by C. L. Wells
“No!” James shouted, “You stay away from her!”
“Mia?” Nick said. Mia came from the back of the group, carrying a telescoping electric stun baton at the ready.
“No!” Laura shouted. “Please, God, no!”
“Leave her alone! Punish me, not her! She had nothing to do with it!” J.T. protested.
Mia touched the end of the baton to Laura’s bare thigh and she let out a scream, then started crying. James struggled against his restraints, willing to take his chances with the guards if he could get one good swing at Mia first, but they wouldn’t budge.
Nick looked at J.T. and a wild look was in his eyes as he spoke. “You never asked how I made it happen in the old days, J.T. How the votes of all the board members seemed to line up magically, how the regulators always approved the sales. You never asked because you didn’t have the stomach for it!” Nick’s look was one of contempt as he continued. “Now you’re getting a taste of it, my friend.”
He walked up to J.T. and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head to turn and face Laura.
“Do you see that?! That, is what will happen to all of you if you try anything else before I’m done with you!” He nodded at Mia as he finished his sentence.
Mia moved the stun baton to shock Laura again, but James shot out his leg and kicked the prod away as he shouted, “No!” Mia’s eyes flashed for only a second, and then she spun around and kicked James in the solar plexus, landing back in the same place she’d started from. With James gasping for air, she easily advanced the baton to its intended target and Laura let out another shriek.
“AHHHH! AHHH! PLEASE STOP! Pleeeease staaahhhppp!” Laura continued crying and sobbing, tears streaming down her face.
Nick backed up and surveyed his handiwork. Apparently satisfied that he had made his point, he addressed the commandos.
“Cut those two loose and take them to their cabin. They won’t be joining us for dinner tonight.”
The commandos dutifully cut James and Laura loose, and escorted them down the stairs and to their cabin. Once they were gone, Nick turned his attention back to J.T.
“J.T., I really had hoped to avoid such unpleasantries. I hope, as you spend the day up here on the top deck, out in the sun, that you will reconsider your actions and avoid disrupting my plans further. Oh, by the way, that gentleman who wrote you the note won’t be helping you anymore. I’ve taken care of him.”
Nick stepped closer to J.T. so that they were mere inches away from each other, face to face. His countenance was showing malevolent anger as he spoke his next words.
“Just to be absolutely clear, if you try anything like this again, I’ll break Laura’s legs so badly that she won’t be able to walk again. Is that clear?”
J.T. stared straight back as he responded, “Crystal clear.”
Nick’s countenance changed, a slight smile coming across his face as he backed away. “Good,” he responded. He turned and began walking towards the staircase leading down to the deck below.
“I pity you, Nick,” J.T. said as Nick was leaving.
Nick turned around, curious. “Why, pray tell, is that?” he asked.
“You are using your considerable talent to gain a pile of money that won’t make you any happier. If twenty million won’t make you happy, eighty-eight million won’t either. You’re going about it all wrong. You can change, though… I still believe you can change.”
“If that is supposed to make me let you all go, give up the money, and join a twelve-step program to find inner peace, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” Nick retorted. “However, since you appear to be so concerned with my happiness, I’ll let you in on some information. Money is a means to an end, and happiness is a state of mind. I enjoy what I do. To use your word, it makes me happy. I like the game. It’s exciting. You might say I’m an adrenaline junkie. Being a saint is…boring.” With that, Nick turned and walked away, leaving J.T. to bake in the scorching afternoon sun.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sun beat down on J.T. Thornbacker as he sat on the top deck of the yacht. He found that he could just barely sit down on the decking, even with both of his hands secured with plastic restraints to the railing running around the edge of the deck. He had been able to move his shirt over the top of his head so that it provided some shade for his face, but there was no coverage for his arms. He was sure to get some nasty burns if he was left up here until the sun set. Thankfully, he had put on some long cotton pants before being herded onto the deck and lashed to the side railing. He had been on deck for about two hours now. He was sweating and thirsty.
Over the past two hours, he had re-traced his actions since finding the note in his pocket on to when he’d been confronted by Nick about trying to set up an escape attempt. He was wracking his brain, trying to determine how and when he had gotten caught. Did they have a video camera in the cabin where they were staying and see him read the note or stash it under his mattress? Did they see him hide the note at the bank? Or was there something else in play? Did his would-be rescuer even exist? Was it all some elaborate ploy by Nick to see what J.T. would do? After all, the person who had slipped the note in his pocket probably could have been hired by Nick himself.
J.T. finally decided that there was no way to know for certain if the mystery man was a legitimate ally or if it was all set up by Nick as a ruse. He decided that another attempt would be reckless. He believed what Nick said about hurting Laura if he tried anything else. Seeing both Laura and James get hurt because of his failed attempt to get them help this time had been bad enough. Seeing Laura’s legs get broken was something he was not prepared to risk. He resigned himself to going along with Nick’s plan to the end, wherever that might lead them. He still wasn’t convinced that Nick was telling them the truth about planning to let them go with a nice send-off and millions to burn – that part just didn’t make sense to him. Time would tell.
Around four p.m. Nick came back up on the top deck. He was wearing sunglasses and a broad-rimmed hat which shielded him from the sun. He was carrying a glass of ice water. J.T. licked his lips almost involuntarily at the sight of the water. He was thirsty, very thirsty. The sun had come around in front of him during the past few hours and he couldn’t shield himself adequately from its rays no matter what he did. If he covered his face as best he could with his shirt, his stomach would be exposed. With his upper-torso covered, his face bore the brunt of the sun’s rays along with his arms. At this point, he was burned on his arms, and his face and stomach were rosy as well.
Nick pulled up a chair about ten feet from where J.T. was tied to the railing and sat down. He crossed his legs and took a nice, long drink from the glass of ice water that he had obviously brought to torment J.T. with.
“How’s it going, old boy?” he said with a vindictive smile.
“How do you think?” J.T. responded.
“You seem to be holding up well enough. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you out here too long. I still need you to be functional enough to go to the bank tomorrow morning.”
“Good thing,” J.T. replied.
“You intrigued me earlier with all of your talk about happiness and how I should change my ways and join you on your new-age spiritual enlightenment journey,” Nick said mockingly.
“It’s not new-age,” replied J.T.
“Semantics,” continued Nick. “I want to know more about what makes you tick, J.T., today, not the you from before. I knew you had gone down the repentant sinner path and it was useful to know about your bleeding heart to repay our past victims. I also discerned correctly that you would be motivated by the threat or use of violence against your two compatriots down in the hold. But I would like to know more about why you changed. What was it that made you go soft? It might be useful to me in the future, and if you are willing to regale me on the finer points of your conversion,” Nick waved his hand and performed a mock bow, “I am your willing listener.” When he was done speaking, Nick sat back in
his chair and took another long drink of ice water.
J.T. considered the request. He knew Nick’s angle – he wanted to know how he might use whatever J.T. shared in order to manipulate or control him for his own purposes in the future. He had just admitted as much. But was there more? Was it possible that somewhere, deep down, he might be genuinely interested? He decided it didn’t matter at the moment. The more he complied with Nick’s wishes now, the more likely Nick mightay be to spare their lives and be lenient with them once their usefulness to him was outlived.
“I’m a bit parched to be telling stories at the moment,” J.T. responded, looking longingly at what remained of Nick’s drink.
Nick sipped at the ice water until it was a mere inch from the bottom before offering the straw to J.T., who eagerly sipped the last bit of liquid from the bottom of the glass.
“Let’s hear it then,” Nick probed as he returned to his seat.
“The first few years in prison, I was just upset about getting caught,” J.T. began. “I had the lawyers exploring every legal option to get me out with a mistrial or get my sentence reduced. As the years progressed, I began to realize I might actually be serving the whole stretch. I was getting depressed. I started taking anti-depressants prescribed by one of the prison docs, but it made my thinking go fuzzy. I couldn’t even read the business journal and focus on an article long enough to finish it, so I stopped taking the stuff.”
“There was this AA program being offered in the prison I was in, and the prison doc suggested I attend. I figured, ‘Why not?’, so I went. I started hearing stories from some of the other prisoners about their lives. The messed-up childhoods, the drug abuse, sexual abuse, you name it. Of course, compared to most of them, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth. I started thinking about my life, what I had before. I began wondering if I had ever really been happy or if I had simply chased after what I thought I needed to be happy, chased it so fast and hard that I had never really slowed down enough to feel the void that was there all along. I gave that some serious thought. I didn’t have much else to do, staring at the walls all day. The more I thought, the more convinced I became that I really didn’t have any idea what would make me happy, much less content or fulfilled.
“That’s when I hit what we call in the program ‘rock bottom’. Faced with the prospect of being in that prison until I was an old man and seeing what a mess I had made of my life, I decided I was ready for a change. I decided that J.T. Thornbacker didn’t know squat about how to run his life in a way that would lead to contentment, fulfillment, or peace.”
“So that’s when you found God and started your bleeding heart campaign to try and save the world with our ill-gotten gain?” Nick asked half-heartedly.
“No. That’s when God found me…. And that’s when I asked this God Whom I knew nothing about to straighten out the mess I had made of my life. It was a couple of years later when I got to the point where I decided to use the money to try and right some of the wrongs I had helped to perpetrate,” J.T. concluded.
“And that,” interrupted Nick, “is when I found the money. I suppose I should thank this god of yours for that.”
“God had nothing to do with that,” J.T. replied.
“Don’t be so sure, my friend,” Nick said with a smile. He stood up and moved the chair back a few feet before walking to the stairs. “Thank you for the conversation. It has been enlightening,” he concluded before descending the stairs and leaving J.T. to suffer some more under the discomfort of the afternoon sun.
Chapter Twenty-Six
At sundown, one of the commandos came up to the upper deck of the yacht and cut the wrist restraints off, then he led a thirsty, sunburned, and tired J.T. Thornbacker back down to the cabin that was his temporary holding cell. The commando unlocked the door and motioned for J.T. to enter, locking it after he was inside.
J.T. stumbled in the door and stood for a moment, stretching his back. James, seated on the couch at the far side of the room, stood up and crossed the room towards J.T., hitting him in the face with his fist when he came within range. J.T. staggered back across the room and hit the bunk beds installed in the wall of the yacht, stopping his backwards progress. James stood there scowling at him, waiting for J.T. to fight back. J.T. reached his hand up and wiped away the trickle of blood trickling down from his lip with the back of his hand.
“I deserved that,” J.T. said.
“What were you thinking?” James reprimanded, still staring at him angrily. Laura just stared reproachfully at J.T. from where she was seated, saying nothing.
“Look,” J.T. began, “I apologize for the trouble I got you two into today. This guy came to me. He slipped a note in my pocket at the bank, saying he could help get us out, and I saw a chance to end this. I thought it would be better if you didn’t know because I thought you might try to stop me.”
“At least he’s being honest about why he didn’t tell us,” Laura quipped sarcastically. “Maybe after today, you’ll listen to us when we tell you it would be better to just do what Nick is asking you to do.”
“I will. I will,” J.T. promised.
“How do we know we can actually trust you this time?” asked James.
“I know I let you guys down. I’m sorry about that. I can understand you don’t trust me right now. I can’t say that I would trust me either if the shoe was on the other foot. But there’s nothing you can do about it but take my word for it and wait and see.”
“That’s what we did the last time; it didn’t work out so well for me then,” Laura pointed to the burn marks on her leg where she had been zapped with the electrical shock baton.
“I get it,” J.T. lamented. “I really do.” He edged over to the couch and slumped down into the seat. “Do we have any bottled water? I’m parched.”
“You look like hell,” James replied, going over to a small shelf where there were some bottled waters and throwing one over towards J.T. It landed on the couch within his reach.
J.T. picked up the bottle, opened it, and began taking small sips. The door lock turned, and one of the commandos came in with a plate of sandwiches and unceremoniously deposited them on the table, along with three cold bottles of water, before exiting again.
“Hallelujah!” James exclaimed as he and Laura both advanced on the food. After eating in silence for a few minutes, Laura noticed that J.T. hadn’t moved.
“Don’t you want something to eat?” Laura said between bites.
“No. Think I’ve got sun poisoning. Better off just drinking water for now,” J.T. replied.
“I’m still mad at you,” Laura said to J.T., “but I’m glad you’re o.k.”
“Me, too; sorry they used that shock stick on you.” J.T. replied weakly. “I won’t try anything else, I promise.”
“Yeah, I hope you’re telling the truth this time, for all of our sakes,” James replied.
Over the next several days, the bank routine continued without interruption. Some changes were made in the process to ensure J.T. didn’t try to contact anyone else. He was patted down and his pockets were searched before he left the yacht and upon his return.
On the final day of the withdrawal process, after everyone had finished the gourmet lunch that was provided on the yacht, Nick opened up a bottle of champagne. He poured a glass for everyone at the table and handed them out, and then he proposed a toast.
“Here’s to the completion of our little journey together, the end of your captivity, and the beginning of this next phase of our lives,” he said as he raised his glass.
Mia and Nick smiled as they drank the champagne. James and Laura politely sipped the champagne, not wanting to offend their host, but not quite certain what was going to happen next. J.T. didn’t drink at all, but quietly put his glass back down on the table.
“I’m sure you are all wondering if I am going to keep my promise. Toward that end, I’ve prepared a little briefing for you in the conference room. You can bring your champagne if you like. Mia wi
ll escort you there,” Nick continued, motioning to Mia with his glass and slightly nodding his head in her direction.
“Please follow me,” Mia said, standing up from the table.
James, Laura, and J.T. dutifully followed Mia to the deck below, and into a conference room that they had not seen before. A long table surrounded by leather chairs was in the center of the room, with a video screen hanging prominently on the wall at one end. Three of the commandos followed them, positioning themselves around the edges of the room.
A few moments later, Nick entered the room carrying a briefcase. He opened the briefcase, took out three manila envelopes, and placed them on the table in front of him. “I have information in these folders that you are going to find very interesting. I have a very specific reason for giving you each a very large sum of money. The simple truth is that I need you to remain lost to the FBI and never return to the United States. I need the U.S. government to believe that the three of you planned and executed your own escape from prison, and that you have fled the United States for parts unknown. This way, I am removed from any involvement in the escape and can continue my business activities in the United States without any problems with the authorities.” He smiled as he made the last statement.
“Now, I considered the possibility that one or more of you would consider returning to the U.S. and attempting to convince the authorities that you were not complicit in the escape, and give them information about my involvement. Toward that end, I have taken the liberty of providing myself with some insurance.”
He tapped the file folders in front of him on the table with two fingers for emphasis.
“A few minutes ago, an anonymous tip was placed by one of my associates from within the United States to the FBI, claiming to have information related to your escape. When the authorities follow up on this tip, they will find a warehouse full of evidence to implicate each of you in the planning and execution of your escape from prison.