I'LL BE RIGHT HERE
Chapter Forty One
"There is no courage without fear."
(From: 'Mulan'.)
-x0x-
Now…
"Mr. Meek, I heard you were a clever man. But – pardon me for being blunt – you really haven't thought this through at all, have you?"
As an opening statement, it was something of a gamble. Knowing the chief as he did, Shawn could make out the tremor behind her words but she held her nerve, claiming everyone's attention (in the way that she always did) with her ought-to-be-patented blend of sarcasm and authority. The pressure of the muzzle against Shawn's forehead eased a little and, for that, he was so very thankful. Death, interrupted, he thought. Clenching his good fist, he willed her on.
"A gambler doesn't throw away a valuable chip just because he's feeling peeved. And you are a gambler, aren't you, Mr. Meek?"
"Valuable? Seriously?" Meek gave Shawn a disparaging look. "I appreciate a solid metaphor as much as the next man - not you, Mr. Spencer - but please! Don't embarrass yourself by overplaying your hand, Miss…? Sorry; I don't believe I know you. Though you seem quite familiar with my name. I should probably take that as a compliment."
"No," said Vick. "You shouldn't."
Shawn held back a snort. Normally, he liked to be the one who did all the talking but, after everything he had been through, it was strangely reassuring to have someone else tag themselves in for a while. He only hoped the chief wasn't putting herself in too much danger, just to save his own sorry ass. Blithely, he ignored the fact that he had done exactly the same thing, moments ago, to protect his father.
Sharing is caring, he thought, and opened his mouth, ignoring Henry's efforts to send a warning frown in his direction.
"Edgar Meek, meet Karen Vick. Chief Vick. Chief Karen Charles…"
"Mr. Spencer!"
However did she manage to convey so much with only a single flash of her dark brown eyes? He liked to think that one of those emotions was a fondness for a certain psychic and his irreverent sense of humour. Of course, that could be wishful thinking. She did seem pretty mad… "Just trying to ease the tension," he mumbled with a rueful, sideways twitch of his head.
That was a lie, of course. He had cast out a line – and now Meek took the bait.
"Chief? Of police?"
"That's right," said Karen stiffly. "I guess the pot is larger than you thought."
"And you're the valuable chip, not Spencer," Meek surmised.
Shawn let out a tiny sigh of relief. That ought to do it, he reassured himself. The chief had saved his life. The least he could do was return the favour, whether or not she understood that his 'slip of the tongue' had actually been intentional.
"No," Vick replied, in the meantime. "I'm the one who can help you finish the game without staking your life on the outcome. You and your partner." Shifting her attention to Sidekick Number One, she raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "Any takers?"
"Boss?" said the big man urgently. For once, he looked nervous. "What are you thinking?"
"Honestly? I'm beginning to wish I brought Gorman along this time instead of you. At least I'd have someone with half a brain to back me up. Turns out, muscle is overrated. We've still got the upper hand, you giant amoeba. The chief here is bluffing, and badly." He co-opted Vick's own metaphor with a proprietary smile that was far too smug for Shawn's liking. "I don't know – maybe she has the hots for our 'psychic' friend. Is that right, woman? Are your standards really that low?"
Vick flushed with indignation but it was Shawn who lost his head completely, much to his own surprise and that of everyone around him. It was a gut reaction, fierce and irrational, fuelled by all of the pain and fear that he had experienced at the hands of this sickening, soulless monster.
"Don't you talk to her that way," he growled.
"Shawn," said Vick softly. "There's no need. I can fight my own battles."
He shook his head vehemently. "This one is mine." And he surged upwards, ramming his head into Meek's gut with all the force that he could muster, hoping to drive him over the rail and off the boat, and out of his sight for good. Beyond that, he had no real plan. As usual, that was the flaw in his process. Well, that and Meek's hand-to-hand combat experience, which he could have anticipated if he had taken even a millisecond to think before he acted.
"Shawn!" cried Gus and his father in unison, as Meek brought his fists together around the handle of his gun, and slammed them down on Shawn's back with all the force of Thor's mighty hammer – or so it felt from Shawn's perspective.
He collapsed on the deck, still clinging to the blanket and the last remaining shreds of his dignity. Bruises front and back clamoured for his attention but he ignored them like the stubborn fool he was and tried to summon up one final burst of vengeful energy from somewhere… anywhere…
"Know what I think? I think you want me to kill you." The devil bent down beside him and whispered in his ear. "End this miserable little life of yours. What good is it anyway? Even your father's ashamed of you – look!"
"At least… my hair is… awesome. Which is more than I can say… for you," Shawn panted. Reaching out with both hands, in spite of the pain it caused him, he grabbed hold of those hideous, overgrown sideburns and yanked them, hard. It wasn't a classic move – Mr. Miyagi would have waxed on about it in disgust – but it felt pretty good all the same. Meek squealed like a real-life rodent and that was a glorious sound. Shawn held on for all of two minutes before his opponent broke his grip. There was an ominous tearing sensation, and hair between his fingers when they came away at last. The glee he felt at seeing two red patches on Meek's ugly chipmunk face was like a drunken wave of happiness. Casually, he opened his fists and blew the hair into the wind.
His triumph was short-lived as Meek retaliated swiftly, boxing his ears like a tyrant. The man's self-control was slipping badly and the monster that dwelt inside him was beginning to make itself known on the outside, twisting his features into a cruel mask.
Shawn rolled over and clutched his head, trying to shake loose the discordant bells that seemed to have taken up residence there.
Henry lunged towards his son but Chief Vick and Gus held onto him, for which Shawn was inordinately grateful. Sidekick Number One was beginning to wave his gun back and forth, turning one potential target into many in a desperate attempt to maintain control of the situation.
"Shawn," Gus urged his friend. His voice was distant, muffled by the bells, but Shawn managed to read his lips. "Enough, okay? Let the chief handle it." You can't take much more of this, said his horrified expression, and Shawn was inclined to agree. The anger that had urged him on revealed itself as faithless and deserted him, leaving him worn out and broken; a wreck of a man. (A man with a group of amateur bell-ringers freestyling in his head.) His ears were burning, he could not bring himself to look at his broken finger, and his cold was making him feel a special kind of all-over wretched but the pain that worried him most of all was the dull ache in his stomach, which had been aggravated by his recent fall. Hanging around with a pharmaceutical rep could be counter-productive sometimes, when you picked up phrases like 'spleen' or 'internal bleeding' without really knowing what they meant. I could ask, he reasoned – Gus was right there, after all – but now didn't feel like a good time. Why draw attention to fears that were probably groundless?
Get a grip, he argued with himself. Stop being a hyper… hippo… hypochondriac.
It was hard to believe how happy he had been just yesterday, and how carelessly he had taken that happiness for granted. Right now, he'd be lucky if he could clamber to his feet, let alone jog along a golden beach with Juliet.
His eyes strayed upwards to the dark, forbidding hull of the Copernicus (had he honestly fallen that far?) – but Meek stepped in the way like a looming shadow, and there was the stupid gun again.
"Really, dude?" Shawn grumbled. "You're like a dog with a bone… No, scratch that." He shook his head clumsily. "Insult to good dogs everywhere…"
Meek shrugged, and there was menace in the simple action. He chose to ignore Shawn's rambling statement, offering one of his own instead. "Smitten or not, your chief made a good point. I'd be foolish to throw away a hostage on a whim. Talk about shooting myself in the foot." His aim shifted, and Shawn's heart fluttered in panic. "You know what that feels like, right? Oh, you don't? Well, let me show you."
"No!" Shawn squealed, trying to curl up into a ball and protect his extremities at all costs. Then a voice chimed in, but to his surprise, it was not Vick or Henry, or even Gus who saved him this time. The person who spoke up was Sidekick Number One and he sounded almost as desperate as Shawn.
"Boss! Hold onto your bullet. They're here already."
They who? Shawn's heart leapt, but Sidekick Number One was looking out to sea, not up at the gangway.
"So what?" Meek snapped.
"So you said we'd be long gone before those other boats arrived." A note of bitterness crept into the big man's voice, snuggling up to his fear and making friends. Swapping stories. Plotting mutiny… "I guess you were wrong."
"Now you're getting it," Henry urged him. No doubt about it, Sidekick Number One was the weak link; the soft and squishy underbelly crying out for a well-timed arrow. "You can't trust this man to protect you. Start thinking about your own survival."
As the sound of several throbbing motors filled the air, and the waves around (and underneath) the coastguard boat grew even more erratic, Meek stared at his hostages and, for the first time, Shawn saw genuine panic in his eyes. All of his grand plans had crumbled away to nothing and now the great and powerful Edgar Meek was reduced, like the rest of them, to winging it. If Shawn had been less… damaged, maybe the two of them would have been evenly matched at last. But there was still the small matter of Meek's temper, and his itchy trigger finger.
The cavalry were here, but the battle kept on raging.
Time to see who held the winning hand.
Time for the dog with the bone to bark up the wrong tree…?
Too many metaphors, Shawn sighed, feeling his jubilation fade with every uncomfortable beat of his heart. Just keep it simple for once.
Time to end this.