“You must promise to stay only a few minutes, then. Come with me.”
The wife and boy climbed a long and winding staircase. Vincent stayed close enough behind Mrs. Bolen to hear the rustling of her many petticoats beneath her skirts. He was led down a wide corridor that followed the curvature of the house.
Anthony Bolen’s room was in darkness. Once his eyes adjusted to the shadows, Vincent could see Bolen lying on a large bed, his body almost completely wrapped in bandages. Little of the face was uncovered save for the eyes, mouth, and nose. Bolen suddenly sat up in bed when he recognized Vincent, surprised by the visitor, but he said nothing.
“This young man from the warehouse wanted to see you, Anthony. I told him he could stay only a few minutes.”
Bolen nodded, his eyes large and concerned.
“Charlotte, would you get us some tea, please? I’m very thirsty.”
She pointed to a chair and Vincent sat.
“I’ll send Lizbeth with the tea. Remember young man, only a few minutes! He needs his rest.”
Once Charlotte had left the room, Anthony Bolen reached for Vincent’s hand and squeezed it so hard that it was impossible to tell whether it was a touch of affection or anger.
“What in hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?”
“Listen...,” Vincent leaned closer, whispering as he kissed Bolen’s lips. “Belle sent me. She wanted you to have this.” He slipped the note to the outstretched hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good. I was burned badly. I haven’t been sleeping well. Everything hurts. The Doctor gives me morphine. That helps the pain, but not much. I’ve missed you!”
The touch became less intense as Bolen stroked the Vincent’s hand.
“I have missed you too, Anthony. We must make this quick before someone comes. Someone else has been missing you as well.”
“Belle?”
“No, Santiago! I saw him today. McIntyre had been pretty rough with him. Some of the boys have been talking and they say one of the twins disappeared. They say some freak got too wild and the boy was killed. That’s only a rumor. Anyway..., I promised Santiago I would ask you if there was anything you could do about getting them out of there?”
“What does he expect me to do?”
“I don’t know!
Vincent quickly pulled his hand away as he heard someone on the other side of the door. A black maid entered with a tray of tea-things. After she left Vincent poured two cups and held one to Bolen’s lips as he sipped cautiously.
“Santiago sends his regards and hopes you are getting better. He is also worried about the gold and wondered if he might have it.”
“I think that would be a good idea, but he should not keep it with him. I think Belle would keep it for him. You can trust her. It would be better that way until he gets away from McIntyre. Now listen..., Mr. Parsons will be here tomorrow. He manages the warehouse. He knows the combination to the safe. That’s where I have it kept. I’ll instruct Parsons to pass it on to you. Be sure you see him! As for getting Santiago out..., I really don’t know what I can do right now.”
Anthony Bolen’s speech had become labored. It was obvious he was in pain.
“Can you read this to me?”
Bolen handed Belle’s note back to Vincent and the boy unfolded it and began reading...
“Dear Anthony,
That was a very brave thing you did for those people. I am very proud of you and was sorry to hear you were hurt. I hope it will not keep you away from us for very long. If you hurry back you will have free use of any boy you like, for a month. Although I suspect the one you’ll select is the one delivering this message! That’s why I am sending him with this note. I know he misses you and you probably are missing him as well. So Anthony, know we all hope to see you well again.
Love, Belle”
“You know,” Bolen said softly, his breathing becoming more labored. “There’s more to being a lady than having cultured ways and a respectable name!”
Vincent rose and once more took Bolen’s hand.
“What she says about getting well..., do that! Please, take care off yourself and come back to me! I do miss you, Anthony..., I...., I had better go now.”
Bolen nodded, his head turning suddenly with a surge of pain.
“I love you, Vincent! I’m always thinking about you and worry about you...., I guess it means I love you! Since this accident I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me. Thank you for coming, and thank Belle for sending you. Tell her I owe her one!”
Vincent bent closer and quickly kissed Bolen on the lips again, placing his hand on the bulge he had noticed beneath the bed-clothing.
“That was not damaged and I intend to use it again. Keep yourself ready for me, will you?”
“I’m always ready for you, Anthony.”
As Vincent opened the door to leave he walked into Charlotte Bolen, and had the impression she had been standing outside the door listening.
“Good day, ma’am.” He said, as he walked quickly away not waiting for her response.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The evening had been a long and uneventful one. Both men Santiago had serviced had demanded little of him. He had only to play a passive role and although they lingered after the act, it was mainly to fondle and kiss him. Santiago had been surprised at how similar each client had been in looks, technique and execution…, they could have been brothers. Perhaps they were, as evidenced by the physical similarity of size and angle of bend of their penises! Some time after he had drifted off to sleep when the last man had left, he suddenly woke with Kim on his mind and aware that he had heard no noise from the boy’s room. The walls of the building were intentionally thin to take advantage of those whose excitement was stimulated by eavesdropping on others having sex.
Santiago put on his pants and sandals and went to Kim’s room. Putting his ear to the door, he heard a muffled sound. Something about the noise made him uneasy. Then he heard it again…, a crying out…, a moan. He heard it several times and recognized Kim’s voice. Santiago tried the door and found it unlocked. He opened it quietly and in the dim light saw Kim bound and gagged, lying on the bed. A man was kneeling above him, masturbating as he watched the boy squirm in pain each time he reached down and brutally pinched Kim’s nipples and various other parts, taking the flesh between his fingers and twisting until the boy’s back arched and his legs shot out with each act of torture. The more he showed pain, the more excited the man became. Kim’s face was filled with terror and tears.
The door suddenly swung open, banging against the wall and the motion caught the man off guard so that he was unable to avoid the boy who leapt from the doorway and crashed into him, sending them both to the floor. Pummeling fists crushed the man’s nose and something in his jaw cracked, making the man’s face look grotesque. Santiago gave the man the final strike, kicking him forcefully in the groin. When Santiago stood, he was bleeding from the mouth and had a cut above his eye. He came to Kim and removed the gag then began untying knots. The boy cried uncontrollably, unable to rid himself of the terror that had filled him. Seeing Kim covered with bruises, it was obvious the man had been at work for some while. Santiago threw his arms around Kim and held him. He heard the door open and saw two men enter. One of them was McIntyre.
“What the hell is going on here?” the voice was loud and angry. “What the fuck are you doing here, Cali?”
Santiago realized that McIntyre had known what was going on and was resenting the interference. He whipped around with venom in his voice and shouted at McIntyre.
“Just another case of your pathetic business nearly killing another boy! For the love of God, do you want to kill him as well?’
Before he could go on, he was assaulted by a fist in the face that sent him to the floor and he was surrounded in darkness.
Santiago did not know how much time had elapsed. He was in a room not his own, a small as a closet. There were voices on the other side of the door. T
hrough the fog in his head he recognized one of the voices as McIntyre’s. Careful so as not to make a sound, Santiago edged toward the door and listened.
“But the kid won’t eat...,” One of the men was saying. “There may be some broken ribs and the kid is running a fever.”
“The hell with the kid,” McIntyre responded viciously. “We’re going to dump him, anyway. I’m tired of having the little bastard around. Him and his brother have been nothing but trouble for me since they got here. We should have eliminated him the day we got rid of the other one. I’m not sure what to do with him yet. The problem is with the other one, Cali. He’s my biggest draw. But I can’t let him get into this. He’s already too involved with the kid and likes the kid too much. I don’t think they’re fucking, and that’s the dangerous part. They’re really bonded. I thought he would be helpful but it hasn’t turned out that way.”
Santiago’s heart began pounding. He could feel the surging impulse to throw open the door and run, but he knew it would be useless. He listened.
“I don’t want that kid here. I want him gone by the end of the week. I don’t care what you do! Try selling him down at the docks. Make sure he gets on a ship that will be gone a long time. I may as well try getting my investment back. If there’s no one who wants to buy, use him as you will and then get rid of him. Don’t leave a trace. I’ll get some kind of paper drawn up that will show we sold him, even if we haven’t. Doc will want to know what happened to him. After the incident with his brother, you know the good Doctor has become more resistant to our methods of doing business. He’s next on our agenda of things to get rid of.”
“So what you’re saying is that you want us to...” One of the men sounded anxious.
“What I’m saying is that we have a problem on our hands and I expect you to take care of it. It’s what I pay you to do, take care of my problems. If you think you’re not up to it then say so and you’ll become a problem, yourself!
“We may even have to do something about the Peruvian, in there. Check him out, see if he’s awake.”
Santiago got back down on the floor and resumed the position he had found himself in when he had come to. A key sounded in the door and it opened.
“Nothing...,” he heard the man saying. “He’s still out.”
The door closed and this time he did not hear it being locked.
“I don’t care if the kid does have busted ribs,” McIntyre continued. “He’s not seeing the doctor. I can’t risk it. Doc is not to know about this, hear? Keep the boy locked in his room and be sure he has enough to eat. Now get downstairs and help out with lunch.”
Santiago realized he had been unconscious almost eight hours. Mid-day meal was about to be served and that was always done at one o’clock in the afternoon. He remembered the plans he had made to meet with Vincent. The hour was near. He felt tense and wondered if he could escape his confinement to make his way to the roof. It was even more important to see him, now!
“Get going!” he heard McIntyre yelling at his men. “I’ll be down soon. I have things to attend to here, first.”
The men left and McIntyre was alone. Santiago listened and heard him moving down the hall to his office. He heard the draws of McIntyre’s desk being opened and closed many times. Then he heard the clinking of what he knew was the handle to the safe. After a few minutes he heard McIntyre leave. Santiago could not believe they had forgotten to lock the closet door. He opened the door slowly in case someone had been left behind to guard. No one was in the hallway. He went to McIntyre’s office and listened, but heard no noise. He entered, and rummaged through the draws of McIntyre’s desk. In one of the lower draws he found a gun, one small enough to hide in his pants. Using a piece of ribbon found in another draw, he tied the weapon to his calf. Confused as to what to do next, he knew he had to do something! He thought of getting up to the roof to see Vincent. But what good would Vincent be to him, on the hill? Whatever he did, it would have to do with rescuing Kim before something happened to him. He had to find him first! Santiago took the letter-opener from the top draw and slipped it into his waistband. After listening, he entered the hallway and crept along the darkened corridor. At this hour almost everyone was in the dining room. A plan was forming in his head. He knew his decision to escape had already been made.
The sounds of voices and laughter came from the lower level where the boys had gathered for lunch. Some were socializing among themselves before the afternoon customers began arriving. The upper floor was quiet. When he came back to his own room, he found the door open and the room in total upheaval. As he had expected, Kim’s room was locked and he assumed one of McIntyre’s men was stationed within. He thought it best to knock and wait for a sign. The first knock brought no response. Santiago was unsure as to what he would do if someone answered. He knocked again and heard no sound. But he knew Kim was in the room, he felt it!
Santiago jammed the letter-opener between the door-frame and latch, and put his weight against the door. After three attempts, the door flew open. Kim was sitting on the bed, arms tied behind his back, mouth gagged.
Santiago closed the door quietly and motioned for the boy not to make noise as he untied him, his own eyes tearing at the sight of Kim’s condition. The child’s face was filled with terror. His naked body, frail from loss of weight, was covered with sores and bruises. Once the child was unbound, Santiago held him and kissed him.
“You must listen carefully! We are getting out of here. I do not know how we will do it, but we must try! Neither of us are safe, now. What I want you to do is follow me to the roof. Bring your bed sheets with you.”
Kim was weak and had trouble lifting himself from the bed. His walk was erratic and his head was light. Santiago picked him up and carried him. Although the bruises were severe, none of the ribs seemed broken.
“Hold onto your sheet and we’ll get another from my room.”
After assessing that no one was on the floor, Santiago retrieved his sheets and climbed the ladder to the roof, supporting Kim in his arms. His grasp was strained by the weight. Kim’s face was no longer the face Santiago had come to know. It was sullen, sunken, and without expression. His hair was dirty and matted and the boy looked utterly defeated. Santiago sensed the effort to escape almost useless but there was nothing else to do but try. Once on the roof, where would they go? Yet the roof was better than being captive within the building as there was no possibility they could have gotten past anyone on the first floor.
Santiago heard rain falling as he approached the trap-door. The sky was dark and an early afternoon shower had made puddles everywhere.
“What is going to happen?” Kim asked, sensing Santiago’s worry. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” was all Santiago could say. He wrapped Kim in one of the sheets and made his way to the edge of the roof to look down to the street. He saw only the men of the waterfront. Santiago walked to the other side of the building where they had spoken to Vincent the day before. The rain began falling in torrents and they had difficulty seeing the ledge where Vincent had sat. Vincent was not there. He would probably not come because of the weather. Santiago ran back to Kim and removed his sheet to tear it into wide strips.
“Here, tie these together,” he told him. The boy had seen the excitement in Santiago’s eyes and some of the hope that he had lost, began to return. He felt less weak and pulled himself together enough to be of help. They tore and tied strips of cloth with a frenzy. They were sitting near the open hatch as they worked. Suddenly there was a gunshot and yelling and they realized they had been discovered missing.
Santiago noticed a keg partially filled with roofing nails that had been left from the construction. The barrel was heavy and Santiago rolled it on its edge to the hatchway. He closed the hatch and with effort they put the keg on top so that anyone trying to open it would have difficulty. The rain fell harder. Kim was naked. Santiago took a portion of the ripped sheets and made him a loin-cloth. He dragged the
makeshift cloth rope to the roof’s edge and looked down to the alley. The rope was still several feet short of the ground. Santiago felt he would be able to jump to safety, but was unsure of Kim’s chances.
“Look,” Santiago pointed to McIntyre’s carriage tied at the rear of the building. “I will lower you as far as you can go, and you can drop the rest of the way to the carriage’s roof. It will help break your fall.”
“Santiago..., look, there!”
Kim was pointing to the hatch, where someone had managed to roll the keg off it. Santiago took the pistol he had tied to his leg and went to the opening. One of McIntyre’s men had just started to climb onto the roof when the boy reached him and Santiago put the gun to the man’s head and fired. The shot rang out and the man snapped back with the force of the impact, falling from the ladder and to the floor below. Santiago replaced the hatch and with Kim’s help, they lifted the keg back on.
They could hear the pounding at the hatch as Santiago hurriedly finished tying the sheets together. He tied one end around Kim’s waist and lowered him down the side of the building. He heard voices from behind and as he turned he saw McIntyre and two of his men had already climbed onto the roof. The long hours of practice with his father too improve his aim with a gun, paid off. The first shot hit McIntyre between the eyes. As if in slow motion, Santiago watched the man’s head snap back and the eyes crossed as though he were trying to see the bullet that had hit him and the hole from which blood flowed profusely. Still McIntyre moved forward and Santiago put another bullet in his chest. This time McIntyre fell, his face hitting the roof and his body tripping the other two men who had made efforts to avoid him while reaching for their own weapons. One of the men who was looking down at McIntyre, turned on the other man and shot him. Santiago was so surprised that he stood riveted, not knowing what to do. He could hear Kim yelling for him, still hanging from the rope, not yet low enough for him to reach the carriage. The man known as Larson walked up to Santiago and pointed at his gun.
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