“And when Waylon gets his hands on you, you will lose your life.”
Thane parted the hanging clothes, squeezing between them. “If I use the trap floor, then why do I need you?” he asked.
Morana paused. “The other part of this is that… I miss you. I want to be with you. This can work. And this time I’ll take him far away. It’ll be a place too distant to have any connection to you.”
Thane positioned his feet on the lift. “I have to go.”
“Okay, but please call me immediately if you see anything.”
“You told me that before and then you didn’t answer.”
“Thane, I’m sorry, I just…”
“If you’re going to help me then do it.” He hung up, tossed the handset to the bed and closed the closet door. Moments later, Thane dropped through the closet floor as air rushed into the house through the windows and chimney.
Chapter 25
CLAY SPENT THE afternoon restoring his apartment, stacking broken furniture for disposal and cleaning the bathroom and hallway walls. After he finished cleaning the master bedroom, he tried to call Morana. As usual, she didn’t pick up.
He went to the kitchen and pulled a beer and a sandwich from the fridge. He stretched out on the sofa, cracked his beer open, and turned on the TV. After only a few bites of the sandwich, he heard footsteps on the stairway outside. He muted the TV and listened. The creaking of his walkway was distinct, and the footsteps were coming closer. He got up as someone knocked on the door. He slid his hand deep between the sofa cushions and pulled out a pistol he always kept there. He cocked it and held it behind him as he went to the door.
The walkway light outside his unit was out, so all he could see out the peephole was the silhouette of someone’s shoulder.
“Who is it?”
“Open up,” Morana whispered.
“Goddammit, Mo, you’ve got to quit unscrewing the walkway light bulb,” he said, opening the door.
“Why would you want me to yell my name for your neighbors?” she said, pushing past him to go inside.
“My God—look at you.” Clay closed the door and followed her to the kitchen where the light was better. She had scratches along the side of her face, and one of her eyes was swollen and darkening underneath. He reached to gently turn her chin for a better view, but she pulled away.
“You’ve got some serious battle scars,” he said.
“You should see the other guy,” Morana replied. “Sorry about your place.”
“Where’s Waylon?”
“He’s under control.”
“What does that mean? Is he in your car?”
“Hold on, and we’ll talk.” Morana opened the freezer and pulled a handful of ice, wrapping it in the dishtowel. “There’s a new plan.”
Clay held up his hands. “Before you start going into something new, I need to know what happened to you and where Waylon is.”
Morana walked past him and gingerly sat on the sofa. She patted her hand beside her and said, “Sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”
For the next hour, Morana detailed everything that had happened between her and Waylon in the apartment and how the events led her to a new idea for obtaining Thane’s secret.
When she finished explaining it, Clay said, “It sounds harsh.”
“Any discomfort for Thane should be brief—if things go as planned,” Morana said.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“It will work, trust me. More than anything, Thane wants to restore his privacy and return to his life of quiet isolation. This situation has put him on edge, and he’ll do almost anything for some stability.”
“I don’t like it. Your plan seems cruel to Thane.”
“It may seem that way on the surface, but sometimes the best result justifies uncomfortable means. Is a surgeon cruel to a patient? Inflicting temporary suffering to improve the patient’s life? The way this ends for Thane is that he’ll live his dream life with more security and control over his privacy than he could’ve imagined. My plan is the only thing that will give him that.”
“I suppose, but something about it doesn’t feel right,” Clay insisted.
Morana said, “Suppose we abandon Thane. His privacy and security are both lost because Waylon has seen what he does and we both know he’ll leak it. Without us, who will protect Thane’s interests? Who will help him when Waylon uses trumped-up charges to extort him?”
“And you think we aren't taking advantage of him?” Clay said.
“No, because our plan benefits him as much as it benefits us. We will not hurt Thane, and I will not let anyone hurt Thane. If he shares his secret with us, we will help him protect it more effectively than he could alone. The revenue from his secret will allow us to invest in state-of-the-art security, ensuring his ability to continue the research and testing that he loves. That’s an enormous benefit for the small price of some temporary suffering. Thane will be happy, and despite his lack of interest in money, he’ll be rich beyond measure. He has more to gain than either of us.”
“I suppose,” Clay said.
“Follow my plan and see what it yields. The good news is that we don’t have to rush. We have time to make this work. Thane isn’t going anywhere, and I can promise you Waylon sure as hell isn’t going anywhere.”
After taking a deep breath, Clay said, “Fine. I’m in.”
†
Morana drove her Explorer to the town of Shepley, two miles north of Clay’s apartment. On the way, she turned on the radio. A local news station reported that prominent attorney Waylon Snells, founder of the famous local personal injury firm, had been missing for three days. Local authorities were investigating the matter and asking the public for any leads on his whereabouts.
Before she turned into the driveway of a self-storage facility, she put on sunglasses and a wig and checked herself in the rearview mirror. She rolled down her window and typed in the entry code for the gate.
She drove past aisle after aisle of secure storage units, eventually turning into the one that was furthest from the office. She positioned the driver’s door as close as possible to the padlock before unlocking it. She pulled a flashlight from her bag on the passenger seat, she raised the metal roll-up door halfway and leaned down to look inside.
A muffled voice and a commotion came from the darkness. Morana homed the flashlight in on her precious merchandise on the floor halfway to the rear of the nearly empty storage unit. Waylon lay bound and gagged in the fetal position, trembling.
“Did you miss me?” she asked, resting the flashlight in the center of the floor, aiming it upward to create ambient light. She returned to her Explorer and pulled out a small open box, setting it near the flashlight. She pulled the door closed behind her, triggering another dampened howl from Waylon as he tried to pull his knees up to his chest. She strolled to his sweat-soaked body about six strides from the rear wall where she had left him over a day ago.
Duct tape, wrapped around his neck, held a wire to his throat. The wire draped upward to a pet shock collar hanging from the ceiling and forked to a switch mounted atop a car battery in the corner of the floor. Black and red wires ran from the battery’s electrodes across the floor where they disappeared through the open zipper on Waylon’s pants.
In Morana’s absence, Waylon had managed to quietly inch his way from the back wall of the storage unit to a place almost halfway to the battery. His temples were raw, one side smeared with crusted blood from attempts to scrape his blindfold off.
Morana went to the shock collar, reached up and turned it off. “You’re quite the silent traveler,” she said.
Waylon immediately began humming something through his gag.
“I’m sure you have plenty to say,” Morana said, coming to stand beside him. She took hold of the rope that bound his ankles and dragged him across the concrete floor to his original position by the rear wall. Waylon groaned while she repositioned him.<
br />
A few steps away, Gus meowed in a wire cage that contained water, food, and a couple of fluffy play toys. Morana went to the open box by the door and pulled some fresh cat food and a bottle of water from it. While she replenished Gus’s food and water, she said, “Were Gus’s purrs strong enough for a jolt?”
Waylon nodded hard.
Morana shrugged. “Please accept Gus’s deepest apologies. I wondered if that might happen after I put the collar on maximum sensitivity. But, in this case, your silence was more important to me than your comfort—I’m sure you understand.”
Her attention returned to Gus. A tuft on his newly-blunt tail was missing. Gus meowed again. Morana went to him and put her fingers through the wire grid of the cage. She scratched Gus’s head as he purred. “Did you keep an eye on him, Gussy? Did you tell him shocking stories all night long? Did you keep an eye on that big bully? Did he say mean things to you like he does to your master?”
She went to Waylon, took hold of his shirt, and pulled him to a sitting position against the wall. She pulled a small water bottle from her coat pocket and removed his gag.
“Please,” he gasped. “Listen…”
Morana shoved the water bottle in his mouth, and he guzzled it, spilling down his chin. His final swallow triggered a brief coughing fit. He caught his breath and said, “I have a deal for you.”
Morana tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder, sending it toppling across the floor. “You’re in no position to bargain.”
Waylon watched her for a moment and then said, “Please hear me out—I might be. Obviously, Sykes hasn’t given you his secret, has he?”
Morana rose to her feet, straddling his legs. She crossed her arms, glaring down at him.
Waylon continued, “I know a way we can both win. Let me make it easy. I won’t pursue any criminal case for the felonies you both racked up by detaining me. You join me in a slam dunk civil suit against Sykes. He won’t be able to pay the judgment and boom, we go after his property—unless he shares his secret with us. If he refuses, he loses everything, and we have equal rights to go in and figure out how he moves that foundation.”
Morana didn’t answer. She bent down and tightened an ankle binding that had loosened.
Waylon added, “It’s foolproof, and we both win—why are you doing this to me?”
“How many times did Thane ask you that on the playground?”
Waylon looked confused. “Is that what this is about? Schoolyard crap? Kids get teased now and then. So, I’ll apologize to him if that’s what the fuckin’ mud bug needs.”
Morana closed her eyes, and her temples flared as her jaw clenched. “An apology is the smallest thing you’ll be giving Thane.”
“What else do you want? And, please be reasonable. We can help each other here, but you gotta tell me what the hell you want.”
“Your radio commercials have inspired me. So, I’ve decided to help you get what you deserve. You’re going on trial.”
Waylon rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious. Listen, I don’t know what your angle is on this, but if it’s money, name your cut and I’ll—”
“It won’t be a civil case. Your trial will be quick, and you will be representing yourself. I’ll be the only juror. You’ll find that the judge and executioner will look a lot like Thane Sykes.” She reached for his gag.
Waylon bucked, saying “No! Please! You’ve got the damned shock collar. Please skip the gag. I won’t talk!”
She pressed his head to the floor and tried again.
Waylon fought harder, pulling his head away and begging each time Morana tried to secure the gag.
She went to the shock collar. When she reached to turn it on, Waylon went silent, wide-eyed and trembling.
She put her finger to her lips, warning Waylon to keep quiet, then she flipped the switch on. She exaggerated the motion of tiptoeing back to him.
He pressed his lips together, wheezing through his nose.
Morana put her knee into his gut to keep him from trying to spin away. She put her lips close to his ear and whispered, “You will comply with me, or I will skip the collar and feed current to your nuts until I smell smoke.”
Waylon nodded.
Morana secured the gag pulling one part between his teeth and placing the other over his mouth before tying both tightly behind his head.
Again, she whispered in his ear, “Did Thane ever beg you for mercy?”
Waylon hesitated, then shook his head
“Liar.” Morana stood, stepped back from him, and clapped once.
The green lightning bolt icon on the shock collar flashed and Waylon convulsed, slamming his knees into the wall, which triggered a second jolt through his zipper.
Morana went to the shock collar and turned it off.
Waylon’s body went limp, his eyes locked onto her.
“You abused Thane for years.” She retrieved the flashlight from the middle of the floor and aimed it at him. “The good news for both of you is that you won’t need forgiveness because we’re going to make things even. Meanwhile, I expect plenty of helicopters to pass overhead tonight.” Before Waylon could protest through the gag, Morana flipped the shock collar switch back on and walked to the storage unit’s door.
She tucked the flashlight into her jacket and “Forgive me, in advance, for this.” She raised the door, generating a metallic grinding that reverberated inside the unit. The light flashed on the shock collar, sending Waylon into a writhing fit, during which he fought to keep his voice quiet. She stepped outside and said, “Brace yourself… Once more.” She pulled the door down, slamming it to the ground.
†
Thane spent most of the next day holed away in the sub-lair quarrying new blocks, cleaning, and creating new tools. He waited until the afternoon to ride up to the garage. The new information Morana had given him about Waylon put him in no rush to go to the surface, but he needed to check for voicemail messages.
He stepped onto the lift and began his ascent. Despite the massive blocks he had placed to obstruct the garage doors, the thought of Waylon miraculously breaching his garage still gave him a shiver. As he approached the shaft opening to the garage floor, he slowed the lift as his head rose above the level of the garage floor. He stopped the lift and looked around the garage. Everything was as he had left it. He finished raising the lift to the surface and stepped off.
He held his breath as he walked to his phone at his workspace. The display showed the blinking zero he had grown to hate recently.
He looked at the floor beside the cabinet. Gus’s bowl of food remained untouched. He cussed and kicked it, sending the dry morsels of cat food against the wall before they scattered on the floor. The metal bowl clanged and toppled end over end until it rolled on its rim in a wide arc before falling.
After regaining his composure, he went to a tall cabinet on the opposite wall and retrieved a broom.
The phone rang. His stomach knotted. After getting no voicemail messages for an entire day, why had the phone suddenly rung at this moment? What if someone lurked outside waiting for confirmation that he was inside?
He examined the windows. They were the only way someone could know he was in the garage unless someone had heard the toppling cat dish. The windows were all still covered.
Seeing his multi-ton door obstructions still in place reminded him that he was safe. But this comfort wasn’t enough as he went to the phone. The caller ID was blocked. Although he desperately wanted to hear from Morana, he weighed his reasons for and against answering it. Maybe Morana had a new phone. If he missed a call from her, particularly one with good news, the regret would be too costly. If he let the call go to voicemail, she might not leave a message. He grimaced and picked up the handset as though it might explode.
“Hello…”
“Good, you’re there.”
“Hi, Uncle Jesse.” Thane’s shoulders sagged.
“Listen, I’m letting you
know I’ll be stopping by the house later today.”
“Why?”
“I owe you a reason? Don’t forget the house you live in is my property, is that a problem?”
“No.”
“Damned right. I dropped by earlier today. The garage was locked up, and you left a bunch of gardening crap on the sidewalk in front of the house. What’s up with that?”
“I’m sorry, something urgent came up. I couldn’t finish the flowers.”
“Well, you need to get them planted and get that sidewalk swept up, do you understand?”
“Yes, Uncle Jesse.”
“Is that pile of shit your mom left still stored in the garage?”
Thane looked behind him and saw the upright piano against the corner wall, covered with cloth tarps. “Yes, Uncle Jesse.”
“Good, there should be a piano there. I might have a buyer for it. I told him it’s a Yamaha. He said if it’s a studio piano in good condition he’ll pay up to $2,500.”
“Why sell it?” Thane asked.
“Do you play the piano?”
“No, but mom used to play—”
“It’s taking up space and, just like you, it doesn’t pay rent.”
Thane was quiet.
“And I need to have a closer look at the property to make sure things are in order.”
“I can tell you everything is fine, here. I cut the lawn two days ago, I trimmed the tree that was touching the fence. I polished the gas meter, and I will start watering the back lawn just like you asked. You don’t need to visit today.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still stopping by. If the property’s good, then everything will be fine.”
“What time are you coming?”
“On my way now. Probably ten minutes.”
“But wait…” Thane looked around the garage. “It’s not a good time for me.”
“Not a good time for you? You hosting a party?” Uncle Jesse laughed.
“Can you make it a different time? A different day?”
“Look, Thane, if you could tolerate having conversations with real people, you might hold down a real job. Then you could pay me some rent and your opinion would mean something. I’m checking the property, and that’s final. And I need to see that piano so get that damned garage door unlocked—which reminds me, I never got the spare key you were supposed to get me to the garage after you changed the lock without my permission.”
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