“Olly,” Rat replied. “He got run down by someone who stole the guy’s truck next door. We think it was Tops.”
“Tops is one of the three missing?” asked Leslie.
“Yeah, we think Tops took the truck, a big Lexus,” said Rat, the information flowing freely now. “The other two are Nose and Willy. Nose just disappeared but Willy took off with a Sea-Doo. We think they all hooked up to sell the truck and the Sea-Doo.”
“What were you doing out in the boat?” asked Cathy.
“I was looking for Willy,” Rat replied. “Another guy, Lefty is on the other Sea-Doo looking for him too and two other guys are out in our trucks trying to track Tops and the Lexus down.”
“Are you guys all armed?” Leslie asked.
“Most of us have a gun,” said Rat. “A couple of guys probably just have blades cuz we’re not on the job.”
“You’re doing good, Rat,” said Leslie, prodding a little with the shotgun which remained firmly planted between his legs. “Just one more question for now. Who’s in charge?”
Rat hesitated then said, “That’s Butch. He’s the boss and we’re his crew. He’ll kill me if he finds out I talked to you like this.”
“I’d kill you if you didn’t talk,” Leslie replied. “Which one is Butch? What does he look like?”
“Tall dude, kinda lean but built,” said Rat. “Long hair, usually in a ponytail. He rides a Harley, or at least he did until Tops smashed it with that Lexus.”
“Okay, that’s it for now,” said Leslie, pulling away from him and putting the shotgun aside. “Let’s get you up. Roll onto your back.”
She grasped him by one arm while Cathy did likewise with the other and together, they raised him to his feet and leaned him against the wall.
“Look,” Rat said, “If you let me talk to Butch, I think I can convince him that we just leave so you can go back to your guys over there.”
“I didn’t know you did comedy too,” Leslie replied, opening the nearby door leading to a concrete cold room. “Sorry, Rat, but you’ll be staying here for a while. Hop on in.”
With a sigh, Rat jumped forward, peered inside and gasped, “Jesus!” before falling to his knees and vomiting.
Laid out on a tarpaulin were the battered and bloody bodies of Willy, Tops and Nose.
“You see? It won’t be so bad after all,” said Leslie “You’ll have your friends to keep you company and, as an extra bonus, we haven’t killed you. Behave yourself and things may stay that way.”
On that note, she planted her foot squarely on his butt and shoved him inside before pushing the heavy door shut and sliding the deadbolt in place.
Chapter 15
Saturday - 6:47 p.m.
Dibs had been roaming the streets of the town of Knowlton for close to an hour in search of the Lexus though he was certain it was a waste of time. Whoever had stolen the SUV, likely Tops or perhaps Nose, had deliberately demolished Butch’s bike in the process. That being the case, neither could be so stupid as to hang around town, mere minutes from the house they had invaded. Surely, the thief, or thieves, especially if it was the missing crew members, had hightailed away from the area and were probably on Autoroute 10 approaching Montreal by now.
He drove by the Knowlton Pub once again and slowed, gazing at the crowd relaxing, eating and drinking on the terrace while enjoying the live music offered by a lone guitarist at work on the small stage.
‘I could use a break,’ thought Dibs as he turned into the parking lot. ‘A quick beer or two, listen to some tunes for a while then go back and tell Butch that the Lexus is long gone.’
He pulled the van into one of the few remaining slots and cut the engine then headed to the terrace to find a spot to sit down, knock back a few and relax.
* * * *
“What’s up?” Leslie asked after setting her phone on speaker.
“Is Sandy there?” Josée asked from the plane.
“We’re all here for now,” Sandy replied.
“Okay,” said Josée, “The one in the red van was driving around town for a while but now he’s stopped at that pub we’ve been to. He just parked and went in a minute ago. I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do but I thought I’d let you know.”
“I know exactly what to do,” Sandy replied, grabbing her recharging phone from the counter. “I have to make a call.”
“Alright,” said Josée. “I’ll head toward the north end of the lake and see if I can spot their other truck. Stay safe, ladies.”
* * * *
Serge Morin, owner of the Knowlton Pub, was manning the host station on the terrace when his phone trilled.
“Bonjour, Sandy!” he replied, having glanced at the call display. “I spoke to my brother at the marina earlier. Is everything okay?”
“No, actually it isn’t,” Sandy replied, unsure of how much she should share. “It’s complicated and I don’t have much time but I need your help.”
“Whatever I can do for you, ma chère,” Serge replied. “Just say the word. What’s going on?”
“I can’t give you details for now,” Sandy continued, “And you must keep this quiet as the police are not involved and we want to keep it that way, at least for now.”
“Mon Dieu, Sandy,” Serge exclaimed. “What is this about? Please tell me what is going on so I can help.”
“You must promise to stay out of this,” said Sandy. “Some friends and I are dealing with this problem.”
“I will only do what you ask of me,” Serge replied. “You have my word. Now, tell me what is going on.”
“Chris and two of our friends are in danger,” said Sandy. “They are being held hostage by a gang.”
“Are you serious?” Serge replied “That is terrible. When did this happen? Do you know where they are?”
“Yes, Serge, but I don’t have much time right now,” Sandy reminded him. “I promise I’ll explain everything later but right now, I need your help.”
“Oui, oui,” Serge agreed. “What do you need from me?”
“There’s a young man wearing jeans and a t-shirt who arrived at your pub just minutes ago,” said Sandy. “He was driving a big, red van, like a minibus.”
“I just seated him on the terrace,” Serge replied. “I’m looking at him right now. This man is involved?”
“Yes he is,” Sandy confirmed. “My friends and I have already, uh, taken care of some of the others. I was hoping you could help me by making sure this one doesn’t go back to his friends.”
“This is all that you need from me?” said Serge. “I promise he will be staying here as my guest for as long as you wish.”
“Thank you, Serge,” Sandy replied, “And be careful. He’s most likely armed.”
“If he is, it won’t be for long,” Serge reassured her, “But now, we must take care of the rest of these people, Sandy. I can call my brother and get some men together–”
“Serge, please,” Sandy interrupted. “With the guy at your place, we’ll have dealt with more than half of their gang. We’ve been, uh, immobilising them one by one. We don’t want this to turn into a shooting spree with Chris and the others in the middle. That’s why we never contacted the police in the first place.”
Serge sighed. “Very well, but you will not hesitate to call if you need the slightest bit of help?”
“I called you now, didn’t I?” Sandy replied. “I’ll keep you posted, Serge. Be careful.”
“Yes, ma chère,” said Serge. “But more importantly, you be careful too.”
* * * *
Knowing he couldn’t stay too long, Dibs had quickly downed his first beer and ordered a second which had disappeared almost as quickly. He wished he could stick around and just enjoy himself amidst the lively crowd, more than half of which was composed of young, attractive ladies in summer attire. However, he knew Butch would be getting antsy and was definitely not currently in a mood to condone insubordination, even with one of his top men. In fact, when Dibs considered how
long it had been since he’d left the house, he was surprised the man had not called to blast him yet.
Sighing, he emptied the remainder of his bottle and left the table, heading toward a door leading inside to find the washroom. A sign within directed him down a corridor toward the rear of the establishment and he was soon standing at a urinal, emptying his bladder. As the door to the men’s room opened, he glanced over his shoulder and recognized the stocky, grey-haired man who had seated him on the terrace upon his arrival. Obviously a pub employee, the man held a heavy pipe wrench and was likely coming to tend to some plumbing issue.
“Bonjour,” the man said with a smile as he entered.
“Hey,” Dibs mumbled, social skills never having been his forte, even less so while taking a leak in a public washroom.
He turned back to face the wall and seconds later, he felt an incredible explosion of pain as the wrench smashed into the back of his head, but only for an instant before everything went black.
Chapter 16
Saturday - 7:10 p.m.
Alexandre Morin paced angrily back and forth along the visitors dock at the Knowlton Marina as he spoke on the phone. “We can’t just sit around and do nothing, Serge. These bastards might hurt Chris and his friends, or even worse.”
“We don’t even know where they are,” Serge argued. “We can’t start roaming the country like a Wild West posse.”
“Don’t you think they might be at the Barrys’ home?” Alex shot back. “We could start by going there to see if everything is normal and we could bring a group of men just in case it isn’t.”
“Alex, I gave my word to Sandy,” Serge replied. “I called to make you aware in case she asks for help. She and whoever she’s with seem to be handling the situation rather well as it is. Don’t do anything stupid. You could get yourself or the hostages killed. Just be ready to move if we have to.”
“Okay, you are right,” Alexandre agreed, accelerating his pace as something caught his attention at the end of the visitors dock. “I don’t like it but I’ll stay put. I will tell a few guys we might need their help at some point, just to be ready to move quickly.”
“I’m doing the same,” Serge replied. “But keep the details to yourself. We don’t want anyone getting any ideas and–”
“Serge, I just noticed something,” Alexandre interrupted. “Chris’ Sea-Doo is here, tied up at the dock.”
“Are you sure it’s his?” asked Serge. “A lot of people have Sea-Doos around here.”
“This is true,” Alexandre replied as he gazed down at the watercraft, “But not too many have a GTX Limited iS 260 with the name ‘CeeBee’ painted on the bow.”
“So, one of these guys is at your place too?” Serge more said than asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out,” replied Alexandre, already scanning the patrons as he approached the terrace. “I’ll let you go for now but I’ll keep you posted.”
* * * *
Lefty had been ecstatic when Butch had ordered him to go search for Willy on the Sea-Doo. As far as he was concerned, the weekend was a bust so getting away from that damned house and the crew for a while had been fine by him. Once out of sight of the others, he had raced directly toward town with barely the occasional cursory scan of the lake in search of Willy, intent on getting to the marina as quickly as possible to relax and knock back a few cold ones. Upon his arrival, he had been pleased to note the lively atmosphere and had soon been seated in the shade of a parasol on the terrace.
Looking at the time, he realized he had been there for an hour already, the minutes flying by as he chatted with a couple of young, attractive women sitting at the next table. Reluctantly, he said his goodbyes, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to be gone much longer with Butch being in one of his nasty moods.
He headed to the end of the dock where he had moored the Sea-Doo and as he approached, he noticed a couple of men who seemed to be admiring his craft.
“Scuse me,” he said as he came upon them.
They turned to face him and one of them, a burly man of medium height in his fifties said, “Sorry. Is this yours?”
“Uh, huh,” Lefty replied with a nod.
“Really nice,” said the other, a younger, taller and muscular man. “They just don’t make a sweeter ride than the GTX.”
“Uh, yeah,” Lefty replied. “I like it.”
He tried to step around the men but both moved along with him, barring his access.
“What’s the fastest you’ve ever done with it?” the younger man asked.
“I-I don’t know,” said Lefty. “I never really clocked it. I just like to ride.”
“Are you serious?” the older man asked in surprise. “How can you ride a bullet and not clock your speed? How long have you had it?”
“A while,” Lefty replied with a hint of impatience. “Sorry, guys but I gotta get going.”
“There’s no rush, son,” said the older man, holding up his hand. “You know, I have a friend who has a Sea-Doo just like this one.”
“That’s real nice, buddy,” said Lefty, getting annoyed, “But like I said, I have to go. Move out of the way.”
“What’s your hurry?” asked the older man, not budging. “I just want to talk for a minute so I’d suggest you calm down and lose the attitude.”
“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you guys are,” Lefty retorted, now growing uncomfortable, “But I don’t have to take this shit.”
On that note, he turned to head back the way he had come and found himself staring at the barrel chest of likely the biggest, tallest man he had ever seen.
Looking down at Lefty, the giant grinned and said, “My boss didn’t finish talking to you so walking away like that is just not right. Now, turn around and, just for fun, put your hands behind your neck, fingers interlaced.”
Lefty stared up at the man, gulped and did as he was told.
“Frisk him, just to play it safe,” said the older man as he stared Lefty in the eye.
The big man patted Lefty down, finding a switchblade, a cell phone and a worn leather wallet, all of which he slid into a pocket of his cargo shorts.
“I’ll tell you who I am,” the older man continued. “I’m Alexandre Morin and I own this place. Now about this Sea-Doo here. It’s not yours. You see, I told you I had a friend who had one just like it, right down to the name painted right there so, this is his, not yours.”
“Yeah, he lent it to me,” Lefty sneered. “So, what’s the big deal and why is it your business?”
“Don’t make me hurt you, boy,” Alexandre replied. “You see, I’m not smiling and that’s because I’m mad as hell at you and your buddies for what you did and what you’re doing.”
Lefty started to lower his arms as he spoke. “I don’t kno-aARRGH!”
A loud, cracking pop was heard as the giant grabbed Lefty’s right wrist and yanked his arm high up behind his back, dislocating his shoulder. Lefty blanched and his knees buckled but the big man easily kept him on his feet.
Alexandre glared at Lefty in silence for a moment then spoke in a quiet tone. “You’re done with your games. Now, you behave yourself and do what you’re told and maybe, just maybe you won’t get hurt anymore. Understand?”
Lefty nodded, unable to speak.
“Good,” said Alexandre before addressing his men. “Take him to the pub. Serge has one of his buddies in the basement there already so they can keep each other company, well, if the other guy ever wakes up. I’ll call Serge to let him know you’re coming. He’ll want to have a chat with our friend here and I’m sure this punk will want to cooperate. If this little bastard decides he doesn’t want to play along or tries to do anything stupid, I want you to hurt him bad.”
Chapter 17
Saturday - 7:19 p.m.
“Merci, Serge,” Sandy exclaimed. “Well, we already have quite a bit of information about the gang but, yes, call me back if you learn anything you think we could use… Yes, I promise I’ll call you
or Alexandre if we need anything else.”
She cut the connection and beamed at the others. “Not only did Serge get the guy at the pub, Alexandre grabbed one of them at the marina.”
“Are you serious?” asked Cathy.
“Absolutely,” replied Sandy. “Serge called his brother to give him a heads up, just in case we needed help along the way, and Alexandre recognized Chris’ Sea-Doo at the marina. When the guy tried to leave, Alex and a couple of friends got a hold of him.”
“Where are these bastards now?” asked Leslie.
“The one at the pub is still unconscious,” Sandy explained. “Serge said he tapped him with a wrench. He’s got him tied up in the basement and his son is keeping an eye on him. The other one just arrived at the pub with Alex’s buddies. Serge is going to find out whatever he can from him and keep me posted. He also assured me these guys won’t be going anywhere.”
“So, two less of these morons to worry about,” said Leslie, counting in her head, “Which leaves us with five to go. It’s looking better by the minute.”
“Oh, non,” Dominique suddenly wailed from where she sat, her eyes never leaving the iPad.
“What is it?” Leslie asked as they all crowded around the small screen.
“Their leader is angry,” Dominique replied then fell silent as they all watched in rage and fear as the events unfolded.
* * * *
“Where the hell are those idiots?” Butch screamed, having failed to reach Rat, Dibs and Lefty.
Enraged, he slammed his phone onto the dining table before picking up a half full liquor bottle and hurling it against the wall, showering his captives with shards of glass and rum.
“Watch it, asshole,” Jonathan growled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Butch snarled, stomping over and cuffing Jon on the side of the head. “I’ve got enough crap to deal with without your stupid comments.”
“You’ve got crap to deal with,” Jonathan retorted, “Because you’re an asshole surrounded by a bunch of misfit morons. The whole lot of you couldn’t change a light bulb if your lives depended on it.”
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