Taking one final step back, Face hopes this all works out in reality like does in his head. The entire team's lives hang in the balance of this ill conceived plan. He calls out, "All right." Slowly beginning to lower the pistol. He can't let the triumphant smile on Johnston's face pass without comment though. "Rot in hell Tommy." A final murmured prayer of "God forgive me," passes his lips before the room explodes with gunfire.
It'd been thirteen years since he'd deliberately aimed at someone, but the lessons the army taught were still very much ingrained no matter how much Hannibal had tried to teach him otherwise. Face briefly wondered which aspect was truly dominant, cold killer or humanitarian vigilante, but realized he didn't have time for such an existential question. Maybe he could ask Murdock later. Then again is that something one really wants to examine?
His eyes never followed the two shots he fired from the 9mm, knowing instinctively that his aim was true. Instead he concentrated on ducking and rolling forward, bringing up the Uzi that had been uselessly pointing at the floor in his left hand. He heard the roar of the shotgun blast, felt the fire as some of the pellets dug into his shoulder and left arm. But ignored the pain as he brought the uzi back across his body to aim at Omar. It was a race to see who could aim and shoot first. Unfortunately for Omar he was a split second slow and Face fired a burst up and across the young Mexican's body. He jerked back from the impact unable to get the second shot off.
Breathing heavily, his body still pumping adrenaline, Face popped back up looking back and forth between the two men. Seeing no movement from Johnston, Peck stepped forward to kick the shotgun out of Omar's hand. Lifeless brown eyes stared back, forever frozen in shock and pain. Shaking his head Face turned back to Johnston, blood flowing from the two holes in his chest. "God damn you Tommy. What a fucking waste."
Holstering the pistol, Face moved toward Smith. "Hannibal can you hear me?" There was still no response as the conman untied the restraints. A steady, if accelerated, pulse beat in the jugular vein on John's neck. Knowing that Hannibal needed medical attention and that there was nothing else he could do here, Face turned him over, sliding him off the table and onto his right shoulder in a modified fireman's carry. Grabbing Hannibal's shirt and jacket from a nearby chair Face scanned the room for anything else incriminating. Seeing nothing besides the obvious, he moved for the stairs.
Walking up the stairs, reaching for the walkie talkie in his pocket and holding onto the uzi all at the same time proved to be a challenge, but he managed. Before stepping into the kitchen Face paused to assess the situation.
"BA you out there? Have you got everything under control?"
"Yeah man, the fool and I took care of the guards. Theys' tied up. What's going on? How's Hannibal? Thought I heard a shotgun."
"Hannibal's a little beaten up and unconscious. I've got him but can you bring the van down to the front door?" He asked, entering the kitchen.
"I left the fool to keep watch. I'm on my way now in my van. Been waiting on your signal."
Pleased that at least something had gone right. "Good, Murdock you out front?"
"Yeah muchacho, you alright Facey?"
"I'm fine." He lied, grateful that Murdock couldn't see him right then, walking out the front door as the van slid to a stop in front of the house. Murdock opened the backdoor, helping Face gently lay Hannibal down. The older pilot whimpered at the bruises he could see in the dim light.
BA came around and growled at Hannibal's condition, but his rant was cut off as Face began barking out instructions.
"Murdock, can you ride in the back and fix him up as much as possible on the way to Maggie's house? BA, I need you to call her and tell her you're on your way. I'm gonna stay here and tie up all these loose ends."
Worried about leaving Face behind all by himself. "You sure you don't want me to stay with you Facey?" Murdock asked.
Lying smoothly just like any other con, "I'm positive. I'll be fine, besides I want you with Hannibal just in case anything happens on the way to Maggie's. I know he's gonna be okay, but I'd rather you were with him in case there are any complications. My vette's just up the ridge. I'll follow you as soon as everything's taken care of here. Get going, Hannibal needs a doctor."
"Make sure theses suckas don't get away. They gots to pay for hurtin' Hannibal." BA threatened before turning for the driver's seat.
"They won't BA, they won't." Face quietly assured as he watched the van tear up the gravel driveway.
After checking that the four guards would remain tied up, Face headed for the shed at the back of the house. Inside he found a shovel, a pick, a drop cloth, some rope and a tarp. Taking the latter three with him into the house, Face made his way back into the cellar. Death was still as bloody a mess as he remembered. He wrapped first Johnston then Omar up in their respective cloths. Using his knife to cut the rope in order to tie the ends, Face carried each of them out of the house and into the surrounding woods. Almost two hundred feet from the house Face started digging. It took more than two hours using flashlights to illuminate the ground till the hole was deep and wide enough; all the while wondering if it would have been easier to drive a couple hours to the ocean to dump their bodies there. Dropping them side by side he began to refill the hole stopping once to pour some ammonia he'd found in a cabinet above the washing machine to combat the smell and deter any wild animals. Satisfied that the grass looked as normal as possible and the excess dirt had been scattered, he then covered the refilled hole with leaves and broken branches in order to best camouflage his activities.
Once that grizzly task was complete, Templeton broke into the safe in the office removing all the incriminating paperwork for Johnston's Allied Labor corporation and their shady dealings. He went back to the cellar to remove spent shell casings and pour bleach on the blood stains to make it more difficult for anyone to determine what exactly had happened in the house.
Flipping on the garden hose to saturate the ground directly surrounding the house, Face then walked up the road to retrieve his Corvette. Loading a box of paperwork, nearly fifty-thousand dollars in cash, and a crate of wine, plus a box full of excellent liquors he was almost ready to leave.
Taking a can of gasoline from the shed he proceeded to pour it in every room of the house and shed being doubly generous in the cellar. Grabbing a set of keys off the coffee table Face maneuvered a brown Impala out of the driveway and back toward the four men still tied up.
Pulling out his 9mm, Face hoped he looked menacing enough to convince these four to follow his plan. "The keys are in the ignition. Johnston and Hernandez have already been taken care of. When you get out of here I suggest you go far away. If my friends and I find out you're still enslaving these people we'll come back. You won't like it if we come back. Do you understand?" They all nodded vigorously.
Taking his knife and slicing a little over half way through the rope on one guys hands he gave some final instructions. "Mr. Johnston is about to get caught up in an arson investigation, you don't want to be here when the police and firemen arrive do you?" Again they shook their heads, negatively this time. "Untie your friends and take off. You never saw us. You don't know us and pray that our paths never cross again. You should be loose in less than ten minutes, but you better hurry cause you don't want flames or embers from the house to catch the car right next to you on fire, do you?"
He walked away then, turning off the faucet, hoping that the ground was wet enough to prevent the spread of the fire. Picking up the two bottles of cheap vodka he'd left on the porch with rags from the bathroom he walked back inside one final time. Stopping half way down the stairs he lit the alcohol-soaked rag and hurled the bottle in the gasoline-soaked corner of the cellar. He watched the flames spread for a few seconds before walking up and over to the far side of the house, repeating the procedure. Staying long enough to make sure that the house would go up in flames, Face drove back to the spot, he'd originally hid his car. He watched as the four men jumped into the Impala and took off in the opposite direction. Satisfied that he'd accomplished all that he could, Face drove toward Maggie's.
It'd been thirteen years since he'd deliberately aimed at someone, but the lessons the army taught were still very much ingrained no matter how much Hannibal had tried to teach him otherwise. Face briefly wondered which aspect was truly dominant, cold killer or humanitarian vigilante, but realized he didn't have time for such an existential question. Maybe he could ask Murdock later. Then again is that something one really wants to examine?
His eyes never followed the two shots he fired from the 9mm, knowing instinctively that his aim was true. Instead he concentrated on ducking and rolling forward, bringing up the Uzi that had been uselessly pointing at the floor in his left hand. He heard the roar of the shotgun blast, felt the fire as some of the pellets dug into his shoulder and left arm. But ignored the pain as he brought the uzi back across his body to aim at Omar. It was a race to see who could aim and shoot first. Unfortunately for Omar he was a split second slow and Face fired a burst up and across the young Mexican's body. He jerked back from the impact unable to get the second shot off.
Breathing heavily, his body still pumping adrenaline, Face popped back up looking back and forth between the two men. Seeing no movement from Johnston, Peck stepped forward to kick the shotgun out of Omar's hand. Lifeless brown eyes stared back, forever frozen in shock and pain. Shaking his head Face turned back to Johnston, blood flowing from the two holes in his chest. "God damn you Tommy. What a fucking waste."
Holstering the pistol, Face moved toward Smith. "Hannibal can you hear me?" There was still no response as the conman untied the restraints. A steady, if accelerated, pulse beat in the jugular vein on John's neck. Knowing that Hannibal needed medical attention and that there was nothing else he could do here, Face turned him over, sliding him off the table and onto his right shoulder in a modified fireman's carry. Grabbing Hannibal's shirt and jacket from a nearby chair Face scanned the room for anything else incriminating. Seeing nothing besides the obvious, he moved for the stairs.
Walking up the stairs, reaching for the walkie talkie in his pocket and holding onto the uzi all at the same time proved to be a challenge, but he managed. Before stepping into the kitchen Face paused to assess the situation.
"BA you out there? Have you got everything under control?"
"Yeah man, the fool and I took care of the guards. Theys' tied up. What's going on? How's Hannibal? Thought I heard a shotgun."
"Hannibal's a little beaten up and unconscious. I've got him but can you bring the van down to the front door?" He asked, entering the kitchen.
"I left the fool to keep watch. I'm on my way now in my van. Been waiting on your signal."
Pleased that at least something had gone right. "Good, Murdock you out front?"
"Yeah muchacho, you alright Facey?"
"I'm fine." He lied, grateful that Murdock couldn't see him right then, walking out the front door as the van slid to a stop in front of the house. Murdock opened the backdoor, helping Face gently lay Hannibal down. The older pilot whimpered at the bruises he could see in the dim light.
BA came around and growled at Hannibal's condition, but his rant was cut off as Face began barking out instructions.
"Murdock, can you ride in the back and fix him up as much as possible on the way to Maggie's house? BA, I need you to call her and tell her you're on your way. I'm gonna stay here and tie up all these loose ends."
Worried about leaving Face behind all by himself. "You sure you don't want me to stay with you Facey?" Murdock asked.
Lying smoothly just like any other con, "I'm positive. I'll be fine, besides I want you with Hannibal just in case anything happens on the way to Maggie's. I know he's gonna be okay, but I'd rather you were with him in case there are any complications. My vette's just up the ridge. I'll follow you as soon as everything's taken care of here. Get going, Hannibal needs a doctor."
"Make sure theses suckas don't get away. They gots to pay for hurtin' Hannibal." BA threatened before turning for the driver's seat.
"They won't BA, they won't." Face quietly assured as he watched the van tear up the gravel driveway.
After checking that the four guards would remain tied up, Face headed for the shed at the back of the house. Inside he found a shovel, a pick, a drop cloth, some rope and a tarp. Taking the latter three with him into the house, Face made his way back into the cellar. Death was still as bloody a mess as he remembered. He wrapped first Johnston then Omar up in their respective cloths. Using his knife to cut the rope in order to tie the ends, Face carried each of them out of the house and into the surrounding woods. Almost two hundred feet from the house Face started digging. It took more than two hours using flashlights to illuminate the ground till the hole was deep and wide enough; all the while wondering if it would have been easier to drive a couple hours to the ocean to dump their bodies there. Dropping them side by side he began to refill the hole stopping once to pour some ammonia he'd found in a cabinet above the washing machine to combat the smell and deter any wild animals. Satisfied that the grass looked as normal as possible and the excess dirt had been scattered, he then covered the refilled hole with leaves and broken branches in order to best camouflage his activities.
Once that grizzly task was complete, Templeton broke into the safe in the office removing all the incriminating paperwork for Johnston's Allied Labor corporation and their shady dealings. He went back to the cellar to remove spent shell casings and pour bleach on the blood stains to make it more difficult for anyone to determine what exactly had happened in the house.
Flipping on the garden hose to saturate the ground directly surrounding the house, Face then walked up the road to retrieve his Corvette. Loading a box of paperwork, nearly fifty-thousand dollars in cash, and a crate of wine, plus a box full of excellent liquors he was almost ready to leave.
Taking a can of gasoline from the shed he proceeded to pour it in every room of the house and shed being doubly generous in the cellar. Grabbing a set of keys off the coffee table Face maneuvered a brown Impala out of the driveway and back toward the four men still tied up.
Pulling out his 9mm, Face hoped he looked menacing enough to convince these four to follow his plan. "The keys are in the ignition. Johnston and Hernandez have already been taken care of. When you get out of here I suggest you go far away. If my friends and I find out you're still enslaving these people we'll come back. You won't like it if we come back. Do you understand?" They all nodded vigorously.
Taking his knife and slicing a little over half way through the rope on one guys hands he gave some final instructions. "Mr. Johnston is about to get caught up in an arson investigation, you don't want to be here when the police and firemen arrive do you?" Again they shook their heads, negatively this time. "Untie your friends and take off. You never saw us. You don't know us and pray that our paths never cross again. You should be loose in less than ten minutes, but you better hurry cause you don't want flames or embers from the house to catch the car right next to you on fire, do you?"
He walked away then, turning off the faucet, hoping that the ground was wet enough to prevent the spread of the fire. Picking up the two bottles of cheap vodka he'd left on the porch with rags from the bathroom he walked back inside one final time. Stopping half way down the stairs he lit the alcohol-soaked rag and hurled the bottle in the gasoline-soaked corner of the cellar. He watched the flames spread for a few seconds before walking up and over to the far side of the house, repeating the procedure. Staying long enough to make sure that the house would go up in flames, Face drove back to the spot, he'd originally hid his car. He watched as the four men jumped into the Impala and took off in the opposite direction. Satisfied that he'd accomplished all that he could, Face drove toward Maggie's.