The Haunt
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eacon Smyth was once one of
Raven’s Peak’s most respected cardiac surgeons, but alcoholism had destroyed
both his personal and professional life. Eventually, he found himself living as
a drunken beggar in the garbage-lined gutters of The Haunt.
One day, walking down the
street, Blackjack saw Deacon helping a small homeless boy who had been badly
beaten, presumably by one of the many teenage gangs that populated the slum.
Blackjack introduced himself to Deacon and told him to bring the boy back to
Joe’s home. There, they bandaged, fed and cared for him. Once the child had
regained his strength, he chose to strike out on his own again.
After seeing Deacon’s kind
nature and the service he could provide to the downtrodden, Blackjack helped
him to overcome his addiction and set up an informal medical practice where the
poor could get as much treatment as Deacon could provide. All he asked in
return was that they gave him whatever money they could so that he could
restock his medical supplies and buy enough food to stay alive.
On the night of the harbour
heist that Cruz’ enforcers had interrupted, when Hugh carried Blackjack through
the door and lay him on one of the beds, he was weak, bloody and unresponsive.
Deacon had been half-asleep, but woke quickly when he realised the severity of Joe’s
stomach wound. After putting Blackjack under, he was able to repair the damage
and stitch the wound. When Joe awoke several hours later, Deacon told him how
lucky he was that Morgan’s blade had missed the main artery. He said, “If that
lunatic had punctured it, you’d have died before you got here,” to which Joe replied,
“Damn Doc, why’re you always such a buzz-kill?”
Blackjack’s remaining
recovery time at Deacon’s was punctuated by frequent visits from Ramirez and
Twitch. Instead of her usual hard-nosed sarcasm, Dylan treated Joe with doting
compassion. When he commented on her change in demeanour, she said, “Yeah well,
enjoy it while you can.” She tried to look irritated as she said it, but
couldn’t hide a sheepish grin. While Blackjack healed, Hugh watched over The
Haunt. Even though their leader was injured, Hugh made sure that none of the
young thugs got any delusions of grandeur.
By the beginning of the
third week, Joe had regained much of his strength. That afternoon, Hugh stopped
by to inform him of what had been happening in his absence. Upon his arrival, Deacon
was removing the final stitch from Joe’s stomach, “Finally gonna get off your
arse and come back to work are you?”
“Funny, but you wouldn’t be
so energetic either, if you were the one that got shivved in the gut.”
Hugh turned the wooden
chair that stood beside the bed and straddled it with his forearms resting
casually atop the back support, “I have, remember? Got the scar to prove it.”
Joe turned to Deacon, “Am I
gonna have one of those?”
“Afraid so,” he replied in
his usual, gruff manner, “I’m done here. You can leave if you want, just try
not to get stabbed again. I’m tired of patching you up.”
Blackjack chuckled, “Your
bedside manner could use a little work.”
With a derisive grunt, the
old doctor left the room.
Joe climbed out of bed and
while getting dressed, he asked, ”What’s been going down lately?”
“Morgan survived. Word is,
Cruz had a metal plate put in his skull after I cracked it.”
“What does it take to kill
that bastard?”
A dark smile appeared on
the Irish giant’s face, “If you’re up for it, we can find out Saturday night.”
Hugh then recounted how he
had read in the news that the mayor of Raven’s Peak was handing over control of
the harbour to Cruz Incorporated and that a ceremony was to be held that
Saturday evening on the main pier.
“Okay, but how do we get
in? I don’t think they had us in mind
when they were putting the guest list together.”
“I’ve got that sorted. When
I was checking the place out, I met a young fella by the name of Raphael. He
works on the docks and after we did some talking, it got pretty clear that he’s
got a score to settle with the rich bugger. He’ll help us.”
“With all the dodgy deals
and disappearing acts that cat’s pulled, I’m not surprised, but how do you know
we can trust him?”
“Believe me Joe, you didn’t
see the fire in this boy’s eyes, he won’t be a problem.”
“If you say so, but that
famous luck of the Irish better kick in this time.”
Hugh smiled, “Don’t worry
boyo, you can hide behind me if you get scared.”
Blackjack slugged him hard
on the shoulder, “Watch your mouth, Kilpatrick.”
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o Raff, that Saturday night
seemed to come around far more quickly than any before it. This feeling was
undoubtedly because of the anticipation he felt at finally being able to
confront the man responsible for his father’s death. At first, he had been
unsure of the hulking, shaggy-headed Irishman he had met two weeks previously.
After talking to him however, he somehow knew he could trust the man, despite
the violence they planned to commit. He chose not to tell Cassie or his mother,
because he knew that they’d only try to stop him.
Blackjack picked Raff up in
his red muscle car, a few blocks away from the harbour. Ramirez followed in the
same panel van she had driven on the night of the heist and Hugh brought up the
rear in a large grey pick-up truck. Their plan was to watch Cruz during the
ceremony, see what kind of security detail he had (which they were sure Eli
Morgan would be part of) and then trail his limousine once he left.
“Okay kid,” Joe said
“before we do this, I need to know, what’s your beef with Gabriel Cruz?”
“He and my father were
business partners almost twenty years ago, then he got greedy. My dad stood up
to him and payed with his life.”
“Fair enough, but you
better stay cool until we have them under control. I won’t have one of my crew
getting hurt just so you can get revenge.”
“You have my word.”
To avoid attracting
attention, the crew parked their vehicles at the rear of the harbour and Raff
led them through a deserted service entrance. By the time they joined the
crowd, Cruz was already making his acceptance speech amid a barrage of
camera-flashes. His face bore the same smug expression it had at the opening of
The Bird’s Nest. As he listened to
Cruz droning for minutes on end about how under his leadership, Raven’s Peak’s
seaport would begin a new era of profitability, Raff clutched the switchblade
that had wounded Cassie’s neck.
Meanwhile, Ramirez went to
the parking lot. After sneaking past the bored and unobservant valets, she
found the armoured limo, popped the hood and made a small puncture in its fuel
line. After rejoining Hugh and Blackjack at the back of the audience, they were
surprised to see that only three men stood watch. Cruz’ usual bodyguards,
Kenneth and Dominic stood gargoyle-like on either side of the steps leading up
to the stage. Morgan however, sat onstage between the mayor and Cruz’ protégé,
Tara Fox. He wore a grey suit and his facial expression and body-language said
that he had absolutely no desire to be there. Of particular interest to Joe was
the large white bandage that was clearly visible on the back of his head
whenever he turned to look at someone.
Once Cruz and his entourage
got up to leave, Blackjack and the crew quickly returned to their vehicles and
prepared to follow. As the limo pulled away, Blackjack and Raff were directly
behind, but kept a fair distance to avoid giving away their presence, followed
once again by Hugh and Dylan.
The route that Cruz and
company took was a picturesque and winding road that kept the coastline to
their right. The night’s crescent moon cast an eerily pale glow over the still
ocean water. Security was an obvious consideration, as it appeared that the
limo and the impromptu convoy that trailed it were practically the only
vehicles in sight.
After fifteen minutes of
silent pursuit, Blackjack noticed that Raff had begun to tap his right foot
impatiently on the floor of the car, “You’d better chill out,” he said sternly.
Raff did as he was told,
but growled, “You have no idea how badly I want to kill that bastard!”
“Oh, don’t I?” he replied
harshly. “Did you happen to see that creepy dude in the grey suit with the crew
cut?”
“Yeah.”
“Well a few weeks ago, he
stuck a knife so deep in my gut that I nearly died, then he smiled as he pulled
it out, inch by inch. So don’t talk to me about getting even, got it?”
Just then, the limo began
to falter and lose speed. Finally, it came to rest under a large stone arch
bridge. With the moon hidden from view, a lone streetlamp provided the only dim
patch of light.
“Now the real fun starts,”
said Blackjack. His sudden acceleration closed the distance in a matter of
seconds. Joe then threw the car into a reckless ninety-degree turn and brought
it to a halt a short distance in front of the target. Before the two bodyguards
could react, he opened his door and tossed two silver canisters in their
direction. Both bounced loudly off the limo’s windscreen. Almost instantly,
thick grey smoke began to pour out of them, rendering the long black vehicle
partially invisible. Blackjack climbed out of the driver’s seat, drew Delilah
and waited. While all this transpired, Hugh and Dylan parked their cars end to
end across the road, completely blockading it.
Kenneth emerged unsurely
from the smoke, gun drawn, but Joe fired first. The bullet hit him squarely
between the eyes, causing a small crimson hole just above the bridge of his
nose. The force of the shot caused Kenneth’s head to jerk violently backwards
as he fell to the ground. Once down, blood and grey matter began to pool around
his head.
As the smoke began to
disperse, Dominic returned fire from a crouched position behind the front
passenger’s-side door, grazing Blackjack’s left shoulder. He groaned and
staggered, falling against his car’s smooth metal body. Raff sat dead still,
silently watching and powerless to help. Sensing an opportunity, Dominic
advanced and fired another round. This time his aim was slightly off, punching
a circular hole in the car’s hood, a few inches from Joe’s right hand. Joe
ducked and fired back, but missed wildly. Dominic gave a rasping bark of
laughter, “So much for the famous Blackjack Joe, you’re not even a challenge!
Oh well.”
He levelled the barrel with
Blackjack’s chest, but before he could finish the job, a single shot broke the
silence. As Dominic lurched forward and fell face-down, his firearm flew from
his grasp and skittered along the tarmac, right into Joe’s reach. Looking past
the limo, Joe saw Hugh and Ramirez walking quickly towards him. In her right
hand, Ramirez held a pistol of her own, smoke rising from the muzzle.
With the bullet lodged in
the back of his tactical suit, Dominic lifted his head and looked at Joe with a
calm and resigned expression, “You better end this now, because if I get up--“
the shot penetrated Dominic’s forehead mid-sentence, he fell silent and his
head flopped down with a trickle blood. Inside the limo, Cruz had begun to
sweat profusely, “Get out there, Morgan, I’m not paying you for your company!”
Morgan smirked, “Careful
Gabriel, you’ll ruin your suit.”
“Just go,” Tara replied
with an icy glare.
“Ooh, poor Gabe “ he said,
looking out of the window, “must be tough having an assistant with bigger balls
than you.”
Before Cruz could reply,
Morgan said, “That’s my cue,” and swung the door open as hard as he could. It
connected with Hugh’s midsection, causing him to stumble and knock Dylan off
her feet. Hugh’s first instinct was to help her up, but she said, “I’m good,
deal with him.”
In one swift movement,
Morgan leapt out of the car and slashed viciously at Hugh’s belly with his
combat knife. He leaned back, but the blade’s tip cut a jagged hole in Hugh’s
shirt, “Did you think I’d forget your cowardly shot from behind?”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Hugh
replied, “ ‘cause now I’m gonna smash your face in!”
While Hugh and Morgan
brawled, Ramirez cut a strip from Blackjack’s shirt with a small knife that was
strapped to her ankle. She wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around his
wound and helped him to his feet, “You okay?” she asked.
“I’ll live, good thing he
was a crappy shot,” he said with a pained grin.
While he was no match for
Hugh’s strength, Morgan’s animalistic fighting style made it difficult for the
Irishman to gain the upper hand. Every time he got too close, Morgan would counter
with the serrated side of his blade. Several nasty cuts left Hugh’s arms slick
with blood, “You’re slowing down Kilpatrick, feeling a little dizzy maybe?”
In response, Hugh wielded
the shillelagh and was finally able to connect with his right hand. Morgan
screamed, dropped the knife and clutched his hand. His thumb and first three
fingers were broken. Hugh’s next swing struck Morgan’s chin, shattering his jaw
and sending him sprawling to the ground. The giant hauled him back up and
slammed him against the bridge wall by the scruff of his neck, “Not so cocky
now, are you, fella?”
When Hugh released his grip,
Morgan slid down and slumped in a dazed and pathetic heap. After disposing of
Dominic’s gun, Blackjack strolled casually over to where Morgan sat and said,
“You know, Eli, you don’t look so good.”
He tried to speak, but the
only things that came from his mouth were blood and unintelligible gurgling
noises, “Let me help you up,” he pulled Morgan roughly to his feet,
“Kilpatrick, our friend here ain’t so steady, hand me his knife.”
Hugh did as he was told, “I
think you dropped this,” Joe said.
Without warning, Blackjack
impaled him through the centre of his right palm and drove the blade into the
wall behind him. When Morgan screamed, blood ran from his now misshapen mouth,
“How’s that feel, scumbag?”
The dazed look in Morgan’s
eyes was replaced by one of rage. He tried to lash out with his free hand, but
Joe stepped easily out of his reach.
Blackjack raised Delilah
once more and said, “I’m gonna do The Haunt a big favour. If there’s a hell,
that’s where you’re headed.”
Hugh watched in grim
silence as his friend fired a single bullet into Morgan’s head and two more
into his chest. His lifeless body sagged, awkwardly suspended from the impaled
hand.
Ramirez walked over to the
passenger’s side of Joe’s car, tapped on the window and motioned for Raff to
get out. When he did, she said, “If you want to settle your issue with Cruz,
now’s the time.”
As Raff approached the
limo, Blackjack opened Cruz’ door and said, “Cruz, someone here wants to talk
to you. You can either get out here yourself and deal with him like a man, or
I’ll drag your ass out, your choice.”
Cursing under his breath,
Cruz climbed out of the vehicle. Tara slid across the seat and attempted to
follow him, but Joe told her sternly to stay where she was.
“This doesn’t concern you,”
he said, “I’d never hit a woman, but Ramirez over there ain’t so friendly.”
After a glance in Ramirez’
direction, she took his advice in reluctant silence and he shut the door again.
The two men came face to
face in front of the limo. Having had to step over Kenneth’s dead body, Cruz
eyed Raff furiously and said, “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
Fighting the urge to launch
himself at the man he hated so deeply, Raff replied, “I’m Raphael Davis and you
killed my father.”
Instead of expressing shock
or indignation, Cruz smirked, “So, you’re Tommy’s kid, huh? Usually, I’d deny
that kind of accusation, but considering the night we’ve all had, what’s the
point?”
Raff’s hands began to shake
and he clutched the switchblade once again. Through gritted teeth, he asked
“Why?”
“Without me, that dive your
father called a tavern would never have existed. I was entitled to take
whatever percentage of the profits I saw fit. He was too stupid to accept that,
killing him was just good business.”
At that, Raff lost all
control. He charged forward shoulder-first, tackling Cruz and driving him onto
the limo’s hood. He rained down blow after blow to Cruz’ head. With each
strike, years of pent up anger and sorrow were released in an explosion of rage.
When Raff finally lowered his fists, his breathing was heavy and laboured. Cruz
lay prone, beaten to a pulp. Raff pulled the knife from his pocket and pushed the
button on its hilt, causing the blade to shoot from the handle with a click. He held the knife firmly to Cruz’
throat and shouted, “All your money and all your power is meaningless! Now
you’re going to die alone in the street, just like my father did.”
As Raff stood over Cruz, preparing
to end his life, he saw that the unrepentant arrogance had left the tycoon’s
eyes. The emotion that replaced it was genuine fear. In that moment, Raff
thought back to the day he’d spent with Cassie, looking at old photos. One
image stood out clearly in his mind, the centrepiece of his parents’ wedding
album. As he remembered the pure joy and love that the photo represented, he
realised that even though this man had destroyed his chance to have a normal
life and even though he hated him with every fibre of his being, Raff knew in
his heart that he couldn’t go home a killer.
As Cruz waited to die, he
began to whimper. Tears mixed with the blood that ran from his nose and mouth.
Raff retracted the blade, stuffed the knife back in his pocket and said, “You’re
pathetic.”
He pulled Cruz off the hood
and threw him to the ground, “You don’t deserve to live, but killing you would
only dishonour my father’s memory.” Bending down, Raff looked him dead in the
eyes and said, “For as long as you live, remember this night, remember me and
remember what a real man is. If you come after me or my mother, “I’ll find you
again. And next time, I will kill you.”
Raff started walking back
to where the others stood, but Cruz called after him, “Hey, you insignificant
worm, this isn’t over!”
Raff turned to see Cruz
aiming a gun directly at his head. In all the excitement, everyone had
forgotten that Kenneth’s pistol had been lying near his body since Joe shot
him. Cruz had a wicked grin on his face and a mad glint in his eyes,
accentuated even more by his blood-stained features, “There’s an old saying in
business, always go for the kill. You’re about to learn that the hard way. This
is what happens when you try to get even with Gabriel Cruz.”
Before he could fire however,
Cruz was struck in the heart by a single bullet. He dropped the gun, clutched
his chest and fell to the ground, dead. Raff looked around and saw that it was
Ramirez who fired the shot, “Dylan, you saved my life.”
She smiled darkly, “You
didn’t think we’d let him live, did you?”
“After all,” Joe said, “he
was the one that sent Morgan after us.”
Suddenly, Tara burst out of
the limo and hurried to where Cruz’ body lay, screaming, “Gabriel!” Once she
realised he was dead, she took off her high-heels and made a barefoot beeline
for Dylan, screeching that she was going to rip her eyes out of her skull. This
new-found bravado was abruptly cut short when Ramirez said, “Shut up,” and smacked
her on the forehead with the butt of her gun, knocking her out cold.
A few moments later, police
sirens began to blare in the distance, Blackjack threw Raff his car keys and
said, “You can drive, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, get outta here, kid.”
Raff stepped forward, shook
his hand and said, “Thank you, for everything.”
He looked at Tara, lying
unconscious on the tarmac, “What about her, what if she tells the cops about
this?”
“Relax, she doesn’t know
your name and even if she tells them about us, cops don’t come into our part of
town. Now get going.”
Okay. Come find me at the docks
on Monday, your car will be waiting for you.”
“Cool.”
The three friends watched
as Raff sped off into the night and then beat a hasty retreat using the other
vehicles. By the time Raff got home, it was two in the morning. He parked
Blackjack’s car in the apartment building’s basement lot, ignoring the
night-watchman’s questioning stare. Entering the apartment as quietly as
possible to avoid waking his mother, Raff went to his bedroom, changed his
clothes and got into bed. With his eyes closed, he began to sort through the
night’s events in his mind. Although he was disturbed by all the violence and
death he’d witnessed, he felt a deep sense of peace knowing that his father’s
murder had finally been avenged.
The next morning, Cassie
arrived with croissants and coffee. It was a clear, sunny day, so Raff suggested
they have breakfast out on the balcony. As he sat, talking and laughing with
the two women in his life, he watched a single raven fly through the sky
towards the light of the sun and he couldn’t help but think that his father’s
soul was now at rest.
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