The Ravens Watch: Part 6 (short story)

Rachel and Raphael’s apartment

A

fter a night of fitful sleep, Raphael woke up and went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of much needed coffee and some breakfast. It was his day off, so he was up later than usual and his mother had already left for her shift at The Fishhook, which for once was a relief, because he wanted some time alone.

The previous night, when Raff returned to the apartment, his shirt stained with blood and his expression haunted, Rachel’s irritation at him for not cooking dinner turned immediately to shock and concern.

“Raphael, what happened?”

“Cassie and I were attacked by a hobo, he threatened her with a knife, tried to make me give him dad’s harmonica. Cassie struggled away from him, and her neck got cut.”

While Raff spoke, Rachel listened and gently stroked his arm, “Cassie, the girl you met on the bus? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, I got her home and told her dad what happened, the paramedics stitched her up. She’ll be fine.”

She carefully brushed his hair away from his eyes, “You did the right thing, sweetheart.”

“I wish Cassie’s father believed that, he blames me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to, he’s just worried about his little girl, that’s all.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Raphael stood, “I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t you want something to eat?”

He shook his head, “Not in the mood. Night mom.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

While he sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and nibbling absently at a slice of toast, he realised that he’d left his father’s harmonica at Cassandra’s apartment. This really bothered him, because from the days of his early childhood, he’d always carried it with him.

Although he knew she’d be at home, Raff didn’t think he could bring himself to face Cassie so soon after what had happened, or worse still, her father. Peter Phoenix’s cold, steely anger had cut him deeply. The fact that this kindly old man blamed him for his daughter’s injury only intensified his own feeling of responsibility.

For the remainder of the morning, Raff tried to distract himself by working out and watching TV, but found that he couldn’t get Cassie off of his mind, so he decided to take a walk.

For hours, Raff walked the streets aimlessly, stopping at a fruit vendor’s table to buy an apple when he began to feel hungry. As he moved from place to place and saw others doing the same, he felt that life was going on around him, and that he was merely a spectator.  Suddenly and without consciously realising it, Raff found himself at the door of Cassie’s apartment. For several minutes, he just stood there, unsure of whether to walk back home, or knock on the door. After having this internal argument, he gathered his resolve and knocked on the door.

When she opened the door, Cassie’s face lit up with a wonderful smile, “Hey! I thought you weren’t gonna come back, I’m so happy you did.”

Looking at her, in a beautiful light blue dress, all Raff said was, “I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

Without replying, she took his hand, led him inside and told him to sit down.

“Do you want something to drink? I just got back from the grocery store, so we’ve got beer.”

“Uh, I’d rather have some juice if you’ve got it.”

“Orange juice coming up.”

She fetched a glass, handed it to him and sat down on the couch opposite him. The same couch he’d left her sitting on the day before.

She watched him drink with a pleased expression on her face. After a few sips, he put the glass down and said, “This is crazy, what are we doing? I almost got you killed yesterday and now I’m sitting here drinking orange juice.”

“First off, you stopped that old man before he could really hurt me. Secondly, I didn’t think he’d do that. I gave him money too, remember?”

“But I---“

 “But nothing,” she rose from her seat and knelt in front of him. Once again taking his hand, she fixed him with a steady, unblinking gaze,” I’m only going to say this once more, so you better believe me this time.  What happened yesterday wasn’t your fault, you protected me and brought me back here as quickly as you could, I’m always going to be grateful to you for that.”

Raff was caught off guard by her kiss. It was tender, but firm. At first, he was a passive participant in it, simply enjoying the sensation, but this didn’t last long. When he returned the action, it was equally as passionate as Cassie’s, and it locked their lips in a powerful embrace.

When their lips finally parted, the two young people looked at each other in a kind of stunned silence, neither one sure of what to say. 

“Uh, wow,” Raff said hazily, finally breaking the silence.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” said Cassie.

“Well what took you so damn long?”

She smiled, “Oh shut up, you weren’t exactly taking the driver’s seat on this.”

She got up and walked down the passage, into another room. When she returned, she held his father’s harmonica in one hand and in the other, the switchblade she’d been injured with, “I thought you’d want this back.”

Raff was simultaneously pleased and disturbed. He took the harmonica and after running his thumb over its surface, put it in his pocket. He hesitantly took the knife, “Have the cops come to see you about what happened?”

“Well yeah, but by the time they got here, he was gone. They said there was almost no chance of finding him, not that they really cared. You know what it’s like.”

He thought about the fact that the police had done next to nothing to identify the person who’d robbed him of his father, and nodded grimly, “Yeah, I do. But why’d you keep the knife?”

Cassie pondered the question for a moment and said, ”As twisted as this might seem, I want you to have it.”

Raff looked confusedly at Cassie, “What kind of gift is that? Wouldn’t you rather I get rid of it?”

She shook her head, ”You shouldn’t only see it as something that hurt me, keep it to remind you of our relationship.”

Raff pocketed the knife, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Just then, her father entered the apartment. Raff jumped nervously to his feet, “Easy Raff, he’s not gonna hurt you, but you two should talk.”

“Hey cupcake, I’m ba--- can’t seem to stay away can you?” Peter said, switching in mid-sentence when he saw the young man.

“I came back for my harmonica, I’ll be going now.”

Before he could take a step toward the door, Cassie clamped her hand firmly onto his shoulder, digging her fingers in just a little, “Uh uh, I’m not letting you pull that again. If you’re both going to be in my life, you need to deal with this.”

“Fine,” Peter said, taking off the cap he wore as he sat down on the couch, “let’s talk.”

“Mr Phoenix, I want you to understand how bad I feel about what happened. The thief fed us that bullshit story and I listened to all of it, I let my guard down with a stranger, and in this city, that’s dangerous.”

“Yes it is, but I suppose that if you lose your faith in people, what do you really have? Listen Raphael, I didn’t mean to take it out on you, but think about how it looked, you burst through the door with my daughter in your arms, she was bleeding and pale as a ghost. No father ever wants to see that.”

“I don’t blame you for freaking out sir, but I hope you know that Cassandra means a lot to me.”

Peter smiled a wry smile, “That damn well better be true, because she practically ripped my head off for blaming you, wouldn’t shut up all night.”

Cassie giggled, “You never were any good at keeping a secret, daddy.”

“Why bother? If you like him enough to behave like a mental patient all night, he can’t be all bad.”

Cassie took Raff’s hand and squeezed it tightly, “Yeah, I think I’ll keep him.”

Raff spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know Cassie’s father, and when he finally did leave, he felt at peace once more.      

On the road, approaching the harbour

N

ight had fallen once again, and it was almost time for Blackjack to pull another shipment raid. This time though, his contacts warned that there might be some guards on it, so he had called in the whole crew.

Tonight they were in a large panel-van, driven by Dylan Ramirez. One of Joe’s oldest friends, Dylan was just a year younger than him, and quite beautiful. She had long raven hair, soulful brown eyes, and a toned and physically fit body. A running joke about Dylan was that she could drive anything, from a mo-ped to a military assault vehicle. It was due to this that Blackjack considered her essential for any and all sizeable jobs. There was nobody better in a high-speed pursuit.

Hugh sat in the back of the vehicle, along with Ramirez’ teenage brother, Tobias. Everyone called him Twitch, because he had the nervous habit of talking too much, too quickly. However, when it came to locks, be they electronic or old-fashioned, Twitch could break through anything. This almost made up for his awkward nature and sometimes strange behaviour. Although it intensely annoyed him, Dylan was very protective of her little brother, and kept him out of as much trouble as she could. Both their parents had died many years earlier, caught in the crossfire of one of The Haunt’s most brutal riots, and it had fallen to Dylan to raise Twitch. Blackjack had found them and given them shelter when their need was dire, and they’d been close ever since.

“So Joe (Dylan never called him Blackjack) what’s the score tonight?”

“Well, as far as I know, it’s a load of computer equipment.”

“Sweet!” Twitch piped in. He was skinny and fairly weak, but his understanding of machinery and electronics was innate, and far above average.

“Easy there, Skippy,” smirked Hugh, “don’t get all worked up.”

Dylan turned to feign a glare at him, “Watch yourself Kilpatrick.”

Hugh smiled toothily at her, “My apologies, Ramirez.”

“If there’re new Zentex systems, I’m keeping one.”

“I think we can swing that,” said Blackjack.

The group arrived at the entrance of the harbour. A large iron gate, secured by a length of heavy chain and a formidable lock blocked their path. Blackjack, Hugh and Twitch got out, while Dylan kept the motor running.

Hugh shook the chain vigorously, “I don’t think I can break this, Joe.”

Twitch rolled his eyes, “Just because it’s called breaking and entering, doesn’t mean you always have to break something, Hugh.”

One of Twitch’s eccentricities was that he always wore cargo pants and filled the pockets with many tools and gadgets. He reached into one and pulled out a long, thin piece of metal with multiple grooves cut into one end. He inserted the tool into the lock and rotated it. After just a few seconds, the lock clicked open. Twitch turned and grinned triumphantly at Hugh.

“You’ve got to admit Kilpatrick, the boy’s got some skills,” said Blackjack.

“Oh alright, well done little fella.”

They got back into the van and drove to the berth where the target vessel was docked. A large cargo ship, it had a golden wolf’s head and the name Cruz Incorporated painted on its bow.

“Cruz Incorporated is the biggest company in the city. We better be careful. If they find out who ripped them off, it could be bad, they could come after us. I was born with all the right body parts, and I wanna keep it that way,” said Twitch.

“Calm down little brother, a big company like this won’t even notice one missing shipment,” Dylan reassured him.

“Well, okay, but I’ll wait here, you don’t need me for this part anyway.”

Blackjack closed the van’s sliding door before Twitch could get back in, “Hold on little buddy, there might be some locks in there we need opened. The dock crew left the entrance ramp down, but that’s all.”

Reluctantly, Twitch agreed and followed the other three up the ramp and into the ship. Usually, Dylan stayed behind, ready to speed away like a bat out of Hell if need be. But this time she went with, because they weren’t sure how much merchandise there would be to carry.

The ship was dark and eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint creak of the ship’s hull. The group used flashlights to make their way through the corridors and finally, found a thick steel door marked “Cargo Hold”. Blackjack turned the handle and found it locked tightly, but there was no keyhole to be seen, “Great, it must be locked from the inside.”

“Wait Blackjack, look at this,” said Twitch.

He was talking about a rectangular panel mounted on the wall next to the door. At the top was a narrow screen and a large numeric keypad. The rest of the panel was covered in sockets and ports of various sizes.

“Well at least it’s not locked from the other side,” Joe said sarcastically.

“I think I’ve got something that’ll get us in,” Twitch said, pulling a gadget that looked like a small calculator out of another of his many pockets. Attached to the device was a long, thin cord, which ended in a cylindrical plug. Twitch examined the door’s security panel for a moment, then inserted the plug into one of its sockets and punched in a complex key sequence on his code-breaker. When the sequence was done, nothing appeared to happen, but after a few seconds, the panel’s screen glowed bright green and it emitted two high-pitched beeps, “Try it again, Blackjack.”

He did so, and the heavy door swung open easily on its well-maintained hinges.

“Where’d you get that thing?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s just a little something I’ve been working on for a few months, it makes breaking through this kinda lock much easier.”

“You know Tobias, you really are a nerd,” said Dylan, playfully punching him on the shoulder as they walked into the hold.

“And I’m grateful for that every time we do a job,” Blackjack said as he flipped the light switch. Blackjack’s information was accurate; the room contained at least twenty rows of large cardboard boxes, each printed with the large purple Z that served as the Zentex Computer Corporation’s logo.

“If there’s a heaven, it must be something like this,” Twitch said, sounding just like an excited child on Christmas morning. He rushed forward and tore open one of the boxes, “Guys, these are the new Z-220 Platinum Core computers! The latest thing in technology, do you know what these are worth?”

“I’m guessing a lot? Now calm down, we need to figure out how we’re gonna get these back to the van,” Blackjack replied.

At the very back of the hold, Hugh found several two-wheeled trolleys, which meant that more than one box could be moved out a time. The crew took enough units to fill the van, as well as a few more, which they strapped to the roof. 

“See man, what’d we tell you? No problem.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” said Twitch.

But Blackjack was wrong about that.

When they turned back toward the harbour’s entrance, a black van with the Cruz Inc. emblem on the hood sped through the gates and blocked the way.

“I don’t like this, Joe,” said Dylan.

“Just relax, Ramirez, Kilpatrick and I’ll take care of this.”

The van stopped and four men in riot suits got out. From this distance, it was hard to tell what weapons they carried. The men lined up and stood stoically in the distance between the two vehicles. As Blackjack and Hugh walked toward them, the door opened once again and a tall, lean man in a long coat and heavy boots strolled over, eyeing them predatorily. The man’s name was Eli Morgan, and he was the most feared criminal in The Haunt. A brutally violent psychopath, Morgan took pleasure in slowly dismantling his victims’ sanity before viscously killing them, and whether intentionally or not, his appearance exuded terror and dread.

Morgan saw the world through steely blue eyes, set into a gaunt and heavily scarred face. He kept his silvery-grey hair in a crew cut. Not much was known about Morgan’s life before he’d shown up some two decades before, but the rumour was that he had once been a highly decorated military officer, but was dishonourably discharged when his superiors discovered that he was torturing prisoners at the base where he was stationed. This rumour was supported by his favourite weapon, a huge, double-edged combat knife. One edge was serrated, while the other was straight.

“Nice night for a raid, isn’t it boys?” he said in his characteristically and unnervingly emotionless voice.

“We don’t want any problems, Morgan. We’re just trying to make some cash,” replied Blackjack.   

“Of course, I understand, but you really shouldn’t have tried to steal from my employer.”

He blew a loud two-fingered whistle, drew his knife and thrust it at Blackjack’s torso. Joe jumped back and tried to draw Delilah, but Morgan was too quick, and knocked the gun from his hand, sending it sliding away along the ground. Hugh wanted to help his friend, but the black-clad guards were headed straight for him, brandishing clubs and nightsticks. Hugh pulled the shillelagh from his belt, put his hand through the leather strap and ran forward to meet the four men.

They weren’t as large as him, but they were broad shouldered and muscular. Hugh knocked the first man down with a savage blow to the front of his helmet, but faltered  as the other three struck his chest and stomach, finally causing him to fall to his knees, while they continued to strike his shoulders and back. Through the haze of pain, Hugh tightened his grip and swung the shillelagh at one of the guards’ legs. The man fell to the ground, groaning in pain and clutching his shin. One of the two remaining guards tried to connect with Hugh’s jaw, but he caught the club, yanked it away, and hit the man in the gut, doubling him over. Panicking as Hugh regained his feet, the last uninjured man delivered a hard right-cross to the Irishman’s face. Roaring in anger, he lashed out with a bestial uppercut that sent the man’s helmet soaring into the air, as he fell, unconscious, to the ground. Before the winded guard could react, Hugh grabbed him by the throat with both hands, hoisted him above his head and slammed him down to the ground with all the force he could muster.

All the while, Blackjack had continued to battle Morgan. He had drawn an extendable baton from his jacket. So far, it’d been an even fight, each man had scored several hits, but neither was able to end the confrontation.

“Get your men out of here, or I’ll, uh, shoot!”

Twitch had gotten out, found Delilah and was pointing her shakily at Morgan.

“Isn’t that cute?” Morgan growled, as he slashed a deep cut in Blackjack’s left forearm. Joe grunted in pain, but swung the baton and connected with Morgan’s cheek, knocking him to the ground. He turned and shouted, “Get back in the van, Twitch, it’s under control!”

But when he turned back, Morgan stuck his blade deep into Blackjack’s gut. For an instant, Blackjack just stood where he was, staring blankly. But then he staggered back a few steps and fell. Twitch screamed “Blackjack!” so loudly that his voice cracked, while Ramirez watched, hands clenching the steering-wheel in a death grip that left her knuckles white, horrified. Morgan stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and walked over to where Joe lay.

Kneeling, he pulled the knife out slowly, savouring the sound of pure agony that tore from Blackjack’s lips, “Gabriel Cruz sends his regards. Goodbye Joe.”

Immediately, blood began to flow freely from the wound. Morgan smiled and waved at Dylan and Twitch, but before he could turn around, there was another roar, and Hugh dealt an inhuman shillelagh-shot to the back of Morgan’s head, which made a sickening crack.

Hugh lifted Blackjack carefully, but he was already losing consciousness. Once in the van, he kicked the boxes aside and lay Blackjack on the floor, pushing his hands directly onto the wound, “Get us to Deacon, quick.”

Without a word, Ramirez slammed down the accelerator, sped past the slowly recovering guards, rammed their van out of the way and barrelled through the gates in a storm of dust.

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[Return next week for Part 7.]