by Dancer, Jack
My cell rings. It's Speed. I take it and walk into the bedroom and close the door for privacy.
"Hey man, have you been following those GPS trackers you planted?" he asks me.
"I just now got on the website and saw that the last location of the bag has moved from Puigcerda to a small bridge in Llivia."
"Yeah, I saw that too." he says all excited.
"And do you know what's there in Llivia? I interrupt him.
"What?"
"Our favorite doctor, Drusilla Libica," I say.
"No shit?" he says.
"Man, you can't believe the stuff that's been happening since we last talked."
"What are you talking about Bluesman? I know everything. I know about those guys chasing you and Nanette last night, the attack on the apartment, Dick coming over, and that he told you Nanette is Julia Libica."
"What? How? Holy shit," I nearly forgot, "you're plugged into the apartment and all its security, and you're into my phone too. Christ, how could I forget? Between you and Dick, I have no privacy at all."
"The way you're living man, you need people looking after you," he says.
"Anyhow, Nanette, I mean Julia, and I, are going up to the castle in a few moments, and I'm going to have her deliver a message to her mother."
"Which is what we'd talked about?"
"Yes."
"Probably won't be a better time. The campaign's just kicked off, and I'm sure she's starting to feel some of the effects. She'll either kill you two or roll over. I hope it's not the first," he says.
"She'll want the money. And while I'm up there I'm going to retrieve the bag under the bridge and get my money back."
"Oh, shit, that's what I wanted to ask you. Did you take a look at the activity from the transmitter you put on that guy Rakim yesterday morning?"
"No, I totally forgot. There's just been too much going on. What about it?"
"The guy's the same one with the motorcycle. He's the one that ripped off the ransom money and hid it up near the castle. When I plugged the transmitter's code into the search criteria along with the other two you planted in the money bag, you could see they all traveled up there together."
"Holy shit! That son of a bitch."
"Yeah, but there's more, and you're not going to like this part."
"What?"
"After you met with him yesterday and planted the bug, he followed you back to the apartment. He knows where you live."
"Oh, no. Damn. Wait. I wonder if he was part of the crew that came after us last night, I mean early this morning."
"He was there, about a block away, watching the whole thing.”
"No shit. That wasn't Libica's guys?”
"We don't know. We only know Rakim was nearby."
"Right. Where is he now? Have you looked?"
"Yeah, he's cruising around Llivia."
"That means he's hanging close to the money. I could run across him going up there.”
"Probably."
"Look Speed, I need you to keep an eye on him for me. I'll call you as we approach Llivia, and maybe you can keep me posted on his location, so I can avoid him and get to the money without him knowing."
"I could do that."
"Good. I'll call you with the FaceTime connection when we get to Puigcerda. I’ll have the buttonhole lens and the Jawbone on, so we can talk."
"Sounds good Bluesman. I'll wait for your call."
"Good."
"Wait Bluesman?"
"Yeah?"
"You be careful with that woman. She'll probably try to cut your balls off for the bag of money you know."
"She won't know about the bag."
***
When I go to see how Julia’s coming along on the floor plans, she's nearly done. She jots in a few more labels.
“This is everything I can remember," she says, "I'm sure some things have changed; she's probably done some remodeling, but there's not a whole lot you can do to change the basic structure and layout of a place like this.”
“Okay. Take me through it,” I say, and she does, pointing out the main areas, the dungeon where Monica is most likely being held and the tunnels leading out through the hill the castle's sitting on. Two essentials every castle ever built has; essentials you can count on to be there - a well and escape tunnel, sometimes more than one. Julia has noted three escape tunnels.
“The tunnels were where I played hide and seek as a child.”
“Thought you said you didn't have any friends, and your brothers weren't around.”
“I didn't, and they weren't; it was mostly me hiding from my mother who might or might not be seeking me, depending on how mad she was at the time - which was most of the time.”
I take the sheets she's drawn and run them through the scanner in the apartment's office and email the scans to Dick with the message I'm taking Julia, and we're driving up to the castle to reconnoiter the place. I'll send photos back. Exchange will be scheduled for Friday three pm. Will need backup. The websites we set up for her are already under siege, and the siege is growing. I expect that, by Friday, she'll be ready to leave the country forever if she can get out at all.
“Pack us a picnic lunch while I dress. We'll take the Mini and stop by your place so you can change, then we'll head out.”
When we arrive at Julia's place, I wait in the car while she goes in. When she comes out, she's got two backpacks and Captain Pat. Pat opens the door for her then takes the backpacks and puts them in the trunk.
I look at her and say, "Now give Pat the gun.” She starts to deny having one, then reconsiders. Reaching into her purse she extracts a pistol and passes it through the window to Pat.
“Holy shit, Tucker. How'd you know she had a gun?” He says.
“If you were her right now, wouldn't you have one?” I look at Julia, "Just in case of course.”
“Tucker, you have no idea what we may run into up there,” she says.
“No, I don't but I'd guess there'll be a mob outside the gates trying to storm their way in. I doubt she'll be walking around outside looking for us. Hey, Pat, can you stay put in Nanette's place until we get back?”
“No problem. I've moved in already.”
“Good.”
“Say, Nan, I've been checking out some of the contraptions in that weird room of yours. What is all that stuff, some kind of exercise equipment?” he asks.
“Sort of,” she says trying to hold back a grin.
“Any instruction manuals?”
She turns to me giggling and whispers, "Can you believe this idiot?”
“Look in the bottom drawer of the credenza," she says to Pat.
“Thanks, see you guys later. Oh, and be careful,” he says as we pull from the curb.
“Guess he's your new best friend,” she says to me. "Why's he in my apartment?”
“I thought he deserved a break from the hotel, and he'll keep you company over the next couple of nights.”
“You mean to keep an eye on me.”
“That too.”
“You know, Tucker, I wasn't bringing the gun to shoot you. I was bringing it to protect us.”
“Well, I appreciate that, I really do, but I think I’ve got us covered.”
“You have no idea who you're messing with, Tucker. This woman is capable of . . .”
“Anything?” I say.
“Things you can't even imagine.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should take your money and run while you can.”
“And leave Monica?”
“If you disappear with the money and abandon Monica; she will too. She'll have no need for Monica anymore.”
“No, she won't; she'll kill her. But first . . . first . . . she'll torture her then kill her,” I say and reach into my shirt pocket and pull out the photo of the flayed girl sent to my email and pass it to her.
"This is what she'll do.” (I keep the photo on me as a reminder of what Libica is.)
Ju
lia reels back, "Oh, my God.”
“So you see; I think I do know what your mother's capable of.”
“Where did you get this?”
“Your mother sent it to my email last Sunday as a warning.”
“Who is it?”
“I don't know. Could be Monica or another poor creature she got her hands on. Then there's the severed finger and ring and I'm pretty sure the ring's Monica's because she showed it to me back in New York. You don't find too many diamonds the size of the one she had.”
“No, you don't but the one Monica showed you wasn't a real diamond either. You know that right?”
“No, I didn't.”
“It was a zirconium.”
“Really?”
“Really. She has a real one the same size and cut, but the one she wears while traveling is zirconium. No real loss if it's stolen.”
“Makes sense. So, was the ring on the severed finger a zirconium? I mean, do you think it was Monica's zirconium?”
“I don't really know. The finger freaked me out too much to pay much attention to the ring. My guess is its Monica's ring but not her finger. Mother may be an evil maniac, but she's not stupid. I don't think she'd risk losing the ticket by damaging Monica. There's no gain in that.”
“That's what I've been counting on.”
“Most likely it's Monica's ring on the severed finger of the girl in the photo. That'd be my guess.”
“I sure hope that's the case, and if it is, I hope she took the girl's finger after she'd died and not before.”
“Me too.”
We drive along for a while without speaking when Julia breaks the silence, "Tucker, what did you mean when you said there'd be a mob storming the castle?”
“It's part of my campaign to destroy your mother.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
"But, what are you doing to destroy her?"
“I'm going to out her first and then drive her underground so far she'll never see daylight again. Or, get her out of the country. Or, she'll be killed by hoards of people who want to tear her apart. Or, she'll be turned over to the authorities, and she'll disappear into the prison system - she'll become the Spanish Prisoner herself. How appropriate would that be, huh? Just desserts, all that,” I say smiling.
“What do you mean you're going to out her?”
“Well, from what I'm told her biggest strength is anonymity. No one apparently has a photograph of her. The authorities know about her and her organization, but they don't know what she looks like. She lives anonymously, and that's how she stays under the radar. Whenever she's in public, she's just the local doctor, something like that. But, it just so happens, I have a photograph of her, and as of about two hours ago that photograph has been distributed to just about every FAX machine and email between Barcelona and Perpignan in the form of a wanted poster carrying a five million euro reward for her capture, Dead or Alive. Those Faxes and emails went to politicians, police, government agencies, schools, hospitals, churches, everybody. She's portrayed as a kidnapper, murderer and even as a pedophile. I threw the pedophile part in because it's the one thing no one puts up with. Anyone labeled a pedophile is just plain fucked forever. That's why I say her castle may be under siege now.”
“You really did all that?”
“You betcha and that's just the kickoff. The campaign will go into full swing tomorrow at the million-man march where she'll be unveiled as a traitor to the cause. The same wanted posters with the five million euro reward on her head will be posted all along the march route, plus, up and down both sides of the A-7 and A-9 every half-mile from Barcelona to Perpignan. Thousands of handbills, in the form of five million euro currency will drop from airplanes I've hired to fly over the marchers. Skywriting, planes pulling large banners, even an airship with her portrait and 'Wanted Dead or Alive five million euro reward' spelled out on the ship’s messenger board will be in the skies.
“Tomorrow night after the fall of dark, lasers will write across the sky, the reward messages and the traitor to the cause messages. Of course, all this will be picked up by newspapers and television already in place to cover what may turn out to be the biggest march in history, and they'll retransmit our message all over Europe and the world. Believe me, it'll be huge. We've even established a website and Facebook page where people can go for details and pass along the word. Oh, and Twitter Tweets too. By Friday, your mother will be better recognized than you-know-who. (Here I hold my hand up and make the Queen Elizabeth wave).
“That's what I mean when I say, she'll be outed.”
“How can you do all this?”
“Because I'm an advertising guy, and I'm pissed.”
“Why don't you just go shoot her in the head? It'd be a lot cheaper.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn't be as much fun. Didn't you hear me? I'm an ad guy, and I love doing campaigns. Besides, the pen is mightier than the sword. If I shoot her, she dies once, this way she dies millions of times.”
“And I thought SHE was evil,” she says.
“She is. She just happened to mess with someone more evil. Didn't I tell you I'm really a cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch, evil through and through?”
“No.”
“Well, now you know so let this be fair warning. Do not fuck with me - unless of course, you really want to fuck me. Then it's okay,” I laugh.
“You're really nuts aren't you?”
“You’re the one to talk.”
“I think I'm in love with you, Tucker,” she says.
“Oh God. You are nuts.”
“No, really. I am.”
“Don't start with that, Julia. I have enough trouble focusing on one girlfriend. You, if anyone should know that.”
“I know you do, Tucker. It's a weakness.”
"Just don't get it into your mind, I'll walk away from Monica because I won't. I'm determined to save her no matter what. I'll give up the lottery ticket if I have to.”
“But, you don't have to, Tucker. I'm telling you if you disappear with the money, my mother will drop Monica like a bag of dirt and especially now that you've put the wheels in motion for her certain destruction, and there's no stopping it; she'd be lucky to escape with her life.”
“It's true.”
“Tell you what, Tucker, and I can't even believe I'm thinking this but what if I go talk to her, try to reason with her, paint a picture of the reality she's going to be facing over the next couple of days, and that's only if she can hang on that long. She's not a stupid woman, Tucker. She'll see how it is if what you say is true and if people are already up in arms about her, she'll fold. She’ll have no choice.
“You've already outed her, and there's no putting the toothpaste back in the tube. We can make a deal with her that'll free Monica, and you can keep the lottery ticket. If we can convince her, she can get out with her life, maybe guarantee she can retire somewhere else in the world, and live out her years without the fear of someone coming after her, she might go for it. Right now, with all you've put into motion, it's her best choice, her only choice if she cares anything about living. Besides, I guarantee you this woman’s got money stashed away. She doesn’t need more,” Julia says.
“People like her always need more and she apparently wants it bad enough to kill at least one person - the guy on the train - and kidnap Monica, to get it. No, she wants this money, and as far as allowing her to escape with her life? I’m already going to make that offer,” I say and pull out my cell and bring up the text message I’ve already got ready to go and show it to Julia.
“You're giving her the lottery ticket?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“For love.”
“You think Monica loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?
“She told me.”
“What if I told you I love you?”
"But, you don't. You'd tell me anything right now to save yourself and to get your paws on the lottery
ticket or some of it. Besides, you tried to rob me and frame me as a murderer.”
“That was just business. You're a businessman you should understand business is not personal.”
“That's bullshit, Julia. Business is always personal. If it affects people's lives, you better believe, it's personal. I don't know who came up with this stupid idea business is not personal. I think Hollywood did with The Godfather. I think that's where the stupid idea started, with the mafia, which is probably fitting for those morons. They're not businessmen anyhow; they're crooks like you.”
“And what do you call this you're doing with my mother?”
“I don't call it business. This is totally personal. All I want to do is save someone I love.”
“Going a bit overboard though aren't you?”
“Yeah, that's the revenge part. It's the, 'don’t-fuck-with-Tucker-you-bitch,' part. It's the fun part, and it's especially fun because I get to do another advertising campaign. I told you I love doing campaigns, but I've been out of it for a while - too busy living the swinging singles life. So, getting the opportunity to do another campaign is great fun for me. The best part is getting the results, and I have no doubt this one will obliterate the enemy, and I hope, win the prize which for me is rescuing Monica.”
“I get the feeling your campaign is more like a war than an advertising campaign. You seem more interested in destroying the enemy than winning a prize. If you ask me, you've already won the prize with the lottery ticket, and now you're just getting your kicks obliterating the enemy,” she says.
“But, you see that's where we're different. The money's not as important to me as it is I have a chance to be a hero and save the one I love. You know, like fighting the dragon to save the princess? I’m a romantic. What can I say? How often does a guy get the chance to save a princess? Hey, that reminds me. Maybe you can answer this. Uh, . . . this may sound kind of stupid or naive but do you know anything about Monica being a princess? I mean a real princess?” I ask.
Pause.
I look over to her and she’s looking at me like waaaat?
“Yeah, okay. It was a stupid question. Forget I asked. It was just something came up and . . . forget it. Still . . . uh, I like the idea of rescuing the princess. Besides, this is a Spanish Prisoner thing right? And the Spanish Prisoner was a princess, right? Okay, call me corny,” I say and decide to stop saying anything more because I’m sounding more and more ridiculous the more my mouth keeps blabbering away.