“What the fuck is going on?” Bull yelled as he was thrown forward against the back of the seat he knelt on, his vision blocked by the floor to ceiling console between the two pilots.

  Jonathan pushed the cyclic quickly forward again, thrusting the chopper ahead once more and sending a bewildered Bull crashing backwards onto Eric Robillard. As Bull scrambled to get back up, Chris slapped both hands around the man’s face from behind and yanked his head back down against his knee with a resounding crack.

  Bull stumbled to the floor on his back, his gun clattering to Leslie’s feet as Chris pushed himself out of the seat and landed with both knees on the man’s ribs, producing more audible cracks. Leslie scrambled for the revolver then stood and kicked at Bull’s head while Eric rose to his feet and hovered over the melee. Chris got to his feet once again then dropped one knee into Bull’s solar plexus before punching him a couple of times in the face, leaving the robber battered, moaning and near unconscious.

  Leslie, who now held Bull’s revolver firmly trained on the bandit’s chest, exclaimed, “Wow, Mister Barry. You really know how to handle yourself too.”

  “It’s always good to stay in shape,” Chris replied before turning towards the cockpit. “Cat, do we have anything handy to tie this scumbag up with? Call me crazy but I don’t trust the bastard.”

  Connor reached out and handed him a couple of plastic restraints and within a minute or two, Bull’s ankles and wrists were bound and he was propped up on the seat behind Addley.

  “All done back here, Jon,” Chris called into the cockpit. “What do you say we head back to town?”

  Chapter 49 - 3:18 p.m.

  “Thanks for your help, Leslie,” said Chris. “I’m really pleased to have you on our side because you really can rise up to the occasion.”

  “I was just trying the hurt the bastard for good measure,” replied Leslie as she glared at the trussed up, unconscious robber. “But you didn’t need my help, Mister Barry. He’d be in the same condition even if I’d just sat there.”

  “Minus a couple of kicks to the head,” Chris grinned. “You’re okay?”

  “I’m happy this is over,” she replied with tears in her eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay, or, I will be. Thanks.”

  Chris turned his attention to Robillard. “How about you, Eric?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” he answered. “My head still hurts a bit from when they hit me this morning but I don’t think it’s serious.”

  “We’ll have you checked by a doctor when we get back,” Chris suggested, “Just to be on the safe side.”

  “Sure thing, Mister Barry,” Robillard nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Chris, you might want to be on this call,” Cat suggested, handing him a headset.

  Chris turned to kneel on the seat behind Cat then donned the headset to participate in the conversation.

  “Good afternoon, Ms Connor, Chris,” Leblanc greeted them. “Jonathan tells me that you’re on your way back from, shall we say, a successful outing. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Connor. “We did what was needed and had a bit of luck on our side.”

  “Well, luck or skill,” replied Leblanc, “I’m happy that none of them got away with it.”

  “Were the other hostages injured in the explosion, Edgar?” asked Jonathan.

  “No, they weren’t,” said Leblanc. “Ian Howard had the good sense to get them into the vault before the bomb exploded so, they’re shaken but fine. The four of them are waiting for me in a conference room as we speak. I stepped out to take this call.”

  “Have you questioned any of them about Mister B?” Chris enquired.

  “Not yet,” Leblanc replied. “I have someone doing some background checks and looking into priors for the three men right now and we’ll proceed with questioning afterwards. Since you’re bringing Bull back, maybe he’ll be willing to tell us who this Mister B is… Can you excuse me for a moment? I was just given some preliminary reports about those background checks.”

  They waited as Leblanc reviewed the information which he had just received and suddenly heard him say, “Oh, fuck.”

  “What is it, Edgar?” asked Jon.

  “Eric Robillard was suspected for involvement in several convenience store hold-ups four years ago. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove he did it so the case never got to court.”

  “That skinny little thing?” said Connor. “Do you really think he’d be our man? Wouldn’t he be doing something about all of this if he was in on the job?”

  “He might just be waiting for the right moment,” Jonathan suggested. “We still have about thirty minutes to go. You might want to keep an eye on him, Chris.”

  “I guess I should get that gun out after all,” Chris replied, “Just in case.”

  He removed the headset then turned around and smiled at Leslie as he pressed the hidden ceiling compartment and reached in. His smile disappeared as he realized that the compartment was empty.

  “Looking for this, Mister Barry?” Robillard grinned from where he sat as he pointed the Beretta 3032 Tomcat at Chris. “I must say that it’s a nice little piece.”

  “Uh, we’ve found our inside man,” Chris called to Jon and Cat before addressing Eric. “How did you find the gun?”

  “I saw you opening the compartment while I was outside puking,” Robillard replied, his eyes glued to Chris. “Then, I snagged it while you were beating the crap out of Bull.”

  “That was quite clever of you,” Chris nodded, impressed. “But, why don’t you just give me the gun now. This thing is over and I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.”

  “Just shut up and sit down,” ordered Robillard. “With two point five million dollars at stake, nothing is over.”

  “Put the gun down, now,” Leslie commanded from where she sat to Eric’s far left, her tone loud and firm. She held Bull’s Colt Python firmly with both hands, the barrel aimed at Eric’s face.

  Robillard turned his gaze to her but kept the small pistol trained on Chris. “That gun was fired six times and never reloaded, sweetie. Go ahead and pull the trigger if you think I’m bullshitting.”

  “He’s right, Miss Robb,” Chris confirmed as he sat.

  Robillard turned his gun on Leslie who was staring at him in rage. “Put that down, now, right there on the seat between us. I wouldn’t want you to throw it at me and end up dead cuz I’ve always liked you, Leslie, even if you are a dyke.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Eric,” Leslie spat but laid the gun on the seat.

  Robillard took the revolver and stood to tuck it into his waistband then moved toward the cockpit.

  “Enough chit-chat, Mister,” he said to Jon. “Say bye-bye to the cop cuz we’re not done yet.”

  He waited for Jonathan to cut his connection then continued. “Keep on heading back towards the city but slow down a little and get us low enough for cell reception. I’ve got some calls to make and then I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

  Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a key chain on which he had a miniature Swiss Army knife. Crouching down, he cut the plastic restraint at Bull’s ankles before turning to Chris.

  “Lean my buddy here forward,” he ordered. “He can’t be too comfortable with his hands tied behind his back.”

  * * * *

  Captain Leblanc returned to the small conference room where the four surviving hostages waited, still in shock following the tumultuous events of the day.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he apologized as he resumed his seat at the head of the table. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you that I went to take a call from the helicopter pilots who flew out of here with the robbers and hostages earlier. Two of the three remaining robbers are dead and the last one, Bull, no less, was overpowered by Mister Barry and is not considered a danger in his current state.”

  “That’s excellent news,” exclaimed Simon Chase, “Though, I wouldn’t have cried to learn that the son of a bitch was dead too.”

  The others murmured agreement with Chase’s comments before Leblanc held up his hand to silence them then continued. “What is unfortunate is that while I was on the call, one of the hostages, Eric Robillard, commandeered the helicopter, apparently with the intent to get away with the money.”

  “Eric?” Ian Howard blanched amid gasps from the Annette and Erin.

  “What? That little bastard was in on this?” Simon Chase snarled.

  “It would seem so,” the captain confirmed. “We thought that there might be someone on the inside involved since the robbers seemed to have specific information about the security systems and so on.”

  “Well, Eric would certainly have been in a position to cut the cables.” stated Chase, “I hope the little son of a bitch gets what he deserves.”

  “But, it was two of the robbers who came in early this morning pretending to be technicians for the A/C in the computer room who cut the cables,” Annette pointed out. “They even attacked Eric.”

  “Well, Eric would certainly be the one to book any computer room maintenance,” Chase argued, “The little bastard must of had them bash him in the head to make him look innocent.”

  “I can’t believe that Eric would have got mixed up in something like this,” said Erin, shuddering in disgust. “To think how worried I was for him this morning when I saw he was bleeding.”

  “It was obviously staged for our benefit,” Howard concluded. “I’m simply shocked that Eric would turn to something like this.”

  “If it helps you believe it more, Mister Howard,” Leblanc announced, “Robillard had a run-in with the police about four years ago. He was suspected for some hold-ups with another man. As bright as criminals often are, they robbed a convenience store in Robillard’s neighbourhood which he also frequented as a customer. Although the robbers wore ski-masks, the store owner recognized his voice but friends subsequently provided Robillard with an alibi and he was never arrested.”

  “Which would not even have shown up when the criminal record check was done when he was hired,” Howard sighed. “Captain, it’s been quite a day and this last bit of news comes as an additional shock to all of us. Is it necessary to take our statements now or could that be done later once we’ve had time to get this settled in our heads?”

  “Absolutely,” Leblanc agreed, now that Howard and Chase were off the hook. “We’ve got your coordinates. Why don’t you all go home and try to relax, get a good night’s sleep and someone will call you to set appointments in the morning. I would ask, however, that you not discuss today’s events amongst yourselves and, if at all possible, that you each write up what you remember of what took place while everything is fresh. And please, I know that it’s been a very difficult day for all of you but do your best to enjoy your evening.”

  Chapter 50 - 3:24 p.m.

  Chris sat in the seat behind Cat, watching Robillard sitting kitty-corner to him, speaking to someone on his phone in hushed tones while holding the Beretta in their general direction. Minutes earlier, Robillard had ordered Leslie to join Chris and the semi-conscious Bull on the rear facing seats so that he could keep a better eye on them.

  As Robillard spoke, he waved the pistol around occasionally, giving Chris more than one opportunity to see what he had been trying to determine since the IT coordinator, turned bank robber, had taken charge. Robillard had yet to disengage the safety on the gun. All Chris needed was a few seconds to put an end to this circus, once and for all. However, as Robillard was on the phone, someone else was obviously involved so it was probably best to wait to find out what their plan was and make sure that nobody got away.

  * * * *

  “… Yeah, that big lot where the buildings were demolished,” said Robillard, “Just a bit west of the new Terrebonne water station on the 640… I’m not sure how long but it can’t be more than half an hour… Yeah, that probably makes more sense. Better that you stay out of sight… Get moving on this now to be sure that I don’t arrive first… Once the chopper is down, we’ll load up and disappear… I guess there’s no sense leaving anyone around to blab. I certainly don’t want these bastards to alert the cops about the location… Hmm, let’s say a hundred K… Okay, each… Yeah, sure, that’s a good idea. I should have thought of that… Yeah, see you soon.”

  * * * *

  Though an openly gay couple and known by the nicknames of Mouse and Cheese, there was nothing effeminate whatsoever about Maurice Desrosiers and Christian Chiasson and smart people didn’t even think of messing with them. Both were serious body-builders, they had met at the gym, in fact, and, having grown up in the tougher neighbourhoods of Montreal, both were excellent, street-experienced brawlers.

  Their sizes, Mouse at five eleven and two hundred twenty pounds and Cheese at an even six feet and two hundred forty pounds, coupled with their well-honed abilities to handle themselves in physical altercations, made them perfect candidates to work as bouncers, which is what they did. In addition, they also freelanced, always as a team, when someone in their circle of acquaintances needed a bit of extra muscle for a job.

  Though they worked the six p.m. to three a.m. shift at the Kitty Klub on Labelle Boulevard in Laval, they generally tended to head to the strip joint mid-afternoon right after their workout at the gym. The food was decent and free and the girls loved them both like brothers, or perhaps, sisters.

  As they were enjoying their usual lunch of three bacon cheeseburgers and a mountain of French fries, Mouse’s phone rang. He looked at the display, answered the call and entered a conversation which lasted a couple of minutes, though most of the talking was done by the caller.

  Once the conversation was over, he cut the connection, put his phone on the table and grinned at Cheese. “That was Mistah B.”

  “Oh, yeah? Wha-bout?” asked Cheese through a mouthful of fries.

  “Needs us for maybe an hour or so to run an errand,” Mouse replied, still smiling like a clam.

  “What kind of errand?” Cheese asked with interest. “Is this about that job they talked about doing?”

  “Yep, the job went down today but things got kinda fucked up,” Mouse chuckled and winked. “So now, Mistah B’s offering us one hundred K each to help eliminate some problems and play taxi driver and bodyguard for about an hour.”

  “A hundred thousand, each?” Cheese dropped a bunch of fries on his plate. “That’s what I call sweet. When and where?”

  “Right now,” Mouse replied, standing up. “Some big old abandoned lot off the 640 in Terrebonne, just west of the pumping station.”

  “Ka-ching, ka-ching,” Cheese smiled, grabbing a last handful of fries and his remaining cheeseburger as he left the table. “Let’s go make some money.”

  Chapter 51 - 3:27 p.m.

  Robillard got up, moved toward the cockpit, leaned over Bull and addressed Addley. “Head towards Terrebonne.”

  “Where in Terrebonne?” Jonathan asked over his shoulder.

  “Somewhere right off the 640. I’ll tell you exactly where when we get closer,” Eric replied. “Oh, and I need you and the lady to give me your headsets.”

  “Like hell, we will,” Jon refused. “I’m flying a helicopter and communication is an important part of it.”

  “Sorry, buddy, but I don’t want you making quiet contact with the cops to keep them posted on where we’re going,” Eric insisted. “So stop arguing and just give me the headsets.”

  “Over my dead body,” Jonathan retorted, “And, trust me, you little shit, I really mean that.”

  “Listen here, I’m in charge, so give me the fucking headsets,” Robillard demanded.

  He reached over the seat with his free hand and was about to yank the headset off of Jonathan when he was suddenly shoved against the side wall near Bull’s head.

  “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, surprised and enraged.

  Regaining his balance, he turned to find Chris crouching, no more than a couple of feet from him, arms hanging loosely at his sides, while Leslie had slid over to the corner where Barry had been sitting.

  “You want to die, asshole?” Eric threatened, pressing the Beretta’s barrel against Chris’ chest.

  Chris looked down at the gun for a second then returned his gaze to Robillard and smiled. “Give me your best shot, kiddo.”

  Robillard pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Chris raised both hands and solidly clapped Eric’s ears before wrenching the gun from his hand. He then smacked Robillard a couple of times in the face with the gun and followed up with a knee to the groin. When Eric doubled over, Chris grabbed him by the belt, one-handed and propelled him head first into the opposite door. Robillard curled up in a foetal position, retching, as he covered his head with one arm and held his groin with the other hand.

  Chris crouched down over him, recouping the empty revolver from Robillard’s waistband before leaning in closer to the man’s ear. “Where are we going, exactly?”

  “Fuck you,” Robillard rasped.

  “Look out,” Leslie cried as Bull suddenly rolled forward from his seat and heaved himself at Chris, slamming into his back and delivering a solid head-butt.

  Standing in the crowded space, Leslie grabbed Bull by the shoulder with one hand and rolled him onto his back before bringing an elbow down, smashing his nose. As Bull tried to struggle to a seated position, blood spewing from his broken nose, Leslie brought her hand back, a hand which held one of her stiletto shoes, and swung down viciously at his face.

  Blood spurted from Bull’s mangled right eye as he screamed in agony. Slumping to the floor, he began convulsing before passing out from the pain.

  Not yet satisfied, Leslie stomped at his ribs with her bare heel a couple of times then dead-dropped her knee into his groin as she muttered, “Die, motherfucker.”

  Chris, now angrier than ever, pulled Robillard to his feet, backhanded him in the mouth then slammed him into the wall. Eric’s knees buckled and he fell back onto the rear seat.

 

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