wanted to know the
outcome of our encounter with Tomas but he dared not ask. Maybe he thought we
hadn’t Bolted him, or he thought we were bluffing, that we were waiting to see
if he knew where Tomas was. When Martin looked to me, I gave a tiny shake of my
head. Tomas didn’t make it .
There
was a moment before Martin knew what I meant but then he put it together and he
just sort of crumbled. It started behind his eyes and spread down to his hips
which just gave way. In two steps, Andy was there, caught Martin and just moved
his over to the chair. Martin flopped down on its low frame and his eyes greyed
out. We had him. We never didn’t have him, but he was beaten now. He let out a
big sigh and we crowded round him, blocking any attempt to run.
Martin
looked me right in the eye, lucid again. “I just wanted to be a step nearer.”
I
nodded. I understood. I really did, and still do. Me and Andy are further away
than ever but it’s the price you pay for the life that’s chosen you. Martin,
and creeps like Tomas, not to mention baby Magda in the crib, wanted something
else. Who can blame them?
Andy
took the pistol crossbow from under his jacket and primed it. “There are twelve
steps, Martin. You wanna get to heaven you gotta get in line.”
Martin
nodded and watched Andy pull the mechanism back. When he handed it to me, I
already had the Bolt in my hand and Martin started breathing a bit harder. Andy
reached down to hold him still but Martin flinched and lifted a hand. He
stilled his breathing and Andy straightened up without having grabbed the guy.
Martin pulled the cuffs of his shirt down. He looked at me. “Will I see you
again?”
A
tiny shake of my head. Three strikes and straight to hell.
Martin
swallowed again, his temples pulsed. “And Magda?” He barely managed to say the
words, just barely managed to look at his baby wife in the crib.
I
huffed a small laugh at such an idiotic question. “We don’t Bolt minors,
Martin.” I put the Bolt in the pistol and put the pistol to his neck. He closed
his eyes when I pulled the trigger and his body only flinched slightly as he
died.
We
stood for a moment in the quiet room. The baby shifted in her crib and cooed
lightly. Andy held his hands and cocked his head. “What about the kid?”
This
one was on me. “We’ll phone the cops and report this murder.”
I
handed the pistol to Andy. He put it away and shrugged his jacket into a
comfortable position. He looked at Martin’s lifeless body. “Goddamn Cutters.”
Suitcase
of Dreams
“ A re you just off the boat, sir?”
He
looks at me and frowns momentarily. Brown eyes flicker in search of the memory
to answer my question. He looks back down the pier to see the ferry slip away.
It slides easily away from the pier and across the water. We stand on solid
ground, away from the wooden pier. A breeze from the sea, a narrow marine lake,
cools the air as we meet in warm summer sunshine. He looks tired, as if
recently wakened, which if true is a good thing. Sleeping makes the crossing
easier.
He
puffs out his cheeks and blows out a sigh, my question forgotten. Though I know
the answer, I saw him disembark after all, it was asked of him to begin a
conversation. His clothes are smart; dressed well in shirt and tie, though no
jacket in this fine weather. He rubs his chin, square jawed. There is a hint of
stubble. He looks at me and I know what he is thinking. He’s wondering why I’m
talking to him.
“Would
you like a hand with your bags?” I ask.
His
hands reach down for his bags, but I can already see he has none. Puzzled, he
looks behind him. The short pier is free of any clutter, let alone anything
belonging to him. The main sounds are water splashes, and gulps under the pier,
from the wake of the ferry as it continues its journey to the other side. He
turns back to me. “I don’t seem to...”
“It’s
quite alright, sir,” I say, lifting a hand slightly to gently reassure him. “I
can help
outcome of our encounter with Tomas but he dared not ask. Maybe he thought we
hadn’t Bolted him, or he thought we were bluffing, that we were waiting to see
if he knew where Tomas was. When Martin looked to me, I gave a tiny shake of my
head. Tomas didn’t make it .
There
was a moment before Martin knew what I meant but then he put it together and he
just sort of crumbled. It started behind his eyes and spread down to his hips
which just gave way. In two steps, Andy was there, caught Martin and just moved
his over to the chair. Martin flopped down on its low frame and his eyes greyed
out. We had him. We never didn’t have him, but he was beaten now. He let out a
big sigh and we crowded round him, blocking any attempt to run.
Martin
looked me right in the eye, lucid again. “I just wanted to be a step nearer.”
I
nodded. I understood. I really did, and still do. Me and Andy are further away
than ever but it’s the price you pay for the life that’s chosen you. Martin,
and creeps like Tomas, not to mention baby Magda in the crib, wanted something
else. Who can blame them?
Andy
took the pistol crossbow from under his jacket and primed it. “There are twelve
steps, Martin. You wanna get to heaven you gotta get in line.”
Martin
nodded and watched Andy pull the mechanism back. When he handed it to me, I
already had the Bolt in my hand and Martin started breathing a bit harder. Andy
reached down to hold him still but Martin flinched and lifted a hand. He
stilled his breathing and Andy straightened up without having grabbed the guy.
Martin pulled the cuffs of his shirt down. He looked at me. “Will I see you
again?”
A
tiny shake of my head. Three strikes and straight to hell.
Martin
swallowed again, his temples pulsed. “And Magda?” He barely managed to say the
words, just barely managed to look at his baby wife in the crib.
I
huffed a small laugh at such an idiotic question. “We don’t Bolt minors,
Martin.” I put the Bolt in the pistol and put the pistol to his neck. He closed
his eyes when I pulled the trigger and his body only flinched slightly as he
died.
We
stood for a moment in the quiet room. The baby shifted in her crib and cooed
lightly. Andy held his hands and cocked his head. “What about the kid?”
This
one was on me. “We’ll phone the cops and report this murder.”
I
handed the pistol to Andy. He put it away and shrugged his jacket into a
comfortable position. He looked at Martin’s lifeless body. “Goddamn Cutters.”
Suitcase
of Dreams
“ A re you just off the boat, sir?”
He
looks at me and frowns momentarily. Brown eyes flicker in search of the memory
to answer my question. He looks back down the pier to see the ferry slip away.
It slides easily away from the pier and across the water. We stand on solid
ground, away from the wooden pier. A breeze from the sea, a narrow marine lake,
cools the air as we meet in warm summer sunshine. He looks tired, as if
recently wakened, which if true is a good thing. Sleeping makes the crossing
easier.
He
puffs out his cheeks and blows out a sigh, my question forgotten. Though I know
the answer, I saw him disembark after all, it was asked of him to begin a
conversation. His clothes are smart; dressed well in shirt and tie, though no
jacket in this fine weather. He rubs his chin, square jawed. There is a hint of
stubble. He looks at me and I know what he is thinking. He’s wondering why I’m
talking to him.
“Would
you like a hand with your bags?” I ask.
His
hands reach down for his bags, but I can already see he has none. Puzzled, he
looks behind him. The short pier is free of any clutter, let alone anything
belonging to him. The main sounds are water splashes, and gulps under the pier,
from the wake of the ferry as it continues its journey to the other side. He
turns back to me. “I don’t seem to...”
“It’s
quite alright, sir,” I say, lifting a hand slightly to gently reassure him. “I
can help
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