by Tony Lavely
The late June sun had not quite broken through the open drapes to stare in Beckie’s face when the phone next to her ear clamored for attention. Trying to quiet her heart and beginning to breath again, Beckie answered; Jamse invited her to breakfast.
During the coffee, toast and jam, he told her that he had the beginnings of a plan, but further discussion would have to wait until he could discuss it with deVeel and then with her father. The conversation with deVeel could not take place for several hours. Rather than wait at the hotel, they left. Jamse went to revisit the police. Beckie walked up to the Bond Street Underground station and took the train to Westminster, then walked across the bridge to the hospital.
“Please, I’m looking for James Sverdupe, my dad,” she asked the smiling woman at the Information window. Her courteous response gave Beckie direction.
Afraid of disturbing either her father or anyone who happened to share his room, she gently knocked on the door and waited nervously for a response.
“Come,” came in two different voices.
More tentatively than was probably called for, she turned the large steel handle and after an abortive push, pulled the door open. The room held four beds, two of which were occupied. Dad was sitting up in his bed, adjacent to the window on her right. The similarly placed bed to the left was occupied by a portly gentleman who looked to be in his fifties.
Sunlight breaking through the clouds lit the bright interior; it almost blinded her as it reflected from the crisp white sheets on the two unoccupied beds. The walls and floor were an inviting light beige, and natural wood had been used for trim and sills. A lot nicer than I expected. A widescreen TV hung from the wall within sight of any occupants; it was dark and silent. A roll-around table designed to surround a bed was stored against the wall while a second was in place holding Dad’s used breakfast dishes.
Further in, she saw the window overlooked the Thames. The bridge she’d crossed from the Tube station was just off to the right.
Both men gave her a smile. She finally brought her gaze to her father’s face. Wow. I’m glad he still looks happy to see me.
As soon as she said, “Hi, Dad,” the other man swung his feet from the bed and, keeping good control of his hospital supplied gown, made his way to the door.
“I’ll just leave you alone for a bit, then.”
“Thanks,” Beckie said in unison with Jim.
She went around and pushed the table down to cover his feet. Then it took a brief search to find a spot free of bandages where she could land a little kiss. They spent minutes in small talk: How do you feel? Are you really okay? What’s the weather like?
“Mr. Jamse is with the police,” Beckie said. “He said last night they told him we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bomb didn’t have anything to do with the club, or us, at all. He expects the doctors to sign you out later today, after they finish their rounds, so he’ll plan to pick you up in the afternoon. Did you talk to Mom?”
“I did. She’s fine, though Mike is still off the wall over your running off—”
“Yeah, well—”
“I think he’ll keep, though.”
Beckie watched his face where the bandages allowed, first smooth, then show confused wrinkles. In a moment he said, “When Ian showed up at the house and told us where you were, and what he thought you were doing, before he even got to why, I attacked him, trying to beat him up.” His expression turned to something more serious. “You know my temper flashes pretty quickly…” Beckie nodded with a little smile. “… but if I’d ever really wanted to hurt someone, it was him, then. I just couldn’t believe he’d risk you… Well, anyone, really, but you were my main concern.”
Beckie leaned against the bed and took Jim’s hand in hers. “Yeah, I remember your temper from when Mike and I turned the living room wall into ‘art.’” She grinned and rubbed the seat of her pants, then pulled a side chair over so she could sit beside the bed and still hold his hand. “Mr. Jamse didn’t force me to go, you know. And one thing that was… That is important to me is that he trusted me. I don’t know exactly how to say it, but from the beginning, he’s trusted me to do a job.” She leaned in, almost crushing his hand between her chest and the bed. She felt the animation in her voice, in her spirit. “He trusted me! He’s like the first person ever to have done that.” She leaned back before she noticed the hurt in her father’s eyes. “What?”
“‘He’s the first person to trust you?’ How can you—”
“It’s true, Dad. Well, of course other people have trusted me. You and Mom, certainly. Teachers. But those are different than Mr. Jamse. How to explain…” She stood and walked to the window again, but it held no interest. Or answers, more importantly. She tried lining up words in her mind so he’d understand, but… Damn! It’s hard. She returned to the bedside and gripped his hand again. “Prob’ly I’ll say this wrong, but… I’ll try. Mr. Jamse didn’t trust me to choose between right and wrong, like you do, almost always. He trusted that I’d be able to go beyond myself for… for your sake and Mom’s, so we’d get free soon enough to help you. It wasn’t exactly the right thing I had to do, it was… it was the hard thing. Either way would have been okay for me and Mike; we’d be free no matter what. But he trusted me to endure embarrassment, and having to put up with Mike, and… and all that stuff that seemed so important back then before he dropped that box into the hole.” She wiped her eye. “Sorry. I don’t know how that could make any sense to you, thinking back to what I said, but… I know you and Mom, and other people, too, trust me. I guess Mr. Jamse’s different, somehow.”
He reached up to wipe her incipient tears. “I’m afraid there’s more to it, that—” Beckie straightened, ready to protest. “No, go on with what you were going to say.”
She needed a second or two to recall her original train of thought. “To finish that, then, that’s the reason I went with him in April: he came to get me, ‘cause he trusted I’d be able to help him.
“So, especially this time, no one forced me. I did it on my own.” She released his hand and relaxed, a little. “I knew pretty much what I was getting into…” Com’on, that’s not really true, is it? Gonna ‘fess up? “Well, some of it I understood. More this time than in April, if I’m honest with you.”
He rubbed his chin, pushed himself to sit a little higher. “Ian said he thought you had… adapted better than Melissa—”
“Yeah. Well, that’s prob’ly ‘cause she only came ‘cause of me. Wouldn’t let me do it myself, she said. I don’t know if I should have even told her… I could have seen Mr. Jamse myself…” She looked past him to the far wall, seeing instead Melissa trying to grapple with her feelings.
“It’s funny, you know. Ian obviously thought that I would not believe him, even when he brought me to… Why’s it called The Retro Place, anyway?”
“I think it’s ‘cause we only perform on the stage.” Beckie stood and turned to the window. “Old time stuff. No lap dances or things like that.”
“Oh.”
She turned back to watch his eyebrows rise until the scabs began to stretch. Surprised I know what to call them?
“Well,” he continued, “he forced my disbelief away by making me go in and sit with a warm beer while we waited. I wasn’t really sure… Couldn’t really believe, I guess is more accurate, that you’d walk out on the stage and—”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. Just—”
“Good morning, Mr. Sverdupe, is it? And Mr. Wright?” The nurse was far too bright and cheery, even given the pleasant day.
“He went down the hall when my daughter came in for her visit.”
“Of course. Well, I’ll catch him up in a tick, after we’re finished.”
“I’ll be off then, Dad. Mr. Jamse will be here to pick you up, like I said. I love you.” Beckie slipped out the door, ignoring the nurse’s protest that she’d not be long.
Out of the hospital, she gave Carol’s slip of paper to a cabby and rode quietly while he n
avigated the traffic-clogged streets. The per vehicle fee to reduce London’s congestion didn’t seem to be having quite the desired effect.
After bringing Carol and Julia up to date, Beckie spent an uneventful afternoon with them. Once more they stopped at the Indian take-away for supper. The curry of the day was again a mild one, and the lotus flower made it a tasty meal. Beckie’s phone had been quiet all day; she was disappointed. When they arrived at Nigel’s, Nancy took Beckie aside.
“Com’on, we’ll talk to Nigel. I ‘eard you’d be finished after tonight, so—”
“Wait a second. How’d you find out I’m leaving?”
“The gent you were with last night. Not your pop, the other. ‘E stopped by as ‘e couldn’t find you, asked me to make sure Nigel paid you fair, since ‘e’s sure ‘e’d be able to convince you it was time to leave tonight.
“An ‘e’ll be round with your pop, ‘bout midnight when you’re finished.”
Nancy’s explanation didn’t leave a lot of room for argument, though it left a great deal for the imagination to fill in. They walked to the stage basement where Nigel was making sure the taps were ready for drawing.
“’Fraid you’d be leavin’ when I saw ‘im last night.” With at least a little grace, “Glad to ‘ear your pater’s okay.” Back at the bar, he handed Beckie several bills. “Worth all that. More if’n you were to stay?”
Oh, wow! He thinks I’m worth more? as she riffled the fistful of £10 notes. “Thanks, but I need to do something else right now. Appreciate the chance.”
Back in the dressing closet, she put her earnings in her pack, then helped Julia get ready. Not much of interest occurred, other than being flatly refused when she tried to pay her share of the rent. “Absolutely not!” Carol fumed. “You were only there the one night.” Beckie managed to get Julia to take £20 when Carol wasn’t looking.
Following her last dance she found Jamse and her father waiting outside the dressing room. The bandages she’d seen in the morning were gone. She couldn’t tell much more in the poor light.
She pulled the lacy robe tight before hugging her father. “Not coming in?” she asked, reaching for the door knob.
“Julia asked us to wait here while you and she dressed.”
Beckie nodded and went in. Julia was still her costume. Another quick look told Beckie the girl was crying.
Dropping her own lacy bits of fabric, she ran the two steps to Julia, taking her hands. “What’s the problem?”
“Carol says I can’t even ask if I can go with you.”
Beckie dropped onto the chair. If nothing else, this trip had been one stunning moment after another, ending—so far!—with Julia crying because her sister had decreed a perfectly rational ban.
Suddenly mindful of her own undress, she took Julia’s hand, pulling the girl away from the table and handing her her bag. “Com’on, let’s get dressed. Even if you can’t go along, you can help decide if I should.”
Julia took the bag. She pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the table and wiped her eyes and then her nose. With a nod, she said, “Thanks. Even if it don’ mean anything, it’s sweet of you to offer. I don’ understand what the big deal is, I guess.”
Beckie pulled her shirt on, buttoned it up and sat on the edge of the table to tie up her sneakers. “Well, let me give you a quick run-down as to what I think is goin’ on, which I don’t think Carol knows about, but will maybe help you understand that she is so right.”
She gathered her thoughts while Julia packed her costume and then sat on the chair. “There’s this guy,” Beckie began, “named Werner I think, who makes it his business to kidnap girls, and women, rape them, and then sell them to people who want them, I guess. Or some, he kills.” Beckie shook herself to try and be rid of the uncomfortable feeling.
“Anyway, this Werner guy arranged for a girl to be kidnapped from here like in April…” She grinned internally at Julia’s wide-eyed expression. “and Mr. Jamse, with his team and some help from Mike and Lissa and me, got her back.” She allowed her grin to display.
“’Ow’d you all do this?”
“Mr. Jamse brought Lissa an’ me here to dance, figuring maybe they’d want some more girls. And we were here a couple of days, and these guys broke in and took us to Italy, where they were gettin’ us ready to meet the man. But before that happened, Mike and Kevin found us, and we all left and went back to school; didn’t miss a day.”
“An’ I thought Carol an’ Jeremy were in trouble at the farm—”
“But that was okay. We all got out, and back home.”
“So what about these other girls you were talking about?”
“Well, someone jacked a school bus in California the same day we got out. So we thought that Werner might have done that, to make up for us gettin’ away.” She paused to pull her hair into a pony tail and capture it in a scrunchie. “Guess that’s what Mr. Jamse meant ‘bout not being directly responsible.”
She shook her pony tail to hang behind her. “So anyway, there’s at least one guy, maybe more, who kidnaps, rapes and murders girls like us without a lotta hesitation. ‘Bout the best those girls could hope for is to not have anyone find out. Or maybe, for some, bein’ murdered might actually be the best.” Beckie shuddered all over. She looked at Julia, a wry little smile finally teasing at her lips. “So I think Carol’s right; no way you should be gettin’ into this.” A bigger smile. “Probably, I shouldn’t either.” She became deadly serious. “It’s, I don’t know. I jus’ can’t think of those girls in California and not do somethin’ about it. Even if it’s not the right thing, I guess.”
Julia’s eyes were still wide and her mouth hanging open. Beckie lightly punched her arm and she nodded, then gave Beckie a quick hug before opening the door.
“Okay, com’on in,” Julia said, and the men entered. Carol and Nancy were outside, too. Beckie saw Beth give a little moué at the crowd, then wave and turn toward her own future.
Nancy agreed that they were done, and verified that Nigel had paid Beckie, then ushered them to the back door—after a cautious look up and down the moon-lit streets.
“Take care, luv, and com’on back an’ see us when you’re clear of all this,” she said with a nod toward Jamse.
Julia caught Beckie’s arm. “I’m gonna take Carol and we’re gonna leave you ‘ere, ‘oping you can come back some day and tell us what ‘appened.”
“You sure? I was serious, you know.”
“Yeah. I don’ ‘ave anything to say, I’m pretty sure, that you ‘aven’t thought of already. So, do the right thing and—” She grabbed Carol’s arm and dragged her away. A few yards along, she waved without turning around.
“Well…” She gave Nancy a final quick hug and the three of them were in Jamse’s replacement car. Beckie rode in the back seat with Jim. She hugged herself to his arm; they were both quiet as Jamse drove to the hotel. Traffic was thinning at this early morning hour, making the ride faster than Beckie expected.
In the hotel lift, Beckie was able to see Jim’s face more clearly; like Jamse, he had many small cuts beginning to heal. “Your eyes are okay?” she asked.
He nodded to her. “I’ll be fine. And Mom’s okay with it, too.”
“Oh, right,” she retorted. “She’s okay ‘cause you took the adult way out and didn’t mention it.” He chose to neither confirm nor deny; Beckie took his hand.
Jamse took the lead once they’d all settled in his room. “May I state that which seems obvious? Rebecca is committed to this venture whether you and I agree or not. She set me the task of using her to provide a benefit to the operation, taking advantage of her unique abilities or characteristics.
“Both of us, and others, require that I accomplish Rebecca’s mission with minimal risk to her.” He shook his head. “It is late. Listening to myself, I fear I may not be as clear as I wish. Do you understand and agree?”
“I understand, Mr. Jamse,” Beckie said, “but it’s not important. I don’t agree th
at it’s a limit.”
“I insist, as do others.” He inclined his head to Jim. “Without this freedom, I shall leave. You will have no more contact with any of us, and while that may not halt your efforts, they will be undertaken much more alone than you have ever been. We would not be a safety net.”
Beckie couldn’t find words. In the silence, both men were still. Wish someone would attract their attention while I think…
She finally shrugged, a grudging acceptance.
Jamse nodded back. She could see he was still uncomfortable, though he continued, “Very well. You should make your decision without undue haste, but quickly nonetheless. You may take advice as you wish; however, the decision must be yours alone. You must be comfortable with it, and able to accept whatever consequences arise. For, as you must be aware, no matter your choice, consequences will arise.” He straightened even more.
He looks so serious. He’s really not very happy with me, I guess. Beckie glanced at her father. Neither is Dad.
“I told you that my associates and I could form a plan which would profitably use your assistance, although not, perhaps, your talent on the stage,” he said, a slight grin taking over from the stern look. He became serious once more. “However, there is considerable risk to be mitigated, not only to your virtue, but more importantly, to your health and life.”
“Mr. Jamse…” Beckie sat up on the edge of the sofa facing Jamse directly. “Please don’t try to talk me out of this. We haven’t known each other for all that long, but even so, I think we’ve been through enough that you know it won’t work.”
He gave her a long look. “Although we have no direct evidence that Werner abducted the girls in California, it is certain that he does operate in the Southwestern United States. His facility is sufficiently large that he has acquired a substantial number of girls of a similar age.” He stood and walked around the room. “While details remain to be worked out, Ms Jinet and Mr. deVeel agree that there may be a way to use you, to once again bait the trap. This may provide us information we sorely need, and you may represent a way to proceed more quickly. This last convinces me of the benefit; sufficiently great that it begins to compensate for the risk to you.”