by Molly Greene
He stared at them, hard. “Do you know the statistics? One in five. Look around. There’s a couple dozen of you here today. That means five of your compadres will have an attempt made on their wellbeing, or will be sexually assaulted, or worse. I don’t want you to let that happen. So today you’re going to learn how to avoid it.”
Twenty-five women applauded while Rick went to a duffel at the side of the mat and pulled out a handful of common plastic zip ties, the kind used to bind cables.
“Zip ties can be purchased at any Walmart or big box store, and they’re the experienced and prepared kidnapper’s preferred method of restraint. But if you ever find yourself bound by one, do not despair. You can get free. The truth is, there are several ways to escape. You just need to keep your head on straight and focus.
“The first method you want to try is to slip your hands out. The best way to do that is to set up the possibility while the ties are getting put on you.”
He beckoned to a woman at the front. “Pam, you wanna try first?”
“Yes.” Pam almost ran out onto the mat.
Rick smiled and said, “I like your enthusiasm. Turn toward the group so they can see you.”
Pam adjusted her position.
“Here’s what I want you to do. When your assailant demands that you show him your hands, I want you to clench your fists and hold them out palms down with your thumbs side by side and pressed together, like this.”
He demonstrated.
“Understand? Put your fists together sideways, fingers toward the floor. When you do that, you’ll create extra room in the bindings, and, with a little work, you can turn your palms together and slip out.”
He straightened his fingers and pressed his hands together. “Not until your captor is gone, understand? Don’t let them see you do it. When you’re alone, turn your wrists inward. It’ll be tight, but you can manage it. Use your mouth to hold the tie, then just work one thumb out first.”
He beckoned to Pam and she moved toward him, fists out, just as he’d said. He took a single zip tie and slipped it over her hands and tightened the locking bar over her wrists. Pam winced, then her expression morphed to determined.
Rick brought her a chair and gestured for her to sit. The minute he turned his back, Pam flattened her hands and rolled her palms together and went to work trying to slide out.
Rick ignored her and again addressed the class.
“If your assailant suspects and doesn’t go for it, and he makes you change hand positions before he tightens the tie, you won’t be able to slip out. So the next option is to break the ties. They’ll be most likely to break at their weakest point, which is the locking mechanism. Here’s how you’re going to set it up.”
Rick slipped a tie over his own hands. “First, grab the tail in your teeth and position the locking mechanism so it’s in the air space between your hands, not over your skin.” He demonstrated, then held out his arms. “Can everybody see that?”
The women murmured, “Yes.”
“Okay. Now use your teeth to tighten the lock down. It’ll be scary, but do it anyhow. The tighter the zip tie, the easier it is to break the plastic. Now spread your arms wide so your elbows are straight out on each side, and flex your back like you’re trying to make your shoulder blades touch at the same time. Put lots of tension on that tie, then raise your hands up over your head and punch down hard toward your stomach. Put everything you got into it, ladies. Your freedom depends on it.”
He sat down in another chair, brought his arms up over his head, then smashed them down to his thighs. The band broke. The class applauded, but Gen wasn’t convinced.
“But Rick,” she said, “you have a lot more muscle power than us. Do you think we can do that?”
“Most of you,” he replied. “Who wants to try?”
When a petite woman volunteered, Rick affixed a tie around her wrists and sat her down. Pam, still over to the side, was concentrating on freeing a thumb and did not break focus as the smaller woman split her binds on the third attempt.
Rick clapped along with the rest when her hands sprang free, and pounded even harder when Pam wriggled one thumb out of the bindings, then pulled off the tie and waved it in the air.
“Good job, ladies. Now, last but not least. If the first two methods don’t work, you need to defeat the locking mechanism. That’s much easier if you’re with another captive, but you can do it yourself if you keep your wits about you.
“To pull this off, find some kind of shim. That could be anything from a fingernail or a key or a hairpin or safety pin to a loose nail or a piece of metal. Even a credit card. Look around. Be creative.
“When you’ve got it, stick your shim into the lock and lift that little bar up off the track, then spread your wrists and pull the tie loose.” This time he demonstrated with a credit card on a loose tie. “Push your shim into the lock, lift, and slide the band out. See? Easy.”
“Okay, let’s move on to breaking a choke hold. I need a volunteer. Genny, you ready to take me on again?”
“Sure.” She moved to the middle of the mat.
He gave her face a hard look, then grinned. “I see your eye is back to normal. That must be a relief.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “I don’t have to explain over and over how I ran into a door in the dark after a couple of glasses of wine.”
The women surrounding them laughed.
“As long as you don’t forget the truth, my friend. It’ll help you stay prepared.”
She clenched her fists at the thought of the thug’s punch coming at her, then moved on to a visual of the man passing her in the restaurant aisle. “Don’t worry, his face is burned into my brain. My memory on that score is sharp as a tack.”
“Good girl.”
Rick looked at Gen and circled a finger in the air. “Turn around and start walking. I know you’re a clever one, now, so I’m going to ask you not to try to fight back yet. At this point, we’re in demonstration mode only.”
Gen chuckled, then pivoted and walked toward the audience. Rick eased up behind her. He was quiet for a big man, a proper reminder of how it might go if her own goon came after her again.
He put an arm around her neck and she stopped.
“It’ll be real common for someone sneaking up behind to throw their arm around your throat and tighten it. This is called a front choke hold.
“It’s critical for you to get out of a choke as quick as you can, because it doesn’t take long without air and you’ll be unconscious. You gotta act fast. That means ditch the senseless struggling and clawing at their hands. Do you understand?”
Gen nodded along with her classmates.
“The good news is it’ll be more difficult for him to overpower both your arms in this situation. So I’ve got my right arm around your neck and I’m squeezing with all my might. I’ve got my left hand holding your left arm to your side, but I won’t be able to apply a lot of pressure to your right arm. Genny, what are you going to do?”
She’d thought about this a lot, wishing she’d used her head when the gorilla grabbed her from behind at Vitelli’s that morning. So rather than answering Rick, she wrenched her right arm free of his hold and jammed her thumb over her shoulder toward his eye. Then she lifted her right foot and stamped down, stopping just above his instep.
“That’s right.” Rick’s voice held a tinge of admiration. “Gouge for the eyes and inflict a powerful blow with your foot. Turn your fear to anger and use it. Do enough damage that your attacker will be taken by surprise and loosen his grip.”
He let her go and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll add two things. First, instead of random stabbing with that thumb, use your fingers to find the jerk’s temple and drive that thumb into his eye socket. If he evades you, stab your fingers into his throat like a knife.
“Second, the human knee is vulnerable. So if you use your foot as a piston and drive it into his kneecap, there’s a good chance he won’t be able to run after you. A
nd another thing, if he manages to keep his face and neck protected behind your head, you can use your hand as a fulcrum instead and bend one of his fingers back until you break it.”
He manipulated Gen’s hand to demonstrate. “Everybody got it?”
He loosed her hand and she turned, exultant, and gave Rick a hug. Her move took him by surprise.
“What was that for?”
“Just to say thanks,” she replied. “On behalf of everybody. It’s empowering, knowing what to do and thinking we can do it. We all appreciate you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rick grinned and clapped her on the back. “All right, ladies, grab some water if you need to hydrate and let’s move out to the parking lot. We’re going to take turns escaping from the trunk of Stan’s car.”
* * *
She was just about to start the car when her cell phone rang. Gen fished the phone from her purse; the incoming call was from Luciano. “Hey, it’s the Carabinieri,” she said.
“You sound as if you have had a good morning,” he replied.
“So far it’s been great. I just learned how to get out of a car trunk.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“An escape tactic in case I ever get abducted,” Gen added. “You never know what might come in handy.”
“I see,” he said, but his tone implied that he did not.
“Aren’t you required to take self-defense courses?”
“Yes, but our training happens on the shooting range.”
“Oh. I’m not much of a gun aficionado.”
“Odd, given your choice of career,” he replied, then added, “I called to inquire if you had changed your mind about my offer to watch Vitelli.”
Gen’s brow furrowed. Why would he think she would? “No, sorry. I’m still not interested. What makes you think I might be?”
Luciano hesitated. “Miss Salvatore mentioned you had a falling out with your friend. I thought you might welcome something to do.”
Gen stiffened at the mere thought of Carla Salvatore and the fact that she’d been eavesdropping, just as Gen had suspected. The woman had a lot of nerve.
“Look, Giovanni. I think you mean well, but that’s my personal life you’re talking about and I don’t want to discuss it. Whatever did or did not happen, it’s none of Miss Salvatore’s business. And you can tell her I said to back off. Do I need to translate that phrase for you?”
“No.” There was a tinge of humor in his reply. “I understand. I apologize for intruding. And I will also apologize for my partner. It seems she has over-stepped again. Please forgive me. I will not ask you to forgive her, however.”
Gen laughed in spite of herself. “Thank you for the offer, Luciano, but I’ll pass.”
“As you wish. However, the offer stands. Please let me know if you change your mind.”
“Wait a minute. That means you haven’t been able to establish that Vitelli is guilty?”
“We are still going through the process,” he replied. “At this point, we simply want to keep a watch over anyone who could shed more light on this issue.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gen parked in the garage, elevatored to the lobby, then went out the front door and up the sidewalk to her office. The class had left her feeing energized, and she was humming as she slotted the key into the lock. But when a movement to one side drew her attention, the buoyant mood instantly deflated.
It was Luca.
Images of Mack filled her head like stars on a clear night away from the city lights. “Hey,” was all she could manage.
Luca replied, “Hey.” His voice was subdued; no doubt he could tell she wasn’t thrilled to see him. But he followed her in without a word and back to her office, and she didn’t try to discourage him.
He lounged in the doorway, uncertain, while she pulled two waters from the fridge and gestured toward the couch. He sat on the edge, bouncing his knee to the tock-tock beat of the clock on her desk.
She handed him a bottle, then dropped down at the other end of the couch, leaned against the cushions, and gave him the once-over. New jeans, clean hair, faded t-shirt. Apparently he preferred Mack’s clothes over his own.
Gen fought the urge to lean in and breathe deeply, just to see if his shirt smelled like its rightful owner. She’d happily give the kid a hundred dollars for it right now. “Why didn’t you just call?”
“I thought this would be better.” He was fussing with the cap, twisting it on and off. Nervous.
“How’d you get all the way into the city?”
He raised a thumb.
“Does Mack know you’re here?”
Luca shook his head.
“He wouldn’t like it,” she replied. “For a lot of reasons.”
He stared at his feet for a minute before he replied. “I needed to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
The boy looked at Gen. A frown furrowed the skin between his brows. “You’re pissed off at me, and it’s hard to get past that.”
Direct hit.
So apparently the kid could deliver on a difficult conversation when he had to. He was more like Mack than she wanted to admit.
She stood and walked to the desk and drank some water while she thought about it. This wasn’t Luca’s fault. It was a fluke that brought him down the street they were on that night. It was time to give the boy a break.
“You’re right.” Gen walked behind the desk to peruse the book titles she almost knew by heart. “You like to read?”
“I don’t get much of a chance to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Luca moved behind her, not too close, just enough so he could look over her shoulder. He pointed at a Raymond Chandler and she pulled it off the shelf and handed it over.
He sat in the chair in front of the desk and opened the cover.
She knew the inscription inside by heart.
To Genny, from your biggest fan. Love, Ryan.
The reminder of another failed love affair sunk her mood like a yacht going down. The last year had been a bad one for her in the romance department.
“You like the classics?” she asked.
“Yeah. I like Chandler. And I like James Burke a lot.”
“Hmmm. Burke’s too graphic for me. I like my gore glossed over just a bit.” When he went to sit in the chair across from her desk, she took her own seat behind it. “You should take that with you. You have a library card?”
“Back in Jersey. Not much good here.”
“Mack would take you to get one if you asked him.”
He looked up at that and closed the book. “Did you have a fight about me?”
“Who says we had a fight?”
“Mack’s been real quiet. You haven’t been around. I’m not stupid.”
Gen thought about denying it but like the kid said, he wasn’t dumb. So she gave him the truth.
“Yeah, we had a fight about you. I heard your phone ring when I came to get your clothes for the wash. Seemed pretty unlikely to me, a homeless kid with one pair of jeans to his name but who has a cell phone hidden in his room. I told Mack and he brushed it off, but I kept pestering him. The other night he decided he’d had enough.”
Luca slid something from his back pocket and placed it in front of her. It was a Tracfone, one of those prepaid jobs. She picked it up and opened it to look at the display. It was paid through the end of the year, and there were thousands of minutes left. She snapped it closed and slid it back across the desktop.
“My Mom gave it to me last Christmas.” Luca’s voice cracked on the one word that was hardest to get out. “She wanted me to be able to call if I had to work late or something. I had a job back home. Nothing great, just bussing tables in a restaurant. But it got me out of the house, and I was saving for college.”
Gen pursed her lips and nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to betray her like the kid’s had, but for other reasons. She’d been wrong. She had tossed her chance with Ma
ck for nothing.
When she realized her fists were clenched in her lap, she released them. All feeling had left her fingers. They were numb, like the rest of her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been the stupid one, imagining bad news where there wasn’t any. I owe you an apology, so I apologize.”
“You don’t have to.” He fell silent and fidgeted in the chair.
“Was that what you came here to tell me?”
“No.”
“What then?” She glanced at the clock and had a thought. “Luca, you want an early dinner? You should call Mack and tell him where you are. We could go grab a bite, then I can drop you off at Fillmore and you can catch a ride home with him. What do you think?”
Luca hung his head, then stared at his hands as he spoke. “It’s nice of you to offer, but you might not want to after I say what I came to say.”
Something in his voice made her sit up straighter. She didn’t reply, just waited for him to spill it.
He plucked the book from his lap and put it on the desk. “I lied,” he said. “About the coin.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gen took in a long slow breath and exhaled, giving herself time to process. “Lied how?” Her voice was calm. No sense jumping to conclusions again, it hadn’t paid off for her in the past.
The least she could do, in this job and in her personal life, was to learn from her mistakes and then not repeat them. Although she had to admit it was damn difficult at times.
“Tell me,” she said, in the same steady tone. “No lectures, no judgment, I promise. Just tell me what happened.”
“Mr. Vitelli must have followed me when I was leaving my corner one night. He stopped me in an alley and asked if I was interested in earning some money. He’s always been nice to me, so I said maybe I was, depending on what I had to do for it. He said if I agreed, it meant I had to leave town for a while and get a room and pay with cash and hide out till he told me it was okay to come back.