Escape, the Complete Trilogy

by David Antocci

  As he continued scanning, his eye caught the back of Abby’s head as she turned a corner to head down another corridor toward the gates for the Canadian airlines. Ten paces behind her the mystery man followed suit. JJ was still nowhere to be seen.

  Ace hustled across the terminal as fast as he could without attracting any attention, and set off in pursuit of the woman he was tasked with protecting.

  * * *

  JJ had been waiting at the end of the corridor. His brother, Ace, had just walked up toward the donut shop to keep an eye on Abby while she waited in line for coffee, and to grab them a couple of coffees while he was at it. Two birds, one stone. I love when that works out.

  He couldn’t wait to get back home. For months they had been on boats, hopping island to island, searching for a needle in a haystack. Now that they had found the needle, he was looking forward to getting back to his own bed, going for his daily run along the Charles River, and eating a real New England breakfast.

  He turned away from the corridor to face the open terminal area. Abby wouldn’t recognize the back of him when she walked by. She wasn’t looking for him. However, he would easily pick her out and watch where she was heading. As he looked across the terminal, someone else caught his eye – Eric. He was walking in the wrong direction with two large men, one on each side of him, and both were walking a bit too closely.

  What the hell? That can’t be good.

  JJ looked behind him. Neither Abby nor Ace were anywhere to be seen. They must both be in line, he thought. He looked back toward the corridor that Eric had just disappeared down and read the sign above it out loud, “Baggage Claim and Customs.”

  He knew his task was to watch Abby, but it seemed at the moment that Eric might need a little watching himself.

  As he trotted across the terminal and turned the corner toward Customs, he spoke a message into his phone that would be sent to Ace. “I think Eric is in trouble. Keep an eye on Abby. I’ll be in touch.”

  Looking through the glass partition and into the customs area, JJ saw forty self-serve electronic kiosks, most of which were empty, and only a handful of customs agents. One was speaking to Eric and the two men, before making a few selections on his touchscreen and waving them through.

  As JJ walked up to an empty kiosk and took out his own passport, he wondered, What the hell is going on?

  24

  WALKING THROUGH the crowded terminal, Eric couldn’t believe his predicament. Having sat in the window seat on the airplane, with two sleeping passengers in the seats to his right, he hadn’t used the bathroom in hours. So, after getting off the plane, he made that his first stop. He was in no rush to get to the gate for their connecting flight, as he and Abby were avoiding being seen together.

  Entering the men’s room, he followed the unwritten code and found a bank of three empty urinals and chose the middle one. The two men who came in after him apparently were not aware of the code, and they sidled up to the ones on either side of Eric. They’re big guys, too, Eric had thought as each bumped into him from their respective sides.

  As he finished up his business and zipped his fly, he noticed the men seemed to glance at each other from either side of him. Then the unexpected happened. The man on his right bumped into him as he stepped away to go to the sink and wash his hands, knocking Eric into the man on his left who caught him from falling.

  “You OK, buddy?” the man asked.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” Eric said.

  Then he felt something press into his left lower back.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re OK,” the man said under his breath. “Now I’m going to ask you to keep your mouth shut, don’t cause a scene, and come with us.”

  Eric was immediately confused and opened his mouth to protest, though the words caught in his throat as the cylindrical object was pushed harder into his side. It’s a gun, Eric realized, his eyes opening wide.

  “Yeah,” the man said with a smile, “it’s exactly what you think.”

  “Where are we going?” Eric whispered.

  “Right out the front door.”

  “I figured that much,” Eric whispered, “but where after that?”

  “Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. Let’s start walking.” He nudged Eric toward the door from the corner they stood in.

  “We’re in an airport, man. There’s security everywhere. You can’t do this.”

  “No, I definitely can.”

  Eric’s eyes scanned the men’s room for help. There was no one. There were three other men; two talking on their phones at another bank of urinals who hadn’t noticed anything else around them, and the other big guy was standing by the exit waiting for them. “I’ll yell for help to the first officer I see the second we walk out of here.”

  The man leaned in close to Eric’s ear, his hot breath reeking of whatever he had gorged himself on for breakfast. “Go ahead. But I wouldn’t. You’re going to walk slowly, just slightly in front and to my left. You’re going to stay close and walk steady. The gun will be draped under my coat and pointed at your back, not mine. You run, or call for help, and you’ll bleed out on the ground before anyone knows what happened. I don’t care about going to jail. I’ve been. I’m guessing you probably care about getting dead, though.”

  “Is this about money? I’ll give you whatever I’ve got, but I’ve got a plane to catch, and it’s really important. Can’t we work something out?”

  “We’re not interested in whatever you’ve got in your pockets. Now, we can walk out of here together, the three of us, or you can die in a men’s room. Your choice. I’ll give you a three count to think about it.” The man looked down at his watch, then back at Eric.

  “Fine, let’s go.” Eric shook him off and walked ahead of them, searching for a way out as he walked through the terminal. However, they each stuck close to either side of him, nudging him from each side as they went along.

  What in the world could these guys want? Eric wondered. He figured it had to be money. They can’t be Bryce’s guys. No one but Robert knew he would be here. He hadn’t thought about it, but if Abby was all over the news, then so was he, and he was probably more recognizable than she was right now. His hair was cut short, but otherwise, he was the same guy.

  Just a couple of criminals sitting around an airport, knowing there are bound to be folks with money coming through, and in walks Eric. It was well known he had a ten million dollar pay day a year ago, and clearly didn’t have any security around him. I guess I’m an easy target for a couple of thugs. Of course, they didn’t want what was in his pockets. These guys were obviously professionals. They wanted access to his bank accounts. Damn it, he thought. He didn’t care about the money, but he had to get to Abby. There’s got to be a way out.

  As he walked through the terminal and under the sign that read Customs, he smiled. No way these guys are getting through customs with a gun. As soon as he turned the corner and looked through the glass partition toward the customs area though, he got a bad feeling.

  He had always imagined customs entailed long lines, hundreds of people, and security officers questioning and patting down everyone who came through. This was not the case.

  Eric found himself looking at a bank of about forty electronic kiosks – almost like the self-checkout lines at the grocery store – and the handful of people that were in the area were punching at the screens making selections. Apparently it was self-serve, and the half-dozen officers milling about were just there to ask a few questions and assist travelers who couldn’t figure out how to work the machines.

  His escorts stopped and looked things over, then, after making eye contact with one of the officials who nodded at them, they walked directly over towards him. In his situation, Eric should have been happy to see a man in uniform, but he didn’t have a good feeling about this.

  The officer stopped them just short of reaching the kiosks, making a big show of it and raising his voice. “You three, come with me please.” He led
them toward a desk off to the side. He looked around and nodded to a couple of fellow officers and gave a slight wave of the hand that said, No problem, we’re all set. He turned to the three travelers. “Passports, gentlemen.”

  Eric’s escorts produced theirs and handed them to the officer as Eric just stood, a bit dumbfounded.

  “Sir,” the officer said impatiently, “your passport please.”

  Eric felt a bit of pressure on his back as he reached into his pocket and produced it, handing it to the officer.

  “Thank you,” the officer said.

  Eric stood, mouth open, unable to believe what was transpiring. He was in such a trance that he almost didn’t noticed a small stack of maybe ten one hundred dollar bills, neatly folded in half, that the officer slid from the back of one of the men’s passports and down the cuff of his sleeve.

  Damn. The officer had been expected these guys. The officer did some perfunctory work that took all of a minute, and then Eric was deflated as the officer handed their passports back with a smile and said, “Welcome back to the States, gentlemen. Have a nice day.”

  With a nudge from the right, they walked out of the other side of customs and down the long corridor toward a wall of glass doors a few hundred feet down the hall. Just outside the doors were several taxis and a large black limousine.

  The man who had been doing all the talking leaned in from the right and muttered, “The big one is our ride. You’ve done good. Keep it up, and you might just live to tell the story.” The man smiled.

  Eric didn’t intend to get into that car. He didn’t intend to leave the airport. His mind was on overdrive looking for a way out. Then it happened. He noticed a young pretty girl, probably in her late twenties, staring at him and slowing down. Eric had a thought, If these guys know who I am, other people would, too, right? He smiled back at the girl and gave her a wink. She blushed ten shades of red as they passed in the corridor, and he saw her fumbling to get her phone out to take a photo.

  The men escorting him didn’t notice. They continued to not notice as Eric walked with his head held high, his big dimpled smile beaming ear to ear, and making eye contact with every woman he passed. Some smiled back, a few gave him a look of semi-recognition, some didn’t notice at all.

  Come on, he thought. They were about halfway to the exit, only one hundred feet further down the corridor. Eric decided he was going to go down fighting. He played the scene through his head. He would attack the one with the gun already drawn first. As long as he could disarm him, he figured he would be all right. Security would certainly notice a scuffle and jump in right away. Either way, he wasn’t leaving this airport unless it was on a plane to Montreal with the love of his life.

  He closed his eyelids and took a deep breath to steel himself. You’ve been through worse; you’ve taken out tougher men than these clowns. He let out a deep breath and got ready to turn and fight.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a thick New Jersey accent screech at him from no less than ten feet away.

  “OH, MY GAWD! ERIC!”

  He opened his eyes to see a middle-aged, busty, bleach-blonde woman running toward him, flapping her hands in the air like a top-heavy bird trying to take flight. He smiled back. Jackpot.

  “Oh, my gawd, it’s really you!” She ripped her phone from her pocket, “My name is Tammy, and oh, my gawd, I’m you’re biggest fan! Can I get a picture?”

  Eric had stopped, as had the men he was traveling with, who looked confused and caught off-guard. The silent one spoke up. “Sorry, miss, no time for photos.”

  He tried to move them along, but Eric stood firm and chuckled, “Don’t be ridiculous, Mark. I always have time for a fan.”

  Tammy squealed and flapped her arms again. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She handed her phone to the man Eric had dubbed “Mark.” He reluctantly took it as Tammy posed for a photo with her arms wrapped around Eric.

  “Oh, my gawd, where is Abby? Where have you been? What are you doing here?”

  Eric smiled, willing Tammy to cause a bigger scene. “I really can’t talk about it,” he said very loudly, matching Tammy’s tambour.

  “OH, COME ON!” she screeched, “You can tell me!”

  Other people were looking to see who he was. Two other young women interrupted Tammy, “Can we get a pic?”

  “Of course!” Eric announced loudly.

  Within two minutes, he had gathered a crowd of about a dozen women around him, all begging to have their photo taken and asking a million questions. As he took photos, his two escorts looked increasingly uncomfortable. Eric just continued to smile and engage with the ladies who surrounded him, buying time and attention.

  As the crowd started to disperse, he saw one of the women digging through her purse. She pulled out a pen and a shopping list, the back of which was blank. “Seriously,” she said, “my mother is your biggest fan. She still talks about last year when you were on. It would mean the world to her if you could just write her a quick note.” She held out the paper and pen hopefully.

  “Sure thing,” Eric said. “What’s your mother’s name?”

  “Lorraine.”

  Eric smiled. “That’s a pretty name.” He quickly scrawled a note on the back of the shopping list and handed it back to the young woman.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking down to read it. She looked up after a few seconds and looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “Really?”

  Eric smiled back. “Yes, tell your mom I said hi.”

  The girl nodded and quickly walked away as the two men took Eric by the arms and said, “We’ve really got to get moving now, sir.” With that, they brushed off the last of the women and moved him toward the glass doors and the large black limousine on the other side.

  As they closed in on the doors, only twenty feet away now, Eric glanced back over his shoulder at the girl he had signed the autograph for. She was standing with a police officer who was speaking into his radio and staring intently at Eric and his companions.

  Just then, two other officers walked in through the glass doors, one hand on their holstered guns, the other hand raised in the international sign for “stop”. One of them called in a loud, authoritative voice, “Gentlemen, stop where you are and put your hands where I can see them.”

  Eric smiled, self-satisfied, and raised his empty hands above his head as he thought about the autograph he had signed:

  These men are kidnapping me. They are armed. Please stay calm and get help. – Love, Eric

  25

  ACE HAD BEEN SITTING in a chair at gate C30 just a couple of rows behind Abby and to the right for the past twenty minutes. The flight wasn’t boarding for awhile yet, but apparently nothing else around interested Abby, and Ace was determined to be wherever she was. He hadn’t heard from JJ since his original message that he had to follow Eric, but something was definitely up, and he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. He also was trying to figure out why Abby and Eric weren’t together. Was he following her, and she didn’t know it?

  In that time, the man from the plane had walked by twice. The third time he stopped and took up residence in a seat directly behind Abby and to her right. They were almost sitting back to back, but he was one seat over.

  Ace watched as the man set his coffee down at his feet, and draped his arm over the seat next to him. He seemed to be checking its proximity to Abby. He took his arm down and rummaged through his duffel bag for a moment, occasionally looking around.

  Ace didn’t like it. The hair on his neck was raised. In a society conditioned not to judge or profile, Ace was an exception. He had learned long ago that one would rarely be disappointed if they did a little judging and profiling now and then. Every other animal does it. That is how they survive. It’s instinct, and Ace’s instinct told him that something was off about this guy. He just hadn’t worked out what to do about it yet.

  Abby hadn’t seemed to notice the man, until he put his arm over the seatback again and, f
rom Ace’s point of view, very intentionally brushed the back of her neck. She turned and Ace heard the man apologize. Abby just smiled. The man then said something Ace couldn’t hear, and the two started chatting back and forth.

  After a few minutes, the man turned from Abby and very deliberately looked in both directions before turning back to her and saying, “Listen, I know we’re not supposed to do this, but would you mind keeping an eye on my bag for two minutes while I run to the men’s room?”

  “Sure,” Ace heard Abby say.

  The man jumped up and walked around to Abby’s side of the row of chairs, setting his bag on the chair next to her, and his coffee on the ground, next to Abby’s which was also on the ground next to her feet. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”

  “OK.”

  Ace watched the man walk toward the men’s room, smiling. He returned two minutes later as promised, and this time sat down next to Abby, and struck up a conversation again. Ace got up and moved around to the aisle on the other side so he could have a clear view of them from the front, as opposed to looking at their backs. He wasn’t too worried about Abby recognizing him, and was willing to take the chance in order to keep a better eye on what was going on.

  He couldn’t hear them at all from his new vantage point, but he could see what was going on much better. The man was talking to Abby, and started gesturing with his hands as if giving her directions. He pointed toward the corridor they had entered through earlier and made a looping motion with his finger.

  Whatever he was saying, Abby was interested. She stood with a smile, her satchel over her shoulder, and Ace heard her say, “Can I get you anything?” over her shoulder, as she walked away. The man shook his head no, and she was off.

  Ace decided not to follow Abby, and instead remained leaning against a column, watching the man out of the corner of his eye. Ace turned his head to look directly at him as he saw him bend down and switch their two coffee cups sitting on the floor.