A FOOL FOR LOVE
4. Who Watches the Watchmen?
The Payne residence, midway through a long dark night.
There's a man standing by the porch, smoking a cigarette and looking at a stream of water flowing off the edge of a drain. He's holding an MP5 in his hand. Occasionally he'll whisper something into a walkie-talkie.
"You ready?" I say to Alex. We were sat in his car, parked under a streetlight. The reflection of the raindrops on the windshield sent crazy circle patterns across his face, lit white in the dim light.
"Ready when you are, Max," he says. "Remember, though, this is a hostage situation. We're going to have to be real careful here. For Michelle. Remember that."
I grunted and pushed open the door.
The goon saw me leap out into the rain and fell backwards, stunned. I fired three shots, three brief 'pings' in the rainy air, and he fell backwards into the porch. The gun clattered to the floor and, as I watched, his cigarette fell on to the lawn.
"Come on," I said, and we slunk towards the house.
The lights were on in the downstairs window, hidden by some thick red curtains. I thought of Michelle, sat there on her seat with a book, completely unaware of what was going on outside.
I carefully pushed up against the porch wall and peered around the corner. "Another one," I whispered to Alex as a goon in a scarf and jumper wandered round the corner.
Two shots, one to the gut and one to the knee, sent him slumping dead to the floor, smoke rising off his fresh corpse. Keeping low, we made our way past the porch, round to the back of the house. I could make out a mumbled conversation between two by the backdoor.
"So this Pierce guy's a major player," one said, rolling up a cigarette. "I mean, major. He's the biggest security supplier on the East Coast, easy. He's the kinda guy you don't mess around with, know what I mean?"
"Oh, I know, I know," the other said. "Heard he can watch any corner of the city from his office."
"That's right. CCTV, heat sensors, everything. He's got full-on access, you know? Always makes sure to out a few chips into his cameras when he sells them, just so he can keep watch. His little eyes, he calls them."
"He got any in, uh, you know? Lady's places?"
"'Lady's places?' The hell do you mean by that? Do you mean a 'lady's place,' or…"
"No, no," the other goon chuckled. "No, though that would be something, huh? I mean, like, locker rooms and stuff."
"Ha. Doubt he'd be in the security business if he could get that sort of coverage. He'd be keeping the Playboy channel in business."
I crept past the climbing roses, keeping low beneath the window. I let off two shots.
"Holy crap!" the goon with the rollie screamed and fell to the floor, a bullet whacking home in his head. His partner reached for his MP5 and fired off a brief burst of gunfire in my direction. I rolled out the way, just in time for Alex to pop a shot straight between his eyes.
The goon slumped down dead.
"Thanks, man," I said, standing up from the grass. I was soaked to the skin, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me now but getting to Michelle.
I pushed open the back door and stepped into the kitchen, then almost ran into the living room. And my heart sunk.
"Don't move another inch," a huge goon snarled, his coarse hands clutching Michelle's perfect pale skin.
Raw fear, anger and horror all surged through my body at once. I reached for my gun. "Put her down!" I cried. "Now!"
The goon giggled and put a gun against her forehead. I stared into her beautiful, desperate eyes, welling up with tears, and almost had to fight back my own. God, she was beautiful, and if he pulled that trigger…
"I think I'm the one who's in a position to give orders, Mr Payne," the huge goon said. Michelle clutched on to his arms and struggled desperately. Behind her, on the slightly crinkled sofa, I could still see the book she'd been reading when all this happened, and the lamp lay on the floor.
"Ok," I said. "Alright. Let her go."
"Put the gun down," the goon ordered. "Now."
I did as he ordered, dropping my gun to the carpet. I kicked it across the room towards him, where he stood on it with one Desert Driver boot.
"Alright, now let her go," I demanded.
"Let her go?" the goon replied. "She stays with me until I get a call from Mr Pierce telling me he's safely out of the city. And you stay here too. On your hands and knees. Then maybe you can have your precious wife back."
I fell to my knees, staring into Michelle's eyes desperately. I'm sorry, I thought. God, I'm sorry. Should have listened to Alex. Should have waited. But no, you had to play hero, didn't you? Had to risk everything. And now Pierce was going to get away, escaping justice scot-free.
"That's better," the goon said. "Now…"
His words were cut off by a brief burst of gunfire through the far window.
"The hell?" he cried, spinning around to face his attacker.
His response was a bullet to the face, a single shot that sheared off his teeth. I knew my cue to act. I leapt across the room, grabbing Michelle and yanking her out of the path of the goon as he pulled the trigger. The shot socked home in a chest of drawers as me and Michelle collapsed on to the rug together and the goon slumped dead.
Alex Balder stepped in through the window, the rain lashing through after him. "I'm sorry about the mess," he smirked.
"Oh, thank god, Alex," I said, holding Michelle. "Thank God."
I held her for a long time.
The Pierce Security Tower, later that evening.
Up here you could almost taste heaven. High above the city around you, the lights and the noise and the cars and the neon all roaring around you like an ocean far beneath your stable rock, and nothing above you but it's shining spires and the heavens themselves – black clouds rolling on, lashing the streets with an endless rain.
Elmore Pierce stood up on the roof, the rain driving around him. He was a tall man, middle-aged, with scruffy blonde hair and a trench coat that billowed around his slender form like a cloak.
"I knew you'd arrive," he said calmly.
I took the lead and kept my gun trained on him. "Elmore Pierce," I said. "You're under arrest for the murder of Katrina Demeo, and for conspiracy to murder Richard 'Legs' Malluchi and Michelle Payne. Unfortunately for you, that last one failed."
"Fortunately for you," he snapped. "You've still got the loving arms of your wife to come home to every night. You screwed up big time, detective. Leading me to her like that."
"I guess it doesn't matter now," I replied. "Your plan's through. And you're going to face a long time away for this."
"Oh, for god's sake, Payne!" he cried, spinning around to face me. "Stop acting like I'm some remorseless bar-room psychopath! I'm not one of your mob heavies. You think it gave me any pleasure, killing Demeo? You think I'm happy to be in this mess?" He sighed, looked down at his feet. Water pooled and streamed around him. "I was betrayed. That was what hurt me more than anything. You know, it all seems rather silly now, but I think I loved her. And she loved me."
"She was a prostitute. There's no love about it."
"Is there? She was in need, but she was still a human being. I suppose I was a fool to think I could have saved her. A fool for her love."
I sighed. "That doesn't excuse what you did. You shot dead an unarmed girl."
"And I suppose you're a saint, are you, detective?" he retorted. "How many have you killed today in the pursuit of your so-called justice? For my part, I have terminated the careers of a known Mafioso and an extortionist. Please, explain how that makes us any different."
"You can't take the law into your own hands," I responded. But I wasn't sure about that myself. I wasn't sure if even I believed it anymore.
"No," Pierce sighed. "Of course not."
And he reached into his trench coat. As I watched with dawning horror, he yanked out a revolver.
Two shots rang out in the still night air. His arm only got halfway up before freezing. The gun fell from his grip, clattering on the floor, and he slumped down afterwards. Dead, I thought, the blood draining away into the drains around him, to vanish into the rain soaked city below. Dead as Caesar.
"Hmm," Alex said from behind. "Suicide."
"Suicide?" I replied.
"He knew you'd reach for the gun, Max. He's been watching you. Why do you think he was so slow? Damn it, Max."
I frowned, staring down at the body of the late Elmore Pierce. Suicide, I thought bitterly. You beat me Pierce. You beat me good. Maybe you weren't such a fool after all. And maybe what this city needs is someone willing to do what is necessary. Or maybe he had just been a voyeur, upset that someone had been watching the watchman. I suppose I'll never know.
I holstered the Beretta and we walked back to the car, and back to the lights of the city.
The End
