling away from the pavement. "Where are her bonds?" Eames snapped unhappily, staring into the rear view mirror. "Last time I checked, David, we usually hold our prisoners at gunpoint."
David was taking off his bulletproof vest, almost elbowing the woman across the head in the process. "Who got your knickers in a twist, mate? Cut me a break. She's fine."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked in a much different tone, tuning in to the conversation. He had been drifting off again, the discomfort from his ripped stitches suddenly acute.
"Look." David reached forward, shoving a piece of crumpled parchment into Arthur's lap. "She gave this to me earlier - right, Andrea?" The woman nodded once, her curls a mess, looking exhausted. Some soot and other debris had made its way onto her light-colored coat, turning it grey.
Eames looked over at the note in Arthur's lap. "Open it, then," he said to Arthur, jerking the Fiesta around a turn with more force than strictly warranted.
Arthur steadied himself against the window, slowly unfolding the paper, his fingers clumsy. To his surprise, he recognized the barely legible letters as Hans' looping handwriting, or at least a good forgery of it. Blinking to focus his tired eyes, Arthur tried to decipher the script.
Arthur,
Hallo, mein Freund. If you are reading this, I am dead. Or missing. Ikenneknow you are a smart man, and you will not believe without proof. But it is hard to talk to you from thedasgrave. But, be satisfied, Andrea is my wife and I give her this note for you. I am not one to be wasting with words. Listen to her. Don't shoot Andrea, Arthur, or I will find you.
You were best point man I ever worked with. A good man, as well.
Paulaner
Hans
