back of the lounge door. He had attached the string to a handle on the sideboard, which would ensure they went off as soon as Pearson opened the door. Albert sat on an old rocking chair in the corner, wearing his gas mask, his bag of tricks resting at his feet.
It was the hiss of the gas that woke him up. Pearson was staggering around in the mist, choking, trying to wipe his eyes. Then he fell.
We were shocked at how quickly the armed response units turned up. They had the street sealed off within seconds of their arrival. There were four police cars at first, soon joined by an unmarked van, the six police marksmen fanned out behind the cars. Then a deathly silence ensued. The standoff had begun. The six red pinpricks of laser light reflected off Albert’s gas mask. The only thing that stood between those rounds of ammunition and that gas mask was the double-glazing in Pearson’s lounge window.
Albert could see the officer in charge; he was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, his voice echoed down the street courtesy of the P.A. system.
“ Armed police. Lower your weapon and raise your hands in the air.”
Silence. The echo fizzled out.
“ I repeat. You are surrounded by armed police officers. We need you to put the gun down and raise your hands above your head.”
Silence.
The marksmen took cover as the shotgun broke through the glass.
“ Hold you fire,” the officer shouted to his men.
Another police car arrived. Two more lasers joined the dance on Albert’s gas mask.
He smashed another pane of glass with the shotgun. More sirens could be heard in the distance. Two officers were pushing the small crowd further back into the park across the street.
“ My name is Sergeant Jim Morris. I am unarmed. I want to approach the building.”
Another pane of glass shattered.
“ We know who you are and I am sure we can settle this peacefully.”
Not that peacefully, thought Albert, as he fired the first shotgun round towards the van. The windscreen exploded. There wasn’t any point in prolonged negotiations. The time had come. Death by cop. An ironic ending that made Albert chuckle. He could hear the marksmen shouting to each other. “Clear head shot.” “Roger.” “Clear chest.” “Hold.”
“ Sir,” the voice boomed again, “this is your last chance. Throw the weapon outside and raise your arms above your head.”
The gas mask defiantly shook from left to right. Albert raised the shotgun and aimed it at the nearest police car. As the trigger slowly pulled back, the red dots of light became holes. Five bullets to the head, one to the neck and two to the heart. He had no chance.
As the police smashed in the front door, they didn’t notice Albert saunter off across the park, the remote control would later be found in the lake. Forensic studies of the shotgun super glued to Pearson’s hands wouldn’t reveal anything, neither the duct tape over his mouth and strapping his legs to the stool, nor the nails holding his feet to the floorboards. The electronic body brace could probably be traced but it would take months. No, William J. Pearson’s career had just ended.
Chapter 20.
The time was fast approaching. I was finding it hard to sleep in Laputa. Maybe there were too many spirits. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I had feelings of guilt. Who knows? I knew one thing though; I needed closure. This had to be finished, and soon. Everything was in place. I just needed to say the word. Yet something was holding me back. I can’t describe it. It’s like when you are watching a great film and you don’t want it to end. The characters have become your friends. I had lost Norman and Kalif but Albert and I had become best mates. We didn’t want this film to end. But the rage would have the casting vote on that.
The money was starting to get low and we still had to pay Serge’s debt. Yes, the time had come. A natural conclusion of events. The worst part was that even after a year I
It was the hiss of the gas that woke him up. Pearson was staggering around in the mist, choking, trying to wipe his eyes. Then he fell.
We were shocked at how quickly the armed response units turned up. They had the street sealed off within seconds of their arrival. There were four police cars at first, soon joined by an unmarked van, the six police marksmen fanned out behind the cars. Then a deathly silence ensued. The standoff had begun. The six red pinpricks of laser light reflected off Albert’s gas mask. The only thing that stood between those rounds of ammunition and that gas mask was the double-glazing in Pearson’s lounge window.
Albert could see the officer in charge; he was sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, his voice echoed down the street courtesy of the P.A. system.
“ Armed police. Lower your weapon and raise your hands in the air.”
Silence. The echo fizzled out.
“ I repeat. You are surrounded by armed police officers. We need you to put the gun down and raise your hands above your head.”
Silence.
The marksmen took cover as the shotgun broke through the glass.
“ Hold you fire,” the officer shouted to his men.
Another police car arrived. Two more lasers joined the dance on Albert’s gas mask.
He smashed another pane of glass with the shotgun. More sirens could be heard in the distance. Two officers were pushing the small crowd further back into the park across the street.
“ My name is Sergeant Jim Morris. I am unarmed. I want to approach the building.”
Another pane of glass shattered.
“ We know who you are and I am sure we can settle this peacefully.”
Not that peacefully, thought Albert, as he fired the first shotgun round towards the van. The windscreen exploded. There wasn’t any point in prolonged negotiations. The time had come. Death by cop. An ironic ending that made Albert chuckle. He could hear the marksmen shouting to each other. “Clear head shot.” “Roger.” “Clear chest.” “Hold.”
“ Sir,” the voice boomed again, “this is your last chance. Throw the weapon outside and raise your arms above your head.”
The gas mask defiantly shook from left to right. Albert raised the shotgun and aimed it at the nearest police car. As the trigger slowly pulled back, the red dots of light became holes. Five bullets to the head, one to the neck and two to the heart. He had no chance.
As the police smashed in the front door, they didn’t notice Albert saunter off across the park, the remote control would later be found in the lake. Forensic studies of the shotgun super glued to Pearson’s hands wouldn’t reveal anything, neither the duct tape over his mouth and strapping his legs to the stool, nor the nails holding his feet to the floorboards. The electronic body brace could probably be traced but it would take months. No, William J. Pearson’s career had just ended.
Chapter 20.
The time was fast approaching. I was finding it hard to sleep in Laputa. Maybe there were too many spirits. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I had feelings of guilt. Who knows? I knew one thing though; I needed closure. This had to be finished, and soon. Everything was in place. I just needed to say the word. Yet something was holding me back. I can’t describe it. It’s like when you are watching a great film and you don’t want it to end. The characters have become your friends. I had lost Norman and Kalif but Albert and I had become best mates. We didn’t want this film to end. But the rage would have the casting vote on that.
The money was starting to get low and we still had to pay Serge’s debt. Yes, the time had come. A natural conclusion of events. The worst part was that even after a year I
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