OUR STORY SO FAR: Oscar Rayne is on the run. The McCarthy Mob wants him dead and the SFPD aren’t far behind. Meanwhile, Detective Dela Cruz is unaware that she is riding shotgun with a cop on McCarthy's payroll and that death could be around the next corner. Click here to start from the beginning: http://dublinsworld.blogspot.
Based on True Events
O’Neil knew the way, Claudia never had to give directions. They double parked across the street from Gold Duck and she looked out at the people wandering up and down the sidewalks, through the rain and neon of North Beach. She scanned the crowds for Oscar Rayne.
O’Neil knew the way, Claudia never had to give directions. They double parked across the street from Gold Duck and she looked out at the people wandering up and down the sidewalks, through the rain and neon of North Beach. She scanned the crowds for Oscar Rayne.
“Give me your phone so I can call Dan,” Claudia said.
O’Neil brushed the breast pocket of his jacket with his fleshy fingers but didn’t reach in for the phone.
“They got the van over at the paint store, what’s the point of checking in?” he said.
“I just want to talk to him.”
“I got to go in and get this son’a bitch. I don’t got any time to hand over my phone.”
O’Neil took a deep rasp of a breath as he rolled his window up. Claudia could feel the blood rising to her face.
“I’m going in,” she said, no trace of a question in her voice.
“Dressed like that?” he said.
“They won’t expect it.”
“They? We’re just here to apprehend Rayne. Who’s they?”
“This is McCarthy’s place,” Claudia explained, losing patience. “Rayne must be here in some connection to the crew. I’ll go in and flush him out, you watch the front for when he exits.”
“I can’t send you in there alone.”
“This is my case Detective. My collar. I appreciate your help, I do, but I’m going to take the lead on this.”
O”Neil watched her, finally letting out a ragged sigh.
“Maybe it’s better this way,” he said.
“I’m glad you agree. Now, give me a weapon so I can go get this asshole.”
O”Neil labored as he bent down to his sock holster and handed over his .32 snub nose back up piece. He also gave her his raincoat, which hung off her like an untethered kimono when she got out of the car and began to cross the street. There was still a light rain but Claudia didn’t feel it, she just felt the criss cross pattern of the gun’s wooden handle as she reached forward and pushed the door of the Gold Duck open.
It was dimly lit inside the bar, at first she could only make out huddled shapes among the shadows. She took a deep breath and let her eyes adjust. As the place came into focus she had the realization that all the other eyes in the room were on her. Two old Asian men sat directly across from the door with dice lying on the bar between them and there was an old red looking white man in the corner, nursing a beer under the ugly painting of a topless tennis player. The T.V sitting above the bar was showing a poker tournament and the four old men seated under it couldn’t care less, they were watching the woman in the giant rain coat and tight fitting dress.
****
The twenty seven thousand dollars felt a lot heavier coming down in the elevator than it had when he stashed it in the wall. Oscar looked down at the bag in his hand and wished he had taken the time to pick another. It was all black, except for a tacky pink peace sign printed on both sides. It looked like a gym bag bought for a teenager by a crazy aunt.
He moved the bag to his left hand and pulled the gun from his waistband. It was a very real possibility that the elevator doors would open and that would be it, he would be lit up at the end of the line. He stepped back into the corner, nowhere to really go, and pointed the gun at the door, pulling the hammer back with his thumb.
The elevator let out a high shriek as it hit the bottom, the lower bowels of the city cushioning its drop. Everything was still as he strained his ears, the gun thrust out in front of him, waiting, until the doors finally separated and revealed the striped brick wall of the passageway. He pushed up against the right door and took a look one way, then flipped around and scanned the other. The passage appeared to be empty.
He stepped out, wanting to run but forcing himself to take one measured step after another. He squinted into the gloom, waiting for someone to emerge around the corner, out of the dim end of the hallway near the stairway. His ears continued to strain. There was nothing but the faint buzz of the lights that lit the passageway four feet apart.
He walked by Charlie’s office. The poor bastard might have been coming around right about then but he would be groggy and tied up and not up and about for some time. Oscar would just go up the stairs, nod at Tek, and be on his way. By this time tomorrow he would be out of the country and finally able to rest.
It was dim in the passage but there was still a flash of light from the butcher knife as Tek leapt around the corner at the base of the stair, slashing wildly. The blade came down and caught the top of the gun in Oscar’s hand, otherwise it would have chopped the limb clean off.
The blow jarred up through his bones and Oscar lost his grip on the gun. He stumbled back as Tek raised the huge knife up with both hands again, taking another wild swing. It cut through the leather at the front of Oscar’s jacket and he could feel the sting as it pierced the skin on his chest, barely deep enough to draw blood.
He leapt back and the bricks of the wall dug hard into his shoulder blades as he slammed into it. He cursed and had to bend down to dodge another oncoming blow. The knife’s edge scrapped the brick and sent a burst of red dust into the passageway.
Oscar launched himself forward, catching his attacker square in the chest. This time it was Tek slamming into the brick and Oscar could feel the air punch out of the little man’s body, then felt the air leave his own body when Tek sent a sharp knee into his gut.
Oscar lost his hold and stumbled back, his lungs screaming. He looked out through the tears in his eyes and saw Tek reach down to recover the knife from where it had fallen onto the floor. Oscar scanned the passage for the gun, spotting it nearly ten feet away down the hall.
He glanced at Tek and found him coming again, the knife raised high with both hands. Still gasping for air, Oscar raised his own hands up in desperation. He caught Tek’s arms on the way down, but the little man ripped free and slashed again, weaker this time. The knife connected, the blade slicing deep into the meat of Oscar’s fore arm.
Oscar gripped Tek’s hand with the knife in it, ripping it from his own arm. The knife flew, sliding along the base of the passageway, and Oscar reached forward, forcing both hands around Tek’s neck and pushing, his weight forcing Tek to backpedal. Oscar could see the panic in the little man’s eyes as he grabbed at the hands around his neck, trying to pry them apart. Oscar was giddy with pain and anger, squeezing his fingers into the slippery flesh of the other man’s neck and pushing back, back.
Tek’s left foot stepped on the gun and he slipped, landing hard on the cement floor with Oscar on top. The little man’s body cushioned the impact, he was gasping for breath. Oscar dug his knees into either side, around the ribs. He began to pummel the little man’s face with his fists.
The punches came down hard, digging into the flesh of the cheeks, mashing the lips and jaw. Oscar kept punching until both his arms were burning around the shoulders and his fists were numb, until he could no longer see Tek’s eyes from the swelling and the blood flowing from the little man’s head and the open wound on Oscar’s forearm.
Oscar stood up, wiping the sweat and blood from his face. His legs were unsteady and he leaned against the wall. He stood there, sucking breath. Once he was breathing evenly his head cleared a bit and he could think again.
He took off his jacket and dropped it on the floor, then ripped the bottom of his shirt off. He rolled his sleeve up and tied the ripped cloth tight around the cut on his forearm. It wasn’t great but it would stop the bleeding. He put his jacket back on and looked down at his attacker. The blood was collecting around Tek’s head, his face no longer recognizable. Oscar hoped it looked worse than it was and that the man would live.
He collected the gun and the bag, picking up the six rolls of cash that had spilled out during the attack. The cut on his arm stung like a son of a bitch but it would hold. He would go straight to the airport, catch a plane to anywhere, catch another flight from anywhere to somewhere else and then maybe take a moment to get it stitched up. The most important thing was not to bring attention to it, not get questions asked.
He began to climb the stairs, one by one with effort. He was leaving behind a mess, two of his friends beat up, another dead in an alley way. All this time spent thinking about how he would leave one day with no trouble, no fuss- he shook his head as he continued to climb the stairs.
Oscar thought about the cop, the one that had caught them in the alley and shot Murph. If it hadn’t been for that man appearing out of nowhere Oscar himself would most likely be dead instead of Murph. This wasn’t the time to wonder but he couldn’t help himself. Where had the man come from? Had Judy called the cops? Had they been watching the whole thing? Oscar’s arm ached and he cursed the man and Murph and Dick and Leo and Vaughn and the whole bloody world.
He reached the top of the stairs. All he had to do was walk through the bar passed a couple of drunks, get outside, and that was that. The car was probably reported as a carjacking, he would leave it and flag down a taxi. He would take the cab to the airport, catch the first flight listed.
He swung the door open, the bag in his hand, the gun shoved back into his waistband. He glanced around the room, the old men all in place as they were, completly unaware to what had happened to their bartender down stairs. Oscar noticed the woman by the bar, with her back to him. She was between him and the door. He was making his way towards her, looking passed her, through the rain streaked windows, searching for the lights of a taxi.
The woman turned and looked at him -he knew her. She watched him approach, not saying anything, then she calmly lifted the black revolver and pointed it at him.
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