by Brett Baker
I used the silent walk training that The Summit provided and let the outside of my foot contact the ground first, then rolled my foot inward, letting the ball make contact with the floor, and then finally the heel. I explored the first floor, hiding behind walls and around corners when possible, but remaining exposed for much of the time. Before I entered the casual great room, I paused and listened for breathing, hoping for a warning of someone’s presence prior to actually seeing them. But I heard no breathing because the room was empty, a fact I verified by traversing the entire perimeter. Content in my observation that the first floor was empty, I decided to go upstairs.
The wooden risers on the stairway had a carpet runner that covered the center of the step. I hoped the carpet would cushion my already-soft steps, and ensure that squeaky wood wouldn’t betray me. I stood at the bottom of the steps and leaned over the railing, looking straight up, hoping to see nothing, which is what I saw, except for an ornate iron chandelier. Had I not seen Logan with my own eyes I would have thought the entire house empty. I started the slow walk up the steps. I took a step, paused, tried to crane my neck to see more of the second floor, and when I saw nothing I took another step. I repeated this process fifteen times and stopped within a few steps of the second floor.
If Logan came around a corner at that moment I had nowhere to go and he’d surprise me more than I’d surprise him. He’d be so alarmed that I’d have no hope of him not yelling and warning anyone else in the house. I had no idea who might be on the second floor, and if Logan wasn’t alone it might mean bad news for me.
I decided not to spend too much time in the no man’s land of the top of the steps, so I scurried toward a couch in the landing area a few feet away and took cover next to it. I kicked the wall as I flipped my legs over the side of the couch, and when I landed, I noticed a black sole mark on the wall. Logan would notice the mark right away. I cowered as close to the ground as I could get, and waited for him to appear. When silence ruled for two more minutes I peeked my head over the side of the couch and saw nothing.
Satisfied that Logan hadn’t heard my foot hit the wall, I stood up and resumed my silent walk, significantly aided by the thick carpeting that covered the second floor. I reached a cross hallway and heard a television coming from the left, which was the same direction as the window from which I saw the light turn on when I was in the backyard. It seemed a safe assumption that Logan was in there. Before greeting him I decided to check the opposite end of the hall, across a catwalk. Three bedrooms and a bathroom were all empty, and I managed to avoid making more noise.
I crept back down the hall, toward the room with the television. I passed another bedroom, looked inside, paused, and heard nothing. At the end of the hallway, double doors opened into the bedroom with the television. I stood at the corner and listened. For two minutes I heard no sound other than the television, and then I heard Logan clear his throat. He did so three times, and then I heard a chair scoot against a wooden floor. No carpet. I listened to Logan drag his feet as he walked, but I couldn’t tell if he was walking toward me or away from me. The click of a door latch indicated that he’d entered another room within the bedroom. I instantly decided the moment of action had arrived.
Since I had no idea if anyone else was in the room, I had no choice but to enter aggressively. I threw myself around the corner, and instantly scanned the room while running toward the bed. If I saw anyone else in the room I would have instantly quieted them, as I couldn’t risk them warning Logan. So when I quickly realized the room was empty I breathed a sigh of relief. Awash in adrenaline I jumped toward the closed door, which I’d deduced was a bathroom from the sound of Logan urinating. I listened as he finished peeing and washed his hands. I stood just to the side of the doorway, on the latch side of the door, and waited. Logan remained almost completely silent inside the room for well over a minute, and I’d just begun to worry that he might have heard me when I heard the doorknob click.
I bent my knees and crouched low to the floor. The door opened and Logan took one step into the bedroom and I threw myself toward him, driving my shoulder into his side. When I saw him downstairs with his friend he looked like he’d lost weight. He hadn’t been fat in Kazakhstan, more like average, on his way to heavy. But as I wrapped my arms around his chest and forced him to the ground he felt much slimmer. I took him down in one fluid motion, his left side crashing against the floor, his head bouncing off the wall, my body knocking the wind out of him. He grunted involuntarily as I knocked the wind out of him, and before he could recover I delivered three quick punches to the side of his head. He tried to sit up, but I adjusted my body and placed my knee in his groin.
“Mia!” he said, with more excitement than dread. I didn’t expect him to recognize me so easily or quickly. His recognition of me worked in my favor though, as instead of fighting back he froze and waited for me to respond to his greeting.
My response was a quick punch to his left cheek with my right hand, which sent his head jerking to his right. I punched him again, and then placed my hands flat on his shoulders, pinning them to the ground. One more quick punch to the same cheek, and then I held his right cheek to the floor with my knee, which exposed the back of his head. I closed my fingers so my palm formed a flat, hard surface, and I punched a spot halfway between the bottom of his left earlobe and his spine. One of the most sensitive spots of the head, a punched delivered there in the proper way almost guaranteed immediate incapacitation. Logan was no different and I could feel his body go limp almost as soon as I made contact. The release of muscle tension was so immediate and complete that I knew he was unconscious.
Although I subdued Logan as easily as I had hoped, the encounter still caused a ruckus, and I worried that anyone else in the house might be alarmed and come check on Logan. I felt reasonably certain that no one else was in the house, but just in case I dragged Logan’s body to the far side of the bed so anyone entering the room wouldn’t see him, and then I waited by the door. Anyone who entered would have received the same punch to the back of the head that Logan received, but without me taking them to the ground first. I waited five minutes, and when no one else came in, I figured I had the place to myself.
I ran down the stairs and checked to make sure all of the doors were locked. I assumed that Logan’s friend in the Porsche had left for the night, but if she was coming back I at least wanted a locked door between us. I turned off the few lights that remained on so it would appear no one was home, or at least no one was awake. I’d need some light to prepare Logan, but I would try to keep the illumination to a minimum.
After securing the house I went back upstairs. Logan still remained out of it next to the bed. I dragged him out of the bedroom and down the hall to the top of the steps. I had a general idea of how I wanted to engage with Logan even before I arrived in Sunizona, but I had no idea how the details would work out until I stood at the top of the stairs moments before. Everything came together in my mind at once, and the first part of the plan, subduing Logan, couldn’t have gone better.
To begin the second, more physical demanding part of my plan, I needed yards of strong, sturdy rope. If Logan didn’t have any rope then I’d need to adapt, and I had no plan B at that moment, so as I walked downstairs and opened the door to his garage I prayed that I’d find some rope.
Logan didn’t disappoint. Tucked into the corner of his garage, on top of an old oil barrel, sat a large spool of thick nautical rope. I carried the spool inside and up the stairs, which left me winded. I sat on the spool to catch my breath and watched Logan’s chest move up and down every few seconds. His breathing had slowed, which wasn’t unusual, as the blow to the head that I delivered affected the brain stem and curtailed all of the body’s functions. The blow had always been effective, but the fine line between hitting someone hard enough to knock them out, and a blow that’s too hard and kills them, has always made me nervous. Logan was obviously just knocked out, but his bodily functions, including his breathing
, had slowed to a crawl.
I unwound some rope from the spool and used the knot tying skills that The Summit imparts on all of its agents to secure five ropes to individual balusters on the far railing of the catwalk that connected the opposite ends of the second floor. Then I lay the ropes across the carpeted catwalk floor, and tied knots around the balusters on the near railing. The two sets of knots might have been redundant, but I wanted to remain in control of events. A knot that came loose, or a rope that broke, or a baluster that splintered could sabotage my entire plan.
With sufficient secondary precautions taken, I dragged Logan to the catwalk. I sat him up and leaned him against the near railing, and then tied the first rope around his chest, just under his armpits. I cinched it tight so he wouldn’t come loose. I did the same thing with three other ropes, all approximately the same length as the first one. Confident that my knot-tying abilities hadn’t faltered, I took the last rope, which was two feet longer than any of the other four ropes, and fashioned a hangman’s knot. A terrible, dark dread overcame me as I prepared the rope. Although we’d be trained numerous times how to tie a hangman’s knot, I’d never done one that I intended to use. The brutal, quick finality of the act perpetuated with assistance from the knot sent chills through me when I thought about it. When considered in terms of sheer intense force upon the delicate human body, hanging is the most perverse form of death.
I slipped the hangman’s noose over Logan’s head and pulled it tight to make sure it worked properly. Perfect. Satisfied that it would fit around his neck securely, I loosened it as much as I could without it slipping off. I stood behind Logan, and taking care not to tangle myself in any of the five ropes, I lifted him to his knees and then to his feet, before spinning him and draping him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Leaning against the railing, I slowly lowered him off my shoulder until the ropes supported his weight, two feet below the edge of the catwalk.
With Logan suspended just like I had envisioned, I walked down the stairs and stood beneath him. I briefly worried about the ropes squeezing his chest too hard and making it impossible for him to breathe, especially with his decreased breathing rate, but after watching him for five minutes I noticed no noticeable change, so I decided not to worry about it. He wore no shoes or socks, so I went into the kitchen and filled a large pot with ice water. I carried the pot back to the stairway, and placed Logan’s feet in it. Immediately, his legs moved slightly, and after half a minute he lifted them to pull his feet out of the water, and he began shaking his head a few seconds after that.
“Lloyd! Lloyd! Wake up. I know your feet are cold, wake up.” He groaned slightly, and lifted his feet again, even though they were no longer in the water. “Come on, Lloyd. Talk to me.” Another groan, which I rewarded with another ice bath for his feet. He gasped this time and pulled his feet up, and started kicking in the air.
“Cold,” he said, slightly slurred and highly irritated.
“Damn right it’s cold, Lloyd. It’s supposed to be cold. I had to wake you up somehow. Open your eyes.”
Logan moved his head to the left and right as if looking for the source of my voice, but his eyes were still closed.
“Down here, buddy,” I said. I slapped his feet with my hands. “I’m down here, Lloyd.”
He moved his head down toward me, but still with his eyes closed. It seemed like it took as much force as he could muster for him to pry his eyelids open slightly, and when he saw me a smile spread over his face. He nodded and closed his eyes.
“Walk over here, Lloyd,” I said. His feet moved and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to walk or trying to stand up. Either way he obviously didn’t go anywhere. “Sorry ‘bout that, Lloyd. I guess you’re not going anywhere right now.” I took one of his ankles in each of my hands and pulled down on them. I briefly pictured the ropes giving way and pulling him on top of me, but my knot tying abilities prevented that. He lifted his head as if to look straight ahead, and when he opened his eyes he seemed to understand that something had changed.
He looked down at me and his eyes became large, and he looked to the left and right, and then reached out for me. “Get me down. Get me down right now.”
“I’m sorry, Lloyd. We’ve got some business to take care of before I get you down. For now you’re staying right there. How long you’re up there is entirely up to you.”
“Mia, babe, what are you doing? Get me down. Why am I up here like some picture on a wall?” Lloyd looked to either side, and tried to reach out and touch the catwalk, but he was too far away. He touched his chest and for the first time noticed his restraints. He moved his hands around his chest, to his sides, and then finally noticed the rope around his neck. “What the…” He looked down at me, kicked his legs, and said, “Mia, why the fuck am I up here? Is this some kind of joke?” He laughed a fake, nervous, uncomfortable laugh, and then said, “You got me, you got me. Good prank. Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Now cut me down and we’ll have a glass of wine.”
“It’s not a prank, Lloyd. You should know me well enough that I don’t do pranks. I don’t have time for that shit. This is serious.”
“What the fuck are you doing? How did you get in here, and why are you doing this to me?”
“Before we get started there’s one thing that’s very important for you to understand. I am the one asking questions. You are not asking questions. That’s how this is going to work. You’re not in a position to ask questions. I, on the other hand, am in a position to do whatever the fuck I want. So you shut your fucking mouth unless you’re answering my questions. Otherwise, you’re not going to like how this turns out.”
“Mia! Stop it. Who put you up to this? Are you in danger?”
“That’s two questions, Lloyd. You just asked two questions after I told you that you’re not permitted to ask any questions. Stop asking questions.”
“I don’t understand! What about Kazakhstan? I thought we did so well there. I treated you like my sister. I protected you, I looked out for you.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said. “You treated me like your sister? You make constant sexual innuendo toward your sister? You inappropriately touch your sister? What the fuck kind of sicko are you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mia. We were never like that.”
“I was never like that,” I said. “You were like that all the time. You wanted to get into my pants the moment you saw me in the airport. And if I hadn’t already had to deal with men like you a thousand times in my life I would have had no choice but to give in. Boy, am I glad it never came to that.”
“What happened to you, Mia? You’re not the same person I knew then. You’ve changed. What is going on?”
“God damn it! I can’t take your fucking stupidity,” I screamed. I walked to the kitchen while Logan yelled for me to come back. Although I searched for a sharp knife, I found a candle lighter first, and decided that would work just as well, if not better. I walked back to Logan, and ignored whatever inanities he was bellowing, and walked up the stairs. He followed me with his eyes and pleaded for me to stop. I kneeled on the floor of the catwalk, directly above Logan. He looked up at me, which seemed like it required intense use of every muscle in his upper body. The noose around his neck prevented a full range of motion, but he could tilt his head back just far enough to see me.
“What are you doing? Mia, talk to me. Mia!”
I ignored Logan’s whining, adjusted the lighter to the largest flame possible, and pressed the ignition button. A three-inch flame with a bright blue base instantly appeared. I put my hand on one of the ropes, and traced it to Logan’s body. After confirming it didn’t lead to the noose, I held the flame to the rope and the smell of burning hemp wafted upward. The fibers glowed and singed and then pulled apart. When the last few fibers gave way the rope attached to Logan snapped down and hit him in the head.
“Don’t fucking do that, Mia! Don’t you burn those ropes.”
I left the catwalk and went b
ack down the stairs. As I approached Logan again, I asked, “Do you understand now? I ask the questions. You give the answers. That’s how it will be.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here, Mia. Give me a little latitude. We were friends the last time I saw you, and now you’ve got me hanging in my own home. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know where this is coming from.”
“Let’s start with the obvious. I’m going to say a name, and when I say that name everything should be clear to you. That way I’ll have less to explain. There’s nothing that pisses me off more than having to explain something to someone who should already know what I’m telling them.” Logan looked at me, but said nothing. “Abner Chamberlain.”
The expression on Logan’s face didn’t change. Anyone who watched our exchange from afar, but couldn’t hear what we were saying would have assumed that I’d said nothing of importance to Logan.
“Lloyd, here’s the part where you say, ‘I understand. Let’s talk about this.’ So I’m going to pause, and give you a moment to collect your thoughts, and then you can say what you need to say.”
I looked at Logan and he looked at me, but the expression on his face didn’t change. I nodded, walked toward him, and then past him, beneath the catwalk, out of his line of sight. I returned a couple of minutes later, smiled at him, and said, “Abner Chamberlain.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Logan said.
“Logan!” I yelled. “Lloyd Logan, you might want to rethink that answer.”
“I’m sorry, Mia. I don’t think that I’m the person you think I am. You must have me confused with someone else.”
“That’s right,” I said. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I have you confused with someone else. This is all just one giant misunderstanding.” I turned my back to Logan and walked up the stairs again. Logan said nothing as he tried to gauge whether I meant what I said about it being a misunderstanding. Not until I lit the candle lighter and leaned through the balusters again did he know that I was being sarcastic.