Chapter 15: RACING, BREAKING, AND ENTERING

Noah buys a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka. Vodka is quick on giving Noah the desired numbing effect. Rune waits for him in the Corvette. His wound hasn't recovered from Sam's last face off. It takes everything in him to contain his destructive urge. Rune's presence helps.

They get to Roger's Garage early. After they left Rose with a friend, Noah insisted to a silent Rune to go to the race. For Eve's sake, he'll do nothing. However, once the event is over, it's open season. Noah's whole body trembles in excitement, a nasty smile escaping his lips. With a bottle in hand, and a cig in his mouth, he tumbles through the early-goers. He realizes his sneakers are still stained with old blood. It isn't really funny, but he laughs.

The couple bring the Toyota Mark II. Noah has learned the model by heart, even if that says nothing to him. Eve is dressed with the purple wig and black clothing. For Noah, she's still the green-haired girl who's always narrowing her eyes, but Duncan told him they know her as Narcissa. She inspires fear among the racing community with a perfect victory score in curve tracing.

Noah doesn't tell them about Rose. Neither does Rune, who quietly sits on the trunk of his car, facing away from the crowd. Noah follows him, leaning in the passenger door. "I'm gonna fuck him up. Will you help?"

"Do I have a choice?" His voice is raspy.

"Yes. You can come with me, or you can let me do it entirely by myself."

Rune is playing with his knife. The red handle is broken, the blade reminds him of a sharp edge in his throat. he reaches up and runs a finger along the fine bumpy line.

"You'll end up getting yourself killed."

"From where I stand, death is relative." He takes a swig of vodka. "Might as well make the most of it while I can."

Noah flicks the cig away after a long drag. "Besides, it's worth it."

Rune doesn't respond. And Noah doesn't expect him to.

Sam arrives much later. His wide stare betrays him. Silas is beside him, his brown hair slicked back with gel. Noah stares at him, and they exchange glasses. Sam grins. Noah gives him a thumbs up, his face mirroring the distorted smile.

The music vibrates inside his skull, the alcohol makes him fly. He must remember to control himself, or he'll end up passing out before taking advantage of this opportunity. Eve is challenged a few times, and she wins all of them. Duncan gives her a congratulatory kiss, shouting "That's my girl" swinging a beer above his head. He's already drunk, judging by his swaying posture, his droopy eyes and his red cheeks.

Noah watches Sam. A few times, Sam catches him, but he doesn't bother to pretend. Sometimes, it's Noah who catches Sam staring at Rune's back. The rest of the night, however, Sam spends chitchatting with people. He laughs, hugs, claps a few hands. He makes out with a girl on the back of a classic Chevvy.

He walks to Eve, hands in his hoodie pockets, and leans in to whisper, "Call me when Sam leaves. If you can, buy as much time as you can."

Eve narrows her eyes. "What are you going to do?" she asks, her voice thick with suspicion.

"I'm just going to fuck shit up," he responds with an innocent smile.

Eve grimaces, but she signals Noah to go. He casually approaches Rune, careful to not be seen by Sam's men —or Sam himself—. It's best to go unnoticed.

"Let's go light a fire."

Rune follows Noah to the taxi stop. It's less than a mile away. Taking Rune's car is too conspicuous. Leaving the Corvette at Roger's Garage will provide some coverage. If they're back before Sam leaves, they'll have the protection of the crowd as witnesses.

Rune gives Sam's address to the driver, and soon they're on the road. They get off the taxi a few blocks away from the apartment. Noah doesn't worry about traces. He knows Sam won't initiate an investigation with the police.

Tonight, he'll recover what's his.

NEW

His place is near the club. In that part of the city, the buildings are old, and don’t have good security, the same goes for Riley’s place. At the door Noah puts on his hood, Rune copies his gesture, covering his face with the jacket.  

Noah presses a few doorbells, and waits for someone to take the bait. 

After a few seconds, an elder’s voice weakly responds, “Yes?”

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“Hello, Ma’am. The courier left a package for Austin at my apartment, but he’s not responding.”

“Oh, Austin? I don’t know any Austin in the building.”

“I don’t know him, either,” Noah says with a fake laugh. “But apparently, he lives in 202. They messed up the delivery, because I’m on 202, but on the number 141.”

Noah pauses and waits. “Austin, you say?”

“Yeah, ma’am, I can leave it by the door, but I’m afraid they’ll steal it. I don’t know, maybe it’s something important.”

“You’re right.” She’s hesitating, and Noah knows she has made up her mind, and the reasonable doubt is enough to convince her. “Okay. Come in.”

An electric sound, and then the alarm signaling the door is open. “Thanks.”

Rune is staring at Noah, his dark eyes searching his face. Noah responds with a frown. Upon entering, they take the stairs to avoid any cameras in the elevator. Rune takes the lead to the 5th floor, door number 1. With no words, he kneels in front of the door, eyeing the lock. With a quick confirmatory glance to Noah—he responds with an encouraging nod—, Rune gets to work with his knife. 

His hands are precise. Everything can be described as precise when Rune is the one doing it, Noah thinks with burning cheeks. Noah’s style is improvisation and confidence with no real skill to support him. Noah counts in his head, keeping a lookout for the neighbor doors and the stairs, and the elevator on the far end of the corridor. After a minute, the door opens with a click. 

The apartment is messy, to say the least. Riley’s place pales in comparison to this dumpster fire. There’s virtually no space to walk that isn’t covered in newspapers, or trash. The windows offer the light of a streetlamp blurred by dirt. Running a finger across the table, Noah says, “Sam’s not living in here, it’s impossible.”

His finger leaves a trail in the layer of dust. The atmosphere of the place is stale, as a place that has been closed far too long. The air is unfiltered, heavy with particles. Noah wrinkles his nose at the putrid smell. He takes a cigarette out of the pack, and lights it. 

“We’re gonna have to go to the other place.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Rune says.

“Don’t worry, Andrew. You got me,” and he smiles. 

Even so, in case Sam comes by, Noah takes a dusty paper, and a working pen out of a set of dry ones. He scribbles, tilting his head. He carefully folds the paper, placing it in the coffee table.  

They walk the distance to the club. There’s a couple kissing in the alley. Noah greets them, and they casually come inside the place. The difference in security is the key. Even in his absence, the dan floor is surrounded by dark-clothed gigantic bouncers. It’s packed, not a single booth free, not a spot in the bar. They have the anonymity of disembodied hands and torsos, and feet to cover for them. 

Noah cuts through the people, elbowing rude dancers, and apologizing later. Up in the bar, he asks for two shots of vodka, and a beer. He takes advantage of the shadowy corners of the dance floor, close to Sam’s office, to set the shots on fire with a lighter. He leaves one in the DJ’s table mixer, near the cables after stripping some wires. The other, he places in the velvety cushions.

“Now, we just have to wait.” Noah shouts at Rune’s ear, beer in hand. 

He pretends to dance.

The place doesn’t have carbon monoxide detection systems, or sprinklers. Their main protection is fire extinguishers. He saw them in strategic points, usually near the doors. Either the smoke of the fire, or the white powder of the extinguishers will serve as cover. They only have to consider speed, as this move betrays their presence. But if they time it correctly, they can make some real damage. 

The panic begins when a girl shouts. Not even a second later, there’s a chorus of people crying, and the crowd begins to move as a wave toward the exit. Noah and Rune are pushed further away, but Noah braces himself, with a stable stance, and takes hold of Rune’s jacket sleeve, hoping the weak pining can act as a lighthouse. 

A light to his left warns him of the growing fire by the booths. He slowly makes way to move against the general direction. To his right, a small flash of warmth. 

The music stops with a deafening screech, as the fire catches and travels through the cables. Noah’s ears are still adjusting, but he clearly hears his own laugh, not masked anymore by the loudness of the place.

Around them, people scream in terror. 

Chaos ensues.

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