The sound of the plane’s engine became deafening as Willy raced across the water in fear. The beach was close now, fifteen yards, ten, five…
Willy’s entire body exploded in a massive flash of pain as the plane’s right pontoon hit him dead on in the middle of his back, shattering his spine and pulverizing his heart and lungs. The plane’s velocity kept his body suspended for a couple of seconds while the Sea-Doo hit the beach and flipped end over end before coming to rest upright some thirty feet from the shore.
As the plane began a steep ascent to clear the large copse of mature trees ahead, Willy’s body tumbled to the ground, landing in a jumbled heap. The plane rose higher, its pontoons grazing the topmost branches of a tall oak, and began to circle for its second landing attempt.
Chapter 9
Saturday - 4:32 p.m.
Of all the pleasures of life available to mankind, the two which topped Nose’s list were cocaine, one source of his nickname, and the ladies. The coke was rarely a problem as he generally always had a personal stash with him for when the desire arose, made rather easy since he oversaw coke distribution for the crew. Female companionship, however, was more difficult to come by because, though not an ugly man by any means, he wasn’t particularly attractive either, mainly because of his rather large, bulbous nose; the other source of his nickname.
He had therefore been rather disappointed upon learning that the particular home chosen for their weekend extravaganza was occupied by three middle-aged men without a female in sight. He had hoped Butch would decide to tie the guys up and move on to somewhere else but there had been no indication so far that they would be leaving any time soon.
After he and Razor had completed the strenuous task of getting Ape’s body from the dining room to the laundry room at the opposite end of the house, Nose had had enough of the boys’ party and gone off in search of solitude. Armed with a bottle of Glenlivet, he had headed to the dock and settled in the owner’s catamaran, soaking in the sun, snorting the occasional line and sipping from his bottle. From where he laid, he had been well positioned to see a bass boat coast by, clearly heading toward shore, most likely to the neighboring property.
This, in itself, would have been a non-event for Nose with the exception that the boat’s occupants had been two rather attractive women. Though they had appeared to be in their late forties, perhaps a bit older, they had seemed to be in fine shape and, for Nose, a lady was a lady.
Since the moment they had cruised by a little earlier, Nose had been able to think of nothing else and could not stop the continuous tingling in his groin. Making his decision, he grabbed his running shoes and t-shirt then left the boat and casually sauntered along the property’s beach until he was out of sight of the others on the terrace. Butch would not approve of his plan to go off searching for the women without prior consultation and a few of his associates just might mention his wandering off if they saw him. Subtle backstabbing and ratting out others were common activities among the crew as each did whatever possible to earn points with Butch.
He stopped for a moment at the end of the beach to put on his shoes and shirt then forged ahead through the wooded area before him toward the neighboring property, remaining alert for signs of anyone around him. Following four or five minutes of cautious trekking, he noted a thinning of the trees ahead. Slowing his pace, he continued forward, pulling his Taurus Slim 9mm pistol from a pocket of his baggy jeans as he went.
* * * *
“Damn, this thing is heavy,” said Cathy as they gave the Sea-Doo one last push, bringing it along the side wall of the neighbor’s home.
“Good thing there were five of us,” Leslie agreed. “But we just couldn’t leave it in plain sight. Any one of those idiots comes cruising along and they’d spot it immediately. It’s still pretty noticeable here. I’d rather we cover it if we can.”
“I’ll go see what I can find in the shed,” offered Sandy. “Everyone covers their firewood in the winter. There must be some tarps in there.”
As Sandy hurried off, Josée stated the obvious. “We’ll need to hide the body too.”
“Too conspicuous?” Leslie asked to lighten the mood. “Yeah, I’d rather get him in a tarp too before we move him.”
Sandy emerged from the shed and jogged the short distance back, carrying several blue polyethylene tarpaulins and a coil of nylon rope.
“Got what we need,” she said. “We’ll want to have a better look in that shed. There’s a bunch of tools and stuff which might be useful until we find some real weapons.”
“We’ll check it out,” Leslie replied. “You and Cathy cover up the Sea-Doo. The three of us will stash that body somewhere.”
“There’s a cold room in the basement at the front of the house,” said Sandy. “The stairs are at the end of the hallway past the sunroom. Probably better inside than out where animals might get to it.”
“Makes sense,” said Leslie as she turned to Dominique and Josée. “Come on, ladies. Let’s take in the trash.”
* * * *
As Nose approached the clearing, a house came into view and he could hear voices, likely female, though he couldn’t distinguish what they were saying. Creeping forward, he took cover behind some bushes and as he peered through the branches, he spotted two women, the same two he had seen cruise by on the boat. They were busy at the side of the house, covering some big and bulky object with a large tarpaulin.
Scanning the area, he saw no one else around and hoped these two lovely ladies were alone. He noticed a plane moored at the dock and grinned at the thought of going for a ride with the two women, getting it on in the air. If they were alone, it was likely that one or both were pilots and his fantasy could actually come true.
Deciding there was no time like the present, he stepped into the clearing and moved toward them across the lawn, approaching quickly but soundlessly from behind as they concentrated on their task.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, his smile and friendly demeanour in contradiction with the pistol he held trained on them.
Startled, both women spun around and stared back at him in shock for a moment before one spoke.
“What the hell is this?” Sandy demanded. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Well, well,” Nose replied, his confidence fuelled by cocaine, single malt scotch and his gun. “Aren’t you a feisty one?”
“She’s not feisty,” Cathy snapped. “You come barging on our property pointing a gun at us. What do you expect? That we offer you a drink?”
Nose grinned. “Actually, a drink would be nice if you’re offering.”
“We’re not offering,” Cathy shot back, taking a step forward.
“Whoa, babe,” said Nose, stepping away and raising the gun. “Stay the fuck where you are.”
“What happens if she doesn’t?” Leslie asked from behind him. “Don’t move and drop the gun or I’ll hurt you real bad.”
Nose stiffened and became statue-like but held onto the gun.
“I know I spoke quickly and you’re probably slow,” said Leslie, “But I really need you to drop the gun right now if you don’t want me to hurt you.”
With his gun arm already extended, Nose suddenly spun around, ready to shoot and in the few seconds which followed, several things happened. First, Nose heard the high-pitched, whirring sound of an electric motor. As he completed his spin, he felt a severe flash of pain and saw his right forearm, from just below the elbow to the hand holding the gun, drop to the ground as blood spewed from his amputated limb. Last of all, he saw a gorgeous but clearly angry woman with flaming red hair, but he only saw her for a second before she slashed deeply into his chest with a battery-powered chainsaw and ended his life.
Chapter 10
Saturday - 4:49 p.m.
“Are you two sure you’re okay?” asked Leslie.
Having had to deal with not one but two bodies since their recent arrival, they now sat in the sunroom of the neighbor’s home, getting over the c
hainsaw incident. The exception was Dominique who was diligently pacing from room to room, spying out the windows for other unwanted visitors all while scrolling from camera to camera at the Barry residence via Josée’s iPad which she thankfully had left in the plane.
“I’m fine, Les, really,” Sandy replied, not for the first time.
“Same for me,” said Cathy. “Though I certainly was happy to see you.”
“You can thank Sandy for that,” Leslie replied. “I came back out to check the shed and saw the schmuck creeping toward you two.”
“Well then, thanks to both of you,” said Cathy. “I’m just not sure what we would have done if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
“I heard you talking back to him,” Leslie praised. “You even started going for him.”
“Instinct, I guess,” said Cathy. “I have to admit, I’m a bit shaky now but I wasn’t at the time. Just the thought that he was one of them, with that bastard we saw beating on Dave…”
She cut off abruptly as her eyes welled up with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be, sweetie,” Sandy murmured, offering a comforting hug. “Chris and Jon are in there too. We get how you’re feeling.”
“We all get it,” said Leslie, squeezing Josée’s shoulder who sat beside her. “How about you, Jo? Are you okay with what happened?”
“You mean with the plane and the Sea-Doo?” asked Josée.
“Yes,” Leslie replied. “That took some guts.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Josée. “I’ll crash that damned plane into the whole lot of them if I have a chance. The little bastard had it coming to him. I’m fine.”
“Looks like I have myself a team,” said Leslie, getting back to business. “Moving forward, we’re going to need some better weapons than battery-powered garden tools.”
Cathy laughed through her dwindling tears. “I’m not sure about that where you’re concerned, girl.”
“I improvised as required,” Leslie replied. “At least we now have that schmuck’s gun. Did the idiot on the Sea-Doo have anything?”
“Just a switchblade,” said Josée. “No gun.”
“Damn,” said Leslie. “One pistol isn’t enough. We don’t know if these guys are all armed or not but they most likely are and we can’t be going at them empty-handed. The good news is, I know exactly where to get whatever we need.”
“You’re thinking of Chris’ weapons vault.” Sandy stated, not asked.
Above the Barrys’ garage was a large workout and leisure room furnished with a variety of gym equipment, a pool table, Jacuzzi and sauna. Concealed behind one wall between the sauna and bathroom was a four by eight foot locked vault filled with an assortment of firearms, ammunition and other weaponry.
“Unless we reconsider asking Alex at the marina, or his brother,” said Leslie, “Do you know any place else in the area where we could get what we need on such short notice?”
“No, I don’t,” Sandy admitted, “But they have guys out front keeping an eye on things. How are we going to get in there without getting caught?”
“I really don’t think this should be a group activity. The more we are, the better the chances of someone seeing one of us,” Leslie replied. “I’m good at what I do, Sandy. There’s a back door to the garage with the stairs going up inside. You have the veranda on the second floor with the outside staircase leading up to it and another door to get in. There are windows if the doors aren’t viable entry points. Also, the last time I saw, the doors to all five bays were wide open. I’m sure I can get in there without getting caught.”
“I don’t know, Les,” said Cathy. “If we’re right about Chris meaning there were thirteen of them, there are still eleven left. I don’t like eleven to one odds.”
“Based on what I’ve seen with the cameras,” Dominique announced as she entered the sunroom, her eyes glued to the iPad, “There are ten of them left and I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss any of them. Your camera coverage of the property is excellent, Sandy.”
“It’s possible Chris had miscounted,” said Leslie, “Or that’s not what he meant when he said the thirteenth.”
Dominique shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that is what he meant. Take a look at this video and you’ll see why they’re down to ten.”
They gathered around Dominique and watched the very short clip of Jonathan taking Ape permanently out of the picture.
“Wow,” Josée uttered in awe as she stared at the frozen image of the dead man on the screen. “That was quick.”
“Your husband is very efficient,” said Leslie.
“I was aware of that,” Josée replied, her pride apparent. “I’ve seen him train but, wow.”
“So, good, we’re down to ten,” said Cathy, “But I still don’t like those odds.”
Leslie grinned. “Those odds just improved by almost ten percent. This will be a piece of cake.”
“As much as I hate to say so, I have to agree with Leslie on this,” said Josée. “We can’t all go in there and she’s the only one with actual experience in this kind of thing. I certainly have no doubt that she can handle herself if she runs into one, even a couple of these guys. What we should concentrate on now is figuring out the best way the rest of us can back her up.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sandy conceded.
Cathy sighed and looked at Leslie. “Okay, majority rules but you better be careful, girl.”
“I will,” Leslie promised. “I always am. Now, let’s get this lined up.”
“I know I’m jumping ahead here,” Josée interrupted, “But even if you can get in without being seen, how do you plan to get out of there loaded up with a bunch of weapons?”
“That, my dear,” Leslie replied with a smile, “Will be the easiest part of it all.”
* * * *
“Who owns that nice little Audi roadster out front?” asked Butch as he strolled into the dining room, hands clasped behind his back, a smirk on his face.
“It’s my wife’s,” Chris quickly answered before Jon or Dave claimed ownership of Leslie’s car.
“Well, give her this when you see her,” said Butch as he tossed the TT’s rear view mirror at Chris, hitting him in the chest with it before it tumbled to the floor, the glass shattering.
“Oops. Sorry,” said Butch then continued. “How about the Nissan Armada? Whose is that?”
“That’s mine,” Dave replied, shaking his head. The sounds emanating from the car demolishing activities out front had not gone unnoticed, even from their centrally located dining room prison.
“Love that colour,” said Butch. “What fancy name do they call it?”
“I think it’s graphite blue,” Dave muttered.
“Well, remember that name, Dave,” said Butch. “One of my guys had a bit of an accident out there. He found a sledgehammer in the garage and sorta nicked your truck with it a couple of times. If you decide to get it touched up, you’ll wanna be sure to get the right colour. I’d suggest a full paint job myself but, hey, ain’t my car so, it’s up to you.”
He turned to Jon and asked, “Where’s your ride, buddy?”
“The girls took my car to get to the airport,” Jon replied. “I’ll be going back with Dave.”
“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” said Butch. “Not sure that thing is gonna get you very far but Chris has all kinds of fancy rides out there in his five car garage and my guys haven’t messed with them, at least so far. Maybe you can work something out with him to get yourself home when the time comes, right Chris? You’ll help your buddies out, won’t you?”
“Sure thing, Butch,” Chris replied. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll deal with things when the time comes and work something out.”
Butch stood before them, smiling for a moment before his expression grew serious.
“I’m starting to wonder about you guys,” he said, a hint of frustration in his tone. “Something’s not right with you.”
&n
bsp; “What’s wrong with us, Butch?” asked Chris as he, Jon and Dave gazed evenly at the crew leader.
“I don’t know,” said Butch, seeming to search for the answer. “You don’t react to nothing, at least not like I’ve seen other folks react at other places we’ve been to.”
“How are we supposed to react, Butch?” Chris asked. “Is there something we’re supposed to do while you’ve got us trussed up here? Maybe keep you up to date on current events?”
“We could always sing for him,” Jonathan suggested. “I’d dance but, you know, with the tape and all.”
“Please don’t.” Dave interjected. “I’ve heard you guys sing.”
“He’s got a point,” said Chris. “Maybe we could tell some jokes. He did say he thought we were funny earlier.”
“Are you fuckers jerking me around?” Butch demanded, his face paling with anger.
“Of course not, Butch,” Chris replied. “We’re just trying to right the wrong you sense within us.”
“Boss, I think they’re jerking you around,” said Dibs from where he sprawled on a loveseat to one side, bored with his assignment of guard duty. “Damned lack of respect if you ask me.”
“Lack of respect, eh?” said Butch, eyeing Dibs, one of his more senior side-kicks, warily. “Come over here, Dibs.”
“Sure thing, Butch,” Dibs replied, rising from the loveseat and sauntering over. “What’s up?”
Butch gestured toward the three prisoners. “So you’re saying you think these guys don’t respect me?”
Dibs shrugged and grinned. “Seems to me they were they were being downright, what’s the word? Sarcastic, that’s it. They were just plain mocking you, Butch.”
“Now, why the hell would they be mocking me?” Butch asked, gazing at the captives. “Ain’t I been treating them good enough?”
“Well, Butch, if I can say something,” said Dibs, pursuing the increasingly obvious charade. “We’ve been helping ourselves to whatever we want but didn’t give them nothing to eat or drink since we got here. Maybe that’s got ‘em pissed off.”
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