“Why don’t we meet for breakfast?”
“Okay, pick me up at eight o’clock.”
“Where do you want to eat?”
“There’s a bagel shop that Daddy and I ate at once that has really good food, we’ll eat there.”
Alan put the car in gear and drove off, while wondering if Jack had been exaggerating about the town, and if not, he looked forward to the excitement.
As he drove past the bus station, he didn’t notice the young woman walking out the door, a young woman named Circe Doyle.
TAKEN! M – THE LETTER
(The events in TAKEN! M took place weeks after the events in TAKEN!25)
The return address on the envelope read,
United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute
He had picked up the mail from the box on his way out to the store. Jessica was craving white-chocolate, raspberry truffle cheesecake again, because of her pregnancy, and the only place that sold it the way she liked it was miles away.
He had called ahead to the restaurant as he drove, so that he could pick-up the order at curbside. Along with the cheesecake, he had ordered a sandwich for himself.
As he waited for his order to be brought out, he checked through the mail and found the letter from the prison, the letter from Robert Michael Rothman.
The FBI had asked if he wanted the letter forwarded or destroyed, and he instructed them to send it along, out of curiosity.
Rothman was a serial killer that he and Jessica had recently captured, and whose story was much like his own. Rothman too, had spared, and then married his first intended victim, but unlike himself, Rothman went on to murder dozens of young women while deceiving his wife, Claire.
He opened the envelope and read.
Dear Fellow Sufferer,
I call you a fellow sufferer because I know that you are plagued by the same demons that have vexed me all my life.
Have you given in to them yet? Or perhaps you’re stronger than I am? If you haven’t given in to your base desires, let me assure you that it is just a matter of time before you do, for although you may possess a stronger will than I, you are no match for the devils inside you.
You hear them whispering always, don’t you?
Whenever a lovely young thing passes by, you think of all the pleasure she could bring you, all the anger and frustration that could be released upon her supple skin and fair face.
Listen to the demons, give in to your desires, and then you’ll know the ecstasy that only comes from being yourself.
You are as much a predator as I am, and I can only marvel at the self-control it takes for you to keep yourself in check. However, it is inevitable that you will fail someday.
Prey is everywhere, the young pretty ones, and they stroll through this world in a dreamy ignorance of its true terrors, while thinking that men such as ourselves are anomalies and rare.
We are not rare, but ravenous, and without pity, and driven by cravings that would frighten them to weeping.
I gave in to such desires routinely and the pleasure it gave is indescribable to most, but easily imagined by a man such as yourself, and imagine it you do, oh yes, I know you do.
I know who and what you are, friend, and believe me when I tell you that becoming someone like me is your fate.
I am your future, my fellow sufferer, so just give in to your desires and ease your pain.
You cannot resist forever.
Wishing you good hunting,
Robert Michael Rothman
He stuffed the letter back in its envelope and noticed that he had begun to sweat, even as his pulse quickened.
“I won’t give in, not ever,” he whispered.
His was the lone car parked on the side of the restaurant, and was hidden from view by a wall and shrubbery.
When the girl came out carrying his order, he studied her. She was no more than twenty, beautiful, and a brunette. She was chatting along on her phone as she came towards him, oblivious to her surroundings, and he thought about how easy it would be to steal a car some night, place an order, and lie in wait for her in the shadows.
When the girl came out with the order, simply come up from behind, render her unconscious, and toss her in the trunk.
He thought all this in the twelve seconds it took for the girl to reach him, without conscious effort. He thought this way all the time. Planning the capture of female prey was as natural to him as breathing.
The effort came, when he pushed such thoughts from his mind, when he refused to dwell on what would occur once the prey was at his mercy.
“Here’s your cheesecake and sandwich.”
He paid, while telling her to keep the change, and when she saw how much he had given her, she smiled wide.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, and have a good night.”
He watched the girl disappear back inside while chattering away on her phone, and then he ripped Rothman’s letter to shreds, tossed it out the window, and drove off into the night.
TAKEN! N – THE DOG
(The events in TAKEN! N took place days after the events in TAKEN!24C – Hit Squad)
Stitches the dog wagged his tale as the pack leader opened the door and let him outside.
Stitches ran down the steps, nose twitching for new scents as he hurried to his favorite tree and raised his hind leg.
Even before he finished urinating, he caught the scent of rabbit nearby, and soon he was off following the trail of his prey.
The scent took him south of his home and on an angle away from the stream that flowed past it, and soon the terrain became hilly, even as the scent grew stronger.
As he topped a rise, he saw the twitching tail of the rabbit as it darted into a clump of bushes, and he bared his teeth in feral anticipation of the meal to come, but just as he was about to charge at the bushes, he came to a skidding halt.
Turkey!
The scent of wild turkey was nearby, and the rabbit was immediately forgotten, as the desire for rarer and more elusive prey consumed the dog.
When he came across a feather from the bird, he sniffed at it frantically, angled his search to the east, and came across the freshest scent yet.
Two minutes later, he had the bird in sight, as he saw movement twenty yards away in a grassy field. Stitches sprinted towards the bird as it scooted off and weaved between the shrubs growing in the field. However, as he was closing in for the kill, the bird took to the air, for unlike its domesticated counterpart, wild turkeys are capable of flight.
Stitches let out a growl of frustration as he slowed his pace, while watching the bird glide away. The growl soon became a surprised yelp, as his front paws slid off a steep incline that was the beginning of a near-vertical drop off the hillside. With his belly scraping the ground, he fought frantically to stay his slide over the edge, and just managed to regain purchase with his front paws and scamper backwards.
Safe once more, he gave out a small WOOF! of triumph, but then startled when he heard a human voice nearby.
He followed the sound to its source, the backyard of a home, where four-year-old Sophia Carter played with her dolls atop a blanket.
Moments later, Stitches ran towards the child with his teeth showing, as a growl rose up from deep within the pit bull’s throat.
***
He walked beside Jessica as they followed Chief Dent to the rear of the home, where their dog was chained to a fence with an animal control officer standing nearby.
The chief spoke to the man.
“The dog belongs to them, Jay.”
The animal control officer freed the dog, and watched as he ran to receive praise from his owners, who petted him and scratched behind his ears.
After cooing soothing words to Stitches, Jessica spoke to Chief Dent.
“Why is his face wet?”
The animal control officer answered.
“He was maced, that’s also what reddened his eyes, but I cleaned him up and he seems fine now
.”
“How’s the little girl doing?”
Dent answered her.
“She’s good, but as you can imagine, it shook her up a little.”
He spoke to the chief.
“What exactly happened, Jack?”
Dent waved his hand in a “come along” gesture as he walked to the far edge of the yard and pointed at the base of a tree, where a pile of cigarette butts lay, a few of which were fresh.
“The little girl, Sophia, she said that ‘A big, scary man,’ grabbed her and covered her mouth with his hand. Just as the perp, who we now know is Herman Dawson, was about to carry her away, Stitches here charged the man and began biting him. That caused Dawson to let Sophia go, and then her screams alerted her mother.
“How far away was the mother?” Jessica asked.
“The mom was sitting right by the window looking out, but an overheated pot on the stove took her attention for a moment, and that’s when Dawson made his move.”
Jessica shivered as she looked at the pile of cigarettes.
“He must have been here on and off for days, just watching her, and waiting for the right moment to strike.”
The chief smiled.
“He didn’t count on your dog, but he was ready for trouble, and he spritzed him with the mace before taking off.”
Dent did the hand wave again and led them past a grouping of trees and into a field, where a dirt bike laid on its side.
“We think the dog reached him again just before he could ride away on that, and it forced him to run for it, which he did.”
They walked on and as they stepped past a group of tall bushes, they saw that the field ended at a steep hill.
“Watch your step, folks,” Dent said, and then they all peered down to the bottom, where the body of Herman Dawson was being loaded onto a stretcher, in preparation of the helicopter that would arrive to cart it away.
“He had a long record as a pedophile, and we found earlier pictures of Sophia on his phone.”
Jessica picked up the dog and kissed him.
“Mommy’s baby is a hero, yes you are.”
***
That night, Stitches wagged his tail and gave a little bark of joy, as the pack leader filled his bowl with a treat from his own plate.
It was meat, and the meat was turkey.
TAKEN! O – THE RUSSIAN
(Ever wonder what happened to the Russian that was locked in Lena's hall closet during TAKEN! 7? I did.)
Albert Rostovich awoke with a sore back and a head that ached fiercely.
His mouth was gagged and his wrists were bound together.
The last thing he remembered was searching a home for money with Pavel, when a tall American appeared from nowhere.
Albert looked around, as he was able to make out shadows, thanks to the thin bit of daylight coming in from beneath the door. He saw the garments hanging down around him, felt the wall close behind his back, and realized that he had been placed inside a closet.
How did one unarmed man best them both?
He pushed the question from his mind and went to work freeing himself.
The first thing he needed to do was to get to his feet, and he did so, as his head pounded with such pain that it nearly blinded him.
His hands were bound behind his back and so he had to turn around to try the doorknob, which was actually not a knob, but a lever.
The door wouldn’t open, but he could tell that it was being prevented from doing so by something pressed against it, rather than refusing to open because it was locked.
Albert took a deep breath and calmed the reflex to panic. He could get out of this, and he would, and once he did so, he would extract his revenge from the American.
He had no way to see the knot tied in the fabric that bound his wrists, but his fingertips could feel that it had been wrapped several times before being tightened.
With a great deal of patience, he finally managed to get the tip of the door lever between two layers of fabric, and moved his wrists back and forth until the entire thing was between the layers.
Afterwards, he leaned forward in an attempt to force the fabric wider. It worked, but marginally, and he could feel the binding loosen.
Nearly an hour later, he finally managed to free one hand and remove the gag, and after throwing his weight against the door several times, he was free of his prison.
Albert searched the house and discovered that Pavel and the American were nowhere to be found, but there was a small amount of blood on the floor near the sofa.
After relieving his bladder and downing pain reliever found in the medicine cabinet, Albert headed to Oleg’s restaurant to find his boss, Ivanov, and warn him about the American. He only hoped that he wasn’t too late.
***
He was too late.
The restaurant was a crime scene and the police were everywhere. However, it cheered Albert to see that Ivanov’s green Escalade was gone. That meant that Ivanov had escaped, and Albert knew just where to find him.
***
Anatolii Ivanov sat inside his Cadillac, which was parked on a bluff overlooking the funeral of his longtime enemy, Sergio Gallo.
In his hand was a trigger device that would detonate a powerful bomb hidden inside Gallo’s coffin, a bomb that would send the dead Capo’s family to join him in the great beyond, and pave the way for Ivanov to seize their territory.
Ivanov ran his finger over the trigger switch in eager anticipation, but just as he was about to detonate the bomb, he caught sight of Albert in the rear view mirror, walking towards him quickly.
Albert climbed into the passenger seat and wilted under Ivanov’s baleful stare.
He quickly explained what had happened to him, and Ivanov grunted in acceptance.
“The trouble at the restaurant, was that caused by the tall American as well?”
“Yes, but now be quiet. I want to savor what’s to come.”
Albert stared at the trigger device in Ivanov’s hand, as he unconsciously hunched his shoulders against the imminent blast, while pitying the children visible at the funeral.
An instant later, the bomb detonated, destroying the Escalade, Ivanov, Albert, and ironically, the trigger device that made the blast possible, and, aided by the fuel that was contained in the SUV’s gas tank, the fire burned the few human remains to ash, making identification impossible.
***
TWO WEEKS LATER
He entered Lena’s house with caution, and knew immediately by the lack of decomposition odor that the Russian had managed to free himself. This pleased him greatly, as he had not been looking forward to the clean-up duty involved in removing a corpse.
He then went to the closet and found the overturned chair, along with the discarded bonds.
After straightening things up, he got back in his car, drove away, and never gave the missing Russian another thought.
TAKEN! P – THE OLD MAN
(This one takes place in the future, a possible future.)
The old man entered the bank and watched the guard at the door frown while studying his security screen.
“The computer cleared you to enter, but there’s no info coming up on my panel.”
The old man looked at him without expression.
“What does that tell you?”
The guard looked the old man over. He was a tall man with a full head of white hair and an erect posture, who was likely eighty or more, despite the sharpness of his eyes, which looked young. The clothes he wore were of the old style, and his boots shined like new.
The lack of information showing on the screen only happened if someone was too important to have their details known, such as a politician, corporate bigwig, celebrity, or government operative. Old men like the one standing before him weren’t likely to rate such secrecy.
“It tells me that this machine needs to be serviced. Go right on in, but please be quick; the bank is closing in twenty minutes.”
The old man thanked him, walke
d down four steps, and moved towards the cubicles along the right side, where he would be able to access his safe deposit box.
Moments later, a disturbance occurred at the entrance, and he spun around just in time to see the security guard fall to the floor with gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen, as three men entered with weapons drawn. The fired shots occurred without even a whisper of sound, as the gun used was a silent model.
The men were clad in black from top to bottom, and their eyes were hidden behind mirrored lenses in their face masks, a precaution that stymied the security system’s attempts at facial recognition.
The monochrome of their black outfits was only disrupted by the single word stenciled on their chests in white. The words were ONE, TWO and THREE.
The old man studied the would-be thieves and saw that two of them were nearly his height, they were numbered TWO and THREE, while ONE, the man who shot the security guard, was shorter and of average stature.
Their garb completely covered them so that no skin showed, but when the shorter man, ONE, shouted instructions to the bank’s employees and customers, the old man detected a slight German accent.
“Everyone stay where you are and follow our orders.”
The man remained by the door after speaking, as the other two men came down into the room and began herding their hostages. Once they had everyone together in the center, the man numbered One spoke again.
“Who is the head bank employee?”
A beautiful young woman with blond hair raised her hand timidly.
“I am, sir, but this bank no longer handles cash, only credits.”
“I am aware of that. We only want the contents of the safe deposit boxes, one in particular actually, but we have no way of knowing which one it is, and so, we must open them all and take the contents.”
The woman blinked in surprise.
“We have over three-hundred boxes here of varying sizes; you’ll never be able to carry it all away.”
The man smiled. The old man couldn’t see his face behind the mask, of course, but he heard the smile in his voice nonetheless.
“We are well prepared. You will go with THREE and open the rear exit, where our cargo drones are hovering. Afterwards, you will give him the master access code that simultaneously opens every box. If you refuse to help us, or attempt to contact law enforcement, we will kill every person in here, and you’ll die first.”
Taken! Alphabet Series - 26 Original Taken! Tales (Donald Wells' Taken! Series Book 14) Page 6