Hope To Escape

by Jack Parker

  "Max, your hero and protector," his words were openly supercilious, "your obsessed artist, truly has quite a history. But before I go into detail, I must insist that this confession remain between you and I. It must go no further." He paused for affect.

  "Max," he smiled snidely, "happens to be my son." Ess's eyes fell away from the painting and darted towards the man's face. She couldn't help but display her shock and disbelief. "Oh, he doesn't know it. He's a bastard, and so I would never truly acknowledge him. His mother was beautiful and a woman of little morals. I had my time with her, but it was only a short time in which she belonged to me alone. You know how fickle you women can be." He led her in a new direction along the wall of the gallery.

  "She grew tired of me, and began to explore other options. When I found out, I turned that slut out faster than she could blink. She barely had time enough to beg me to provide for our unborn child. At the time, I had supposed that it could have been the spawn of any of the scum she had been with, but you only have to look at Max to see the resemblance between us."

  Angoli stopped, and turned towards Ess to give her a good look at his features. It was true. They had an undeniably similar jaw-line and the set of their eyes were identical. How odd, though, that Ess didn't notice it before. It wasn't until she looked for it that she saw the similarities.

  "I knew early on that he was mine, but I never made any claim on him. As I said, he was a bastard, and Marcus Angoli does not father bastards." He continued to lead Ess around the room.

  "Interesting story, wouldn't you say? It gets better, though, because you come into it." He paused to see if she understood the compliment, but she didn't acknowledge it, so he continued. "Though I never recognized him as my son, I always kept a loosely curious eye on him. I watched him grow up as a ward of the state, and work his way through college, observing him struggle to make ends meet. He has a voracious will to survive, you know. He gets that from me." It was a peculiar show of pride from a man who would not declare his paternity to his son.

  "Eventually, I decided to bestow a little kindness on him, and I found the perfect opportunity to do so. While he was still a student of the arts, he happened to display a few pieces in a gallery I was associated with. I thought I'd throw a little money his way, in return for his works.

  "Needless to say, I was quite pleased with his art. More of his earlier pieces are over here."

  He pointed to some exquisitely detailed renderings of Ess in Roman garb posing in very dramatic scenes as a goddess to be adored. It was yet another unsettling moment that Ess found herself the figure of attention.

  "Really, I was only expecting to put them into storage, or maybe a little nook somewhere if they were decent enough, but I was truly impressed. And, so, I placed them here in my personal gallery.

  "Over time, I found a few more opportunities to lend Max a hand. His works typically had you in mind, so I managed to keep with the 'Esther Art' theme by purchasing them. It became obvious that Max had an obsession with this woman who found her way into his creations. Apparently, obsession is a trait that runs in our family." He then expressed his amusement at what he thought to be a very humorous observation by releasing a polite chuckle.

  "After only a few years your face took over every corner of my gallery. But, though I watched Max more and more intently, I never saw the model for his works. There never seemed to be a real person in his life that inspired him. I thought you simply to be a figment of his remarkable imagination.

  "Now, I finally find that you were not simply in his head after all. When you walked into the gallery, my heart seized with delight." As he turned himself towards her, he pulled her hand to his chest, which brought her intimately closer to him. "One moment I was enticed by an illusive and exquisite nude temptress, wishing for soft warm skin rather than cold hard stone, and the next moment there you were, in the flesh. My wish had come true."

  He attempted to stroke his fingers across her cheek, but Ess pulled away with a shudder. The embarrassing redness of her ill-timed blush warmed her face once again. Instead of becoming irritated, Angoli just laughed. "I'll give you time to get used to me." He allowed her to put a little distance between them. "Back to my story."

  He grabbed her arm again, and continued their stroll around the room. "Where was I? Yes, yes. The gallery. The odd thing was Max's reaction. He looked as though he'd seen a ghost. It appeared that he had not expected your presence, either. Of course, when you left, he became distracted and excused himself from our meeting. I was distracted myself. I had to work fast in order to make sure you were followed. The two weeks I had you watched were torture. I wanted so terribly just to take you at once, but I know that I can't always get what I want just by taking it. There has to be a method, a procedure to acquiring something if I have any hope of keeping it. I couldn't have any witnesses, anyone who'd interfere with my intensions.

  "But Max was watching. I should have expected it. It never crossed my mind that he would actually get in my way, but apparently, he saw what was happening. Now he's got others involved, and has interfered with my plans." Anger stormed across his face. He didn't bother to hide his furious emotions this time, as the wheels turned in his head.

  His voice rose and the rhythm of his words quickened with the intensity of his newly roaring fury. "Now there are people who know you are here, who know what I have taken," he continued to fume. "Martin should have disposed of them out there in the woods. It would have been a perfect opportunity, and yet he did not take it. That boy has no backbone; and now I'll have to send others to finish what he could not. Damn it. I wanted this done and over with by now.

  "With all my goddamn money, why is it that I can't I seem to get just what I want?"

  With that, he dropped her arm and strode over to a phone on a side table. Picking it up, he spat directions into the receiver, "Owen, I want you and your men to get back out there, and find Max and his companions. Bring Max here and get rid of the others . . . Do whatever you need to do. And dispose of the evidence."

  He appeared to throw a very well-controlled temper tantrum, but emitted a dangerous aura, nevertheless. Ess became afraid for more than just herself at hearing the words he had just spoken into the phone. He was going to have them killed: Manda and Dr. Roden. He was sending his henchmen out to do it.

  With all that had happened to her in the last forty-eight hours, Ess thought she should have learned to control her tendency to panic by now. Leaning over, she began sucking in large gulps of breath to try to regain her calm. She needed to remain composed. She had to do something. She couldn't let two innocent people be murdered. What could she do? There seemed to be nothing she could do until she made her own escape.

  She had to think, and she needed oxygen to do so. So she kept taking in deep breaths. Think, damn it, think!

  * * *

  "Turn here." Martin gave his direction at the last moment, and Roden had to slam his foot on the brake. Still, he missed the turn. Irritated at Martin's ill-timed instruction, Roden pulled to the side of the road, and made a u-turn.

  When their eyes met in the rearview mirror, Martin's look of amusement got under Roden's skin. The younger man continued to enjoy this whole situation, while the psychiatrist's self control wore thinner and thinner. Roden actually contemplated choking the man after this miserable affair was over with, but decided that he would be satisfied with just a good solid punch in that jackass's face.

  That Martin still found diversion in what had been happening was disturbing to everyone involved. Before they even began their drive, Max had searched Martin's person for the gun, and took it away from him; and when he presented the Rohypnol as part of the plan for taking care of the dogs, that had been confiscated, as well. It had to be obvious that no one in the car liked him; and his own employer didn't even trust him to finish a job. Max gave him a pounding earlier, and would in all likeliness resume the beating once they rescued Ess. And yet, this man always had a smirk, always found the joke in everyone
's frustration.

  What made him so complacent in such a serious predicament? Roden was displeased with their unfortunate reliance on this tactless man. He didn't trust him, and knew that he needed to keep his eye on the (nearly) good-for-nothing troublemaker.

  "How much further?" Roden didn't feel any desire to hide his frustration, though he knew it just added pleasure to Martin's entertainment.

  "Not much farther," Martin smiled back. "Just keep following the road for about an hour. Angoli's house is at the end. There's nothing else along the way, so you'll know when you're close."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ess sat in subdued silence near the end of a massive dining table. The enormous dining room could quite possibly have been more accurately described as a banquet hall. The chandeliers and decorative moldings were rather gothic and the furnishings excessively elaborate. The seating looked as though it could accommodate thirty or more guests, yet Ess's place had been set very close to Angoli's so that she remained within detainment range of her captor.

  Occasionally, he reached his hand towards her with the intent of an intimate touch, and each time, Ess recoiled from it. She tried to keep her disdain for the man as indiscernible as she could, for fear of causing another of his heated episodes, but complete physical apathy could not be consistently maintained. Each time she rejected his advancement, his brow furrowed over the offence, but it quickly smoothed out again as he chose to forget about it and continue with his meal.

  Ess didn't touch anything on her plate. It had been several hours since she last ate, and the dish proved to be a particular favorite of hers (she couldn't help but imagine that it was most likely intentional); but the situation did not allow for her stomach to accept even a mouthful of bread or a handful of grapes for digestion.

  "I had thought that your hair would be curly, just as Max's works have all portrayed." Ess looked up from her plate in reaction to the unexpected observation, and noticed that the admiration visible in Angoli's eyes seemed tinged with the smallest degree of disappointment.

  Did this statement expect a reply? "I've never liked my curls. I have my hair chemically straightened." She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the words came out mousy and somewhat apologetic.

  "Ah," he smiled and picked up his fork to continue his meal. "Well, we will just have to let them grow out, then."

  Ess knew that this time no answer was required. She felt taken aback by such an assertion. He obviously felt that he had the right to make such decisions regarding her physical appearance. This assumedly inherent privilege to control her like she was simply a pet finally opened the well of detestation that had been collecting deep inside her over the past few days. She said nothing for fear of the consequences, but she let that well of hate set to boil, willing it to ultimately concoct itself into courage.

  Angoli urged her to eat once again, so she picked up her fork, but only managed to move a few morsels around on the plate. The unrelenting man only ignored her impassiveness. Noticing her unhappiness didn't suit his wishes for the enjoyment of her company. He saw only what he wanted to see, and that excluded Ess's revulsion over the uncomfortable situation he forced her into.

  Eventually he placed his napkin over his plate, and chose to break the silence once more. "I was thinking that we should go away for awhile."

  Ess stiffened at this. He intended to take her further away from any rescue? It would be all the more difficult to escape him if they traveled to some unfamiliar place with absolutely no one that might be able to help her. She still held a small hope in Max's promise to come for her, but leaving this place would make the likeliness of that happening dwindle more than ever.

  Angoli didn't miss her rigid response. "My pet, I think it would be best, to clear us from any unwanted disturbances. And," he attempted to take her hand, but she moved it to her lap, "it will give us an opportunity to get to know one another better; to get used to each other." His patience appeared to be wavering a little at her continued reserve.

  Just how long did he intend to keep her as his prisoner? This did not simply sound like some madman's psychotic spree. He imagined that a long-term relationship would form. What did he expect to do? Brainwash her? Mold her into some lifestyle and turn her into something she wasn't? She shivered; another reaction that did not go unnoticed.

  He shifted in his seat, and leaned towards her, invading her space. Though Ess sunk as far into her chair as she could, she was unable to avoid his closeness. His face did not leave the intimate proximity of hers, and she felt him studying her with a covetous gaze. "I thought that, since it will be your first time traveling, you might like to choose the destination. Someplace outside of this country is your only restriction." He smiled at her as though he had just bestowed a remarkable gift upon her.

  Part of her nearly sought excitement at the thought of finally traveling. It had been a dream of hers for so long; but now the very idea became tainted by the circumstances. Her desire to see the world fleeted from the longing she felt for her regular old life.

  "I don't have a passport." If she could think of nothing else, the lack of passport had to be one setback she had on her side.

  "Oh, don't worry," his smile radiated the diverted condescension he felt. "I have taken care of that little detail. You don't think I just sat here pining for you the entire time, do you? I made plans, cut through red tape and removed the bothersome roadblocks. Besides, I have connections. It's all been attended to. Just make your choice. Where do you wish to go?"

  "I don't wish to go anywhere with you. I just want to go home." Ess's words burst forth as a daring demand. She felt her courage finally rising. "My home," she clarified so there could be no misinterpretation of her meaning.

  Angoli, of course, didn't respond well to this audacity. His chair overturned as he leapt to his feet, and grabbed Ess's arm, pulling her out of her own seat. Again, her face came within inches of his, but this time his expression was different. The predator glare in his eyes revealed a readiness to go in for the kill.

  Unexpectedly, the remainder of Ess's courage fell into place. This man's advantage was in his ability to intimidate. A mental switch flipped in her head, and she knew she had to hold her ground. She met his glowering stare with a defiant look of her own.

  It only took a moment before Ess witnessed a falter in his eyes. Her boldness caught him off guard. However, the momentary stumble of his dominance made him all the angrier. Where he lost the grip on his intimidation, he gained it in his physical force.

  With a bruise impacting grasp on her arm, Angoli dragged Ess from the dining room and pulled her up the stairs. When they reached the room that had been designated to her, he hurled her through the door. She landed hard on her knees and palms. The door slammed shut behind her with all of the might Angoli could demonstrate in his anger, and he locked her in.

  When he shouted through the door, Ess felt grateful for the thick wooden barrier that held back the full force of his enraged words. "I will come back for you in a few hours. You will be packed and ready to go or you will see the full extent of my anger." He beat his fist on the door to emphasize his threat.

  Ess sat on the floor where she had landed, taking a moment to regain herself. She no longer felt afraid. The courage that had turned itself on in her head could not be shut off now. She would not let it.

  Now, she had to think. The fear no longer clouded her brain, so she could plan and prepare. She could get out of this. There had to be a way. This Angoli could not be completely infallible in his designs.

  Ess needed time; she needed opportunity and quick logic. If only she could lock herself in while she contemplated, but the only item in the room large enough to block the door would be the bed. That gigantic wooden edifact could not be moved by her alone.

  The next option was to pack. Ess had to be ready. She had no desire to test the deranged man's threats. With that decision made, she began going through her things. What did she have available to her? And what would be
most useful to her?

  With nimble quickness and flickers of plots forming in her head, Ess began sifting through her closet and medicine cabinets, looking for the right weapons for her endeavor.

  * * *

  The BMW charged down the road in silence. Its passengers gave up speaking hours ago, having spent so much time together in the cramped vicinity of the car's cabin. The bulk of the journey was nearly at an end. Soon they would have to sum up the nerve to break into a huge and well-guarded estate. The only person in the car who could ever have imagined finding themselves in such an outlandish predicament during their lifetime was Martin.

  Roden felt the magnitude of such anxiety radiate from the young woman next to him. Manda had shown herself rarely to be at a loss for words, and now everyone present could feel the stifling effects from her lack of commentary. The true weight of the impending danger dampened the bravado of them all.