Disclaimer- I do not own Inception (so sad!)
Ch. 2 Defection
They exited, Arthur glancing left and right as they entered the new corridor. No one was around but the smell of sweat and piss mixing with the undercurrent of weed and stale cigarettes was cut through strongly with the reek of bleach. As they neared apartment 487 Eames caught sight of a large red-brown stain on the walls and floor. It had been mostly scrubbed of the linoleum but still clung stubbornly on to the off-white dragged walls. An elderly cleaning lady in an apron with a hairnet over her blue rinse was grimly mopping, periodically adding more bleach to her already foaming bucket.
Apartment 487 was easily identified although the plaque was torn off the door. Unlike those around it, the door sported two iron grills and an impressive collection of locks, there was a small peep-hole set into the door and no letterbox.
"Thats going to be inconvenient come christmas time" joked Eames, indicating the door.
"Maybe the guy really hates carollers" replied Arthur, rapping smartly on the grill. The clanging of metal on metal reverberated around the cold space.
Nothing happened so Arthur knocked again, this time harder.
"I''m coming you impatient git!" Growled a voice from the other side of the door. The voice continued to ruminate darkly as keys jangled and scraped in locks.
The inner door swung open to reveal a heavy-set man in a slightly dirty wife-beater. He had the beefy body of a heavyweight boxer gone slightly to seed, a paunch spilling over the waistband of his jeans but the bulk of his arms and shoulders was not to be ignored.
Nor was the sawn-off shotgun he had levelled at them. Arthur's hand twitched towards his own gun, but Eames stayed him with a sharp look.
"Hello" he began with a smile, "We're here to see a man named Wheeler"
The man eyed them for a moment, taking in the briefcase and Eames's tweed jacket. "Aye, and your business?"
"I was told that you know why we're here." The silence between the two parties stretched then snapped.
Wheeler smiled, revealing several missing teeth. "Spose' I do then." He lowered the shotgun and unlocked the grills.
The flat was cramped, flashy TV set jostling for room with two old and stained settees and several armchairs. This living room also served as a hallway beyond which Eames assumed were the bedrooms, to the left was the doorway to the kitchen, this was obscured with the thick strips of plastic sheeting often seen in supermarket cool rooms or butcher's shops. A rather unpleasant chemical smell emanated from beyond the doorway along with the loud sound of running water confirmed it to both men as a working meth operation.
Arthur raised his eyebrows at Eames as he took in the scene as if to say what the fuck are we doing here?
Eames shrugged then turned back to Wheeler indicating to Arthur to give him the money. Wheeler reached out for it eagerly but at the last moment Arthur pulled it back slightly.
"We want to see it" said Eames, Wheeler looked puzzled for a moment before nodding in agreement and turning down the hall. Neither man had followed when he turned and looked over his shoulder.
"It?" queried Arthur.
"You can never be too vague with a man when he think's his lab is being bugged. Whatever Cobb wants us to get is here and he knows what it is. I just don't want to leave empty handed."
A thump and a short scream punctuated his speech followed by a sharp crack. "stand still ya little bitch!" they heard Wheeler growl. Both men started reaching for their weapons again but before they could do anything, Wheeler reappeared dragging with him a girl in handcuffs. She was small, both short and skinny and dressed inappropriately for the freezing December temperatures in a white spaghetti-strap top and terry-cloth shorts. She didn't have any shoes and Arthur saw that her feet were covered in fresh cuts and bruises as though they had been stamped on. When Wheeler let her go she clenched her jaw in pain and swayed dangerously before sinking to her knees with a low hiss.
"Here it is, just as requested" said Wheeler with an air of great pride.
"Hmmm" said Arthur "How do we know its the right one?"
Wheeler shuddered suddenly, a strange movement for such a big and imposing man. "Your employer who called about it, he'll know when he sees it. Really its no skin off my back to sell it, gives me the creeps and frigid as anything. But-" He reached out for the money again "There's no accounting for taste."
"There really isn't" agreed Eames.
Arthur handed over the cash and went to the girl. "Can we have the keys to the handcuffs please?" Only year of professional self-control stopped his voice shaking with anger. The girl didn't look at him as he took the key from a smiling Wheeler and undid the cuffs. For a moment she stayed completely still as he slid the cuffs off her bruised wrists and handed them to Wheeler.
Then, she snapped into action. Quick as lightning she slipped her hand underneath Arthur's jacket and T-shirt to find the gun concealed underneath. Before Arthur could catch her arm, she whipped around and fired a shot at Wheeler.
He hit the floor with a thud that made the floor shake. Both Eames and Arthur stood stock-still with shock and watched as the girl checked Wheeler's pulse. It was hardly necessary as the bullet was lodged right between his eyes, fine mist of blood dripping from the plastic butcher's strips over the kitchen doorway. Straitening up she picked up the briefcase case and offered it back to Arthur who took it silently. Both men watched as she slipped into the kitchen like a ghost a moment later she stuck a hand out through the curtain and beckoned them impatiently.
The kitchen, to use that term loosely, was a real mess. The sink was running, spewing water through the meth apparatus and eventually out of an open window. Bottles and boxes of the raw materials littered every flat surface along with empty fast-food boxes and soft-drink bottles. Eames approached the girl as she sat beside a grey safe set into the wall where the oven should be. As he watched she unlocked it and swung it open to reveal stacks of bills inside along with vacuume packed pill packets. The two men watched her quickly transfer all of the money from the safe to a plastic holdall at her side. When she had finished she turned to face them. "Drag him in here" she said. Her voice was very soft, as though she rarely used it. Eames didn't hesitate but turned and left, leaving Arthur alone with the girl.
"Are you alright?" he asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his lips.
She nodded, her blue eyes flicked up to meet his for a second and then she turned away again.
Eames returned with the body, dragging the big man as easily as a sack of potatoes across the floor, "About here?" he asked? She nodded and he dropped Wheeler unceremoniously on the lino.
"We need to leave" said the girl, wincing as she stood, Arthur noted a slight Irish lilt to her voice, a reluctance to say her "T"s
"What do you mean" he asked.
She shook her head giving nothing away, peroxide blond hair shaking with her, Then she pushed the stuffed holdall towards him to take. He picked it up and watched as she limped over to the counter and began searching through the bottles "We do need to get out of here sooner rather than later you said" Arthur reminded her, drumming his fingers against the bag and checking that his gun was properly concealed this time, how had she seen it?
She didn't reply, just picked up a bottle of clear liquid, unscrewed the cap and sniffed it. Seemingly satisfied she emptied it across the floor followed by a large box of red powder on which was written Danger- Flammable. The fumes from the clear liquid were making Arthur's eyes sting and water.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Hissed Eames making to grab her hand as she reached for a box of matches.
She looked at him, as though he were an idiot. "accidents happen" She lit a match and put it to an empty fast food box, then set the box on the the floor and limped out of the kitchen.
Their exit was swift. Eames went first with the briefcase, still unopened despite all the excitement, the girl next, now limping very badly on her bruised feet, Arthur brought up the rear. They walked most of the way down the corridor, the old lady cleaning the walls was gone but her bucket and mop still remained, overturned on the floor flooding the corridor with water and suds. They began to run, Arthur putting his arm around the girl's tiny waist and helping her down the endless flights of stairs as behind them a huge crash rent the air. A wave of heat and the stench of chemicals followed, rolling over them like the breath of a dragon.
After the initial noise had receded into the distance Eames could make out the clatter of many pairs of feet following them down the steps. Stop! Get back 'ere! They ran yet faster floor 30, floor 25, floor 15, floor 10. Arthur was half carrying the girl now, her feet leaving a bloody trail behind them.
Shots rang out, sparking in the dark.
As they rounded the corner for floor 5, the girl shot off in the opposite direction, dragging Arthur with her with surprising strength. "Where you going?" both men shouted after her but she ran on. The footsteps and shouting came ever closer overhead, it seemed to come from all directions now as though their pursuers had fanned out to look for them.
"In here" The girl whispered, pushing open the door to a flat, the lock had been recently broken leaving splinters across the floor.
They hustled inside and the girl went straight for the window in the front room. The flat was a mess, belongings strewn all over the floor here draws had been pulled out and electrical wires exposed in the walls. A recent burglary. In the front room the girl pulled back the glass separating the living room from the balcony and stepped out. Eames caught her arm "What are you doing?"
She smiled briefly, "watch". Slipping from his grasp she went over the railings. They watched as she disappeared from sight until just her hands were visible, hanging onto the bottom of the bars. Then, she let go.
Eames and Arthur lent as far as they dared over the railing , trying to work out where she'd gone. Then they head her voice. "Down here!"
They looked and there she was, waving from the balcony on the floor below.
"Right," Arthur, rolling up his leaves "One of us should go first ad then the other will lower the bags."
"Jeysus" muttered Eames running his hands through his hair distractedly, he hated heights and was already uncomfortable on the balcony. Its just like a dream Eames, man up. "Right y' are."
The thin ledge of the balcony below swayed in Eames's vision as he gingerly lowered himself down the bars "hurry up!" hissed the girl grabbing his feet and tugging "Oi! watch it" he hissed back, breath catching in his chest.
As the unlikely trio descended slowly down the building two large fire engines pulled up below. They could see smoke coming out of the windows of the 48th floor.
Leaping to the ground at last they sprinted, Arthur again almost carrying the girl, to the car. Eames revved the engine and with a squeal of breaks they sped out of the estate.
A/N Its Drama o' clock! please review