“Do you mind not touching the steering wheel while I’m driving? Can we just install that rule right now?”
“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.”
And as Nathan drove off, he had to ask…
“What was that all about?”
“Batman. My version.”
It was a different part of town, nicer, more upscale, but also less residential, and Olive was directing Nathan to the theater on Dawson Street.
“Slow down, clutch rider. Make the next right.”
Nathan made the turn, pulling into a dead end street.
“Damn, I keep forgetting, they blocked off this street last summer. Make a U-turn.”
Nathan was about to do just that, consulting his rear view mirror, when he noticed a Cadillac blocking him in, all four doors swinging open.
Morris. Kollo. And two of Kollo’s clones. Kollo and his clones wielded aluminum bats.
“Seriously?” Nathan said under his breath.
“What’s wrong?”
Nathan found his pack of cigarettes and extracted one, lighting it.
“Lock the doors.”
Olive followed instructions as Nathan exited.
“How’re you doing, sport? Remember me?” Morris asked.
“The shutter guy, right?”
“You’ve got a real smart mouth for a man who’s about to get most of his teeth knocked out. But judging by your face, somebody almost beat me to it.”
“Look, why don’t we avoid all of this? Give me Zeke’s outstanding balance and I’ll make sure you get paid.”
“That’s very thoughtful. But your buddy, Zeke, he’s already managed to settle his account. He also volunteered a description of your friend’s vehicle after gently being queried about how best to locate you. Thankfully, an exquisite classic like that isn’t very difficult to find. Anyway, given everything you’ve just been made aware of, I’m sure you’ve already correctly surmised that this is all about you, sport. The price you pay for interfering.”
Morris lit a cigarette of his own – his signal for his men to advance. Events were about to unfold very quickly now. And much to Olive’s chagrin, she was about to get an insider’s view of the disfigurement that was about to occur to her beloved Gremlin.
The first Kollo clone took a swing at Nathan’s head and missed, shattering the Gremlin’s rear window, sending shards of glass into the interior of the vehicle. Nathan hit him only once – as usual. And as the first Kollo clone writhed in pain on the pavement, the second Kollo clone appeared at the end of an almighty swing, which missed and ripped a gaping hole in the Gremlin’s roof. Nathan hit him only once as well, taking out his knee – a sickening thing to watch because knees are not designed to flex in that direction.
Kollo himself was next. He bellowed as he attacked, swinging once, twice, three and four times, missing each time, but crunching the Gremlin with every swat.
Nathan finally managed to get him in a compromising position, wrenching Kollo’s arm at an odd angle as he disarmed him. Nathan could easily have broken Kollo’s arm, dislocated an elbow, a shoulder, something – and Kollo realized as much, bracing himself for the worst as he and Nathan locked eyes in a frozen stare.
Nathan released him instead. Kollo backed off, wide-eyed and thankful, completely tame now.
Nathan found Morris who had hastily tossed his cigarette and was busy scrambling into his Cadillac, fishtailing the hell out of there, leaving Kollo and his clones to fend for themselves. Degenerates work this way. No sense of loyalty.
Nathan finally fell to one knee, favoring his rib cage, grimacing all the way, his adrenaline rush diminishing and the reality of his painful injuries setting in. Olive leapt out of her car, catching him before he doubled over.
“I’ve got you.”
“Falcon hell. That hurt.”
“Falcon? That’s your swear word?”
“I have a limited vocabulary when it comes to swear words.”
“You really are just a nerd, aren’t you? Come on.”
“I can drive.”
“Not happening, clutch rider. Deal with it – so good luck with your psychosis.”
She loaded him into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut, regarding her pulverized car for a moment, caressing it.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
JPEG – now playing, flashed across a theater’s marquee. A poster for the next coming attraction, prominently displayed on the theater’s secondary window, promised sex and blood.
Nathan and Olive stood on a rooftop overlooking the theater. He had fresh skin burns and newly torn clothing along with vomit stains on one of the legs of his pants, but that all happened a while ago, after Nathan bailed out of Olive’s moving car a half mile before reaching the theater. Yeah, he walked the rest of the way.
“He’s not going to allow me to walk out of the theater with my mother and the money. Not without handing him what he wants.” Olive said, not thrilled with Nathan’s plan.
“Your mother won’t be there. Not inside, anyway. She’s the only leverage he’s got. If they bring her at all, they’ll probably keep her hidden in a car and they’ll probably park in that alley behind the theater, best spot around. If they don’t bring her, I’ll find out where she’s being held. Both theater exits will be covered, by the way, which is why you’re going in right now.”
“It’s only four o’clock.”
“Buy some popcorn and hang out in a women’s room stall. Keep out of sight. When the time comes, it’s imperative you exit into the alley but not until about 8:30 or so. I’ll need some time.”
“Okay, so how do I approach him? What do I say?”
The smart phone with a preloaded crytocurrency wallet app slid into a black leather briefcase, which was loaded with U.S. currency. Colin closed it, finding Jenkins and Clarke. Jenkins was missing a front tooth, but you couldn’t tell because his jaw had also been broken and was now wired shut, his lips discolored and swollen.
Colin exited his guesthouse without saying a word, grim. Clarke and Jenkins followed closely after him. Munda remained behind, guarding Waltona who was tied on a couch. She was also gagged because even though the guesthouse was well separated and hidden from the main house, she needed to be kept quiet. People were already milling about on the property, some smoking or vaping, others drinking or simply chatting, everyone gathering for Lidia’s fundraiser. Nobody noticed Colin and his men leave.
Colin and his black leather briefcase materialized at the end of a line of people shuffling into the theater. Across the street, Clarke maintained a low profile as he scanned the area for Nathan or Olive or both.
In the rear alley, covering the other exit, Jenkins sat in an SUV, weapon on his lap. He adjusted the rearview mirror to examine his throbbing lips, applying a dab of soothing ointment.
Nathan unexpectedly jumped into the passenger seat, quickly snatching Jenkins’ gun.
“Look at us. We’re a mess.” Nathan said, quite sincere. He quickly glanced into the rear seat. No Waltona. “Where’s the woman?”
Jenkins didn’t respond, clandestinely looking down at his boot where he had a knife ankle-holstered. Nathan jabbed him in the jaw with the butt end of the gun.
“Ahhhh! My jaw, my jaw!” Jenkins screamed in mumbled agony.
“Good, you’re awake. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan jabbed him again, harder this time. Jenkins screeched in pain, twisting away, entire body convulsing.
“I can do this all night.” Nathan threatened.
“Please.” Jenkins pleaded.
“You’ve entered a low point in your life, you should be made aware of that. And you’re only about one second away from going even lower.”
“All right, all right! She’s being held at Ford’s estate.”
Nathan hit Jenkins in the jaw again because he didn’t believe him. Jenkins howled, his entire body seeming to go into epileptic shock – it was that painful.
“He’s hosting a fundraiser there tonight. You’ll have to come up with something better than that.” Nathan insisted.
“She’s there. In his guesthouse. I swear. Please don’t hit me again.”
Nathan believed him this time. That was absolutely genuine.
“All right. Is that the correct time?” Nathan asked, pointing out a digital clock display on the dash. Jenkins cross-referenced it with his wristwatch, nodding, his body still twitching. Plus, it was just too painful to speak.
“Okay, in about ten minutes I’m going to order you to key the ignition and drive. Now normally, I can’t tolerate being chauffeured, so we’ll just have to wait and see how well this entire plan plays out. Stems from my childhood, an old girlfriend told me. This phobia I have. I’d become a control freak, she said, a type of perfectionist, defending myself against my own vulnerabilities in the mistaken belief that if I didn’t feel as if I were always in control, especially around machinery, I risked exposing myself once again to repressed painful memories of childhood angst. She advised me to periodically try to break my pattern and let other people drive, allowing the feeling of powerlessness to wash over me because those sorts of experiences would eventually help desensitize me, help bring me back to the person I could be. She advised me to close my eyes and hum a tune while thinking of pleasant memories as she drove me around every once in a while… circling the block… running the odd errand – and I tried it – but it was her insistence that I keep trying that led to our breakup. She was wrong, you see, my condition, which was unknown and therefore undiagnosed at the time – it’s called amaxophobia and it’s quite real – requires a peculiar type of medication that causes my face to stiffen and my feet to swell and a few other things that are too embarrassing to divulge to strangers – and the medication doesn’t really work all that well anyway, I mean, my heart still beats out of my chest, my saliva still evaporates and I continue to vomit and perspire and tremble uncontrollably. It’s not very pleasant. Anyway, I actually said goodbye to that woman quite abruptly one day, the only woman I’ve ever really loved, from the passenger seat of her car, while returning home from a dentist appointment… whose office was only two blocks away. She’s married now, three kids, but I’ve thought a lot about what she said over the years, and I still try to follow her advice every now and then, especially when I’m riding in cabs or find myself in situations like this one, so in about eight minutes, with you at the helm, I’ll be giving her placebo effect strategy another honest try.”
Jenkins nodded but he hadn’t really been listening. His mind was on something else. Slowly, very slowly, he had been reaching for his knife.
Colin sat alone in the theater, alert, briefcase on his lap, not watching the movie, which was just starting, scanning his surroundings instead. Olive managed to surprise him anyway as she suddenly materialized in an adjacent seat.
“Give me your cell phone.”
“Where’s Nathan?”
“Your phone.”
“Where is he?”
“You didn’t follow his instructions about bringing my mother along, so now he’s flipped. Gone mad, you understand? He’s sitting right behind you. Told me to tell you in the clearest possible way that if you glance back over your shoulder at him, he’ll shatter your face.”
Only Colin’s eyes moved as he attempted a peek. No help, of course. Olive held out her hand for his phone. He finally complied. She promptly turned it off.
“Crack that open.” Olive ordered, referring to Colin’s briefcase.
Colin unlatched it, opening it slightly. Olive illuminated its contents with her cell phone. A smart phone loaded with Bitcoin was laying there in a bed of green on green.
“Close it and put it on my lap.” Olive directed.
Colin complied.
“He’ll be tapping you on the shoulder a few moments after I’m gone. That’ll be your cue to turn around, work things out from there. I’ll leave your phone under my seat. I’d refrain from reaching for it to alert or coordinate with your people, I mean unless he tells you it’s OK.” Olive advised as she got up and left, disappearing through an emergency exit and out into the alley where she saw Nathan sitting in the SUV’s driver’s seat.
She climbed in, surprised to find a knife jammed into the passenger seat’s headrest. What the hell? She quickly peered into the rear of the vehicle, expecting to find her mother, but found Jenkins instead, laying there dead, his head lolling at an impossible chiropractic angle.
“Oh my God!”
“I didn’t mean to kill him.” Nathan said, visibly shaken.
“Where’s my mother?”
“I reacted, it was all just impulse.”
“Hey! Look at me.”
Nathan faced her for the first time with his vacant stare. She slapped him, which had the effect of reviving him in a way.
“One day, we’ll both deal with the psychological issues associated with taking a life – in therapy. Right now, I need you here. Focused.” Olive demanded.
Nathan nodded. “I know where your mother is.” he said.
Olive pulled the knife free from the headrest and tossed it into the back, settling in.
“Drive.”
Nathan keyed the ignition and sped off.
In the theater, Colin continued to sit motionless, eager to glance over his shoulder, but too frightened to do so. A pair of voices, male and female, erupted into laughter right behind him. He finally summoned the courage to crane around slowly… and found a young overweight couple laughing it up, completely enjoying the movie.
Colin retrieved his phone, turning it on as he stormed out through the emergency exit into the rear alley. Olive, Nathan and Jenkins were gone. He dialed Clarke, summoning him to the rear of the theater from his current surveillance position out front. There was also a voice message from Roger. Nathan’s ransomware had been defeated with very limited data loss.
Valets worked feverishly to park expensive cars outside Colin’s lakeside estate.
Inside, delicious hors d’oeuvres were being served to well-dressed, well-coifed people, including Lidia, who was soon to become the center of attention. Roger approached her.
“Congratulations, counselor.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Ford asked that I extend his apologies for not being able to be here just yet, but he’s on his way. He also instructed that I introduce you to a few of his dearest friends.”
“That would be lovely.”
Roger offered his arm. Lidia took it, walking off with him.
It was an hour later and people were still arriving, valets still hustling to park vehicles. Nathan and Olive pulled up.
“What the hell is this?” Olive asked.
“Political fundraiser.”
“My mother is being held against her will at a political fundraiser?”
“Got any chocolate?”
“No.”
“Probably for the best. I’m going to try to make it around back without running into trouble. It’s 9:22. If I’m not back by…”
“Call the police?”
“Sure.”
Nathan moved to exit but Olive grabbed his arm.
“You’re OK, right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m good.”
“Good is not good enough. If my mother’s in there, I need you to be great. I need you to be you.”
“I’ll be back with her soon.” Nathan said as he exited, managing to avoid arriving guests, ghosting around the side of the house before disappearing.
When he reached the rear of the dwelling, he scaled a wall, climbing onto an empty second floor balcony. The sliding door was open. He entered to find Colin’s bedroom, spacious and beautifully decorated, as expected. He stepped into an enormous walk-in closet to find only luxurious clothing, including at least twenty tuxedos.
By the time he showed up downstairs and joined the festivities, he looked completely rid
iculous in an ill-fitting tux. Plus, his injuries made him appear as though he’d just returned from a war zone. Not a good combination for maintaining a low profile.
He made his way toward a server who was passing out expensive cigars on a silver platter and took one, lighting it on his way to Lidia, who was now standing alone outside on a spacious deck, enjoying a warm breeze. All the while, people were pulling second takes. They weren’t alarmed or worried, they were just curious. Who was this eccentric fellow? A famous artist or movie director, perhaps? The whisper stream mushroomed with theories.
Olive was getting anxious. It was now 9:55 and valets were still frantically parking cars and hers would soon be next. She couldn’t just back up and drive off either, because more cars had arrived and she was now hopelessly blocked in. And there was the issue of a dead body in the rear seat. She had to abandon the vehicle. Now.
She took the briefcase and exited, blazing a trail around the house similar to the one Nathan took. It wasn’t long before she was staring down the barrel of Clarke’s handgun, Colin standing right behind him. Colin relieved her of the briefcase, quickly checking its contents. Everything was still there.
“Excellent. This means Nathan is also here. Get her into the guest house.” Colin ordered.
Nathan sidled next to Lidia, who didn’t realize he was there until he spoke.
“I’d offer you chocolate, but I don’t think we should see each other any more.” Nathan said.
She spun, shocked to see him, looking him up and down, taking in his ill-fitting clothing, sleeves and slacks too short, white gym socks showing well above his ankles. And his facial injuries, of course. Nathan straightened out his lapel as a way of apologizing for his appearance.
“I was pressed for time so I had to get this off-the-rack.” Nathan explained.
“You sure choose your appearances, don’t you?”
“You sold me out for campaign contributions?”
“You ask as if that’s a bad thing.”
Wicked Seeds Page 10