by Lazuli
Part 14 ~ The Waffle Iron
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Early start, which
wasn’t a problem because Ben was already awake and reading when Ray woke at
five. “Been up long?” “I gave up trying to
sleep at three-thirty.” “What’s that?” Ray
asked with a yawn as he glanced in Ben’s directions. “It was in your
night stand.” “The John Grisham? Can
you finish that so I don’t have to?” “Surely, if you’re
not interested…” “No, I do want to
know how it ends, I just can’t be bothered to read any more. It’s been sitting
there for months.” “All right.” Ray rolled onto his
side and did his best to judge Ben’s state of mind. Okay. So far. “You ready for this
today? We can leave it until tomorrow if we need to.” “Let’s just go,” Ben
answered with an unhealthy level of resignation. “Don’t give up,” Ray
told him quietly. “Us against the world. Not a problem.” Ben humoured him
with a wan smile; Ray accepted that was as good as he’d get, and let his mind
slip into planning mode. … Felipe, the night
shift concierge, and Lauren, the current cop from the lobby, helped with moving
the boxes that Ray was taking to Chicago this time around. Soon the car was
stuffed, with just enough room left for the wheelchair, and a small duffel full
of clothes and toiletries. As before, the journey would most likely be split
into three, and there were things that needed to be easily accessible. Medication
had been top of Ray’s list, although he hadn’t yet mentioned it to Ben. Medication
because there was already an issue with Ben literally vibrating with tension
and they hadn’t even got on the road yet. It reminded Ray for
the umpteenth time how vulnerable Ben must feel in his present state, and he
couldn’t imagine how he would cope in the same situation, however many
assurances his partner offered. Ray was happy to see
a patrol car sitting outside, ready to escort them for the first stage of the
journey, plus his cell was stuffed full of numbers for the different precincts
they’d be passing through, should they need to call for additional help beyond
the pre-arranged escort changeovers. He couldn’t deny the slight feeling of
butterflies in his gut, but Ray was about as ready for this as he could be;
after all that time as Armando, he could cope with living on adrenaline. One
gun on his hip, and another on his ankle adding another level of reassurance. The
metal case containing the Langoustini arsenal was quickly accessible if need
be. Pete had arrived by
the time they were ready to set off, so Ray got to say his goodbyes, then he
took Ben to the car, ignoring the rigid display of pretence that he was fine
with the day’s programme, and got him comfortable before calling Hazel to let
them know they were on their way. She sounded very confident and chipper –
highly annoying however much he appreciated the effort she was making to hide her
concern about the whole venture. “Hazel doesn’t think
we should be going anywhere,” Ray told Ben as he got into the driver’s seat. “She actually said
that?” “No, but she
was…perky.” “Oh dear.” “Yeah, that’s
exactly it.” Ray hit the control
for the parking garage door and nosed the car onto the road; out of the corner
of his eye he saw the patrol unit join them, and pointed it out to Ben, who forced
a smile and gave a wave to the cop in the driver’s seat. “You know him?” Ben
asked. “Ever since I got
here. That’s Mateo, and his golf handicap is eight. Around here, once you know
a man’s golf handicap, you’re one of the gang and can trust him with your
life.” Ten minutes on the
road, and with Ray convinced that any attack would come once they got to
Chicago, it was a concern that Ben appeared to be slipping into a dissociative state
connected to his PTSD and shutting down, closing Ray off when he needed to stay
engaged for his own welfare. Ray tried to start
multiple conversations, none which resulted in any meaningful interaction. He
switched the radio on, felt Ben’s body language change negatively, and switched
the radio off. Then another non-starter of a conversation and Ray decided all
he could do was let Ben be, not try to force him into conversation, but also
not let the silence take over. He chatted away about things that needed no
response, tales that could be ignored, past experiences that had no bearing on
the situation, or on today, or even life as they knew it. Just so there was
some sort of connection between them, however much Ben in his present state
wanted to ignore it. “Want to stop for
coffee?” Ray suggested at three hours, asking multiple times before he got an
answer. “Not particularly.” “There’s a drive
through, but I could do with stretching my legs for ten minutes, maybe say hi
to the cops in the other car and check if anything’s been flagged.” “Okay.” Despite knowing that
the ‘okay’ was beyond reluctant, Ray pulled off the road at the next retail
park, waiting for their escort to park alongside. Ben didn’t want to leave the
car, using the effort required when getting in and out of the chair as an
excuse, but it was plain where he felt safer, and Ray’s heart went out to him,
trapped inside his head, his own private hell. “Everything seems
normal,” Ray said as he got back into the car, handing Ben a drink and a
burger. “Thank you, but I’m
not hungry.” “Yeah, I know. But
you’ll force yourself, won’t you. For me, and for the pee bottle that will be
doing some heavy lifting if you drink all that coffee without eating.” A deep breath slowly
released, and Ben ate his burger. “Have you thought
about what we do in the future?” Ray asked conversationally as they finished
their coffee. “In what sense?” “We can’t stay at the
bungalow.” “I can while I’m in
this situation.” “But you’re not
going to be in this situation. You’re going to be back on your feet, and you
won’t qualify for that property anymore.” “I think you’re
jumping the gun.” “An apartment’s
always nice, like the one in Florida. Very private. Probably not ideal though: I’m
betting Dief would be happy to work the elevator, but he’ll turn into a pest
asking people to open the front door for him all the time. I think a garden would be nice, but am I a
gardener? Are you? Could get someone in, I guess.” “Ray?” “Benny?” “Please be quiet.” “I can be quiet,”
Ray agreed, “but not if it’s so you can keep thinking about the future like
it’s something that’s not going to happen.” “Perhaps you could
humour me on this occasion.” “No. Anything you’d
like to add before I break out the medication and put you in a cosy daze until
Chicago?” “You wouldn’t.” “Correct, I
wouldn’t. Just like you wouldn’t ignore me for the rest of today because you
want to pander to your PTSD’s intrusive thoughts and give up everything for
this scumbag.” A disgruntled Ben
stared at Ray for a long moment. “So, how did you
choose your apartment?” Ben enquired with a degree of politeness that indicated
deeply concealed vexation. “That’s better.” Ray
started the car and, checking they had their escort with them, hit the road
once more. “Funny you should ask that. Max chose it because I lost a bet.” “Seriously?” “Absolutely not. Your
go.” … Stage one of the
journey was completed with no delays, interruptions or reasons for concern. The
‘I told you so’ that danced on the tip of Ray’s tongue stayed there as he
waited for Ben to accept their previous conclusions, the result of endless
discussions about their situation, were likely correct, and Trantor would be
more of a threat once they got to Chicago. Once inside their
hotel room, secure in the knowledge that a cop would be stationed outside all
night, Ben was able to relax just a little, and Ray insisted they carry on with
the exercises they’d been utilising in a bid to make Ben more mobile. That was
how they were terming it now. ‘More mobile’ rather than ‘able to walk’. It
implied that the start had been made, mobility achieved, now all they had to do
was refine and expand Ben’s skills. There was perhaps a
hint of progress with the left leg, a tiniest toe wiggle being the subject of
debate – did it happen or did it not? Was it progress or a dimple in his sock? Ben
insisted that he would know, it being his foot, but Ray was content to belligerently
insist he knew best, because he’d been in a better position to witness it. They
both knew the squabble was one of Ray’s distractions, and both went along with not
acknowledging each other knowing. Ben’s right leg was
the star of the show, though, and tonight he’d managed to remain standing long
enough for Ray to let go, pause, and regain a hold without there needing to be
any sort of panicked grab at the sign of a wobble. “Looking forward to
getting back to work?” Ray asked as he persuaded Ben to try a step or two. “I’m finding your
optimism a little grating.” “What? You can go
back to Consulate and walk in circles. The minute they tell you you have to
walk in a straight line you can sue them for discrimination.” Ben came to a halt
and indicated he wanted to get back into his chair. Ray obliged. “I’m exhausted, I’m
going to bed.” Ben began to wheel himself away before pausing. “I think I have
to take a sleeping tablet. Is that safe?” Ray joined him and
began to push the chair. “It’s safe, because
I’m here, and it’s a great idea because we don’t need a repeat of last night.” “Too many nights.” Ray positioned the
chair by the bed and, once the sleeping pill was taken, held Ben’s hands. “It will get
better.” Ben didn’t look convinced
for a second but he attempted a smile for Ray. “I know.” Ray leant down and
pressed a kiss into Ben’s hair. “You want to get
changed, or straight into bed?” “Bed.” Once Ben was in, Ray
looked across to the second bed in the room. “You want me in with
you, or you’re not fussed now you’ve had a pill?” “In with me.” “I’ll try not to
disturb you when I come in.” Ben’s eyes were
already closed, and Ray hoped the psychological advantage of taking the pill
was letting him fall asleep pretty instantly. The day had been hard work, and a
rested Benny would bode well for the next part of their journey. Back in the living
room Ray quietly closed the bedroom door, cheerful persona now dropped as he
drew out his phone and, after glancing at his watch to ensure it wasn’t too
late, mentally listed Frank, Jameson, Welsh, Security Company… … A good night’s sleep
– for good, read drugged – and Ben was in a far more positive mood the next
morning. While he washed and dressed as best as he could without the shower
seat, which was trapped behind the boxes in the car’s trunk, Ray messed up the
second bed, caring about appearances for some ridiculous reason, even with a
murderer on their collective tail. Over a room service
breakfast, Ray let Ben know the ‘no news’ news from the lieutenants he’d
contacted the previous evening, then brought him up to speed on what the
security firm covering the bungalow had let him know. “The only red flag
has been a power cut a couple of days ago, took out the main system, but the backup
stayed on.” “Did the power fail
just for the bungalow?” “Half the estate,
and fixed in a couple of hours.” “Do they consider it
a red flag, or do you?” “I do. There was a
security team at the bungalow in minutes, and a couple of their guys stuck
around until the power was back and they tested the system.” “They went into the
bungalow?” “No, they can do it
remotely, but they went around the place, making sure there’d been no break in.
Everything looked undisturbed.” “But?” “But I’m wondering if
we go to the IRF or a hotel when we get back, just to get you somewhere safe,
and give me time to have a good look inside the place.” “No. I’m coming with
you.” “I’ll ring Jameson
when we’re twenty minutes from home and he’ll have cops on site, I won’t be
alone.” “You’re right, you
won’t be alone, I’ll be with you.” “How do I keep you
safe if you’re deliberately putting yourself in harm’s way?” “I’m the bait.” “This is just a
security check.” “You don’t know
that. And you’re the one obsessed with the attic,” Ben muttered in conclusion. … They watched the
changeover, one patrol team for another in the parking lot of the hotel, and
spent a few minutes catching up. More a quick hello than a warning regarding
the psychopath pursuing them, but it was obvious the officers knew all they
needed to. Unlike the previous day Ben seemed reassured, and it was with a
lighter heart that Ray helped him into the car. “You choose the
music,” Ray suggested, and there was a moment’s hesitation that told him Ben
still wasn’t happy with his hearing being impeded in any way, but after a
couple of seconds, Ben gave a barely perceptible shake of the head and started
to search through the radio channels for something he liked. He chose a barely
there classical piece, not what Ray had hoped for, but better than nothing. “When this is all
done and dusted, and you’re fully mobile, you fancy a road trip?” Ben considered. “Provided I am fully
mobile, yes. Where were you thinking?” “Probably not
Florida. Or Las Vegas. How about Route 66, we can pick that up virtually
outside our front door.” Ben hmmed in thought. “I mean, it’s iconic,” Ray
continued. “Or would you prefer something we plan ourselves, more out of the
way, middle of nowhere.” Ray froze even as he
said it. The middle of nowhere was not a phrase that should ever have passed
his lips. Although he was braced for a negative response, the meltdown never
came; Ben laid a hand on his thigh and patted. “It would be fun to
plan our own route.” Ray took a deep breath
and threw an apologetic look at Ben, who patted again and, quite miraculously all
things considered, was able to choose not to be damaged by the connotation. … Four or so hours in,
and it was an easy journey, the I-75 was virtually empty and the conversation
had flowed, taking their minds far from the danger that was stalking them. It
was only when they were alerted by a resounding boom from behind them that they
became alert, checking the car’s mirrors in time to see the patrol car
accompanying them spinning off the road and crashing into the motorway’s guard
rails. At first suspecting
it was a tyre blowing, Ray began to slow the car, ready to pull over and go
back to offer assistance. “Drive,” Ben said
urgently. “Ray, drive!” Ray automatically
put his foot down, once again checking his mirrors and seeing what Ben had
noticed, a huge SUV barrelling toward them, powerful hunting rifle being held
out of the driver’s window. As they accelerated
away, Ray gave his phone to Ben. “Hit any of the top
ten contacts, and tell them what’s going on.” No response. “Benny!” Trying to keep an
eye on the road, Ray grabbed and shook Ben’s arm until he began to respond. “C’mon, Benny, you
have to do this, you have to make a call, just one call.” A few more shakes
and Ben was gulping down air, pushing his way out of the dissonance and groping
for where Ray’s phone had gone. “Any of the top ten
contacts,” Ray repeated. “Tell them ‘Vecchio assist’ and where we are.” “Where are we?” Ben
gasped. “Fuck knows. They’ll
get coordinates from the wrecked patrol car and work it out.” As Ray kept his foot
to the floor Ben made the call, fumbling his words but able to convey enough to
instigate emergency action. A roar from the engine of the following SUV let
them know they were in trouble, a monster of a vehicle compared to their
comfortable model that was all about making sure Ben and his chair had space,
rather than outrunning homicidal maniacs. They watched Trantor
gaining on them, Ray with gritted teeth and his own streak of murderous
determination, Ben fading in and out as adrenalin triggered his PTSD. “Benny, you have to
stay with me,” Ray pleaded as he recognised the signs of a major panic attack,
the cardiac arrest version. “Can you hear me? Benny!” “I can,” Ben
whispered through his laboured breath. “I’m sorry.” “You have nothing to
be sorry for, you’re not well. You’ve been so much better in Florida and we’ll
have that again. That and more.” “Ray, I’m sorry,”
Ben repeated, clutching his chest and folding over himself. “It’s just
adrenalin, you know that, it’s not going to kill you, it just feels bad. You’ll
be okay,” Ray insisted, attention switching back and forth between the road and
Ben. The SUV was on them,
creeping up alongside them, and Ray knew what happened next after seeing the
patrol car go down. Anything he did was going to prolong the inevitable, and if
there’d been any kind of cover off road, anywhere to hide and return fire, he’d
have taken a chance, but there was nothing but farmland on the other side of
the bushes and occasional trees that lined the road. Trantor was nearly
there beside them and Ray did the last thing he could think of. He slammed on
the brakes, leaving the SUV to shoot off ahead of them, screeching to a halt
two hundred and some yards up the road. Ray laid a reassuring hand on Ben’s
trembling body and watched ahead. Trantor was on an entirely different page to
Ray, obviously thinking they’d stopped to negotiate or facilitate a showdown,
and he stepped out of his vehicle, rifle in hand. A glance at Ben and
Ray had minutes to get moving; if that man’s voice was audible inside the car
Ben probably would have a genuine heart attack. As Trantor approached, raising
the rifle, Ray once again slammed his foot down, aiming the car at Trantor and
cursing as it missed by inches as he threw himself aside. Still, they’d gained
a few minutes, and maybe that would be enough to meet a fleet of police cars
coming from the opposite direction. No time to think about that heart-warming scenario
as the SUV was back in pursuit and gaining fast. Despite swerving and
throwing the car from one side of the lane to the other, the outcome was unavoidable;
Trantor’s SUV was like a guided missile, ploughing into the rear of their car,
once, twice as Ray struggled to evade the onslaught, and then a third time,
bursting a tyre and leaving Ray helpless to keep the car on the road. It
careered off into a field, shoving its way through bushes until it finally met
an immovable object, colliding with a hefty tree and sending both men lurching
around the cab. Head ringing, Ray
was barely aware when his side window was broken and a hand reached in to pop
the door lock. A knife slashed through the seat belt and Ray was roughly
grabbed by the shoulder, hauled out of the car and further into the field, only
starting to come to his senses as he was thrown onto the ground. “Benny?” was his
first thought. “Your pal’s out
cold,” Trantor told him. “Shame. I’d like him to watch this. He was fun with
John.” Ray looked up to
meet the barrel of a rifle, reaching for his own gun and finding the holster on
his hip empty. “You can go look for
it in that field. I’ve no problem shooting you in the back. Your Mountie might
have an issue with the game being cut short, but…” “Benny!” Ray
shouted, dealing with his own panic now, looking past Trantor to see Ben
slumped against the passenger side window. “Don’t worry. He’s
not dead. That would spoil the fun.” A futile attempt to
stand, and Ray’s head swam. Stumbling back to the ground he closed his eyes and
pressed his fingertips to his forehead, flinching as he put pressure on a
developing bruise. “Is this it?”
Trantor asked. “Don’t I at least get the, ‘Why are you doing this?” “Go fuck yourself.” Trantor gave a coarse
and humourless laugh. “I could peel your
fucking face off with one hand behind my back, you might want to watch your
language.” Ray didn’t doubt the
veracity of that threat for a moment, and the thought of Ben waking to it was
unbearable. His own safety was secondary at this point. Ray knew he had to
humour Trantor if he didn’t want Ben further traumatised by the man’s actions. “Okay. I’ll play. How
the hell did you find us?” “Easy questions
first? I knew you’d left Florida because the cop wasn’t in the lobby of your
building anymore. I knew you couldn’t travel too far with the cripple, so all I
had to do was hop along the most obvious route, figuring you’d pick the fastest
back to Chicago, and check for a patrol car as a permanent fixture in a hotel
parking lot.” “Welcome to me and
my rookie mistakes,” Ray acknowledged. “’Cause you thought
I was waiting for you in Chicago,” Trantor taunted. “I did,” Ray
admitted. “You get my Florida address from the IRF?” “Too easy. You know
what most people are? Stupid. Blinkered and stupid. The more expensive the
suit, the more fucking dumb. IRF? Straight over the back wall into the garden,
and there was no security at the rear of the building at all. So fucking dumb. If
you were going to live through this I’d tell you to sue.” “You been with us
all the time?” “Most.” “You were at the
bungalow?” “Sometimes.” “Why?” “Why what?” “Revenge for your
brother? Cause that wasn’t Fraser’s fault, he…” “Dean? Like I care.” “You care about
anything? I mean, you should. You know you’re going to get picked up any minute,
so why don’t you just take the opportunity to get the fuck out of here or,
better still, see the error of your ways and blow your brains out.” “You’re the dead
man, but I get to keep the Mountie.” “Fraser? You want
Fraser? And it’s spelt with an S, just so as you know seeing as everybody else
is so fucking stupid. You think he’s any fun now? He’s so slow in that damn
chair and, out of it, he can only walk in circles so that’s not going to be
much of a manhunt, and what’s more he’ll tell you all about it, on and on, and
then somehow, just when you think you’re safe, he’ll work in an hour’s worth of
Eskimo tales, interspersed with a lecture on preserving Canadian wildlife and
not drowning frigging reindeer. Then the damn wolf – you know about the wolf,
or is that something else your superior brain failed to notice – has to join
in, and have you ever had to reason with a deaf wolf, because Fraser’s bad
enough and Dief’s bad enough, but when they gang up it’s impossible. Then you
have to contend with him breaking into Canadian folk songs which, I promise
you, have absolutely no fucking tune, and what the hell is that about? American
country and western stinks but as least there’s a fucking tune. And when we’re
finished with the reindeer and the wolf and the so-called songs, you know what’s
next?” Trantor was taken
aback by the exceptionally loud and derogatory rant aimed at Ben, second
guessing himself for a split second, but it was all the time they needed. As he
belatedly reacted to a sound behind him, Trantor turned just in time to meet a
vicious strike from the waffle iron that Ben had managed to drag from the box
wedged behind Ray’s seat in the car. “That,” said Ray as
Trantor hit the floor. “That’s what’s next.” Ray yanked the Smith
and Wesson from its ankle holster and wobbled to his feet just as Ben wobbled
to the ground. “Ray?” “I’m okay. You?” “It was caribou, not
reindeer.” “Stop proving my
point. You okay?” “Sore, but… Yes. More
than okay.” “Where’s your gun, I
gave you a gun?” “It was under my
right foot, I have no idea where it went.” “You should have had
it with you.” “Technically…” “Don’t technically me! It should have been on
your lap, better still, in your hand.” “I was uncomfortable
sitting with it. Physically. There was nowhere comfortable to put it, so I put
it under my foot. I could reach it easily before…” “Yeah, okay,” Ray
said grudgingly. “But if this ever happens again I’m duct-taping it to you.” A groan from Trantor
alerted them. After handing the man’s rifle to Ben, Ray quickly frisked Trantor
for any further weapons, finding a hunting knife and tossing it under their
car, before turning the Smith and Wesson on the dazed figure. “I promised you,
Benny. Just give me the nod.” The wait while Ben
made up his mind felt interminable, but it gave Ray the pleasure of knowing
that Trantor had gained enough consciousness to know that his life was
currently held in the hands of the man he’d tormented and hounded across the
Canadian wilderness. “Why did you do it?”
Ben asked Trantor. “There it is,”
Trantor grinned. “Oh, great, you
asked him what he wanted to be asked,” Ray said indignantly. Ben ignored him,
staring at Trantor; they were both on the floor, at eye level, and Ben focused
on him, searching for answers now he was finally face to face. Or face to rifle
barrel in Trantor’s case. Trantor shrugged and
carelessly swept the blood from his head wound out of his eyes. “It was fun. You were
a hell of a challenge. Smart. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, how alive you
were out there, knowing every breath could be your last.” “Benny, you want me
to do this?” The rifle was
shaking in Ben’s hands and Ray was getting concerned that the matter could be
settled with one good uncontrollable tremor. Ben finally came to a decision. “No.” “No? After what he’s done to you?” “He’s pathetic.” “I’m pathetic?” Trantor objected. “At
least I can walk away.” “You’re not walking anywhere,” Ray snapped. “And yes, you are pathetic. You were taken down by a man with half a functioning leg and a waffle iron. You might want to shut your damn mouth.” Trantor drew breath to speak but Ray interrupted, just as the sound of sirens reached them. “It’s not too late, Benny. Give me the nod.” “No, Ray. For your sake.” “You two are fucking sickening,” Trantor said. “Just shoot me.” “Give me an excuse, Trantor,” Ray warned. “Blink too fast, that’ll do it.” There was a fleeting moment of satisfaction seeing Trantor’s shock at Ray knowing his name. “Ray, he’ll have his day in court,” Ben said firmly, sounding just like the old Ben. “Yeah,” Trantor agreed. “Can’t wait to see you on the stand, Benny. Hear your detailed version of events.” Knowing how much Ben dreaded the thought of reliving his testimony, Ray wasn’t surprised when Ben shuddered and requested help back to the car, knowing him well enough to see what an effort it was to keep the tremor out of his voice. Within seconds the units they’d heard were drawing up, and with the arrival of several officers, Ray was free to help Ben up. “Hey, Mountie,” Trantor called as he was heaved to his feet and cuffed. “Think you’ll forget me? I’ll live rent free in your head forever. It’s a promise.” The officer with hands on Trantor shoved him indelicately in the direction of his patrol car. “Find some stairs,” Ray suggested. The brisk nod, and the look on the officer’s face suggested he’d find a suitably tall flight. Taking most of Ben’s weight, Ray got him to the car and leant him against the hood while he hurried to get the chair out onto the road. Then it was a flashback to their time stranded in Canada, Ray accepting Ben’s momentary frailty and heaving him over his shoulder to take to the wheelchair. Now his own adrenalin was wearing off Ray was aware of a few aches and pains that went beyond bruising. He was about to share his bad luck as a distraction but Ben’s adrenalin was wearing off just as quickly, and he was crumbling. “Benny, it’s okay,” Ray softly reassured, “you’re okay.” He heard Ben’s breath hitching and purposely put himself between Ben and the people buzzing around the scene. As Ben fought down the emotions that Ray wished he would just let go of, Ray, without a care for what anyone thought, leant in and wrapped his arms around Ben as well as he could, desperately sad to feel the uncontrollable juddering and shaking. “It’s over,” he whispered. “It’s done.” Ben caught a sharp breath. “Is it? When he’s right?” “He’s not right about anything.” “Rent free for life. Ray…” Ray hugged him tighter. “We will deal, I will fix everything,” Ray vowed, and a part of him wasn’t even lying.
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