Chapter 11

The Game of Life and Death

The marina was almost silent but for the sound of gently lapping water. Fog hung thickly in the air, cutting down Ironside's view of the surrounding area and making it impossible to guess what, if anything, was lying in wait ahead.

There was no chance of sneaking up on Tony R; the heavy, metal wheelchair creaked and crunched its way over the wooden boards, and with the case full of money as well, his progress was frustratingly slow.

He peered through the gloom of the early morning, drawing a slow breath and trying to decide what his next move should be.

Instinct, Tony R had said. Follow your instinct.

His instinct was telling him that Richards was waiting somewhere for him in one of the ramshackle buildings close by. They would be perfect for his purposes, easy to get in to, and easy to rig up to burn.

Of course it was a trap, baited with his friend and the stolen evidence, Tony R would be certain that Ironside would obey every single word. The Chief was under no illusions about what was planned and what he was risking.

Ahead was a line of old wooden buildings, each one with a double door. Richards was likely to be in one of those. Rolling over to them, he checked each one of the outbuilding doors; the second to last one was unlocked, and very slightly ajar.

The light inside was flickering, as if it came from an oil lamp. His instinct was telling him that this was the place, so he opened the door with a loud creak, and pushed himself inside. Though he had anticipated many things, that didn't stop the shock and horror at what was awaiting him.

The first thing he saw was the still figure of Ed Brown at the further end of the room, his arms tied to one of the many high beams across the ceiling. And Ironside could smell blood. There was no one else around that he could see, but the building had piles of crates and boxes along the sides.

The Chief wheeled himself closer, avoiding stray crates and loose wood, his anxiety growing with every moment.

Ed was immobilised, his feet were barely touching the ground. The Chief could see the smear of dried blood over Ed's face, and the glint of handcuffs around his wrists and across the beam. The right side of his half-open shirt was soaked red and clung to his body.

Ironside tried to speed up, but it was difficult to manoeuvre the wheelchair across the uneven floor of the outbuilding. Ed hadn't reacted to the noise of the chair at first, only when it grew much closer did he try to move. He let out a weak sigh, and lifted his head, wincing as he did so. Ironside could see other streaks of fresh blood on his shirt, round his collar and on the sleeves as well, and felt sick. The pictures he'd seen hadn't prepared him for the reality of what McArthur was capable of.

Angry and revolted, Ironside eventually reached a table close to where Ed was tied. On it were Eve's open purse, her things lying beside it, and a radio. Beside those was a shiny handcuff key, just sitting there, waiting to be picked up and used.

And Ironside did pick it up and stare at it, rubbing it between his fingers and thumb, turning it so it glinted in the light.

But he couldn't use it to free Ed. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Ironside couldn't reach, not stuck in his wheelchair. He couldn't get Ed down and Anthony Richards knew it. Holding that key, there and then, was a bad as lying in that hospital bed, unable to move or do anything for himself. The bitterness, anger and resentment rose up, clouding his judgement, but just for a moment. Then he breathed out slowly, pushing his feelings back down inside, and focusing on what was around him, and what was important.

He looked up to Ed, with his expression as calm as he could make it.

The two men looked at each other for a few moments. Ed seemed resigned, perhaps numbed was a better word. He must have had plenty of time to see what Richards was planning, and he hadn't come up with any way out.

Ed's glance fell to the purse on the table, and his expression changed, the anguish of the loss he was feeling showing on his face. He thought she was dead, and Ironside didn't disillusion him. Instead, he looked away, his face still blank, knowing that his action would only cause Ed more distress.

'Frustrating, isn't it,' said a voice beside them. 'Not being able to help.'

Ironside didn't even bother to turn to look at the man. He didn't need to. He knew Tony's voice.

'Leave the money on the ground and move back,' said Richards.

Ironside put the large case of money on the ground by the table and rolled back a couple of feet, hunching forward in his chair.

Richards stepped out from behind a stack of crates. He was older than Ironside remembered, and heavier. The face might have had more lines, but it was still as emotionless as it had been all those years ago when he had last seen it.

'I knew you would come,' Tony said.

'I'm glad I didn't disappoint you.'

Tony R looked down at Ironside and his wheelchair, and a curved sneer spread over his face.

'When I heard that you'd been shot,' he said, 'I was almost disappointed that I wouldn't be able to pay you back for what you did to me. But when I heard that you were a cripple, well… the plan made itself. How much more satisfying to ensure that you to felt the frustration and the rage, knowing that you could have helped him, if only you could stand up and walk!'

Ironside was so angry that he could barely form the words of a sentence. It didn't help that Richards was exactly right. Frustration and rage were building inside him in a way he had never experience before. He had often longed to walk again, to run and to move like he used to. No one who had not been through it could ever understand just how it felt to lose the use of their legs. And Ironside had never felt their loss so acutely before, now his nose was being rubbed in the fact.

But instead of reacting, Ironside watched as Tony R walked round the table, pulling the case of money towards him. He couldn't give in to the emotional pressure, not with Ed's life in the balance.

'Where is the heroin?' he said, his tone business-like and unconcerned.

Richards walked backwards, not taking his eyes off Ironside, to beside a small case that the Chief hadn't noticed when he'd come in. Richards patted it then stepped aside.

'Here it is. Come and take a look.'

Ironside moved closer, as Richards stepped back once again, keeping well out of Ironside's way. The Chief looked inside. The box was full of small bags, of the right type to be from Property, and there seemed to be the right volume.

'You could be double crossing me,' said Ironside. 'That could be nothing but baking soda.'

'Do you want to smoke some?' said Richards. 'Just to check? We could have a private party.'

'No.'

'Fine. Take it.'

Ironside frowned at him, sensing something was wrong.

'This is your chance,' Tony said. 'I have the money. You can take the drugs and leave.'

'And that's that?' snarled Ironside.

'And that's that, as you say.'

Richards was lying, or course he was. After going to so much trouble, Tony wasn't just going to let him leave. And he had to know there was no way in Hell that he would leave Ed. But Richards also wasn't going to miss the opportunity to infuriate and insult Ironside in any way he could.

The Chief looked up to Ed, then back to Richards. He didn't move.

'You know, I thought you would do that,' said Richards. He pulled out a gun from his pocket and Ed visibly flinched. 'Maybe I should make the decision easier for you?'

In a few steps, Tony had taken the case with the money and moved back from Ironside. He pointed the gun at Ed, standing a few feet away.

'Are you really going to shoot him?' said Ironside. 'As I remember, you don't do your own dirty work, Tony.'

An ugly look crossed Richards' face.

'So you do remember what happened to Tom,' said Tony. 'Tom's death was your fault.'

'Tom's death was your fault,' said Ironside firmly. 'You ordered the hit.'

'I had no choice,' hissed Richards. 'I had to. I had to be sure he didn't talk.'

Scowling, Ironside gave a snort.

'Well, if you had wanted a clean execution, you should have used a better gunman!'

The gun in Richards' hand moved again, it was now inches away from Ed's side.

It occurred to Ironside what a terrible game he was playing; he was gambling with Ed's life, not his own. But other than the guilt, there was a small sense of satisfaction. He'd been right all along about Richards. Tony wanted Ironside to suffer like he had done, experience the loss of his family and friends, just like he had done.

And that was going to be his undoing. If he had any sense at all, he would have killed Ed, and Ironside himself, and got out of there. Ironside's plan was going to work.

'Just shooting him like that isn't your style, Tony,' he said coldly.

Richards gave an almost greedy smile.

'Really? How well you think you know me, Chief Ironside,' he said. 'But you've already lost one of your team, and you are about to lose another.'

He cocked the gun. The sudden spike of panic Ironside felt at the sound was eased by the sound of footsteps.

The Chief glanced round in the direction of the noise.

Mark walked in through the other entrance, arms relaxed by his side, and a thick-set, angry-looking man just behind him with a gun. Ironside recognised him from Eve's description and the file from Texas. This was Lonnie McArthur, the man who'd made Ed's life a living hell for the past few hours.

'Hey, Chief,' said Mark apologetically. Richards didn't even give him a second look he was too concerned with watching Ironside, but Ed twisted against the handcuffs, his face screwed up in pain.

As a crestfallen, desperate expression crossed Ironside features, Richards laughed.

'Outmanoeuvred again, Chief. You have no idea how easy it was to run you round in circles for the past forty-eight hours.'

'Get on your knees,' said Lonnie to Mark. 'Now!'

Mark didn't move; he was staring straight at the Chief.

'Your associate?' asked Ironside, jerking his head towards Lonnie. 'I didn't think you liked associates anymore. Not after what happened last time.'

Richards narrowed his eyes.

'I trust Lonnie,' he said. 'He has more to gain by sticking with me. And he can't be persuaded to turn states evidence, not after what he's done.'

'Done? Just what has he done?'

Richards looked at Ed and smirked. An image flashed into Ironside's mind of the gruesome pictures he'd seen of Lonnie's handiwork. He saw a look of despair pass over Ed's face, and he shuddered.

'Lonnie's a well-known face down in Texas,' Richards said. 'And they're not going to do him any deals, that's a guarantee!'

Ironside dragged his gaze away from Ed, down to the floor and the thick streaks of blood on the wooden boards. The Chief forced himself to look back at Richards.

'What about Johnston? You did a deal with him, didn't you? Twice?'

Richards smirked again.

'I knew you would make Johnston eventually. He was always going to be the weakest part of this.'

'Is that why you killed him?'

'Yes.'

'So you kill people who trust you?' asked Ironside. 'Interesting.' He looked up at Lonnie, who glared back at him. 'Don't you find that interesting?'

'No,' said Lonnie with a sneer. 'Mr Richards knows I wouldn't turn on him.'

Ironside glanced up at Richards and shrugged in apparent disbelief.

'You talking like that ain't gonna save your little slave-boy,' said Lonnie. 'I said get one your knees!'

Lonnie slammed his foot against the back of Mark's leg and he staggered to the ground.

Richards gave a wide smile, the glee on his face unmistakable. He walked round to behind Ironside, taking his time to look between the three men he had at his mercy.

Ironside just waited, knowing that he had to string this painful charade out for as long as possible, to give the others enough time to get here.

'Are you not going to gloat?' he asked Richards, tilting his head back so he could see the other man clearly. 'After all the trouble you've taken?'

Richards leaned down, resting his arms on the handles of Ironside's wheelchair, close enough to speak into his ear.

'Gloat? I have something much better than gloating.'

'Is that so?'

'You see, I know how to hurt you, Robert,' said Richards. 'With your friends here as well, it's almost too easy! First of all you are going to see how it should have been done to Tom. Quick, clean, instantaneous.'

'And then?' Ironside asked.

Slowly, Tony R walked round Ironside's chair, swinging the hand with the gun. He moved round to behind Ed.

'Then,' said Richards, 'I'm going to shoot your friend here and let him bleed to death while you watch, knowing there's nothing you can do to help.'

Richards poked Ed's right side with the gun and Ed gave a muffled moan trying ineffectually to pull away. Ironside could see the blood on Ed's shirt was still bright and wet. He and Richards stared eye to eye, neither blinking nor looking away. Ironside's face was rigid with the effort it took not to react.

'There's nothing you can do to stop me,' said Richards. 'You've played all your cards, you've none left.'

Richards smiled.

Lonnie's gun was just inches away from the back of Mark's head, and Sanger looked up at Ironside, his gaze as steady as always. The Chief could see that he was calm, and trusted that Ironside knew what he was doing.

Then there was the retort of a shot.

But even before the sound had echoed away, Lonnie very slowly toppled to one side, blood pouring from his slack mouth. He hit the floor with a dull thump.

A moment's confusion was all Mark needed. He was standing in a second, kicking the gun from Lonnie's limp hand, sending it over the floor safely out of reach, across to the wall just beyond Ed. Then he took a leap towards Richards, intent on disarming him as efficiently as possible.

Richards fired one shot, aimed wildly, not at Mark or Ed, but at Ironside himself. The bullet ricocheted off the wheelchair's handle with a ping.

Mark sprang forward, quick as a panther, catching Richards' arm and forcing it upwards with one hand, grabbing the other arm at the same time. Another bullet thudded into the roof and Mark's forward momentum brought Richards crashing to the floor. They rolled out of Ironside's sight, but the sounds of a fight continued.

A moment later, Eve stepped out of the shadows behind where Lonnie had been standing. She was shaking, but ran forward towards the Chief. As she reached him, she stumbled slightly, and didn't stop him from taking the gun from her unresisting hand.

'C-Carl's on his way now,' she stuttered, her gaze fixed on the body on the floor, so shocked at herself, she could barely focus on what was around her.

He gripped her hand, dragging her attention away from Lonnie. Like this, in such shock, she was an easy target for Richards.

'I need you to go,' he said. 'Show Carl and the others where we are. You're the only one who can. Get them here as fast as possible.'

Eve took a sudden glance to Ed, who was looking at her with an expression close to joy.

'But Ed. How…?'

'Get backup here, as fast as you can.' Eve didn't move, just stared in horror at Ed. 'Go! That's an order, Officer Whitfield!'

Finally, the tone of his voice made her move, and Eve half stumbled as she turned, casting a desperate look at the Chief and then Ed. But she ran back out, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

Ironside drew a sharp breath. Carl must have been close, but he probably wasn't close enough. He had to buy them some more time, as much as he could.

'Richards!' called Ironside. The Chief could hear the continuing fight between Mark and Tony R, but there were too many boxes and crates in the way to see properly, let alone get a clear shot. 'Richards!'

There was still no answer. Anxious, Ironside looked around, back toward Ed.

Even if Mark managed to subdue Richards, they were still vulnerable. He didn't want to lose any of them, but with Ed still held fast, their options were limited.

Mark couldn't help free him he had his hands full at the moment. Eve couldn't have helped either, as she was a good foot too short to get to those flamin' cuffs, and she would be an easy a target for Richards. And he himself couldn't reach, Richards had made sure of that.

But Ironside could still get Ed free.

He aimed the gun at the beam and the silver glint of the handcuff chain. It wasn't an easy shot, not a this angle, with Ed's hands so close to the target area, and with so much at stake. And he only had five bullets.

He let off four shots in succession. The fourth shot clipped the chain, breaking it, and Ed Brown fell heavily to the ground, free from the beam.

A moment later there was a pained grunt that sounded like it came from Mark, and then a sudden burst of gunfire. Ironside leaned back, shielding his eyes as the table just in front of him splintered.

There was a second of silence, then Mark rolled into sight, making for the cover of another set of crates at the other side of the room, away from Ironside and Ed. Two bullets followed him, but both missed.

Ironside held his gun up, aiming at where the bullets had come from, knowing he only had a single shot left. He could no longer see either Mark or Ed, but he guessed they must both be close.

'Come out, Richards. It's over,' he called. 'Give yourself up.'

'I hardly think so,' Tony called back. 'And you can hardly expect me to just give in!'

'It's over,' repeated Ironside. 'Throw down your gun and come out.'

There was another shot, and it went wide, cracking open a nearby crate. But suddenly there was the sound of gushing liquid, and the smell of gasoline filled the air. Richards had set this whole place to go up in flames, just as he'd told Ironside. There was the chink of glass, and Ironside frowned. Richards had broken something.

'Even if you shoot me, this place is still going up,' cried Tony. 'Even if you get everyone outside, you'll still lose the drugs and the money. There's no way you can get it all, Ironside. You're still going to lose something I promise you!'

A bottle flew out from behind the crate, just as Ironside fired his last shot. It smashed against Ironside's wheelchair, spraying the liquid over his legs, and the thick smell of gasoline rose up around him.

'Can you get to me before it all goes up?' called Richards. 'Maybe if you could run, you might be able to make it!'

The silence that followed was broken by the soft scrape of flint on metal, and the Chief saw a flicker of flame just ahead.

And in that second, Ironside thought he'd lost.