G. Moffat - Blindside

‘You’re saying people don’t fear violence or action so much as a sharpened pencil?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Me? I’d rather have a gun.’

‘What’s this about a gun?’ Tom Hardy asked as he came into the room.

‘They threatened me, Tom,’ Cahill said. ‘Scott Boston called last night and made it plain that it would not be good for me to keep asking questions about Tim.’

‘Scott doesn’t know you too well, does he?’

Cahill turned to Logan.

‘I’m going over there with or without you. Let me know your decision by the end of the day.’

He left the room without saying anything else. Logan looked at Hardy.

‘I think it would be a good idea if you went with him,’ Hardy told Logan. ‘He’s not good when he’s in this kind of mood. And it’s been a while since I’ve seen him like that.’

He walked to the door, pulling it open.

‘I don’t know,’ Logan said. ‘I mean, I’ve got Ellie and everything

…’

Hardy looked down and closed the door again.

‘This is where you repay some of that debt you’ve accumulated,’ he said. ‘This is how it works with us, you know?’

Logan knew. And both Hardy and Cahill had done more for him than he could ever do for them. More than he could ever possibly repay in kind.

‘I understand, Tom.’

‘I’m asking as a personal favour. Go with him and make sure he doesn’t kill anybody. Or, at least, anybody he doesn’t have to.’

Logan went to find Cahill to tell him that he would go to Denver with him. He wasn’t anywhere in the office. Logan walked to the reception desk.

‘Did Alex leave?’ he asked the woman there.

‘A couple of minutes ago,’ she told him.

‘Did he say where he was going?’

‘Said something about blowing off steam at the range.’

Logan said thanks and went to the elevator to go down to the underground car park. He was hoping to catch Cahill before he left for the CPO gun range at their building on the south side of the river — an old warehouse on Scotland Street.

Cahill’s car wasn’t in its usual spot so Logan got in his car and drove up the ramp to follow him.

Logan used a remote control device to activate the electronic gate at the warehouse. He waited in the road as the metal gate slid smoothly open and saw Cahill’s car parked inside. He drove in and parked beside it, the gate closing behind him.

The warehouse was not just a shooting range — it was also where CPO stored its armoury. The security at the site was tight. Logan punched a five-digit code into a keypad beside the metal entrance door. The light on the keypad turned green and Logan used his key to open the door.

The building exterior was deliberately shabby. A Hollywood set decorator would have recognised the skill that had gone into making it look like that. Inside was a different story.

Logan walked along a corridor with a polished concrete floor and clean, grey walls, turning right at the end. Spotlights embedded in the floor and recessed in the ceiling lit the way to another door with a keypad. Logan heard faint gunshot reports behind the door. The sound did not carry beyond the building’s walls.

After entering a different code, Logan went into what looked like a large cupboard. He pushed at the rear wall and it opened into the range. The room was long and narrow with various weapons arranged neatly on mounts on the walls at either side of the door. Beyond that were two separate ranges, about twenty-five metres long with target boards on rails suspended from the ceiling. The targets could be moved along the rails via a control panel in the enclosed booths for each range.

Logan had been here many times, but was still surprised at how loud the gunshots sounded in such an enclosed space. Cahill was in a classic shooting stance in the right-hand booth, firing at a target around fifteen feet from his position.

Logan grabbed a pair of ear defenders and put them on. He waited behind Cahill until he had emptied his magazine at the target. It was never a good idea to surprise a man with a loaded weapon. Especially one in a mood like Cahill.

Logan noticed from the number of bullet holes that Cahill had already fired a full clip at the same target.

Cahill’s gun clicked on an empty chamber and he stood straight, ejecting the magazine from the handle of the weapon.

‘You mad at someone?’ Logan shouted, taking his ear defenders off.

Smoke hung in the air around Cahill, the smell of cordite sharp in Logan’s nostrils.

Cahill turned quickly, taking his own defenders off and putting them on the counter in front of him beside the gun.

‘I’m plenty mad,’ Cahill replied.

‘So what’s new?’ Logan smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He walked to the booth and pressed a button to bring the target closer.

‘Hasn’t affected your accuracy,’ Logan said, looking at the target with its close grouping of bullet holes.

‘The old man hasn’t lost it yet.’

Cahill was the most accurate shooter in the team. He never lost a challenge. Logan was getting better all the time, and was now giving some of the others a close run in their challenges. Cahill encouraged competition — thought that it was a good way to maintain their edge outside of a real engagement. His plan was always to get into as few fights as possible. He knew from experience that no matter how good you were, bad luck had a way of catching up with you eventually.

‘You’re dead set on this mission of yours?’ Logan asked. ‘I mean, going over to Denver.’

‘I booked our flights last night.’

Logan stared at him.

‘We leave at seven tomorrow morning. Sam’s getting the spare room ready for Ellie to come over tonight. It’s all set.’

Logan looked at his watch — saw that it was not far off noon. Ellie would be at school for a few more hours yet and so there was nothing Logan could do about speaking to her just yet.

‘I’m that predictable?’ he asked, shaking his head.

‘Not predictable. Reliable.’

‘How long will we be away?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But you’ve booked a hotel, right? I mean, we’ll have to stay somewhere.’

‘Sure. I booked somewhere in Downtown. It’s corporate and anonymous.’

Cahill frustrated Logan sometimes.

‘How long did you book the hotel for?’

‘Three nights.’

‘You think that’ll be enough?’

‘If it’s not, we’ll extend the stay there or somewhere else.’

Cahill spread his arms out.

‘If you don’t want to go…’ he said.

‘I’m going. Okay. I just…’

Cahill waited. Logan sat down again.

‘I mean, I feel a little lost when I go into the field with any of you guys. It’s not me. I don’t know what to do. I’m a lawyer not a soldier.’

‘Bullshit. You’ve done more than okay when you’ve had to. I mean, for someone chucked into the fire with no warning and little or no training.’

‘But-’

‘And it’s not like I’m asking you to shoot anyone this time, you know. It’ll be a different kind of thing.’

‘Just talking?’

‘Interacting with the law enforcement agencies.’

Logan puffed out his cheeks and shook his head.

‘What?’ Cahill asked.

‘Alex, you can’t interact with anyone without starting a fight.’

‘Not true.’

‘Almost true.’

Cahill picked up his gun and ear defenders and went to the wall beside the entrance. He put the magazine back in the gun and placed it on a mount. He hung the ear defenders up beside the others on the wall.

‘Have you told Tim’s wife yet?’ Logan asked as he joined Cahill to put his ear defenders on the wall.

‘No.’