Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Three In Andy’s apartment, they were running out of chairs. Stacy still occupied the computer chair, but now the security guard lay awkwardly in the La-Z-Boy, having been lashed there with phone cord. This just left one bar stool, upon which Andy now perched as Sid tried to revive their latest captive. They had no smelling salts, so Sid broke out an extremely potent bag of British Columbia weed that Andy had been holding on to some time. The skunky fragrance of the top-shelf pot seemed to be doing the trick, even if it was making Sid drool a little. “Uh…the lightning…” the guard murmured, shaking his head as his already-tenuous grip on reality returned. Andy and Sid took their places in front of him to tower over him as he came to. The guard looked up at them with eyes splintered by the lines of old age. “I don’t think your plan’s going so well, old man,” Andy taunted. He had every bit of his family’s cruelty in him. “Plan? What…” the guard questioned, blinking as he took in his captors. “You two. Where is she? Quick, if you release me there’s still time.” “Where is she? Oh, you mean the wife of Alexander Christiansen? Take a look, there she is,” Sid said, pointing to where Stacy sat immobile in the chair, her new medium beige shirt draped over her shoulders. There’d been a bit of a stink when they came back, as she refused to let Andy change shirts for

her, and Andy refused to untie her so she might enjoy some privacy. So, the new blouse was simply laid over her and Andy returned to his business. Even though the new purchase had placated her somewhat, they’d still taken the precaution of gagging her. “What?” the guard stammered in disbelief, shooting Stacy with a bewildered expression. “You… you’ve made a mistake. That’s not her.” His stunned face creased into a strange little pout. Sid cocked his head at Andy, a tiny little “well damn, this plan wouldn’t have worked” moment between friends. “No shit. That’s because Alexander Christiansen isn’t even married. Now you get to die, knowing that you cost this poor innocent woman her life,” Andy said, leaning in close. Now it was Sid’s turn to be stunned, although he didn’t let it show for a second. At no point had they discussed killing anyone. Still, he let Andy talk. “No, you don’t understand. He was with a woman that day. I saw her. I’ve been sent to kill them both. You have to help me,” The guard stated, his eyes taking on a crazed, panicked look. Andy and Sid shot each other a look of surprised confusion. “Sent to kill them by who?” Sid asked. Christensen was a big target. No one but the Russians had a beef with him. And no one in the Organizatsiya would be going after him without approval. The guard closed his eyes and breathed deep.

“By God Himself,” he declared. Andy twisted up his brow, not having prepared himself for a crazy person. Sid, however, merely nodded. Somehow, that made sense to him. He’d sparked a few joints on the way back from the mall. Before either of them could ask for elaboration, the guard told them all about that fateful day, speaking in the cadence and fury of a street preacher. As if telling the tale of Lot’s escape from Soddom, he proselytized on how Alexander Christiansen and his wife had obstructed his justice. How he’d fallen while pursuing a thief. How she’d knocked him over. In the time of the Bible, the crazed guard explained, the punishment for that was death by stoning. In these sinful times, he’d had to watch them walk away. His penance for letting them escape had been the electricity stinging through his ears, penetrating his soul. He’d watched them get away with murder. And it was that day that God had told him to exact his revenge. It was more than a mission; it was his destiny. They had cast aside the ball. They had unleashed God’s righteous fury. “Cast aside the ball, what the fuck?” Andy chuckled. Sid was still staring at the guy, slow to keep up with the story through his marijuana haze. “Don’t you understand?” the guard whimpered, feeling his destiny slip through his fingers. He wanted to cry for all the souls he’d never save. “God baptized me in that spark of lightning, in

the waters below the ball. He commanded me to go forth and rid the world of Alexander Christiansen and his wretched wife.” “Ok, this is getting weird,” Sid commented. “It gets worse,” came a voice from the doorway. Sid and Andy both spun to see a tallish man in sunglasses and a hangdog-faced former detective, his face a patchwork of scrapes and bruises, standing in Andy’s foyer. “Who the fuck…” Andy got out before the fracas started. Boutin charged on Sid, taking a running leap onto the ping-pong table, and sending the entire thing crushing down into Sid’s legs, pinning him to the ground. Boutin dove off, landing knee-first on Sid’s face, collapsing the bridge of his nose. To be on the safe side, he brought his fist down onto Sid’s temple, knocking the kid out cold. Lucky had not been so quick to take out his prey; before he was halfway across the room, Andy was already making a break for the computer chair. Before the fight could even begin, Andy defused it by sticking a gun into Stacy’s temple. “Everyone just calm right the fuck down,” Andy blurted, panic streaking his voice. “I have neighbors, and they will call the cops. None of us wants that shit.” The room fell hush. Andy watched the intruders though wide, calculating eyes: the one with the fucked-up face was eyeing him intently, wound tight and ready to burst. The one in sunglasses was still crouched over Sid’s unconscious body, a little too relaxed as he watched the situation

unfold. “Who are you guys?” he asked. “Don’t worry about who we are. Just give us the girl,” said Lucky. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” sneered Andy. With a quick glance behind him, Andy started wheeling the computer chair back toward the wide window behind him. Beyond the window, the fire escape awaited. Lucky exchanged a look with his ex-wife. There was no fear in her eyes, no confusion. She’d known all along, at least part of her did, that Lucky’s unfortunate lifestyle would one day get them all into some kind of standoff. She’d just always pictured herself dangling from a ledge or something, not tied to cheap fauxmetro furniture. Still, she’d prepared herself for this moment in enough day dreams that she knew what to do next. With a glance, she led Lucky’s eyes to her right hand, which was slowly working its way down to the hydraulic lever under the computer chair in which she sat. Lucky saw her plan right away, and his gaze drifted to his right to see what weapons were available. It was slim pickings – just a ping pong paddle and a bundle of Post-It notes. A slight widening of Stacy’s eyes said ‘Go’ and the former couple acted at once. This kind of communication probably could have saved their marriage; go figure. Stacy’s chair dropped like a rock, emitting a

sharp hiss as the air slipped out of the chair’s hydraulic cylinder. Andy, caught in the split second of confusion, didn’t have time to bring his gun down before he caught a ping pong paddle in the throat. At the same time, a pair of hands clamped down on his gun, a finger snaked behind the trigger to keep it from going off. Andy never had a chance to open his eyes. A sudden pressure, a pop, and a bright flash in the darkness behind his eyelids, and he slipped into unconsciousness.