The Getaway

TWENTY-THREE

‘Gerry?’

‘Don’t move, Sam. Or the kid dies,’ Gerrard said, grabbing Jessie again and putting the pistol to her head.

Archer stared at him.

He was stunned.

‘Gerry, what the hell are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing? The bags. Throw them over here.’

Archer didn’t move. Gerrard pulled back the hammer on his pistol, the gun to the girl’s head.

‘Don’t make me kill her, kid. Throw over the bags.’

‘Gerry, put the gun down.’

‘Bags!’ he screamed.

In his hand, Jessie started to cry, scared, her sobs muffled under the strip of duct-tape, her eyes shielded behind the blindfold.

Archer stayed still for a moment longer, then complied. He opened the trunk, grabbing the two bags by the handles, then threw them over towards him and Siletti, one at a time. They were about twenty yards from each other and the bags landed ten feet from Gerrard. They landed with a thud, next to the corpses of Farrell, Ortiz and Regan and beside their getaway car. Archer still stared at Gerrard, in disbelief. He looked into his eyes.

But the man he'd known for so long wasn’t there anymore.

‘You played me, this whole time?’

Gerrard didn’t reply. Beside him, Siletti grinned, ear to ear, like the Grinch.

‘Yeah. We did,’ he said.

‘Where’s O’Hara?’

‘Dead. Same as you’ll be soon enough,’ Siletti said.

Archer looked at Gerrard, desperate for some kind of an explanation. His mind flashed back during the past week, through everything that had happened, like someone flipping through a stack of photographs.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

‘So that’s the deal,’ Archer said, looking into Gerrard’s eyes. ‘You got sent here from D.C, broke and humiliated. Farrell and his team had just started pulling the jobs in the city. You were honest at first, but then everything finally just got to you. You met with Farrell, said you would make sure they never got rumbled so long as they gave you a slice. You did that for a while, but then they let you go. They decided they could do the rest without you. And you didn’t have any evidence to convict them. You couldn’t get within a mile of them. They knew you, and every member of your team, and if you tried Farrell would shop you to people in D.C. You were stuck, in limbo. So you figured you could use me instead.’

Gerrard said nothing.

‘You knew I’d be wound up, not thinking straight because of what happened to Dad. You made it seem like I was helping you bring them down whereas all you wanted was to find out where they were keeping their cash. I told you Tate made the trips down to A.C, so you went down there and killed him. You didn’t get called to D.C, did you?’

Gerrard said nothing.

‘But somewhere along the line, he got wise,’ Archer said, pointing at Siletti. ‘He confronted you about it. I’m guessing he demanded to be involved, or else he’d start talking. O’Hara did the same. So you were working together, covering each other’s backs. You thought Parker and Lock might have their suspicions, so you executed them. You know how to trick a crime-scene. You covered all your tracks. It ran like clock-work, right?’

Neither said a word. Katic looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

‘But you screwed up. Because Sanderson is here. He’s seen and knows everything you two are doing. How the hell are you going to explain his disappearance?’

‘By leaving too,’ Siletti said. ‘We’re out of here. We’re never coming back. We’ve got enough money here to live on for three lifetimes.’

Archer saw silent tears streaming down Katic’s face, her hair snatched in Siletti’s grip. Gerrard turned to Siletti.

‘Fire it up,’ he said.

Siletti nodded with a grin. Turning, he dragged Katic with him to the cockpit and flicked some switches. The rotors started to move slowly, as the vessel warmed up. The engine made no sound yet though. Gerrard looked at Archer, who was staring right back at him, into his soul.

‘I didn’t want to kill your father, Sam,’ he said. ‘He brought it on himself.’

Archer stared at him.

‘You?’

Silence.

‘You were the one who killed him?’

‘He shouldn’t have come down here and messed with other people’s affairs. He should have kept his nose out. He wanted to meet me in the parking lot. He wanted to confront me, to find out what the hell was going on, to tell me about Siletti and O’Hara. He figured I was still on the FBI side. But he had proof. And I couldn’t let him do it. So I killed him when he turned his back. Shotgun. Just like Farrell and his team used.’ Pause. 'I didn't want to do it, Sam. But I had to. I made it quick.'

Archer blinked, fighting back emotion.

‘You were his oldest friend,’ he said, his voice shaky.

‘Then what had he done for me lately?’ Gerrard screamed. ‘Did he help me out when I got canned? No. Did he even try? Did he care? No. He didn't give a shit. He abandoned me just like everyone else. He deserved it. He should have stayed in D.C and left me the hell alone. Now he's dead for it.’

There was a pause. Siletti had re-joined Gerrard, grinning wolfishly at Archer, holding Katic by the collar, the silenced pistol to her head. Behind them the rotors to the helicopter were starting to spin, gathering speed, the blades whirring faster and faster.

‘So what now?’ Archer said. 'You two just pack up the money and fly away?'

‘Exactly. But for you, it ends here,’ Siletti said.

Archer saw the other man's eyes glance to Archer’s pistol, on the ground.

He'd won and he knew it.

‘Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,’ Siletti continued. ‘You’ll be seeing your father real soon, you piece of shit. If you’ve got any prayers, say them now.’

He pushed Katic to the ground, throwing his silenced pistol to one side. He scooped up the M16 lying on the ground, and pulled the slide, a bullet flying out the ejection port.

‘I’m going to give you every single bullet in this thing,’ he said, the weapon clutched in his hands. ‘Then the bitch, the kid and Sanderson die too. And there’s nothing you can to stop me.’

Archer looked over at Gerrard. He looked back, his eyes emotionless. Behind them, the helicopter was warmed up, the rotors spinning. The engine was slowly starting to whine.

‘I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t let you walk away,’ Gerrard said. He turned to Siletti. ‘Time to go.’

Gerrard pulled on his helmet, fully protected in the body armour as Siletti grinned at him. Archer didn’t react. He just looked at Katic, who was looking up at him pleadingly, tears in her eyes.

‘Any last words, a*shole?’ Siletti called, raising the M16.

Archer looked at him, then at Gerrard. Saw them both standing both there, near the back of the helicopter in the middle of the runway. The rotors whirring.

He nodded, and looked down at Katic.

‘Turtle.’



There was a pause. Siletti and Gerrard looked at him, confused.

Then Katic suddenly reached over and grabbed her daughter with her duct-taped hands, pulling her to the floor from Gerrard’s grip and covering her in a flash. It took Siletti and Gerrard by surprise, and they looked down at her for a split second.

At that same moment, Archer swept aside the right lapel of his coat, and grabbed something hanging from a strap looped around his shoulder.

It was a sawn-off Ithaca.

He grabbed the stock and the pistol grip and aimed the weapon, his hands steady as a rock, the weapon still and already loaded. He momentarily ignored Gerrard. He was wearing full body armour.

But Siletti wasn’t.

Archer aimed the weapon straight at him and pulled the trigger.

The weapon exploded, and the shell hit Siletti like a cannonball, throwing him back. Blood and bits of his torso and clothing sprayed in the air as the shell tore him in two. He splayed back on the concrete, dead in an instant.

Gerrard looked to his right, seeing this happen, shocked. He turned back to Archer and raised his Glock, safe behind his body armour. Archer racked the pump on the Ithaca, crunching another round into the barrel. He aimed it straight at Gerrard’s chest and fired.

The weapon boomed, and there was a clunk as the round hit the steel body armour.

It didn’t get through. But the force of the blast knocked Gerrard back.

Archer fired again, and again, and again.

None of the shells were getting through. But the force was pushing Gerrard backwards.

Towards the rear of the helicopter.

Towards the spinning, razor-sharp rotors.

Archer fired twice more. Gerrard was thrown back, inches from the spinning blades. Archer paused, as Gerrard looked at him, his eyes wide through the visor of the helmet. He saw his eyes narrow and he recovered his balance. He thought he was safe. The Ithaca only carried seven shells. But Archer had also loaded one in the chamber.

Which made eight.

Archer racked the pump and pulled the trigger for the last time. The weapon exploded and the shell rocked Gerrard back into the rotors.

And the blades did the rest.

He screamed under the helmet as the spinning blades tore into him. They were spinning so fast, they shredded him into pieces, blood and flesh spraying into the air. What was left of him dropped to the floor, a severed and sliced mix of clothing, body armour and shredded flesh, dead, bits of him scattered on the runway.

Katic pulled Jessie upright and hugged her, both of them crying. Behind them, there was a sudden clanging on the gate and Archer turned, seeing a fleet of NYPD squad cards and black vehicles from the FBI pouring into the empty airport. He loosened the shotgun from the strap around his shoulder and lowered it to the ground, his hands in the air. As he dropped to his knees, he looked over at Gerrard’s shredded body.

His father’s old friend. The man who betrayed and murdered him.

But now it was all over.

The killer was gone.