by Jack Parker
Ess spent a good hour checking any possible modes of escape, the obvious one being the door. She found that it had been locked from the outside, and there appeared to be no lock on the inside. How unfortunate. Her kidnappers could keep her in, but she wouldn't be able to keep them out. Next were the two large windows. The panes could be swung open, but there were bars blocking any attempt at escape. Even without the bars, the drop looked far too risky to attempt without causing severe injury. Even a ballsy move like climbing up the fireplace's chimney had been thwarted by the narrowness of its chute.
As all hope of escape diminished, Ess began to give in to the idea of her capture. She would have to play out her part for as long as she could. With this resolution in mind, she headed to the bathroom. The one positive thing to come of this change in circumstances would be a real shower.
The bathroom held a surprising number of products that Ess used on a daily basis, from her face lotion to her deodorant. There were a few extras, as well, such an imported Japanese night cream and a deliciously scented bottle of Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel. A quick rummage through the closet revealed a full wardrobe in her size, most of the clothes were actually in her taste, with a few gaudy exceptions.
Obviously, the kidnapping had been well planned out. They had to have broken into her apartment and gone through her things in detail in order to be so well prepared for her arrival. Ess had never even noticed. She never suspected anything in her home had been out of place, and had been so oblivious and passive to everything in her life that she didn't even realize it had been invaded. She became angry with herself for being so truly unaware. It was all her own fault that she found herself in this dilemma now. If she had only paid attention to the world around her, she could have been prepared, and may have been able to prevent her own demise. She had only herself to blame.
She resignedly turned on the shower and began to clean up. If there could be any chance for escape now, she must be alert and ever ready. There were no deluded hopes and vain plans now. Her only possibility would be opportunity . . . and maybe Max?
So, after the comforting shower, she simply sat on the bed, waiting for opportunity to offer itself, and fearing to permit herself to sleep. The bed proved very comfortable, however, and at long last, sleep finally did prevail.
The next thing she knew, someone had entered her room and thrown open the curtains. The light came streaming in, stinging her eyes, and making her surroundings appear out of focus. It was morning. Such sudden alertness caused her heart to pound the blood into her head, producing sharp pains throughout her skull. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed a man standing beside her bed.
The wait was over.
* * *
"Tell me, Max," Manda turned towards the back seat, "Why was it you said that calling the police would be useless?" Max had mentioned it yesterday when they were walking to the car from the cabin, but he had never elaborated. Manda forgot to be skeptical about it at the time, so she decided to make up for it now as a means to break up the long silence in the car.
"Because," Martin interrupted before Max could speak, "Marcus Angoli controls the police force, along with every other government office in the city. They jump when he says jump and they look the other way when he gives them the ol' wink-'n-nod."
Manda gave him a dirty look for answering a question that had not been directed towards him, but continued her inquiry. "How come I've never heard of this guy then, since he has so much sway in the city? I would think that he'd be mentioned on the news or in the paper, or he'd be in the social gossip columns."
Martin had the answer on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated, lest he should receive another severe look from Manda. "Go ahead, Martin." Max cued. Obviously, Martin loved having all the answers on Angoli. He had always been a bit of a gossip about what he knew. That's how Max had come to be so informed about the man; and that's probably why, despite Martin's best efforts, Angoli would never promote him from his position as acquisitionist.
"Well, Mr. Angoli doesn't want to be in the media. He has control of that, too. Any kind of spotlight, whatsoever, jeopardizes his control. Can't have the federal authorities looking his way, so he stays behind the scenes. Kind of a recluse in a way. But no one makes a move without his approval."
"I see." Manda turned back around in her seat to ponder the new information. After a few minutes she asked another question. "So, all we have to do is get the feds involved?"
Roden and Max stiffened. What a simple answer. Why didn't they think of that before? But Martin counseled them that it wouldn't work. "As smart as that sounds, if we were to inform the feds of the kidnapping, they would just contact the local authorities so that they could avoid 'stepping on anyone's toes'. The local authorities would offer up some kind of lie or excuse or something in return. I just don't think it would go anywhere."
"Well, I don't believe a word you say. You are a liar, a thief and a kidnapper." Manda accused. "Not to mention, a horrible date." Max couldn't help but laugh in reaction to that last part, and Roden gave him a stern look through the rearview mirror, which went ignored.
"As much as I hate to say it," Roden spoke up, "I think Martin is right about that one. It would take quite a bit of convincing to get the feds to look into the corruption of the local precincts. Besides, it could take a while before they cut through all the red tape and move in on the local law enforcement's turf. We need to work fast. There is no time to lose on this. We can get the feds involved after we get Ess away from Angoli."
Everyone grudgingly agreed with that, and made the decision to move forward with a plan.
"What kind of security system does this place have?" That seemed to Roden to be the logical place to start.
"Oh, the security system is excellent. Very high tech. Not to mention, there are guards." Martin unleashed the negative aspects so that he could impress them with the only positive one. "I do happen to know one weakness, though. One little hiccup in the system that they don't know about. I actually used it once to get in and acquire a little artifact for another old client of mine. It was a posthumously exhibited painting by Ary Scheffer. My client owned quite a few of the others already, but Angoli would not sell him the one in his possession for any amount, just to spite this man. I told the guy I could acquire it, and I did. Got top fee, too. They still don't know who did it or how it was done. Angoli had the entire local police force working on it, too. Apparently - and this is the best part - he didn't have it insured. A man like that should know better; but then again, I do believe he came by it illegally himself."
"OK," Max prompted, "So what is this weakness?"
"There's a security fence around the entire property. It looks like a tall cast iron fence, but between the metal posts are lasers. If you put your hand through the posts, the laser will sting you. If you leave your hand there for any length of time, the laser power increases, and it stuns you. The same lasers are positioned above the fence, as well, so that you can't scale it.
"However, there is a spot, rather secluded, where even the dogs don't think to look. . . "
"Dogs?" Manda interrupted. "There are dogs?"
"Well, yeah," Martin replied, "What over-the-top security system would be complete without dogs?"
"Well, what do we do about them?" Manda asked, sounding a little distressed.
"That's the easy part. They may be trained killers, but they're still dogs. Give them something to munch on, and you're their best friend. These pretzel sticks here that Dr. Roden bought back at the gas station should be enough. Toss them a few of those, then toss them one of these pills, and they won't bother you again."
Martin pulled a sandwich bag out of his jacket pocket with a few pills in it. "What the hell are those?" Manda demanded.
"Rohypnol." Martin responded matter-of-factly.
"Rohypnol?" Roden, first stunned, quickly turned livid. "You mean roofies? Damn it, Martin, what the hell are you doing with those?"
"Never know when t
hey could come in handy." Martin seemed to think it was nothing at all to possess the drug.
"Oh, my god! That's a date rape drug!" Manda appeared in to be in a new state of extreme emotion that Roden had not yet seen from her.
"Were you intending to use those on Manda during your date?" Roden's revulsion with Martin reached an all time high.
From the seat beside him, Max stared Martin down, ready to wallop him once again. Such an atrocious act could not go unpunished.
Martin became a little scared at that point, "No, no." He pleaded his side. "I had no intentions, whatsoever. I just keep them around for necessary circumstances; and in my line of work, there are many necessary circumstances. Really, I had no intentions with Manda at all."
While no one could find it in them to completely believe him, they let the accussations drop for the time being. Max did, however, confiscate the pills with a disgusted look of warning aimed towards the man next to him. Finally, Roden found his voice and asked Martin to continue with his explanation on the security weakness.
"Ah, yes, yes. Where was I?" Martin, happy to change the subject, quickly complied with the request. "Ah, yes, there is a secluded spot, where water collects when there has been a lot of rain. I've tested the lasers in that area because they often get flooded in the puddle. The water shorted out a couple of those lasers a long time ago, just as I had suspected. No one has ever caught on. At least they hadn't as of three years ago, when I broke in. If that is still the case, then we can squeeze through the bars there."
"Squeeze through the bars?" Manda asked. "Are they wide enough apart?"
"Well apparently, if I did it once already . . . " Obviously.
"Alright, then. We have a way in. Possibly." Max felt relief that at least one obstacle was out of the way. Now they needed to work out the next step in the plan. Their real issue wouldn't be getting in, it would be getting Ess back out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Slowly, recognition revealed to Ess that it was the man with the broken nose who was standing at the edge of her bed. He had a very annoyed look on his face, and when he spoke, his words seethed with his displeasure. "You were supposed to be ready when Angoli sent for you. You're getting off to a very bad start," he accused. "You'd better shape up if you don't want any trouble."
Ess just gave him an incredulous stare. She had agreed to nothing, and she didn't intend to, either. Did they seriously think she would simply obey? That she would comply with their perverse arrangements?
"You'll be too late for breakfast, now. I'll have to come back for you after Mr. Angoli takes care of his morning business. You'd better be ready by lunch, which he takes at precisely one o'clock." With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with a noisy flourish so that Ess would be reminded of her prisoner status.
She got up, and dressed herself from the selection in the closet, choosing the most demure dress that covered as much of her skin as possible. Her shoes, while stylish, were sensible flats that would be relatively appropriate for running, should that opportunity arise.
Once prepared, she resumed her seat on the bed, and waited. The clock on the mantle ticked away, producing the only sound in the room. The constant rhythm began to drive her mad; and it became almost a relief when she finally heard the sound of her door being unlocked.
The man with the broken nose made another rude entrance into the room. "Boss is finishing up a few business details and asked me to escort you to the gallery." The word 'escort' came out as though the idea of doing so was the farthest thing from his bitter thoughts. The damage she had recently done to him seemed to remain at the forefront of his mind. Other than a little fear for what the man might be capable of, Ess really didn't care about his resentment. She wished she could pop him in the nose again.
Preferring to avoid any further rough handling, she reluctantly complied. While following him back down the broad staircase, she looked about in all directions for any possible breakout route, but noticed that he kept a close eye on her every movement. At the landing, he took a hold of her arm, and guided her (in as forceful a manner as he could get away with) down a hallway, and to another door. When he opened that door, he deposited her inside, and locked it behind her. Immediately, she began to scour the room for an alternative way out.
The windows in this room were not barred, but they were locked. The distance downward was not nearly as far as it had been from the bedroom, so Ess felt willing to take the risk. There were many objects in the room that could work effectively as a missile to break the glass, but as she picked up a small statuette, and wound up for the pitch, the door to the gallery opened.
Ess jumped and turned in the direction of the new occupant as he entered into the room. The man quickly took stock of the scene before him, and began to laugh.
"Good idea, my dear." He said through his amusement, "but those windows have alarm sensors. My guards would have caught you before you'd have been able to land on the ground. Nice try, though. Very admirable."
The man who spoke entered further into the gallery. His urbanely composed voice agitated Ess with its severe confidence of superiority. It was not simply superiority towards Ess, but towards the world in general. Every word was perfectly annunciated and tinged with the haughtiness of self-importance.
The deep blue suit that had evidently been well tailored, apparent by the precise fit on his faultless frame, made Ess feel rather self-conscious at her own choice of clothing. His appearance on the whole was that of every detail having been taken into earnest consideration. His dark hair appeared expertly coiffed; his eyebrows, though thick, were impeccably shaped; and his slightly bronzed skin looked as smooth as polished marble. There didn't exist a gray hair or wrinkle to be seen.
Only his eyes gave away any signs of age. The russet brown of his irises hinted a sinister past and betrayed any of the placidness displayed in the rest of his features. There lurked a menacing darkness that had apparently deepened with the maturing of his maliciousness. The smirk that did not appear in the slight smile of his lips while taking in the sight before him, still made itself exceedingly present in his eyes.
As he slowly stepped his way closer and closer to her, as though caging an agitated prey, he continued speaking, trying to lull Ess into a false sense of security, "My dear, you look splendid. Not my first choice in dress, but the cut does flatter your figure very well." He stepped closer. "Allow me to introduce myself." Another step forward. "I am Marcus Angoli, a great admirer of yours; and I have been looking forward to your most anticipated acquaintance. It has been long overdue, wouldn't you agree?" He was only a few feet away from her now.
Ess fought against her desire to believe in his harmlessness. He seemed too sedate, which made him the most dangerous sort of predator. After a moment she found her voice, and readied herself to fight against his deceiving manners with her own contemptuous conduct, "I would have been just as content as to have prolonged such an acquaintance, until – oh, say – never?"
A slight shadow passed over the man's eyes for less than a second, but Ess caught it. She struck a blow to his ego.
He changed the direction of the conversation. "Allow me to show you around my gallery." When Ess didn't take the arm he extended to her, he imposed upon her to comply by slowly but determinedly covering the last of the distance between them. He seized her hand and placed it under his arm, keeping it there with his own hand, and holding it with a tight grip. Ess did not attempt to hide her resentment, but allowed herself to be guided around the room. She didn't fail to notice that most of the works, statues and paintings alike, had her face.
"The room is practically dedicated to you." Angoli gave her a glance that showed his pleasure. He expected that she should feel the same way, or at least display some attitude of honor. When this did not appear to be the case, a slight furrow made it's way to his brow. "There are a few pieces that are not 'Esther Art', but they will be replaced by future works I intend to have co
mmissioned. Already, some of my priceless art has made way for your lovely form." With a controlled measure of entertainment in his voice he explained, "I have a Manet that once resided in a place of honor above the fireplace. It now decorates the guest bathroom off of the receiving hall." He looked pleased with the comical idea of reducing a Manet to a bathroom hanging.
"Would you like to see which painting has taken its place?" He guided her towards the other end of the room. "It was my first work of 'Esther Art' and still remains my favorite."
He drew her attention to a mural that took up a fair portion of the wall over another ridiculously ornate fireplace. The oil-based painting was an illustration of what looked like a scene from the story of Esther in the Bible. It portrayed the young queen bowing before her king and husband, risking her life to beg an audience with him so that she could deliver the Jewish people from their enemy, Haman, and his intended genocidal massacre. It was quite an impressive moment captured on canvas by Max's skilled hand.
While Ess studied the work, her appreciation for its fine depiction unhidden from her face, Angoli took the opportunity to explain himself to her; something he never would have done with anyone else in the world. "Allow me to fill you in on this story you play such a significant role in," he began.