by Matt Hilton
Tess, her friends, and their unlikely allies had gathered on land a few hundred yards to the west of the construction hub, choosing a different approach than the one used by her and Pinky earlier. The land was slightly elevated, and the forest sparse enough so that they could overlook the site, and the excavated swampland beyond it.
‘Anyone tries to stop us, they’re fair game,’ Darius growled in response. But Po shook his head, supporting Tess’s logic.
‘We don’t go in with guns blazing. We check first that Emilia’s even here.’
Darius stared at Tess. ‘Your girl here said Zeke promised Emilia to his crazy brother.’
‘He didn’t actually mention her by name,’ Po said.
‘He said Cleary could have the “sweet girly-girl” as soon as Zeke was finished with her,’ Tess clarified. ‘He promised to call his brother when it was time to get his prize. It tells me there was a woman being held close by.’
‘And who d’ hell do you think he was referring to?’
‘Even if it wasn’t Emilia he was talking about, there’s some poor girl in danger,’ Po agreed.
‘I don’t care about some other girl,’ Darius growled.
‘We do,’ said Po.
‘Suit yersels, but we’re here for Emilia. An’ for dat puke-ball Zeke Menon. Don’t know who dat sumbitch thinks he is …’
Francis Chatard, who was twenty feet away, keeping an eye on the site, gave a low whistle. He waved them over. All but Pinky and Jean moved towards his position. Darius grumbled under his breath as he negotiated the undergrowth with his game leg.
‘A van just turned up,’ Francis informed them. ‘Y’see it?’
A panel van had entered the compound and driven close to one of the portable structures. Though the floodlights brought false noon to the site, the distance, and the angle, thwarted them from seeing who got in or out of the van.
Tess quickly calculated her earlier progress through the site, following the point from where she and Pinky had entered under the chain-link fence, and past the cabins she’d designated as a canteen and then a meeting hall. ‘I checked that hut out earlier,’ she said, ‘and it looked like an office. But there was a smaller anteroom I couldn’t get a look inside. I thought it was a stationery or store cupboard, but the odd thing was there was a light on inside it. Now when I see it from this angle, the dimensions look bigger than I thought.’
Emilia, or some other unfortunate girl, could have been inside that room all along, and it irked Tess to think she’d crept away without making sure. She had been seeking Po at the time, not a young woman, and had been eager to check out the metal shipping containers – more viable structures to hold a tough guy like him. Now she thought about it, she believed she’d heard breathing, and a brief scuffling sound that could have come from within the closed room. Damn it! She’d written off the sounds at the time as her own breathing and her clothing catching on the wall. Although, how could she blame herself for the hostage’s predicament, when at the time she had no idea anyone but Po was missing? Back then she’d just learned from Rachel Boreas that Emilia was most likely en route from Lafayette, so had no inkling that Zeke could already have snatched her, so she could be forgiven for ignoring the signs at the time.
‘I’m going down there,’ said Po.
‘I’m going with you,’ Francis said.
‘Not yet. Let me check Emilia’s here first.’
‘She’s my sister,’ Francis said, and glanced at his father with undisguised anger. When he looked at Po his expression hadn’t softened. ‘And you don’t get to make all the decisions, Villere.’
Po faced him squarely.
‘Stick to the plan, Francis,’ he said.
‘The one where you’re the big hero?’ Francis challenged.
‘The one where you get Emilia safely outta the way. Going down there and getting in a fight with the Menons won’t be worth shit if Emilia has already been moved. I’ll go down there like we planned, find her, and if she’s there I’ll give you the signal to come get her.’
Darius’s tone was low, and measured as he said, ‘Listen to him, son. Villere knows what he’s talking about. Let him do his stuff, then we’ll do ours.’
His words held an unsubtle promise, and Tess wasn’t sure that the threat was solely aimed at settling a score with Zeke Menon. The enemy of an enemy wasn’t always a friend.
Francis looked once again at the site, picking out the roof of the van that was barely visible beyond the office hut. ‘We probably need to get mobile,’ he said. Without another comment to Po, he headed back with Darius towards where they’d left their Dodge Ram. He waved Jean to join them. Moments later, they drove away, heading to block the route to the camp from the north.
‘I’m not happy about you going down there alone,’ Tess said.
‘It’s better I do.’
What he meant was that he couldn’t look after her and another woman. Ordinarily she would bristle at the idea he thought she was a weakling in need of mollycoddling, but that wasn’t what he suggested. He was simply stating a fact. He knew Tess could handle herself, but shit happened, and he’d enough to handle without worrying if Cleary had gotten his hands on her again while he concentrated on rescuing his sister.
‘So where do you want me and Pinky?’
‘Need you to the south.’
‘OK. But, Po … be careful.’
‘Careful is my middle name,’ he assured her – and offered her a brief wink at the irony.
She pecked a kiss on his lips. ‘I mean it. You’re trying to hide it from those others, but I know the Chatards hurt you more than you’re letting on. Avoid getting into it with the Menons if you can. I know you’re a tough guy, but that Cleary, well … he’s something else.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t underestimate him.’ He turned her around and patted her backside to send her on her way. ‘But the same goes for you. Stick with Pinky. Don’t go after anyone by yourself.’
‘Kettle. Pot.’ She aimed a smile at him over her shoulder, but then picked her way through the undergrowth to where Pinky waited alongside the Toyota.
‘I don’t trust those Chatards, me,’ Pinky announced the second she was in earshot, making their family name sound like a Cajun swear word.
‘Me neither. If it’s any consolation, neither does Po. Best we all keep our guard up, eh, Pinky?’
He tapped the barrel of his Glock alongside his nose, and said, ‘He-he! I’m on it, me.’
When they both turned to look for Po, he’d already slipped away into the night.
‘Let’s get going,’ she said, and slid into the driver’s position. She was more useful as the driver: being the one with the gun, Pinky required both hands free.
THIRTY-SIX
Using the forest as cover, Po approached within fifty feet of the compound. Distantly he heard Tess and Pinky drive away to take up a position on the approach road, out of sight but within hailing distance to respond quickly when he called. He knew he could rely on them, and though he couldn’t control what any of the Chatards might do, was reasonably confident that they would deliver their end of the bargain, possibly with interest. He wasn’t stupid: his alliance with Darius, and especially Francis, was shaky at best, and his little get-even stunt from earlier hadn’t been as effective as he’d hoped. Pride was important to those men, and by giving them an opportunity to beat the shit out of him would have appeased them more if he hadn’t subsequently busted up a couple of their boys and stuck his knife through their patriarch’s foot. But things had turned out the way they had. He couldn’t trust them to bury the death threats they’d aimed at him for years, but all he needed was for them to set their enmity aside while they all concentrated on getting Emilia safely home.
Earlier, Darius had asked him why he gave a hoot about a girl who hated his guts as much as the rest of them, and Po had told him the basic truth. ‘Blood’s thicker than water.’ He felt no hatred for Emilia, and that was before he’d learned from Clara
that she was his full sister. Any hatred she had of him would have been learned, and based on lies. He hoped one day that she would see that for herself, and maybe put aside the enmity and learn new behaviour based on her own experiences. When all came to all, she was his kin, and he’d be a poor example of a human being – let alone her big brother – if he turned his back on her at her most desperate time.
It was just his way. He was loyal beyond a fault. He had never met Emilia, had only seen her briefly in the photo shown to him by Clara, and on a Facebook stream brought to his attention by Tess, but it made no difference to him. She was his sister. And as he’d already proven, both to his father’s memory, and in taking a knife in the gut for Tess, those he cared for he’d protect with his life. It begged the question, though: did he care for Emilia? It was a question he didn’t need to ask.
He moved rapidly across the fallow earth between the edge of the forest and the perimeter fence. His thighs were stiff, felt heavy, and the pain in his ribs made running at a crouch difficult, but he ignored the discomfort. Once he was moving, and in the zone, all his aches would be forgotten. Once Emilia was safe, he could take the time to recover then. As if to prove a point, he clambered over the chain-link fence with disdain for the pitiful barrier. As soon as he was within the compound, he drew his blade. At this stage he wouldn’t encumber himself with his gun, because he was unsure he’d choose to pull the trigger. A gun was good for two things only, it could be a deterrent, or it could be used to kill. In his opinion a knife was far more versatile and not as noisy.
He hoped to rely on stealth to get close enough to Emilia to free her. Once she was out of harm’s way, then it wouldn’t matter about how much noise was made. He headed directly for the office-cum-cabin Tess had pointed out at a loping run. Now that he was closer he could hear men’s voices, but still had no view of them. Tess cautioned him that not all people at the site were involved in snatching his sister, but it wasn’t a consideration. He’d argued down Darius earlier, but if pressed he had to admit the old man’s point: if anyone tried to stop him, they were fair game.
A van door slid shut, slamming loudly.
A couple of the voices grew muffled, sealed within the van, and there was a solid thump as something shifted inside. He began creeping alongside the hut. Another voice rang out. ‘Go on, get the hell outta here!’
There was someone in the hut. The van’s engine roared to life. He heard the timbre of its growl change as it pulled away in a tight arch. Through the gap between the office and the meeting hall he spotted the rear end swing around, the lights flaring briefly as the driver touched the brakes. Then it changed direction, the driver having completed a ‘Y’-turn to point the van at the exit gate from the compound, and began to crawl for the gate, its thick tires struggling for traction in the churned muck. Clods of dirt rained behind it.
Tempted to dash after it, Po paused to take stock. He had no idea if Emilia was in the van, or if it had anything to do with her. But if she were inside then he had to stop it. That meant he’d have to run past the guy in the hut, and if it were one of the Menon’s and armed, then he’d be inviting a bullet in his spine. He chose a different tack, quickly pulling out his cell and speed-dialling Pinky.
‘The van’s leaving, and, hold on …’ He waited to be sure. ‘It’s turning your direction. Are you in position to stop it?’
‘We’re just about there, Nicolas. You leave it to us.’
Po hung up and immediately rang Francis.
‘I was expecting an explosion at least. This your big sign you said I wouldn’t miss?’
‘Change of plan. The van’s leaving, heading away from your position. I need you to back-up Tess and Pinky.’
‘Is Emilia in the van?’
‘That’s what I need you to find out. If she’s there, you need to get her out.’
Darius’s voice chimed in. ‘Where’s Zeke? I want him too.’
‘Just stop that fucking van,’ Po snapped in answer. He hung up before Darius could respond. He realized he’d spoken too loud. So much for his stealthy approach. The person inside the hut had fallen silent, and Po feared it was because he’d been heard. He quickly retreated, moving towards the rear of the cabin again. Footsteps from within told him that the person was walking in the opposite direction, towards the exit. Po took a quick peek through a window and glimpsed the back of a tall male wearing a baseball cap, just before he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. If the man was Zeke Menon, he had grown since Po had seen him last. Then again, Zeke had barely left his teens when Po had smashed his collarbone with the wrench, so he’d had a few years to mature and fill out. He was tempted to go after him and check; and beat Emilia’s location out of him. But he couldn’t make the same mistake Tess had earlier, when she’d ignored the possibility that the anteroom of the office could be Emilia’s holding cell.
He took another peek inside the office. The separating wall held only a single door and it had been pulled to. Tess said that a light had burned behind it earlier, and it did now. He could have sneaked around the front, checked that all was clear, and entered by the entrance door, but he had his knife. He used it to spring the window lock, and swarmed inside. Once inside, he knew he’d just missed Emilia because of the strips of torn duct tape littering the floor, following the path taken moments ago by the tall guy in the hat. It took no figuring that the duct tape had formed the bonds on a prisoner and they’d been cut or stripped loose when she’d been loaded into the van. He also spotted a wad of discarded napkins that were bright red with blood.
Emilia’s blood? He couldn’t know, but he’d place a bet on it that it was. More than ever he wanted to chase down Zeke Menon.
He scanned the site for any sign of him, but couldn’t see him. He chose to go to his right, because that was where the meeting room was, and if Zeke had gone anywhere it would be to report back to his superiors. Tess had mentioned a couple of ass-hats called Keane and Corbin. If Zeke wasn’t in the meeting room, he was sure one or other of them would be, and they deserved his wrath as much as anyone.
But before he reached it, he heard voices from his far left. He immediately swung around, dropping into a crouch so that he was mostly hidden behind a parked saloon car. He was under the full wash of bright floodlights, around which swarmed thousands of bugs. But the two men were hidden by the gloom at the far side of the compound. He had no way of telling who the voices belonged to: perhaps they were innocent construction workers. He glanced once at the meeting room. Yes, there seemed to be people within it, but again he couldn’t tell who without looking. He ignored the two distant men and quickly turned back for the meeting room.
He went into the gap between the cabins. Towards the front, the cabin had been jacked up on metal legs to level the floor, but Po was tall enough to spy through the venetian blinds. There were two individuals. One of them was a middle-aged guy who looked as if he had the woes of the world on his shoulders. He was struggling with the weight of his thoughts, judging by the way he propped his head in his hands, his elbows on a central large table. The second man was suited and had a tie knotted at his throat. His silver hair looked almost blue beneath the overhead strip lights as he paced back and forward, talking animatedly into a cellphone. Keane and Corbin, Po guessed. There was a third guy just out of his line of vision, and Po wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t shifted on the chair he’d taken in one corner, and only then could he make out the man’s laced-up black shoes and the bottoms of his suit trousers. Probably one of those chauffeurs Tess had mentioned from earlier, waiting patiently for his boss – Corbin – to finish up and leave. The chauffeur could also be a bodyguard. The third man’s presence didn’t worry Po, but had to be taken into consideration. He slipped away his knife in the sheath concealed in his high-topped boots, and drew the Glock supplied to him by Pinky. Deterring and killing were uses for a gun, but he had to admit they were also useful when it came to controlling a number of people too, generally commanding more res
pect than a single blade.
His best move? Go in through the front door, surprise the trio, and have them corralled within a few seconds. With a gun to their heads, one of them would quickly give up Emilia’s location. He’d also be able to force the full sorry story about their criminal scheme from them, for when they were handed over to the police. Po and his friends would require an ace card when it came to protecting their own liberty after conducting an unlawful rescue attempt like this. Decision made, he headed for the front.
His cellphone vibrated in his shirt pocket.
He was about to ignore it, because taking a call might upset his forward momentum, and allow the situation to change against him. Yet he slipped out the phone and checked the caller ID: Pinky.
Hopefully his friend had some good news for him, but a worm of unease worked through his mind. Pinky was calling sooner than expected.
‘You get her?’ he whispered as soon as he picked up.
‘We didn’t get in place in time, Nicolas. The van got through.’
‘Damnit …’
‘Must have beaten us by less than a half-minute, them. We blocked the road, but the only ones turned up was them Chatards.’
‘There are no other turn-offs between you and the site?’
‘Not that we know of, us. But we’re checking. My guess is the van got through, and that’s what Darius thinks too. Them Chatards just took off like frat boys on a beer run, think they can chase the van down, them.’
‘Damnit,’ Po said again.
‘Should we come back for you, Nicolas?’
Po thought about the men inside the meeting room. Pinky and Tess could help him to compel Emilia’s whereabouts out of them, hold them prisoner until the police arrived. But things had grown more time-sensitive. He believed there was only one reason why Emilia had been removed from the site, and it was not a good one. He thought about urging Pinky back, but to pick him up so they could take up the chase too.