Chapter 21
Crash
My breathing was intense now. Not intense through exertion or fear, but anticipation. I licked my lips at the thought of what was going to come. I was about to get revenge.
“And where exactly are you?”
Jones told me the address. “It's an abandoned barn outside the city. Miles from anywhere, completely safe. We won't have any visitors, don't worry.”
“And is he still out?”
“He is. I gave him a small dose. He should be coming round shortly.”
“OK. I'll be with you soon. Don't do anything until I get there. I want to look this motherf*cker in the eye before he leaves this world.”
I shut the phone off and dialed another number. It rang and picked up quickly.
“It's time,” I said.
The was silence on the other end.
“I'm going to text you the address. Memorize it and delete it. I'll see you there in 30 minutes.”
I shut the phone off once more and stood, my legs heavy. It felt like nerves, but different. Nerves of excitement, nerves that signalled the culmination of a journey. For months my mind had been dominated with thoughts of retribution, of vengeance. Now I was about to see my promise to my father kept.
I'm doing this for you father. I hope you're watching.
....
“Remove it,” I said to Jones as he stood next to the man fixed to a chair.
He grabbed the hood that was covering Lithgow's head and pulled it off him.
Lithgow's eyes widened immediately at the sight of me, his words muffled by the tape covering his mouth. He mumbled loudly and thrashed around in the chair, his eyes growing in fear as he looked around the room.
He sat in the center of an old barn, a trickling of rain dripping through cracks in the ceiling. The space was filthy and full of old equipment, rusted and disused. Old pitchforks and spades clanged lightly as they swayed in the breeze, the wind whistling in through holes in the weak wooden walls.
I leaned in to him and whispered, his eyes coming back to mine and showing his terror. It was the look I had wanted to see for some time.
“Now, I'm going to remove the tape around your mouth. There is no one nearby, so please don't dishonor yourself by screaming out.”
I looked for agreement in his eyes before standing up and grabbing at the loose end of his gag, ripping it quickly off his face as he yelped in pain.
His jaw was set firm, clenched, his eyes now beginning to burn. Fear, hatred, anger. They were all the sorts of emotions I wanted him to feel before he died. I wanted him to know what my father must have felt. I wanted him to suffer as my father had suffered.
I walked casually over to the side of the barn and grabbed an old stool, placing it a couple of feet in front of him and sitting down. Jones stood behind him to the side, his own eyes betraying him. He was always so calm, so collected, so professional. But right now I could sense he wanted personal revenge as I did.
I pulled a cigar from my pocket and lit it up, dragging the moment out as long as I could. He couldn't take it any more, his words slipping out from between gritted teeth.
“What am I doing here Crash?! What the f*ck do you think you're doing?”
I raised my head to him, puffing nonchalantly on my cigar.
“I think you know.”
He shook his head vigorously, his voice beginning to rise in response to my callous relaxation. “I have no f*cking idea! I gave you what you wanted. I got your project off the ground. What the f*ck else do you want from me.”
The stupid old shit was defiant to the end.
“Don't play dumb Walter,” I said. “It won't save you.”
His breathing began to increase, his eyes beginning to widen in fear once again. “Save me? What are you going to do?”
I leaned forward on my stool, speaking slowly to elicit maximum impact.
“I'm going to kill you Walter. End your miserable f*cking life.”
“No, no, you can't! Why would you?! What have I done to deserve this?! I helped you, I can still help you!” He was growing more frantic once more, shaking in his chair, the realization dawning on his stupid f*cking head.
“You thought you would get away with it?” I asked. “For killing my father?”
He shook his head even more ferociously now, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Your father? No, I had nothing to do with that. I could never kill anyone. I'd never do that. Your father was an old friend. Why would I do that to him? I've never hurt anyone in my life!”
The guy was a good actor, I'll give him that. I guess when faced with your own death you'd do and say just about anything to survive.
“An old friend? Do old friends screw each other over? Do old friends try to destroy each others' businesses? You were no old friend of my father. Not after what you did.”
He kept this look of utter bewilderment on his face. “No, that was just business, and years ago. Why would I kill your father over that?”
“Because he was coming for you!” I said quickly. “Because YOU were next on his list. You had to get there first, I understand that. I'd have done the same. But, unfortunately, my hand has also been forced. Someone needs to answer for his death.”
“BUT I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. NOTHING!” he shouted, his words impassioned and desperate.
At that the door behind me creaked open, the sound of the rain outside growing louder. I stood and turned suddenly to see Kyle walking in, his eyes looking over the scene in front of him. He looked pale, sick almost, his skin pallid and eyes dark.
“Why are you so late?” I questioned fiercely.
He shook his head, his voice weak. “I'm sorry, I - got lost.” It sounded like a lie.
I looked him up and down. He looked as though he was about to throw up. Pull yourself together man, for f*ck's sake.
“Well you're here now. Kyle, meet Walter Lithgow, the man who murdered our father.”
“No, no, I didn't do it! You have to believe me!” His eyes landed on Kyle, noticing his uneasy complexion.
“Kyle, I didn't do it. Please, I didn't kill your father. I never would do that. Please, don't let him kill me.”
I walked up to him and grabbed at his hair, pulling his head down and staring into his eyes.
“Shut. Your. Mouth. Your pleas won't save you Walter. You're a f*cking snake. Your silver tongue will get you nowhere this time. You can't manipulate your way out of this one.”
I nodded to Jones as he kept on screaming and crying his innocence. I'd had enough of it, I couldn't hear any more. Jones stepped forward and launched his fist into the side of Lithgow's face, his head rocking and falling forward. That shut him up.
A silence now fell on us, the clattering of rain on the roof of the barn the only sound breaking the quiet.
I turned back towards Kyle, who looked at Lithgow's now limp body. His eyes were mournful.
“Maybe he's telling the truth,” he said in a whisper, his eyes not deviating from the figure in the chair. “Maybe he didn't kill father.”
I felt a pang inside me, something not fitting together. I couldn't place it, but my lust for revenge was beginning to desert me. What if it wasn't him? Was this all just a big mistake?
No, it was all lies. He'd done it his whole life: lied and manipulated people to get what he wanted. Now he was trying to lie his way out of trouble, saying anything to save his life. He didn't deserve to live. For everything he'd done, for everyone he'd hurt and screwed over, he deserved what was coming to him.
I reached for my belt and pulled out a gun. Kyle's eyes flared at the sight of it.
“Crash, no. You can't do this.”
I didn't listen to him. I didn't care what he had to say.
“Crash, you don't know he did it. He might be innocent.”
I lifted the gun to Lithgow's body, aiming it at his chest. My hand was shaking slightly, my finger locked to the trigger. I could hear Kyle pleading at my side, asking me to stop and think, to see reason.
I was blind to him now, though. I had come this far, there was no turning back.
My finger squeezed tighter, the trigger about to click. I stood there for what seemed like hours, my arm getting heavy, my hand continuing to shake as the tip of the gun swayed around Lithgow's body.
I was breathing heavily, a grimace on my face, my eyes beginning to well up. This man had killed my father, robbed him of life. He needed to die.
But....I'd never killed a man. I'd never gone that far. I thought it would be easy. I thought I'd almost enjoy it. I had dreamed of seeing someone pay for what they'd done, dreamed of being the one to do the job.
But now that I stood there, I couldn't do it. I couldn't take this man's life.
I felt a hand on my arm, the touch light. I looked up, the barn coming back into focus, and saw Jones. His eyes were like steel, his face expressionless.
“You should leave Crash,” he said quietly. “You don't need to do this. It's better to keep your hands clean.”
He slid the gun from my hand, my finger softening over the trigger as it slipped from my grasp.
“Walk away Crash. Leave everything to me. I'll see it done.”
Jones nodded at Kyle and I felt his arm at my back, turning me towards the door. He walked me towards it, the rain splattering down onto my head as I emerged into the dark evening.
I felt completely numb. I had no idea what to feel.
“I'm proud of you brother,” said Kyle as we walked. “Taking a life is nothing to be proud of.”
It looked like tears were dropping from his eyes but I couldn't tell, not in the rain.
A bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens in the distance, followed shortly by a heavy crack of thunder. The rain began increasing as we stood there, my clothes growing drenched as I looked up to the dark clouds. Another crack of thunder, followed quickly by another.
But it wasn't thunder this time. No...it was the sound of gunshots.