Tuesday July 24, 2012
Annadale Flats- Unit 312
Belfast, Northern Ireland
10:28 PM Local Time
With a soft moan that was muffled by the gag that had been thrust into her mouth, Wendy Briese opened her eyes, trying to blink away the tears that had been brought on by both her recent nap, and the overall feeling of hopelessness she had felt for the last several hours. With her hands tied behind her, it was all she could do.
She didn’t know how long she had been here. One minute she was in the cemetery, paying respects to her mother and grandmother, and the next, she was under attack, knocked out by that chloroform. She had awoken in this room, bound and gagged, yet, it had been daylight out. Someone had been in the room with her at the time, although they had been careful not to cross into her field of vision. Still, from what little they had spoken, she could immediately tell it was not her father. That surprised her, and frightened her even more. Who in their right mind would ally themselves with the monster that was Augustus Briese, and carry out his bidding?
Whoever he was, the man had largely ignored her, telling her only a couple of times to shut up when she tried to speak through her gag, her words only coming out as muffled moans. It was unnerving, knowing someone else was in the room with her, someone who was very obviously not her friend, but to unable to see what they were doing, to know what they were thinking, what they even looked like- it had been terrifying. But the man had stayed away from her, finding other ways to occupy his time while he stood vigil.
Now though, if there was anyone in the room with her, they had become silent as the grave. She couldn’t believe they’d leave her alone, at least for a very long time. But they had definite cause to feel somewhat confident. She was hardly an escape artist when it came to ropes, and even if she was- these had been tied well tight. She couldn’t even move her fingers due to the bindings, and both her arms felt dead from being pinned behind her for so long. She wondered if this uncomfortable, terrifying wait was planned to break her down, to drive her mad before she even faced the true enemy.
If so, it was working.
She closed her eyes, and bowed her head as much as her bindings would allow, praying to God as hard as she could for deliverance from this horrible situation. And if not that, at least a quick, merciful end. She thought of Terrence and Theresa, sitting at home. Had they even a clue what was going on? She had agreed to Skype them at ten tonight, and if it was fully dark, that hour must be either near or had passed. Would Terrence take it as something amiss? Or would he just assume that she had been caught up in the excitement of being in Belfast? She didn’t know. In fact, she didn’t even know which one she preferred to happen. There was nothing Terry could to do save her, and she didn’t want him frightened… nor Theresa too. If things continued the way they were, there would be enough sorrow in their lives in the coming future.
A sudden image popped into her head, her daughter, dressed all in black, tearfully crying for her Mommy in front of a casket, and the tears sprang to her eyes again. But what if they never even found her body? What if her daughter only mourned an empty sarcophogous, something of memory, because what they did to her-
No! She tried forcing the thoughts from her mind. She was going to survive this. She survived Mandrake’s dungeon. She survived the Fatal Attraction. She had built her life, career, and reputation on surviving this, and she’d be damned if she was going to let whoever did this kill her without a fight!
Big words she realized, coming from someone who could barely move her head two inches.
Behind her, she heard the door open and shut, and she tried to force all negative thoughts from her mind. She would not let them think they’d broken her. She would fight them with whatever she had- right to the end.
To her surprise, she heard two sets of footsteps behind her, although only one sounded like it was coming closer. The man passed her on the right, and she tried to turn her head to get a look. It was unnecessary- the man knelt down, in front of her, and Wendy found herself face to face with her father for the first time in two years- since his last failed parole hearing.
“Hello, Gwendolyn,” the Irishman said.
Despite his incarceration, the years had been fairly kind to Augustus Briese. His flame red hair- the same shade of Wendy’s- had begun to turn gray, and his hairline was certainly receding, his face slightly more wrinkled. But he was healthy enough for a man of sixty-three. Even his teeth were perfect pearly white- she knew that easily, because he was grinning widely at her.
Wendy could only stare back, cold fury on her face, her nose slightly wrinkling from the scent of whiskey. Obviously, her father had been drinking. She tried to say something back, but the gag only muffled it, and her words ended with another muffled scream of frustration. Gus got the message though, and he chuckled coldly.
“Yuri, I do believe she has something to say to me. Kindly take her gag out, the better I can hear her.”
She felt two huge hands at the back of her head, and winced, but the cloth was simply loosened, and pulled out of her mouth, She took a couple of deep breaths, relishing the taste of fresh air again.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Gus implored mockingly, his words slightly slurred. He either was drunk, she could tell, or well on the way to being so.
“I had a feeling you were behind this,” Wendy replied, lamely. What she really wanted to do was call him every single name she could think of, but she could sense her enormous half-brother still standing behind her, and she had the worst sense that it wouldn’t end well.
Gus chuckled coldly, mockingly. “Oh, my dear Gwendolyn. You always were so damn gullible. I raised you to have such a discerning palate, and yet, you seem to eagerly swallow every single morsel of bullshit that’s put in front of you. Do you really think the Northern Ireland Tourist Board would want anything to do with you? Some whore who runs around America rolling around with other women for the delight of scum everywhere?”
Wendy ignored the insult. “So you called Pollaski to lure me here.”
“Well, not me, exactly,” Gus replied, shrugging. “I was afraid that fat tub of lard you still trust your career to might actually recognize my voice. I had a good friend who was more than eager to make the call. Let’s just say, he owed me one.” Gus broke into a grin. “I wanted to see you one last time, on the eve of the war.”
“War?” Wendy asked incredulously. “What are you even talking about?”
“Yuri, please take your sister to the window. I have something to show her.”
Still attached to the chair, Wendy found herself being lifted off the floor, and carried across the room, over to the window. Yuri set her down hard, practically dropping her. Wendy looked out. Even at night time, she could see that she was on the second or third floor of a building just a short distance from the River Lagan, with only a small field between her and the road that ran along its eastern bank. Not too far away was a bridge over the river, to the road on the other side. Wendy blinked, not entirely sure what she should be seeing.
“You see that bunch of lights over on the other bank?” Gus asked. Wendy nodded. “That’s the Lyric.”
“Mom’s theater” Wendy whispered, spotting the building. A sudden creeping feeling of dread was sinking in as she slowly began to realize what her father was planning.
“There’s going to be a show there tomorrow night. Orchestral concert, from what I believe. Should be a great show. But the real show, Wendy. Well, I don’t think too many of the attendees will be expecting it. It should be a blast.”
Wendy felt her blood run cold. “You’re going to bomb it?”
“Oh, *I’m* not. But this flat will provide an amazing view of it, don’t you think?” Gus replied, nonchalantly. “Watch the fires of liberation burning into the night sky.”
Wendy couldn’t help but note the slight edge of sarcasm in her father’s voice. “People are going to die…”
“Probably a couple hundred,” Gus agreed, turning away. Wendy felt her chair being lifted up again, and she was spun around, to face the room she had spent the last few hours staring at the wall of. It was a modestly furnished studio apartment, with a small kitchen and table, a sofa, an old television set with rabbit ears, and a bed in the corner. It definitely was Spartan, but it was hardly the dreary hellhole Wendy had envisioned.
Yuri remained behind her, and Gus walked back in front of her, leaning against the table. He sighed heavily, as if he couldn’t help what the situation had become. “The goal is to prove that the British no longer can protect us. That the only way we’ll possibly be safe is if we are free. For that, people have to die, unfortunately.”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh at the contradiction. “You’re going to make the argument that the British can’t protect you from yourselves. That’s-“
“Ourselves,” Gus chuckled without humor. “Irish won’t be doing this, Wendy. Why would we overtly kill our own countrymen when we could have a bunch of towelheads do it for us? The Brotherhood of Martyrs, they call themselves, all so fucking willing to die for their cause. So… they’ll die for theirs, and have many, many others die for ours. Quite a partnership, one that only a few will ever actually know about. You should feel honored.”
Wendy wasn’t sure why her Father was telling her all of his plans, but she felt sickened, both at the prospect of so many people losing their lives, and at the knowledge that if Gus Briese was so eager to tell her all this, then he was going to make sure it was impossible for her to tell anyone else. She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. She had to keep talking.
“So why The Lyric? Mom worked there, for crying out loud.”
“I know that,” Gus snapped, then he shook his head. “The Lyric your mother was ‘The Angel’ of is gone. They tore it up, built a new one just a couple years ago. It may be on the same site, and it may have the same damn name, but that is *not* Gayle’s theater. I was hesitant myself at first, until I saw the abomination it’d become.”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh. This was the most insane thing she’d ever heard of. “Do you really think that this is going to work? Someone, sooner or later is going to figure all of this out, and when they do-“
“What? I’ll be arrested again?” Gus chuckled. “No, Wendy. I don’t expect to survive this war. And without victory, I have no desire to.”
Wendy recognized the quote. “Stonewall Jackson…” she whispered.
“A brilliant man, despite the fact that he was a Protestant. A brilliant tactician. HE knew how to fight for freedom! If Northern Ireland had a man like him… but no, we get suckling little cravens like Martin McGuinness. He once commanded the IRA, and now he’s a damned politician. Last month, he fucking stood in that goddamned theater and shook hands with the fucking QUEEN! One more reason that building can be turned into rubble, for all I care.”
Gus paused, and reached to his side. Pulling out a flask, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig. “Better. All this talk makes me thirsty. I suppose you’re wondering why I told you all this.”
Wendy gulped. “No…”
“Sometimes… it just feels good to get stuff off your chest. And it’s not like you’re going to be telling anyone else, is it?” Gus reached to his side again, and this time drew out a pistol, glinting black in the lone light shining overhead. He slowly opened the chamber, making sure it was loaded, and slid it shut. Wendy’s eyes went wide, and she tried to shrink away, impossible given her restraints. “You see, Wendy… I don’t expect to survive this war… but I do expect to survive you.” He very slowly, steadily, pushed the gun forward, the muzzle finally settling against Wendy’s temple.
The flame-haired woman began to whimper, unable to help herself. “Daddy… please…”
“Oh, it’s daddy now, is it?” Gus asked, his eyebrow arching. “I’ve heard all those horrible names you called me over the years, and now, at the end, its ‘daddy’ again. How very touching.”
Wendy squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking out, as she waited for the end. One last time, she thought of her beautiful daughter back at home, her loving husband…
Gus burst out into laughter, and Wendy felt the gun being pulled away. She dared to open her eyes, and she saw Gus walking away from her, and he set the gun back down on the table. Behind her, Yuri was chuckling too, although there was certainly an amount of hesitation in that. Wendy realized she had been holding her breath, and she exploded into sobbing gasps.
“Did you actually think I was going to do it?” Gus laughed. “Oh, don’t get so comfortable. You are going to die. That’s the punishment for traitors, after all. But your brains blown out in some apartment in Belfast? I think we can do better than that.”
Wendy felt her face flushing with anger, and she glared at her father, furious by his callous indifference to her life. She was HIS DAUGHTER for crying out loud. Gus merely smiled, and walked back over to Wendy, this time without the gun. He knelt down, staring his daughter directly in the eye. “Don’t worry, Wendy. I’m going to make your death one you can be proud of. One that you’ve always wanted. I’m going to let you become a martyr. You’ve always wanted to be that, haven’t you? The so-called White Knight, crucified for her beliefs of goodness and holiness on the altar of practicality.”
“In fact, since you *are* my daughter, I’m going to give you a choice. We can put you in the theater tomorrow. No one will know you’re there until they sift through the rubble of course, but there’s a good chance you’ll be killed instantly and painlessly. Or, we can give you as a hostage to the Brotherhood of Martyrs. I’m sure they would make GREAT use of you, and you would get to survive a bit longer.”
Behind her, she heard her brother speak for the first time. “But Father…”
“Shut up, Yuri. This isn’t about you. It never was about you.”
“But you said…”
“I know what I said, dammit!” Gus snapped. “You will get your wish, I promise you that. But you will *not* kill her. My darling little girl deserves a righteous death, and we’re going to make sure she gets it.” He took another swig of his flask, and turned back to Wendy. “So which is it? The Bomb? Or the Brotherhood?”
“Go to hell,” Wendy simply replied, glaring back at her father.
Gus sighed, and then backhanded her across the face. Wendy stayed silent despite the pain and fear, not wanting to give her father any satisfaction. She felt a slow trickle of blood coming from her lip, as she turned her head back towards him, her eyes glaring in hatred and anger. Gus calmly tsked. “That wasn’t an option, now was it? Now one more time, before I make the decision for you. How would you like to-“ He trailed off, looking up as something behind Wendy caught his eye. His mouth fell open in gaping horror, and Wendy tried to turn to see what it was- unsuccessfully.
Gus stood up, walking behind her, and Wendy’s mind raced. Then she saw it- light was coming through the window, projecting on the back wall of the apartment. Light that was alternating red and blue.
Police lights.
“God dammit!” Gus exclaimed, and Wendy heard his footsteps pulling away from the window.
“How did they find us?” Yuri was asking, his voice also filled with concern.
“I don’t fucking know. Maybe it’s not… son of a bitch!” Gus stormed back into her field of vision, his eyes wide, his already pale skin ghostly white. He looked around the room, from Wendy, to Yuri, then back to the windows. “Stay here!” he finally said, pointing to Yuri. He cracked open the door, looking frantically around the hallway outside. With a final glance back at Yuri and Wendy, he bolted out the door, slamming it behind him.
“Coward,” Wendy heard Yuri say, but her mind was elsewhere. Had the police really come for her? Was she saved?
And then she heard the sound of a switchblade opening behind her, and the feeling of hope evaporated. Of course, there would be no way they’d let her leave this room alive. Yuri would slit her throat right here and go back to an Irish prison rather than letting her go free again. She closed her eyes again, too emotionally drained by now to think of anything but accepting the end.
And then she heard the sounds of rope being cut, and felt her bonds being loosened. She yelped in pain as the blood came rushing back into her arms and legs, and fell forward, her tumble assisted as Yuri yanked the chair out from under her. Wendy lay on the floor for several seconds, gasping for air, and wincing as her appendages continued to regain their feelings.
“Get up,” Yuri ordered her, and Wendy slowly managed to obey, turning to face her brother.
Her jaw dropped.
For the first time she’d ever seen him, he wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit, but rather a simple button up shirt and a pair of jeans. He was as pale as she and her father was, but his face wasn’t disfigured at all. His green eyes stared back at her, his hair flame-red. He looked every bit the mixed-Irish-Ukranain heritage he was.
“But… I thought you were deformed by…”
“Plastic surgery,” Yuri replied simply.
“But the hazmat suit…”
“It made people notice me. You most of all.” Chernobyl replied, a small, savage smile forming on his face.
Wendy nodded absently. “Well… th-thank you for freeing me,” she stammered out, rubbing her wrist.
Yuri burst into cold laughter. “Freeing you? No, this is my reward.” And then he threw a punch straight at her face.
Wendy’s eyes went wide, and she ducked- too slow- the punch still grazed her, hard enough to send her sprawling. Her fighting instincts taking over, Wendy rolled to the side as Yuri came in, scrambling to her feet. “Yuri, please…”
“Only one of us leaves here tonight, sister,” Yuri growled, throwing a haymaker, although this time Wendy slid out of the way easily. He advanced on her, aggression evident in every single step. Wendy dodged another punch, and flashed a leg kick. Yuri winced as it caught his upper thigh, but continued on with more wild punches, which Wendy dodged, then peppered in more leg kicks.
It wasn’t enough, she could tell. She could dance and poke all she wanted, but she’d run out of energy too quickly, and as she slowed down, she’d be a sitting duck. Yuri lunged again, and Wendy caught him this time with a hook to the jaw, then an uppercut, sending him reeling back. She leapt up with a dropkick, sending him staggering back even further, although she herself grunted in pain as she slammed into the wood floor.
She quickly got back to her feet, but Yuri was already moving back in, a sneer on his face. “Not bad, sister. But how much can your little attacks do? I’m not some weak little girl like your opponents.” He lunged, both arms wide, looking to wrap Wendy up in a hug. Wendy spun away, but gagged as a massive hand wrapped around her throat. The lunge had been a feint, and she had underestimated her brother’s speed. Yuri grinned evilly, and then threw Wendy back into the wall, the smaller woman gasping in pain. Yuri pulled her out, and slammed her back again, and then again. Wendy’s knees buckled, but the strength of Yuri, his hand still around her neck, kept her from falling. Instead, Yuri lifted her up, still pinning her against the wall so her feet dangled two feet off the floor.
“Pitiful,” Yuri snarled, ignoring her wheezes and grunts of protest as he hung her in the air. “I expected better.”
Wendy felt his hand start to close, crushing her throat, and her eyes squeezed shut as she kicked wildly, trying to find any escape. Where were the police? Why hadn’t they gotten to the room yet? It couldn’t end… not like this…
Her foot found the money, right between Yuri’s legs.
Her brother grunted like a bull, but still didn’t let go. Wendy kicked out again, catching him square this time. Yuri collapsed to his knees, releasing Wendy, who fell to the floor. Everything about her was hurting now, but she knew she couldn’t stop. This was a fight to the death.
Or escape… if she could just get to that door…
Wendy slowly got to her feet, and began staggering towards the door. Before she got three steps, however, Yuri grabbed her ankle. Wendy staggered forward, grabbing the table to keep her balance. She tried to kick her brother off, but his grip was too strong, and with another tug, Wendy’s grip on the table was lost, and she fell to the floor again.
Still Wendy tried to crawl away, get herself some more room, but Yuri’s grip was too tight. She tried to kick him off again, to no avail. Then something caught the corner of her eye. Something black.
Gus’ gun. It must have been knocked to the floor when she fell from the table. With no other option, completely running on desperation, Wendy lunged for it, her hand wrapping around the weapon, just as Yuri pulled her back towards him. She rolled onto her back, looking up. Yuri, murder in his face, was getting to his feet, standing over her, reaching down to grab her…
*BANG!*
Blood splattered the ceiling from the exit wound, as Yuri’s eyes went wide, his hand clutching his upper chest. His mouth formed into an O of shock as he stared at his sister in disbelief. Then he fell over, blood streaming out from beneath his hand. Wendy stared wide eyed in horror as he crashed to the ground, breathing rapidly, staring back at her. She shakily stood to her feet, the gun still pointed at him, trembling in her hand.
“Oh my God… Yuri I’m…”
“End it,” he hissed, pointing with his other hand to the space right between his eyes. “I’m already dead. Make it painless.”
Wendy gulped, and took a step back, then another. Her hand was trembling so violently, she wouldn’t have even been able to aim properly if she had wanted to.
“END IT!” Yuri screamed.
Wendy turned on her heel and sprinted to the door, throwing it open and bolting out into the hallway.
“POLICE! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!”
Breathing heavily, Wendy whirled around at the voice, but gulped as she saw that no one was there. From the sounds of breaking glass & wood, along with screams and the occasional sound of gunfire, Wendy realized the entire complex was being raided. And by the way the echoes sounded, there was no telling how far away the police really were. Looking around wildly, she set off towards where the voices could be coming from. If she could just rendezvous with the police, she’d be safe, and this nightmare would be over.
Seeing a door opening to a staircase, Wendy flung it open, again looking around warily. If police were raiding the whole complex, there’d be no telling how many of her father’s gang were here, and if she ran into one of them before she found the police…
She couldn’t think about that. She had to keep going, lest she become overcome by fear and freeze up. She continued down the stairs, passing the second floor landing, heading straight for ground level. The sound of gunfire echoed again, and Wendy raised her own pistol, but she quickly lowered it. She couldn’t afford to be jumpy either. If she ran into the police, she’d have to be ready to throw her weapon down, lest they perceive her as a threat.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, finding a side door to the complex. She swung it open, stepping out into the cool Belfast night. At least it had stopped raining, she realized as she looked around, slowly walking out into the alley. The police weren’t monitoring this entrance, she realized. That was odd- why hadn’t they covered all the exits in order to prevent escape? Or did they simply not have enough manpower to do so, given the scope of the operation?
Wendy walked out of the alley way, finding herself on a side street. To her right, she could see the blue and red flashing of police lights, and she headed that way. It wouldn’t be long now, and the police would see her, and she’d be free…
Something caught her eye, and she looked up, across the street. A lone figure was running across the bridge over the River Lagan, and even from this distance, Wendy could see the graying red hair as the man ran under a streetlight.
Her father was escaping. And if he did- there’d be no telling what he’d do next. She knew now that he wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
Wendy broke into a sprint after him, running across the small field, and then the street that ran along the east bank, not even stopping to look for traffic. Luckily, there wasn’t any, and Wendy followed the figure across the bridge, her heart pounding as she realized where she was heading.
The Lyric Theater.
“Hey! Stop!” she heard someone, probably an officer, yelling far behind her, but she kept running. The figure ahead had stopped running, and was standing in the theater’s parking lot, nervously waiting. Wendy opened her mouth to scream at him to stop, but before she could, a car pulled into the otherwise empty lot, stopping just in front of Gus.
Wendy slowed down, groaning under her breath. Was this a getaway car? Was her father going to escape after all?
But instead of her dad getting in, another man got out. Older even than her dad, his hair completely white. And even from the hundred or so yards away, Wendy could tell he was furious.
“What the FUCK is happening!” he screamed, shoving Gus.
“I don’t fucking know!” Gus replied, on the verge of hysteria himself. “They showed up and started raiding the whole goddamned complex!”
“They’re raiding us all over the fucking city!” the other man bellowed. “I barely got out before they came for me! How the fuck did this happen, Gus? HOW?!”
“I… I don’t know.”
By now, Wendy had gotten close enough to where she could see the other man’s face. She had only seen it once before in her life, and it took several seconds for her memory to click, but then it hit her. The last time she had seen him, he had been standing next to her mother’s grave back in November. Derrick Delaney.
Now she knew how the man had known her father. Neither of them had noticed her yet. She still had the gun in her hand… if she could get closer, take them by surprise, she could hold them both until the police arrived…
“So now what?” Gus was asking.
“It’s over.” Delaney sighed. “Everything is lost. There’s just one thing left to do.”
Wendy prepared to raise her gun, to yell at them to get down on the ground, but she stopped as Delaney pulled out a gun of his own, and point it at Gus, who immediately took a step back, suddenly quivering with fear.
“D-D-Derrick… what-“
*BANG!*
Blood spattered onto Delaney’s car, and Gus stood still, blinking once, twice, his mouth in the perfect O of shock that Yuris’ had been. Then he collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the hole in his forehead.
“I should have done that thirty-five years ago. I liked you, Gus. But you always were a fuck-up. I never should have let you come back to Ireland. I never should have busted you out of prison. I never should have let you leave Ireland in the first place. I should have killed you the moment I found out you were behind Blaine.”
Wendy let out a cry of horror, falling to her knees as the realization sunk in. Augustus Briese was dead. She knew she should feel happiness, or some semblance of relief, but the suddenness, the gruesome reality of it all, was too much for her. Delaney heard her, and spun around. Wendy gasped as he raised his gun towards her, ready to dispose of the witness.
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
*BANG!*
She had forgotten about the gun in her own hand. But now it was pointing at Delaney, smoke wafting from the barrel. And Derrick Delaney was on the ground, blood pouring from his right eye, puddling on the ground and mixing with her father’s. She took a step forward, looking down at the two bodies. Then the gun fell from her hands, and she fell on all fours, retching, sobbing, fighting the urge to scream.
“POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON, AND GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!”
This time, Wendy knew the words were directed at her, and, her body still shivering with sobs, she lay flat on the ground, listening for the footsteps as the officer approached. “I want to go home…” she whimpered, repeating herself again, then again. “I want to go home… I want to go home… I want to-“
She continued to repeat it, even as the officers jerked her hands behind her back, and applied the handcuffs, and dragged her towards the waiting police car.
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