Fishman stands up from behind cover with his hands raised.
‘We surrender. Juts go about your business; we don’t want any more casualties’ pleas Fishman
He is met with a dense cloud of dust obscuring his vision down the hallway. The smoky cloud finally clears after a few more moments of silence. The hallway in which Frank McKenzie was standing in is empty, besides from the guard’s mangled corpse on the floor. Fishman looks around and sees nothing, confusion washes across his face. He turns around to see the remainder of his men motionless on the floor leaving only him and the injured man. He turns to see the injured guard motionless on the floor; he rushes down and turns him over. A bullet hole is neatly placed in the middle of the man’s head. A cold sensation is felt on Fishman’s neck. Before he can turn around McKenzie fires. Fishman collapses onto a pool of blood as Frank walks out of corridor six.
Fifty One
The year 2006: SIX YEARS BEFORE BOARDING THE TRAIN
Mrs Gardener is standing in front of her whiteboard as she surveys her class. The attendance is much lower than her usual classes; this is due to the fact that she is hosting the ever popular after school detention club. She hated that part of her job. She always thought how useless these proceedings were, especially since she always saw the same people in there every time she was assigned to the job. The school teachers would draw straws on whose turn it was to host the extra-curricular event. She always seemed to pull the short one. Bad luck she thought to herself.
She stood in front of her class wearing her usual appealing ware that kept the male students from spit-balling each other and the female students from liking her. She coughs out loud to draw the attention of ten students sitting in front of her with the expressions of boredom widely visible on their faces.
‘Okay boys and girls. Even though it’s end of year and all, you still find it impossible to go about your school activities without finding yourselves here. Now I’m not going to waste my time telling you people how to live your lives, so I’m giving you all this time to reflect on your behaviour leaving school and going into adult life. Please use this time allocated for you to catch up on any work that I’m sure you are falling behind on. Save all questions till the end of detention.’
The class moans consecutively and goes about their business while Mrs Gardner sits down and starts marking some papers. She goes into a work fuelled zone where the only thoughts that are rushing through her head are what she is likely to do when she gets home. A bottle of wine and a TV dinner for one she thinks to herself. The thought stops her in her tracks as she gazes out of the window for a while, taking in the sunny day and brisk wind brushing against the trees on campus. She spots someone sitting on a bench facing her direction. She immediately wonders who it is. Suddenly she feels a vibration in her jeans pocket and pulls out her mobile phone, she darts her eyes to her class and notices no one looking at her. Professional at all times.
She unlocks the phone and reads the message. She smiles. It’s someone she knows. She messages the person back while being cautious of her surroundings as she makes sure none of her class is attentive to her text messaging. She hits send and looks back out of the window. She notices the figure on the bench in the distance reach into his jacket and pull out a phone. She smiles again.
The figure on the bench is wearing casual clothes. He is sporting charcoal washed blue denim jeans and a brown leather jacket. He fiddles in a text and hits send on his flashy phone. Mrs Gardener’s phone vibrates again. She reads the new message and laughs.
The student’s attention goes from their work to her. She immediately puts the phone back in her jeans pocket and carries on marking her papers.
She looks out of the window again and notices that the figure on the bench is now gone. She sighs in contempt as she reaches into her pocket and quickly glances at the new message on the phone.
“I’ll see you tonight at yours. Wear something revealing, ideally nothing. Kiss.” It read
She smiled once again, her heart beating hard in her chest at the thought of her being with another man consumed her. She looked at the name above the message and glee filled her like air fills lungs. She knew who it was anyway, but enjoyed seeing his name. It meant that this was real. The relationship was real and her feelings were real. He made her feel like she was worth more than money and dates. She felt as if she was worth time its self. She glanced at her class room and noticed that nobody was looking at her. She took the opportunity to take one last look at the name above the phone.
“617-338-7786.
JASON BORDELLO”
Fifty Two
Nathan is sat down on an oil drum in a store room. He looks up at an opening in the ceiling, a man made one. He looks at his watch impatiently as if he is waiting for something to happen. He gets up to straighten out his legs and looks at his watch again.
‘Fuck sake, Hurry up!’ He says to himself
At that moment some ash drops on his shoulders. Nathan brushes them off and looks up at the hole in the ventilation system. Fredrick has his head poking out of the hole and a smile on his face.
‘Come on star, it’s all safe up here.’ Says Fredrick
‘Yeah I’d appreciate it if you don’t drop cigar ash on me thanks’ Says Nathan still brushing his shoulders off.
Fredrick holds his arm out so Nathan can grab it. Nathan hoists himself up onto the oil drum below the gaping hole. He balances himself, trying not to take a fall. He steadies himself and reaches for Fredrick’s arm that’s still extended just above him. Nathan grabs his arm while Fredrick pulls him into the ventilation system. The vent is a lot darker then the store room, which only shared one characteristic. It’s very confined. Nathan turns around to Fredrick who has begun crawling.
‘Where the hell are we going?’ Asks Nathan
Fredrick turns around slightly
‘We are going to get out of here’ whispers Fredrick
‘Yeah I know that, but where does this lead to?’
‘It will take us right through the 1 floor of the M.I.T building. Straight through the hornet’s nest right out to the wastes my breda’
‘Hornet’s nest, are you mad?’
‘No it’s the only available route. They have destroyed the entrance foyer; no one can get through there. Not to mention they have got plenty of guards walking patrols man, so if we get caught we will die, I’m sure you don’t want that to happen now do you.’
‘Course not, but how did you get into the building?’
‘The same way we walking out star, through the ventilation ducts’
Nathan grabs Fredrick’s arm
‘This better be safe’
Fredrick pulls his arm away from Nathan
‘Course it’s safe; I never put myself in danger. Why you grab me like that? I’m no batty boy star!’
‘Batty boy?...’
There is nothing but complete silence in the duct
‘Never mind, let’s get going’ says Nathan
‘Fine by me star’
‘Lead the way “Star”’ Says Nathan Sarcastically
‘Ah my man likes the word star now, that gwan’ be good hear you say that’
‘Yeah whatever let’s get going, we need to get the hell out of here Fredrick. Let’s leave the playing around shit for the outside. I’ll make you a deal, you get me out of here and I’ll tattoo the dam word on my ass for you’
‘I would settle for a beer Breda, no need to get your ass all bruised. Come, let’s go’
Fifty Three
Chief Shaw is sat on a chair staring at the big screen in the incident room. His mind is racing as he gazes at the blue screen flickering in the now quiet room. He looks around and notices officers sitting at desks motionless trying to get a grip on the day’s events. He looks at his watch and sighs. Seven more hours till the FBI will take the case over. Shaw finally snaps out of his solitude and gets up. He starts to pace the immediate area like a man with a plan. It is all part of his job. Look concerned, act in control. In reality he feels everything around him slipping. The phone rings. Everyone in the room gasps as they all look over to the phone planted on the big oak desk a few meters away from Shaw. He sighs as he walks over to the ringing phone, taking a few steps to consolidate his thoughts. He stops dead and reaches for the shiny black phone, his hand visible in the reflection of the matt style plastic that cases the handle. He knows that particular phone line is dedicated to one thing only, communicating with Connor Chase.