Chapter Twenty-Nine -- Cutting It Close
The building rose before his eyes like a fortress. In daylight, it should have displayed none of the ominous signs of its true purpose, but the men in dark clothes roaming the perimeter lent it that exact quality, the rays of the still bright sun bouncing off their shiny weapons, blinding him now and then for a moment.
He needed to think this through. There was no room for failure, no room for a misstep of any kind. Otis was there, trapped inside that machinery made of evil and concrete. That was what he felt, deep inside his gut. Sure, there was always the chance that Jackie had succeeded in getting both himself and Otis to safety, a glimmer of hope and also a door wide open for Hudson to search for a way out, not a way in.
The duty he had sworn to his career prompted him to save his skin and let his colleagues know about the change of plans. They had to trap all of these scumbags, all these sorry excuses for human beings, and then lock them up forever. If they escaped punishment this time, who knew how much hurt and suffering they would continue to spread in the world? And it had to happen at just the right time and in just the right way, or they would just get away, based on technicalities and who knew what else.
He could tell himself there was no way out. That the walls were too high, the electric fence that had been added to the layout an insurmountable obstacle, and all the entry and exit points too well-guarded. And maybe all that was even true.
But he had to check first to make sure that Otis was no longer there. He'd only leave if he knew that. Do his best to leave, anyway. He doubted it would be some walk in the park to escape the premises, seeing what sort of security detail was now in place.
That meant that he needed to do the opposite of what these people expected him to do. He kept both hands on his gun after he checked it to see that it hadn't been fiddled with somehow, without his knowledge. The loss of the burner phone still stung. Whether Angel -- it must have been him -- was an expert in pickpocketing, or he had been insufficiently concerned and aware of his surroundings for a moment more than he should have been.
The front was no dice. He needed to find a way through the back. If he moved behind the abandoned pipes and crates with enough care, he'd be able to sneak along the side wall and then end up behind the building. He had seen enough of it to know where the best entry point was for him to do his duty to Otis.
If it hadn't been for him, Otis would be free now. The thought kept pestering him like a vicious fly, bent on infecting him with doubt. He pushed it away. The time for him to do something about it was now.
He looked from behind the stack of pipes at the men ensuring the security of the place. They appeared unconcerned for the most part, as if guarding a place where they slaughtered innocents was business as usual. How much of what was going on inside that building did they know about? Another detail that had no importance. If any of those assholes pointed his gun at him, Hudson knew he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger first. His years with the force had ensured he didn't lack the skill or determination when it came down to either him or the perp.
He sauntered to the wall the moment he spotted an opportunity. So far, so good. He slunk along, the sound of his steps on the gravel path too loud in his ears. Once he reached the corner, he listened for a moment before taking a look.
Someone was coming, his steps heavy and confident. Someone patrolling, perhaps. Hudson waited, all the sinews, bones and muscles in his body at the ready. The steps were getting closer.
He acted before even spotting the man. He hit him in the face with the butt of his gun, so hard that bones were crushed on impact. He grabbed and silenced the man with his hand before he could yell and alert the others. But this guy was no ordinary grunt, it seemed, because despite the blood pouring from his nose and the pain that had to come with it, he pushed back and reached for his gun.
Hudson elbowed him hard in the chin and the guy fell on his back. There was no way of telling if anyone else was patrolling the usually deserted back, so Hudson pulled the man by the feet and then rolled him close to the outside fence where the overgrown plants and bushes no one had cut in ages made an adequate cover for now.
He didn't intend to kill anyone if he could help it, although the chances of that were slim. This guy might be in luck, since he was unconscious. Hudson made quick work of removing the guy's belt and tied his hands and feet behind his back in a way that would make it hard for him to free himself. There was one other aspect he needed to take care of; he searched the guy's pockets and stuffed his mouth with a handkerchief, using the straps from the small backpack he was carrying to secure that in place, too.
He grabbed the guy's rifle and hiked it over his shoulder. With so many potential enemies roaming the place, every bullet counted. He pushed the two magazines he found in the guy's pockets inside his jeans for quick access.
Just when he was about to leave, he noticed something odd. There was something else in the overgrown grass. Hudson looked around for a moment, keeping a close watch on his surroundings, and then walked over to where he had noticed the hidden object.
It was a black combat boot. And it was attached to a foot. Hudson pushed the tall bush in his path away and then saw the owner of the boot. A guy in black, similar in clothing and built to the one he had just neutralized lay there, on his belly. Hudson knelt by his side and checked his pulse. This one was dead. What the hell did that mean?
He had no time for questions without answers. Could it be that man was not supposed to be there? Hudson turned him over, expecting with dread to catch a glimpse of a familiar face -- someone from the police op team getting ideas in his head? But no, he didn't know him, and he didn't look like law enforcement, either.
There was still the mystery of his death. If he had to take a guess, Hudson was thinking the guy must have been shot. He checked the body and found another magazine for the same type of rifle he had grabbed. That went into his stash, as well.
He was about to get out of the hiding place when he heard voices. Quickly, he dropped back down to the ground, crouching, hoping that the brush was high and thick enough to conceal him. He gripped the rifle tightly. If there was going to be a shootout, at least he needed to be fast, accurate and deadly.
There were two of them, also dressed in black and armed with shotguns. Hudson observed them as they walked past, talking to each other, something about a match coming up the next Sunday. Such a normal thing to talk about given the circumstances. After they disappeared from view, Hudson still waited to see if they came back, and only when they didn't, he got out.
Time was of the essence. If Otis was still inside, Hudson would raise hell to get him out.
***
Time moved like molasses when this happened. Otis was vaguely aware that someone -- Jackie, most likely -- had placed him with his back resting against a wall, and he was on a soft surface, a bed perhaps. The earlier fight had ended with Angel leaving, the door slamming hard behind him, and Jackie crying and whispering things to himself to soothe his broken heart.
Otis couldn't even blink, or he wasn't aware of doing so anymore. He wished he could offer Jackie a hand, although he knew there were no words to soothe a pain like what poured out of the young man's mouth. The person named Sweetheart, he must have been someone very dear to him. And Angel had admitted to having had something to do with that person's death. Maybe he was just mean, maybe he had said those things only to hurt Jackie. There were people like that, who enjoyed seeing others suffer, for all the good that did. There was no good to be had from other people's suffering, and still, some caused it nonetheless.
"Oh, fuck, Otis, what the hell am I going to tell Vegas?" Jackie pleaded, still sniffling from time to time. "There's no way I'm letting those fuckers hurt you, do you hear me? You probably don't, and it's scary to see you like this, but I made a promise. I'm going out for a moment. I need to check the place and see if there's a way out."
Otis wanted to cry and shout and tell Jackie not to leave him, but he was lost to the world and had no means of protecting himself or even begging for others' protection.
***
He was inside now. There was no way he was fooling himself; from this moment onward, he was trapped and surrounded. Gavin would tell him he was a big freaking idiot; the captain would use nicer terms, but the gist would be the same. He was nuts to attempt this when he had already delegated Otis's rescue to Jackie. When it came to his boyfriend, apparently, he couldn't let go so easily.
The long hallway opened in front of him. Quiet. Everyone must be in the main room or close to it, rehearsing their roles. Did they have the slightest idea what they were rehearsing for? Hudson doubted it. No one in their right mind would still be there willingly if that were the case. Jasper had learned of their evil plans, and look where that had gotten him. He was as good as a vegetable, and a -- still -- living reminder for Hudson that maybe he wasn't as good at his job as he thought himself to be.
Chase away your doubts. They're no use. Hudson walked swiftly, his hand on the rifle, ready to eliminate anyone that was an immediate threat or run back the same way he had come in if that was a choice.
A door opened behind him and he ducked into one of the adjoining rooms that, thankfully, was open. He closed it slowly, praying that the hinges didn't need oiling, and kept it slightly ajar so that he could steal a glance outside.
More men in black uniforms. Where the hell had they gotten all these guys? They weren't particularly bright. Hudson had taken one down, and there was also the matter of the dead one.
He waited until the sound of their footsteps died away and opened the door with infinite care. First, he'd check all the rooms where they usually kept the models and then head over to the main one. With a bit of luck, Otis would no longer be there. And being on the inside wasn't such a bad idea. Since there was no way for him to know if the cavalry would arrive in time, it was up to him to stop the massacre that was scheduled for that evening.
Another door opened and Hudson drew back. He did have time, however, to see Jackie walking toward the place where he was hiding. His heart sank; if Jackie was still there, that meant that Otis was, too.
At least, he had an answer.
