Red Curtains

by Leanna Sain

  “He did not! How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s true! There was an eyewitness.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, it’s the truth. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  “Who? Who is this alleged eyewitness? Why haven’t they come forward?”

  “Because Mark’s a cop and they knew it wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Well, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I love him…and he loves me, too. No, don’t look at me like that. He told me! We’ll probably get married, but we have to wait until after his divorce is final. His wife is dragging her feet, throwing up all kind of roadblocks, trying to make things as difficult as possible for him.”

  I shook my head sadly. Mark Spencer’s wife probably couldn’t wait for her escape, likely counting the days until she was finally free. I doubted Ellie would be taking her place either, but it would do no good to tell her that. She’d never believe me.

  I eyed the clock again. Ten minutes. What was happening down there? This waiting was killing me. That’s all I’d been doing all day long! First, I had to wait for Jonas to pick me up tonight. Then I had to wait in the alley. Mmm…okay, that was different…I liked that kind of waiting. But then I had to wait in the truck stop parking, and now here I sat again! Wait, wait, wait! I was ready to do something. I couldn’t just sit here any longer.

  I turned to Ellie. “You know the way down there?”

  Her expression brightened. “To the tunnel? Yeah.”

  “You’ll help me with Jonas if he’s in trouble?”

  “Of course I will. And maybe it won’t seem so scary with two of us.”

  “All right then, let’s get you untied.”

  ****

  Ellie was right. It was scary, and we weren’t even in the tunnel yet. We’d already scaled a wrought iron gate into a tiny courtyard where the entrance to the tunnel was hidden. We now stood at the top of the steepest, most rickety wooden stairs I’d ever seen. The flashlight beam wouldn’t even reach the bottom of the darn things. I worried that they’d collapse under our combined weight, then thought about Spencer’s beefy hit men and relaxed a bit. If these stairs had managed to handle that pair of oxen, I was certain they’d hold us. Well…almost certain.

  I wasn’t sure what the tunnel’s original purpose was, but besides pirates smuggling rum, I’d heard it’d been used during the Underground Railroad back in the days of slavery. Then in 1876, Savannah had another terrible yellow fever epidemic and they’d used the tunnel as storage for dead victims. According to the history books, they’d waited until after dark, then they’d loaded the corpses up on wagons and hauled them down to a marshy area for burial. The reason they did it at night, was supposedly to keep prying eyes from seeing just how many people had died. It sounded like drastic measures, but that had been their third huge outbreak in a little over fifty years and people were starting to panic. Added together, those three episodes claimed nearly 4,000 people, and droves of folks fled for their lives. I could see why the city officials had gone to such great lengths to hide the actual numbers; if everyone flew the coop, there’d be no tax base.

  It was cold down here, that creepy kind of cold that sort of seeps into your bones, making you shiver from the inside out. The air venting through the chamber was damp and musty, the scent of mildew swirled with the unmistakable smell of decomposition. It was that last bit that worried me. I hoped it was just the history of the place, and not from something more recent. It was bad enough that it felt like the ghosts of every one of those fever victims were down here in the tunnel with us. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I came across a dead body.

  Part of me was beginning to wish I’d listened to Jonas and stayed in the car. The sword of yellow light that had beamed so strongly from the flashlight I’d found in the glove box was looking decidedly weaker the longer we walked, but I tried not to think about it. Of course, I had a flashlight option on my phone, but I didn’t want to want to use the battery up, in case I needed to make a call. I wished now, that I hadn’t left Jonas’ phone in the car.

  We’d come to a thick wooden door, with forged iron hinges and latch, standing slightly ajar. I stopped Ellie from pushing it open.

  “Wait! Listen.”

  I could hear a low, unintelligible murmur, then a hard slap.

  Oh no! Who was on the receiving end of that?

  “Tell me! Tell me who else knows!” A voice snarled, then another slap.

  The few fingernails that I had left after my gnawing episode in the car, dug into my palms. I swallowed back a wave of nausea.

  “That’s him!” Ellie’s whisper actually sounded buoyed with excitement. “That’s Mark! I recognize his voice!”

  Before I could say anything, another voice rang out, “Why don’t you just leave her alone. She told you no one else knows! Why would she lie?”

  Jonas! Oh, God! Spencer has him. What can I do? What can I do? Wait…he said she…Does that mean…?

  “Common sense is like deodorant; the people who need it the most, are the ones who never use it.” The voice rang low, but clear.

  I gasped. “Lily!”

  Ellie whirled to face me. “That’s the name!” Her whisper was frantic. “That’s the name I heard them say! They have her! No! I’ll make Mark listen this time. No one else can get hurt!”

  “Ellie, don’t…” I grabbed her arm, but she shook me off, turned, and burst through the door.

  I waited in horrified silence for what would happen next. It wasn’t a long wait. I heard Ellie scream, “Mark! Please!”

  An immediate clamor of exclamations exploded, but Spencer’s roar overpowered them all. “What the hell are you doing here, Elle?”

  A sound of scuffling, a grunt of pain, another slap. Ellie’s scream echoed down the tunnel, but it was cut short by a loud thunk.

  The silence that followed was so complete, I thought I’d suddenly gone deaf.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jonas

  I dashed through the shadows toward the darker hulk of the restaurant, thankful for my dark clothes. In them, I was virtually invisible, able to blend right in to the blackness surrounding me. Darting alongside the building, I crackled, face-first, through a spider web.

  Ugh! What was that thing doing here at this time of year? It was December, for crying out loud. I shuddered, picking ineffectually at the sticky threads that clung to my skin and hair. I hated it when that happened. It reminded me of hiking in the woods with my brothers. I’d never wondered why they’d let me lead, and had always jumped at the chance. It was a rare thing for me to be first in anything with that many siblings older than me. I’d always felt like a big shot on those hikes. It wasn’t until I was much older that I figured out their strategy. I went first in order to clear the path of spider webs. I always managed to find them with my face. Gave different meaning to the term, webmaster. I just hoped the owner of this particular web wasn’t too ticked off at me for messing up his or her handiwork. Now wasn’t a good time to have a confrontation with an angry spider.

  I pressed against the building, hidden in the shadow of an enormous bush, waiting for my eyes to adjust to yet another level of darkness, an activity I’d been doing for most of the night, it seemed. This darkness was cold…not like in the alley with Cleo. That had been anything but cold. A vision of her decked out in that hot little cat suit flashed through my mind, but I shook the memory away. No time for that now. I needed all my senses present and accounted for. Anything less than that could get me hurt…or worse.

  My ears strained as I listened for any sound that didn’t belong, something out of place. At the same time, I tried my best not to breathe loud and give my position away. I waited in tense anticipation for several long minutes.

  Nothing.

  Now what? I knew you could get to the tunnel from inside the restaurant, but it was closed now. Was there a way in from the outside? There must be. Either that, or Spencer and his men had their o
wn key, which was possible, but not likely. Maybe I needed to creep around the perimeter and investigate, check for broken branches on these bushes, footprints in any loose dirt, flattened grass or a discarded cigarette…anything that might help me determine what to do next.

  I took steps and froze, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. Hmm. Smelled like fast food. That unmistakable scent of grease and onions. Before I could move, something cold and hard pressed against the back of my neck. There was an ominous click and I froze.

  A rough hand flung me around. A blinding light flashed in my face. A voice growled, “You! What are you doing here?”

  “It’s almost midnight,” I answered, taking a chance. What did I have to lose? “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

  “Punctual?”

  The flashlight still had me blinded so I couldn’t see a thing, but the voice sounded confused. Spencer obviously hired his men for their brawn and not their brains. “Yeah…it means “on time.”” Probably not the smartest move for me to taunt him like that—him having a gun and all—but the words sort of popped out, and then I couldn’t take them back.

  “I know what the word means, wise guy. And I also know this wasn’t where we were supposed to meet. C’mon…Boss is gonna want to talk to you.”

  ****

  The decrepit stairs that led down to the tunnel were definitely not coded to withstand the weight of two full grown men, one nearly twice the size of the other, and the creaking and groaning were scaring me worse than the gun pointed at the back of my head. Each step seemed in danger of being our last. The whole shebang trembled and swayed like a house of cards every time we moved. Thank goodness it was just Tweedle Dee and me—not Tweedle Dum, too—creeping down these stairs. I doubted this ancient carpentry could handle anything more. Then again, maybe it would be better for them to go ahead and collapse. I think I’d rather die that way, instead of being shot and dumped in the river.

  I wished for my phone again. Spencer’s guy had been too dumb to frisk me, so chances are, I’d still have it, if I hadn’t left it with Cleo. I was certain she’d called my boss by now, and I hoped help was on the way. I knew he had connections, but how far away were they? How long would it take for them to get here? And would it be in time?

  Don’t think like that! I ordered myself. Think positively. Good thoughts, only.

  At least I didn’t have to worry about Cleo, and could rest in the fact that she was safe and sound, in my car.

  You dummy! What in the world makes you think she stayed in the car?

  The thought was so startling that I literally froze; my foot hung in space, wavering several inches above the next shaky tread, unable to move. The hulk, behind me, was oblivious to my dilemma, not noticing until he slammed into my back, which nearly pitched me off into space. I managed to grab the thick rope that served as a sort of handrail running along the wall beside the stairs. My heart thudded at the close call.

  “Try that again, buddy, and you’ll save yourself the worry of talking to the boss.” An angry voice snapped behind me, then he prodded me with the gun barrel. “Now move it!”

  I had no choice, but to obey him. He had the upper hand, in the form of a gun, not to mention liberal amounts of steroid enhanced strength. I was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to use either or both, if necessary. I was just as sure that I’d been fooling myself about Cleo…sedating my concern with wishful thinking. There was no way she would stay in the car.

  I should’ve tied her up, too.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I pushed open a heavy wooden door. A faint light glowed around a corner ahead. A rumbled echo of low voices sounded almost like the growling of large cats…a veritable den of lions.

  My heart sank when I rounded the corner. I’d expected Spencer and his other goon. They were there, of course, but so was someone else…the reason for my sinking heart.

  Lily.

  She was perched on a small keg, her comical hat askew on her head. A line of blood spooled from the side of her mouth, her lip already bruised and puffy. Her hands were pulled behind her, and she was staring daggers at Spencer.

  The scene made my blood boil. What kind of animal would do that to an old woman? I already knew the answer to that. The same kind that would use the homeless as disposable pawns in his game.

  The instant we stepped into the room, Mark Spencer’s head jerked to attention, instantly suspicious. “Who’s this?” he demanded.

  Lily was staring at me now. I sent her a warning look, hoping she’d not give me away. She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together, clearly not happy that I was there, but she gave me a small nod.

  My captor answered, “The new guy I was telling you about, boss. Problem is…I found him poking around outside here, not at the place we were supposed to meet.”

  Spencer’s eyes skewered me. “What’s your name?”

  My thoughts raced. Should I tell him? I was sure he read the paper, but would he recognize it? Put two and two together? Doubtful, but possible, and it would seal my fate if he did. Better use an alias…at least the last name. Maybe it would buy some time. “Jonas Knight.”

  “Well, Jonas Knight, maybe you better explain why you’re nosing around.”

  “I, uh…I was anxious to get started on my new job.”

  “Anxious, huh?” His eyes narrowed. “Why’d you show up here?”

  Uh-oh. A trickle of sweat slid down my back. “I heard this was where you had meetings, sometimes.”

  Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “You heard? From who?”

  I shrugged. “Nobody in particular. You know…just word on the street.”

  He nodded, still eyeing me shrewdly, while he reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes, shaking one out, grabbing it with his lips. A hand went into his pants pocket to retrieve a lighter. His face glowed, twin flares in his eyes as he sucked the flame into the end of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, his cheeks caving with the effort, then the lighter snapped shut and he shoved it back into his pocket. Tendrils of smoke streamed from his nostrils as he stared at me. A fire-breathing dragon.

  I saw something flicker in his eyes, before he replied, “The “street” knows better than to talk about me.” Then he turned and barked at his man, “Tie him up until I figure out what to do with him.”

  The goon with the tattoo on his neck spun me around and slammed me up against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of me. I felt my nose crunch on impact, and immediately tasted blood. Rough rope fibers bit into my wrists, tight enough to cut off circulation. Giving a satisfied grunt when he was done, he yanked me away from the wall and whipped me back around. I could feel blood streaming from my destroyed nose, into my open mouth, dripping off my chin. I ran my tongue across my teeth. At least they were okay, not that maintaining the two years of work by my orthodontist mattered much at this point. I didn’t see myself walking out of this one.

  A glance at Lily turned into a double-take. Why was she smiling? This was not the time or place for it. Had her mind snapped? Didn’t she realize the danger we were in?

  Then her voice rang out, echoing down the tunnel. “Smile…it will either warm their heart or piss them off, either way, you win!”

  I groaned. Not one of her stupid quotes…not now! She was pouring gasoline on a fire that would burn us both.

  Mark whirled and stalked up to her, pointing an angry finger in her face, almost touching her nose. He trembled with barely suppressed rage. “This is the last time I’m warning you, old woman,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Shut up! Or next time, I’ll break your scrawny neck!” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly as if trying to calm himself, then forced a tight smile. “Now, then…where were we? Ah, yes, you were about to tell me who else knows about the bag. Who’d you tell?”

  I stared at Lily with dread, watched her stand up, then lean forward to spit out a mouthful of blood. It landed dangerously close to the toe of Spencer’s Italian leather shoes.

  “Tell me!”
Spencer roared. “Tell me who else knows!”

  “Asked and answered,” she whispered defiantly, her expression daring him not to believe her. “No one else knows.” Then she sort of sucked in her cheeks, almost making a fish-face. What on earth was she doing? Spencer looked just at mystified.

  We didn’t have to wonder long.

  It wasn’t until she leaned forward again that I figured out her plan, but by then it was too late. Taking careful aim, she spit out the mouthful of blood she’d worked to accumulate, hitting her intended target…dead on.

  Everything in the room seemed to freeze. Spencer’s expression morphed through several expressions, from astonishment to fury laced with disgust. I groaned. Spencer gazed at the toe of his shoe, now coated with a juicy red splat, while rage painted his face a bright shade of magenta.

  THWACK!

  There’d been no warning…no opportunity for her to even take a step back, to possibly avoid the strike. There’d been a blur of movement, then the horrifying impact of his hand against her face, so hard that it caused her hat to sail off and land on the floor. She collapsed in a heap, her ragged clothing made her look like a pile of dirty rags.

  I bit my lip to keep from calling out her name, twisting and yanking my hands against the rope until my wrists were raw, but all my struggling seemed to do was pull the knots tighter. I couldn’t get loose. Oh, God! She wasn’t moving. Had he killed her? She was old, for God’s sake! She couldn’t take that kind of abuse. Old people’s bones are fragile. Everybody knew that. I snarled in frustration, “Why don’t you just leave her alone. She told you, no else knows. Why would she lie?”

  I cast a silent appeal to first one, and then the other of Spencer’s henchmen. They wouldn’t just stand there and watch their boss beat an old woman to death, would they?

  Apparently so. They stood like large, wooden Indians, their thick arms folded across even thicker chests, faces hard and expressionless, eyes hooded and cold. There’d be no help from them.