by C. L. Wells
Silas bent down and pretended to be tying his shoe when they got close to where he was standing so that Nick wouldn’t get a good look at his face and possibly recognize him. With a hat and sunglasses, it wasn’t likely, but Silas had known stakeouts to be blown for simpler reasons.
The car continued down the street, almost to the end, before abruptly turning into an alleyway. Moments later, two men, each carrying a duffel bag, came out of the alley and walked down the sidewalk to one of the shops, and then went inside. A few minutes later, they came back out, got back in the car, and continued down the street going in the opposite direction from Silas.
Silas took out his phone and dialed Marty, who was positioned in an alleyway at the end of the street with a rented moped.
“Marty, he’s coming your way. Follow him, but not too close,” he instructed.
“O.k., I see him,” Marty replied before disconnecting the call and putting the phone back in his pocket.
The car drove past where Marty was waiting. He waited a few seconds for good measure and then pulled out behind them, following from about half a block away. This time, they drove along busy roads where he could blend in with the local traffic and not be noticed. Marty stopped when they pulled in to the Barcadere Marina parking lot. He got off the moped and began to walk in their direction, being careful to act as if he was in no hurry. He was close enough to see that they boarded a cigarette boat and quickly began moving away from the dock, out to the open ocean.
After putting his phone away, Silas began walking down the street to see where the car had been parked and to examine the shop that the two men had entered. He was fairly certain that one of the two men had been Nick Bartonovich. The alleyway offered no surprises. It was too narrow for more than one car, and dead-ended into another building. He came out of the alleyway and made his way to the shop door where the two men had entered. It was a bakery on the first floor, with a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. An acrylic sign hung down from the ceiling over the staircase that read “CES Enterprises”.
“Bingo,” Silas thought to himself. He wandered over to the bakery counter and picked out some delicious looking croissants. After paying for them, he left and headed back down the street to where he had parked the van. He took out his phone and called Marty.
“Did you find out where they went?” he asked when Marty answered the phone.
“Yes, I did. Dey went to da marina and left in a boat.”
“Good work, Marty. Meet me back at my hotel; we’ve got some planning to do.”
Once they were back on the boat, J.T. went to his cabin to change out of his suit. As he hung the pants up in the closet, something slid out of the pocket and onto the floor. He bent down to pick it up. It was a small pen with a piece of paper taped to it. He unfolded the paper and began reading what was written on it:
J.T. – I know you are being held hostage and that Nick Bartonovich is using you to withdraw money from the bank. I am here to help you escape. I need to know as many details about your daily routine as you can give me: where you go each day, and where you are being held would be very helpful. Write them out on the back of this paper and slide it between the cushions of the couch where you sit each day when you go to the bank. I will place further instructions in the same place for you to retrieve the following day. – A friend who can help.
How did this get into my pocket? J.T. thought to himself. He carefully reviewed the errand to the bank from earlier in the day, trying to focus on who had the opportunity to pass him the note. He finally remembered a man who had brushed against him as he left the bank. That must have been it. He quickly walked over to his bunk and stashed the note and pen under his mattress before heading back up to the dining room for lunch.
The afternoon consisted of various leisure activities. Reading, fishing, swimming – everything you might expect from a vacation except for the armed guards. At one point, Nick even tempted Laura and James into going water-skiing. James had done a bit of water-skiing with a local boys club as a young man, and after a few bungled attempts, he was able to hold his own. Laura, on the other hand, had never skied before. Before the end of the afternoon, though, she was able to stay up on the skis and even jump a few small waves created by the wake of the boat. Mia and Nick took their turns on the skis, as well. They were both quite accomplished skiers, and Nick showed off his skill as he slalomed on one ski.
While everyone but the three remaining guards were off skiing on the cigarette boat, J.T. went down to his cabin and prepared the note for his new friend:
We are being held on a yacht about an hour out from Barcadere Marina. There are two other people being held captive with me. Each day I am taken to the bank to withdraw money. Nick, two armed guards, and myself go into the bank. We arrive at 9:00 a.m. and are there for approximately 15 to 20 minutes before we leave. We drive to an alleyway about a block away where I am blindfolded. We then drive for a few minutes and stop. I think two of them get out at that point. A few minutes later, they get back in the car and we drive off. They remove my blindfold just before we get to the marina, where we board a cigarette boat and go back to the yacht. There are five other armed guards who remain on the boat while we are gone to the bank.
Do NOT attempt to rescue us without the assistance of the FBI, as it will put us all in danger. Please go to the U.S. Consular office here in George Town and have them contact the FBI to let them know where we are and what our situation is.
Thank you for your help,
J.T. Thornbacker
When he was done, J.T. put the completed note back under his mattress. He felt a twinge of guilt about what he was planning to do, but he believed it was the right thing. Now that he had help from the outside and could possibly get the FBI involved in rescuing them, he had to take that chance. If he consulted with James and Laura beforehand, they might actually alert Nick to his plan in order to try and secure the money that Nick had promised them. A million dollars was a big temptation. He just couldn’t take that risk. That night, as he fell asleep, he felt that they finally had a fighting chance.
Chapter Twenty-Three
J.T. finished putting on his tie as he faced the mirror in his cabin. James and Laura were still up at breakfast per what had quickly become the daily routine, while J.T. and Nick had excused themselves to dress for their bank excursion. J.T. walked over to his bunk and retrieved the note he had written, placing it in his pocket before he exited the room. When he arrived on deck, he was surprised to find Mia joining them as they prepared to board the cigarette boat for the island.
Mia, who looked like a runway model, was Nick’s enforcer. J.T. had once seen her take down three college football players in a bar fight in college when Nick had gotten drunk and insulted one of the player’s girlfriends. The three had come to rough up Nick, but Mia intervened before they could get within two yards of him. Mia came out without a scratch, while the other three went to the infirmary. One of the players had to sit out the entire season because of his injuries. Needless to say, she was not an errand girl, and her presence on the boat back to the island was not a good sign.
“Why are you joining us today, Mia?” J.T. tried to ask in as unassuming a way as possible, so as not to betray his concern.
“Oh, just a bit of business I need her to take care of while we go to the bank,” Nick replied. He smiled amiably at J.T., who didn’t feel any better after getting the answer to his question.
Once on the mainland, Mia did not ride with them to the bank, but instead headed off on foot in the opposite direction. J.T. tried to retrieve the note with as little movement as possible, attempting to disguise the maneuver in the process of exiting the vehicle. He was relieved as they headed into the bank without anyone appearing to have noticed.
Once they were in the bank, the two guards took up their normal standing positions, flanking the leather couch. Nick nodded at the receptionist – who by now knew that was her cue to call Mr. Takata. J.T. tried to sit down on t
he couch in as casual a manner as possible, and slipped the note between the cushion and the arm rest as instructed. Mr. Takata arrived shortly, and they completed their practiced transaction with a minimum of delay, leaving the bank with their daily trove of cash and heading back to the yacht – or so J.T. thought.
Once his blindfold was removed for the return trip, he immediately noticed that Nick was not in the vehicle.
“Where’s Nick?” he asked the guards.
“That does not concern you,” the lead guard replied.
The guards were not big on conversation, J.T. had discovered, and he was not likely to get anymore information from either of them, so he contented himself with not knowing the answer to his question as they boarded the boat. He had expected Mia to join them, but the guards did not wait for her, and began the journey back to the yacht without her.
Silas had watched J.T. and Nick enter the bank, then exit again and drive away with their guards. Once they were safely out of sight, he entered the bank, walked across the atrium which served as the lobby, and sat down on the leather couch where J.T. had placed the note. He slid his hand between the cushion and the armrest, retrieving the expected note and putting it in his pocket. He looked around to see if anyone was observing him, waited a few more moments, and then stood up and walked back out of the bank. He headed down the block and around the corner, where he had parked the van out of sight of the bank entrance. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was reaching for the driver’s side door handle and feeling a hard blow to the back of his head.
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed besides the sharp pain in the back of his head was that he was duct-taped to a chair. Arms, legs, torso, and mouth were all duct-taped. After struggling in vain for a few moments on the off chance that he might be able to break free, he stopped and looked around. From his surroundings, he surmised that he was in a basement. The chair, it seemed, was bolted to the floor. About ten feet away, to Silas dismay, lay an electric stun baton on a table. Silas began to struggle against his bonds with renewed vigor, attempting to find a weakness in his bonds.
He heard footsteps coming down the wooden staircase located in the far corner of the room. When Nick Bartonovich came into view, followed by the Asian woman he had seen in Nick’s home just days before, Silas felt the blood drain from his face and he began to sweat. This was definitely a worst-case scenario.
Nick had removed his coat and tie, and was carrying what looked like a bottle of scotch and a glass with ice in it. He crossed the room and pulled out a chair at the table, setting down his glass and slowly pouring himself a drink. Mia stood in front of Silas and stared at him with those same cold, steely eyes that he remembered from the office visit – emotionless, penetrating, deadly looking eyes.
Nick took a long, slow sip of scotch and put the glass down on the table. He stared at Silas for some moments as if considering what he was going to do next. At last, he spoke.
“You know, Silas, I don’t like disgruntled employees who try to take advantage of my generosity. I cancelled a ten-thousand dollar debt of yours in exchange for a bit of detective work on your part, and now here you are putting your nose where it doesn’t belong, and attempting to spoil my plans.”
“I liked your little note, by the way, very concise. A bit limited in the vocabulary, but that’s understandable coming from someone with your educational disadvantages. Now, I’m going to keep this simple for you. I want you to go over every detail, starting from when you picked up the banking contract from Mr. Takata to the point when you arrived here today. If I don’t like your answers, then Mia here is going to help persuade you to provide a better answer.”
He turned and nodded to Mia, who stepped forward and unceremoniously tore the duct tape off of Silas’ mouth. Silas quickly considered what his options were. If he told the complete truth, Nick would know that he had acted on his own and likely had no backup. He also needed to protect Marty if he could, and provide some incentive for Nick to keep him alive. He decided to lie.
“I saw J.T. Thornbacker’s name in the bank contract you had me track down. When I heard he had escaped from prison, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he would be coming here to get the money. I contacted the police here in George Town. After I told them what I thought was going on, I arranged for them to let me work the case with them. I watched the bank until I saw J.T. come in and I followed you afterwards. That’s where I saw the blindfold and figured you were using him to get the money.
“Look,” he continued, “they’re onto you. Tomorrow, they are going to pick you up and send you and your little sweetheart here back to the States in nice little orange jumpsuits. If you let me go and come in with me now, I’ll speak to the judge to see if we can get you a reduced sentence for the kidnapping charge.”
Nick sat back, slowly poured himself another drink, and drank it down to the bottom.
“What is the name of the detective you are working with on the local police force?”
Silas felt sick to his stomach. He had no clue what any of the local police officers’ names were, so he made one up.
“Detective Jameson.”
“First name, please,” Nick prompted.
“Detective Andrew Jameson,” Silas replied.
Nick took out his cell phone and dialed a number. He nodded to Mia as he did. She deftly replaced the duct tape over Silas’ mouth.
“Hello, I need to know some information. Do you have a Detective Andrew Jameson on the force here in George Town? Hmmm. Thank you very much.” He smiled as he disconnected the call.
“Silas, I don’t think I like your answer very much. You see, there is no Detective Jameson on the local police force.”
Mia walked over to the table and picked up the electric stun baton.
“I’m afraid this is going to be a very long afternoon for you,” Nick said, right before the electric stun baton touched Silas and he felt a searing pain shoot through his body.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The boat arrived at the yacht as usual, and one of the commandos, along with J.T., disembarked. The remaining commando immediately set off again in the cigarette boat, presumably toward the island to pick up Nick and Mia. J.T. had an increasingly uneasy feeling about the change in schedule, but as there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, he went below to change out of his suit and into something more comfortable for lunch.
At lunch, Laura and James asked about Mia and Nick. J.T. told them what he knew, which wasn’t much, and they all continued to wonder what errand they might be on. Laura went to work on her tan after the meal, while James asked J.T. if he wanted to do some fishing. J.T. and James made their way to the far end of the yacht where the fishing equipment was kept.
The guards typically stood farther away whenever they were fishing, so as not to get impaled with a fishhook during casting. James was counting on them keeping a respectful distance so he could talk to J.T. privately.
“O.k., I heard what you said during lunch, but now that we have a bit more privacy, is there anything else out of the ordinary that happened on your trip today?” James asked in a whisper.
J.T. hated to lie to James. He was trying to live more honestly since embracing the program at Utopia, but he had decided he wouldn’t reveal anything about the offer of help from the anonymous do-gooder until he had to. He couldn’t risk either James or Laura saying something that might compromise their only shot at rescue.
“Everything went as smooth as possible at the bank – same as the other days,” J.T. replied half-heartedly. He put some bait on one of the hooks and cast a line into the water.
James baited his own hook and proceeded to cast his line. They continued to fish for another half an hour before the sound of another boat could be heard approaching the yacht. Both James and J.T. looked off in the direction of the oncoming boat to see if their hosts were returning. The familiar cigarette boat came into view and docked at the side of the yacht.
When Ni
ck got off the boat, he addressed the lead commando.
“Victor, bring everyone to the upper deck.”
Victor spoke into his radio headset and the guards began herding J.T., James, and Laura to the upper deck. Once everyone was assembled on the upper deck, Nick turned to face the three captives.
“I have some rather unfortunate news. It seems that J.T. here has decided to try and organize a little rescue.”
Laura turned to J.T., her eyes glaring.
“You said you wouldn’t do that, you bastard!”
“What have you done, J.T.?” James added, his face reflecting the fear he was feeling as the possible repercussions raced through his mind.
Nick addressed Victor, “Tie their hands to the railing.”
“Nick, they didn’t know anything about what I did. It’s not their fault! I’m the one you should be taking it out on, not them!” J.T. petitioned.
James thought about his chances as he saw the commandos approaching and noted that one of them had his Taser drawn. Laura saw the Taser as well.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the commando stated.
J.T. didn’t fight as they used the plastic restraints to lash his hands to the upper rail that ran around the side of the ship. James and Laura submitted as well, deciding that resistance was futile against the six well-armed commandos.
“What are you going to do to us?” J.T. asked.
“You see, old boy, I think it will be much more effective if I punish… her, instead,” Nick replied.