Detour Paris: Complete Series (Detour Paris Series Book 4)

by Dancer, Jack

  And I can hear Monica’s words, "I forgive you in advance. If you want to take her, rape her, do whatever you want, you just go right ahead, You have my permission." This time I think I'll take her at her word.

  Her hands go to work my belt buckle and my anticipation rises along with everything else. I lift off the chair just a tad to help.

  If there's anything in this world that beats the pure, adrenaline-driven excitement that comes with a woman's head dropping into your lap and taking you into her mouth, I've never known it because there is no greater pleasure designed by God or man that surpasses what I am experiencing at this very moment.

  Leaning back in my chair, just a little, so my eyes can feast on the sight of her raven locks hair hovering above my lap, the rest of me swoons in the ear-ringing pleasures that this lovely head of silk imbibes from me below. It's a salacious act, and performed with such gentle eagerness and practiced expertise it's nothing less than living art.

  ***

  “If I could show you can trust me would you, then?" Nanette asks.

  “It would go a long way but there's a long way to go. You'd have to prove it, and in a very big way.”

  “I'll do it, Tucker. However, you have to give me a chance to do it too, you know.”

  “Which means I have to take a chance with you?”

  “Right. There's no other way.”

  “Well, you just might get your opportunity tonight.”

  “Why? What's going on tonight?”

  “We're going to pay Drusilla Libica an early visit so get dressed. We've got a little shopping to do.”

  We leave the apartment through one of the doors to the garage then through another into a rear alleyway.

  “We'll walk a few blocks and flag down a cab,” I say.

  “You might not find too many cabs around here, Tucker. Follow me. I know where we can find some,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  After entering the alleyway and walking fifty yards a beggar accosts us for money. I reach into my pocket for coins just to get rid of him, but before I can produce anything, Nanette has pulled pepper spray from her purse and shoots the guy in the face. The guy screams bloody murder, then turns and runs down the alley bouncing from one wall to the other and back again like a ricocheting pinball.

  “What the hell? Why'd you do that?” I say.

  “You can't let these people mess with you, Tucker, or they'll never leave you alone.”

  “Where did you get that? Let me see it.”

  “It's mine. I carry it all the time, and I use it fairly often. You have no idea how many men come up to me and harass me.”

  “No, I can imagine a lot probably," I say, "looks like lipstick.”

  “It is lipstick but if you flip it over and press here it's pepper spray.”

  “Holy shit. Better make sure you use the right end to put on the lipstick, huh?”

  “You don't have to make that mistake but once.”

  “Have you ever?”

  “No. I'm not stupid.”

  “No, of course you're not.” I don't dare to tell her of my episode with the pepper spray in the New York hotel room I had to evacuate after doing a curiosity test firing.

  We continue walking ten blocks or so until we come to the roundabout at Avenue Santa Coloma and Avenue Generalitat and flag down a cab. I hand the driver a note with the name and address of a sporting goods store. When we arrive, we walk in, and I take her hand and walk straight back to the hunting section where I find exactly what I'm looking for.

  “A Wham-O slingshot?” she asks surprised. "What in the world are you going to do with that, shoot pigeons?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “Two Wham-O slingshots? One's not for me is it, Tucker?”

  “Yes, you want the pink one?”

  “Get outta here.”

  I get two and we walk a little more until we find the paint ball guns, and I grab a couple of packets of red paint balls.

  “No guns?” she asks.

  “Ammunition for the Wham-O's.”

  “Jesus, Tucker, I'm not so sure you're taking this whole thing very seriously. I'm pretty certain Drusilla, and her crew are past the slingshot and paint ball stage and have moved on to more deadly weapons by now; you know, guns, real bullets, that sort of thing.”

  “You're underestimating one of the world's oldest weapons. Don't you remember what David used to take down Goliath?”

  “I don't think it was paintballs.”

  “No, you're probably right about that, but it was with a slingshot”

  Next, we catch a cab and go to a hardware store.

  “A hardware store? You need a hammer and nail, Tucker?”

  “No. I need nylon zip ties, ball bearings, some Dexpan and a Benz-O-Matic ST-200 micro torch if you must know.”

  “Okay, the zip ties are obvious; the ball bearings are for the Wham-O's?”

  “Yep.”

  “But the micro torch? You gonna do a crème brûlée?”

  I give her my nonplussed look.

  “Okay, I'm not going to ask anymore.”

  “Don't, it might confuse your little brain.”

  “Screw you, Blue,” she slaps at me.

  “Can't right now, we have one more place to go first.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “Oh, we need wasp spray too,” I say before leaving the store.

  “Wasp spray? What's that for?” she asks.

  “Killing wasps.”

  “Why did I ask?”

  Next we're at a pet store.

  I go to the clerk and say, "I called earlier about the vespa mandarin japonica.”

  “Ah, yes, Señor Blue. I have them ready for you.” He disappears into the back and returns with a glass jar containing thirty insects, each about the size of your thumb.

  “Yuck, what is that?” Nanette asks.

  “Japanese Giant Hornets,” I say.

  “Si Señora,” the geeky little clerk says all excited, "these insects are very dangerous. They spray a flesh-melting poison.”

  “Into your eyes,” I add.

  “The poison also has a pheromone cocktail in it that'll call every hornet in the hive to come over to sting you until you are no longer alive. Is that cool or what?” the geeky clerk says.

  “You're kidding,” Nanette says.

  “No,” the clerk says, "Just be sure you don't accidentally break the glass jar. If you do, be far, far away because they will chase you up to fifty miles.”

  “I'm not riding in the same car with those creatures.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. Not only, that, you're carrying them.”

  “Not on your life, Blue, and I don't care what you do, you can't make me.”

  “Okay, I'll carry them. You can carry the wasp spray.”

  “That's what the wasp spray's for? You're going to kill these awful things you just bought?”

  “Only if they get loose and go after you.”

  “Yuck. Don't even say that, Tucker. It's not funny.”

  “Now we're going to have some fun this afternoon,” I say.

  “Doing what?”

  “When's the last time you shot a slingshot?”

  “Never.”

  “Then you need instruction and lots of practice.”

  “Oh, great. I'm gonna be Tom Sawyer, is that it?”

  “Don't worry, you'll never be mistaken for Tom Sawyer.”

  sixty-three

  11:35 Hours, Thursday, 11 September.

  The El Raval Apartment.

  Back at the apartment, I go into the supply room and bring out a dozen or so cardboard cutouts of people in various positions, sitting, standing, dancing, smoking, etc.

  “What in the world are those?” Nanette asks.

  “These silhouettes are to make it appear to anyone outside that there's a party going on in the apartment. Here, help me set 'em up.”

  When they're up, I pull out the Wham-O's and a bag of ball bearings and test a
few initial firings.

  “Wow, I seriously need some practice. Been a long time since I last shot one of these with my friend Mike, hiding in bushes along the Creek and firing M-80's at water skiers. Scared the shit out of 'em,” I say.

  “You did that?”

  “I was a delinquent.”

  “Still are looks like.”

  “You can take the boy outta the woods.”

  Nanette just stands there shaking her head.

  “Here, put this on," I say handing her the uniform we took off Drusilla's guards and Madame altered for her.

  "That's why you wanted their uniforms. So we'd fit in with her men and not be noticed."

  "Here put these on too."

  "Is this a bullet proof vest?"

  "Yes, Kevlar. The helmet and boots too.”

  “Tucker, we're not really doing this are we?”

  “Yes, we really are.”

  "We could die you know."

  "There are worse things in life than death. You ever spent an evening with an insurance salesman?"

  Holding one of the boots at arm's length, she says, "What sort of boots are these?”

  “Steel pointed kick boots.”

  “Wow. They could do some real damage, huh?”

  “That's what they're for.”

  “Wanna keep your balls, mister?”

  “You want me to keep my balls?”

  “Yeah, I do, come to think of it.”

  “Good, me too.”

  “Say, what's all this other stuff?”

  “We'll go through it item by item, and I'll explain. For most of this stuff, I have duplicates. You'll have one, and I'll have one. We'll fill two backpacks - one for you and one for me.”

  “We're going to the castle tonight aren't we, Tucker?” she asks.

  “Yeah, we're going to rescue Monica.”

  “We were going to get her tomorrow I thought.”

  “That's what they think too, but I don't trust ‘em, so we're going to make a surprise raid a little early.”

  “You think we can pull this off?”

  “I don't know, but we're gonna give it a try.”

  “What if it backfires, and we get caught?”

  “We still have a lottery ticket to negotiate with.”

  “You really want to give her the lottery ticket?”

  “No, but I want to rescue Monica, and if it means trading the lottery ticket then, that's what I'll do.”

  “You're an incredible, Blue. Incredibly stupid maybe. I can't imagine anyone doing that. Would you do that for me?”

  I pause to look at her. "Maybe, but we'll never know because we're not getting caught.”

  “Why are you taking me Tucker? Am I your hostage or are you beginning to trust me?”

  “I'm taking you because you know your way around, and you know Libica and if something goes sideways, you might be able to appeal to her. Pau might also be there. If so, she might listen to you, if it comes to that.”

  “But this is my chance to prove you can trust me, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What if I do prove you can trust me, and we rescue Monica, what, then?”

  “I don't know. We'll have to cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “You can't have both of us, you know. You'll have to choose.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you made up your mind about it? No. Don't answer that. I don't want to go into this knowing that I don't have a chance.”

  “Wait, what about the lifetime ménage à trois?" I say.

  “I'm not sure a three-way is meant for the long term.”

  “You're probably right. Let's get on with what we're doing here,” I say. "First item is the nylon zip ties, and you know what these are for right?”

  “Handcuffs.”

  “Second item is a roll of duct tape.“

  “Yeah, what's that for?”

  “Anything. Duct tape is the most useful thing ever invented. Use it to tie someone up or gag them, pull together a wound, or repair your car. Your imagination's the limit.”

  “Great.”

  “Third and fourth items. Small flashlight and a Swiss army knife. Self-explanatory. Fifth item is a can of wasp spray.”

  “To kill the wasps you bought.”

  “Only if we need to. Otherwise, it can be used like pepper spray. The best thing about it is, it can shoot a solid stream of spray ten feet or more. Shoot 'em right in the eyes.”

  “Okay.”

  “Next is the Taser - also self-explanatory. You've had instruction on the Taser for your work, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Next item is a cell/sat phone. Slide this lever to one side and it's a cell phone, slide to the other; it's a satellite phone, then just dial as you normally would. My number is programmed into your phone as speed dial #1 and yours into mine the same way.”

  “Oh, boy, at least I feel like we're going steady now.”

  “Good, we are.”

  “Really?”

  “These are night-vision goggles. We'll play with these later when we start practicing with the Wham-O's in the dark.”

  “Can't wait,” she says sarcastically. "What's that?”

  “This is the AR-70 take-down rifle I took on our trip to the castle yesterday, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Do I get one?”

  “No.”

  “What about that?”

  “This is a Rothco 21-Inch expandable baton.” I pick it up and throw it out, so the baton pops out, expanding from the grip.

  “I don't think I'll need that.”

  “I didn't get you one because they're pretty hard to throw out.”

  “What's that?” she asks pointing.

  “This is an Agilite Injured Personnel Carrier (IPC) in case Monica, or you are injured; I can carry you out on my back while keeping my hands free.”

  “That's pretty neat. I know what that is. It's the Stealth Pen I carried yesterday.”

  “Right.”

  “Why are you taking that torch thing you bought at the hardware store?”

  “You remember when you were leaving the castle yesterday, and you tried to get back through the door to the tunnel, and it was stuck?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was stuck because I followed you in and squirted a bottle of Superglue into the locking mechanism to jam it.”

  “Why?”

  “To shut down the tunnel and leave only two exits remaining. One less escape route for them.”

  “And you're going to use the torch to melt the Superglue and make the door operable again?”

  “For us, yes. It'll be our way into the castle tonight. I'm thinking they've already discovered the door is jammed, and I'll bet they haven't fixed it yet and probably won't have a guard on it tonight.”

  “Pretty smart, Tucker.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Okay, let's learn to use the Wham-O slingshots.” I take her into the living room where some of the cardboard silhouettes are set up.

  “The cardboard silhouettes will be our targets.”

  “What about the windows? Won't we break them?”

  “They're bullet proof, so are the walls. Don’t you remember from the other night when those guys were shooting at us?”

  “Yeah, I remember. Unbelievable, this place.”

  “Okay. Here's how to shoot this thing.” I take a ball bearing and load it into the slingshot pocket, aim, pull and let go. The ball bearing makes a clean hole through one cardboard guy's head, ricocheting off the wall and bouncing back across the floor.

  “Holy shit that thing could kill someone.”

  “If you hit them in the right place. Deadly and quiet.”

  “We have to pick all these up?”

  “Not a problem. I have a large magnet attached to a string; hover it over the floor and sweep and the balls will rush to it like puppies to mama's teats.

  Now here's the trick for shooting these things, and this applies not only s
lingshots but shooting any weapon. I learned this reading about Annie Oakley. Sitting Bull called her Little Sureshot. She was that good. She'd make money challenging the best shooters around to see who could shoot the most birds out of a hundred, released one at a time, and with a rifle no less.”

  “And Little Sureshot would win every time?”

  “Just about always.”

  “What was her secret?”

  “Annie said to think of the rifle as a mere extension of your arm, like pointing with your finger, just point and shoot and don't spend a lot of time aiming.”

  She takes up her slingshot, loads a ball bearing and says to herself, "Just point and shoot,” and she lets go with a perfect headshot to a cardboard woman minding her own business sitting at the window.”

  “No splattering brains,” she says disappointedly.

  “That'll come next.”

  "Now here," I give her a handful of ball bearings, "use these." She takes them and shoots again shearing the heads off two cardboard targets.

  "Holy shit."

  "Yep, just like a shotgun. You can't hardly miss when you load up a handful."

  We spend nearly all afternoon in the apartment massacring paper people until we're both not too bad, and our shoulders are screaming from all the pulling.

  “We'd better quit and heal a little before we get to the castle,” I say.

  “Mine're killing me,” she says rubbing her shoulders.

  “Mine too but just think what a Little Sure Shot you are now.”

  “Deadly.”

  “Let's rest up a bit. The march starts in an hour.”

  "So you don't think we can do a nice civilized trade with Drusilla tomorrow like we agreed?" Nanette says.

  "You'd trust a murdering psychopath to keep their word?"

  ***

  Before leaving the apartment, I put on a Kevlar vest and pack a Taser and pepper spray.

  "Think anyone'll recognize me?" I ask Nanette.