Hell Bent

by Heather Killough-Walden

  “So, where does one get clothes like these made anyway?” she asked as she sat back down and pried the top off of the peanut butter.

  “Cuba.”

  “Oh?” She raised a brow, dipping a Saltine into the top of the container and scraping a big brown glob of crushed peanut and hydrogenated fat onto her cracker. “They just make them there like someone would make tie-dyed t-shirts here, huh?” She asked, not a little sarcasm lacing her words.

  Jack’s gaze narrowed. “A man in Cuba makes suits for important, but threatened political figures. They’re bullet-proof. One of his workers is willing to supply people in the private sector.”

  “How did you get such a perfect fit?” she asked.

  “I sent him an old pair of your jeans and a long-sleeved shirt for reference.”

  Annabelle stopped eating and looked back up at him. “You took some of my jeans? I never noticed any missing.”

  Jack suddenly realized his mistake. He swallowed and leaned back into the cushioned seat. He was treading uncomfortably close to the truth with this new line of conversation. But there was no way out of it now. “They were a pair that you donated to Goodwill. As was the shirt.”

  Annabelle didn’t say anything for a long time. She watched him carefully and it was his turn to become uncomfortable under such scrutiny. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment and her gaze narrowed.

  She was figuring it out. He could tell. Her next question would be how he had managed to find just those clothes, and he would have no way of answering. No way but the truth, that is. One of his men had pulled them from the black bag she’d dropped off – after watching her make the drop. Just like they watched everything she did in public.

  But, again, Annabelle surprised him. Instead of questioning him, as she had every right to do, and putting him on the spot that he so deserved to be on, she remained silent. She looked down at her crackers and peanut butter and continued to eat quietly.

  He wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful. He had a feeling that the subject would come up again and that there would be no such easy escape from it the second time around.

  “I found it!”

  Annabelle and Jack both jumped as Dylan charged through the hidden door in the corner of the room. Annabelle’s cracker crumbled all over her mouth and shirt front as she accidentally crushed it. She stood and brushed herself off, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  Dylan stood in the doorway, a small white piece of paper in his left hand.

  Left handed, Annabelle thought. Like his father.

  “You found what?” she asked then, brushing the last bits of cracker away from her jeans.

  “This,” he said, coming into the room. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed and his color was still pale, but his expression was hopeful. Expectant. Excited.

  Annabelle took the paper and looked down at it. She scanned the lines several times, in silence, before finally reading them aloud.

  “Fourth S-S plus T, colon, underscore R, A, underscore G, underscore R, A, N, underscore, underscore, and then CUMC.”

  Annabelle looked up from the paper and met Dylan’s gaze. “Dylan, this is what was hidden in the pink on pink?”

  “Yes. That’s all of it. I checked and double-checked.”

  Annabelle turned and looked up at Jack. His expression was once again unreadable. Their earlier conversation would have to wait, but Annabelle would be damned if she would forget about it.

  She sighed. “Okay, so it looks like some kind of word puzzle.”

  “Right up your alley,” Jack said.

  Annabelle looked back down at the sheet of paper. It was true that she loved word puzzles. She did Mensa word puzzles while sitting on the toilet at home. It seemed to be the only extra time she had of late.

  And Max had known she was good at them. But how had he even had time to pull all of this together before the bad guys had reached him? She and Cassie hadn’t been gone all that long…

  “Jack, how is Cass? Is she still okay?”

  “She’s on her way here, actually. Alex went to pick her up.”

  Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Is Alex the guy who was here earlier?”

  Jack nodded.

  “My God, she’s going to flip out. Jack, she has no idea what’s going on. What do you think she’s going to do when Mr. Dressed-In-Black with a goatee shows up on her front doorstep and tells her to get in the car with him?”

  Jack’s lips twitched. “Well, if it were you he were retrieving, I’d expect him to get shot. But it isn’t. And Cassie’s a level-headed woman.”

  “Christ,” Annabelle sighed. She put one hand on her hip and placed her fingers to her forehead. “She’s going to rip him a new asshole.”

  “I gave him your cell number.”

  As if on cue, Annabelle’s phone began to ring from inside her jacket pocket. She stared up at Jack, disbelieving.

  He smiled.

  She blinked and shook her head, then pulled the phone out and opened it.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Drake, please talk to your friend.” There was some shuffling on the other end, and then Cassie was on the line.

  “Annabelle, is that you?”

  “Jesus, Cass. I’m so sorry about this. Trust me, Alex is kosher. He’s cool. Just go with him.”

  On the other end, she could hear kids playing in the background. Annabelle’s heart leapt into her throat. “Oh no. Trinity’s with you, isn’t she?”

  “Annabelle, he wants us all to go with him. What about Emma and Rose?”

  “Them too, Cass. They’re not safe there.” Inside, Annabelle was dying. She couldn’t believe that she’d pulled her friend into such a catastrophic mess. And the kids. The little girls. Would any insane bastard really hurt the girls just to get to the nonsensical message that Annabelle now held, scribbled on a white piece of paper in her hand?

  Yes. People were not kind and life was pain.

  “I can’t do this, girl. This isn’t good. Trin’s freaking out.”

  “Cass, you have to trust me. Please, for the love of God, pack up what you’ll need for a few nights – do it fast. Then go get in the car with Alex.”

  “He’ll bring her here,” Jack said, suddenly, obviously able to follow the conversation from where he stood a few feet away. “The others, he’ll take to a safe house outside the city. It’s temporary.”

  “Cass, did you hear that?”

  “Yes. God, his voice really carries. I heard it all. Hold on.” On her end, Cassie moved away from the phone to talk to Trinity and the girls. Annabelle tried to listen as best she could, but the voices were muffled.

  Annabelle covered the phone receiver and pinned Jack with a hard gaze. “Swear to me that they’ll be safe, Jack.”

  He watched her for a long, silent time. Finally, he shook his head and gave a slight, slow shrug. “I can’t promise that, Bella. But I swear to you that we’ll try.”

  Annabelle was about to reply when she heard the phone being moved around on the other end. Cassie got back on the line.

  “We’re going,” she said softly. She sounded resigned. “This is because of Max, isn’t it?” She said then, in the same resigned tone. “He was killed, wasn’t he?”

  Annabelle’s mouth opened. She blinked. “How did you know?”

  “Klonapin. It doesn’t work that way.”

  Annabelle closed her eyes. “I know.” She should have had more faith in her friend’s ability to put two and two together. Cassie had been a medical assistant. She would know things.

  “Wait,” Cassie said then, and Annabelle could hear a man’s voice in the background. “He wants to talk to Jack.”

  Annabelle held the phone out to Jack. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed. This was odd. He couldn’t think of anything he’d left out of his instructions. He gently took the phone from her and held it to his ear.

  “Mr. Thane,” Alex said.

  “Yes.”
r />   “I just got word from Nicholas. Your daughter’s at the airport.”

  Chapter Ten

  Annabelle had never ridden in a limousine before. For prom, during her Junior year, her date had offered to pick her up in one and she’d refused. The limousines they used in her home town all came from the funeral home. Ick and more ick.

  But this was different.

  For one, it wasn’t white and didn’t have the words, “Samson and Miller, Since 1906” painted on the side.

  It was black. Deep, dark, forever black, and the windows were tinted to match. No one in the world would be able to see its passengers from outside. They were invisible. Nonexistent. Like shadows that people forget are there.

  It also possessed the most disgustingly opulent interior she’d ever experienced. The seats were constructed of such a soft leather that she was certain whatever animals had provided the skin had died before their first birthdays. There were mirrors on side panels and round tables that came out of the floor boards at the touch of a button and whirred around 360 degrees. There were speakers all around them and, behind a curtain on one end was a large flat-screened television.

  To Annabelle, it was overkill. Something about it felt wrong. And it wasn’t just the dead babies she was sitting on. It was sort of like… a lie. Dress up a cage in silks and satins and it was still a cage.

  And it didn’t seem like Jack. Not the Jack she knew.

  Or thought she knew.

  With that uncomfortable contemplation, she turned to stare out the window once more and forced her thoughts in another direction.

  They were on their way to the airport. Jack was in the front seat with Alex, effectively cut off from the passengers in the back. Trinity and Cassie sat across from Annabelle and Dylan sat beside her, his own gaze turned to something beyond the windows. Something only he could see.

  The two girls sat on the plush carpeted floor boards, engrossed in a game of Hang Man. Emma and Rose were four-year-old twins. And they were brilliant. They’d known how to read before their fourth birthdays and could now write several impressively thorny words.

  One of which, Rose now tested Emma with on a small pink pad of paper that had Hello Kitty on the front.

  Annabelle knew what the word was. She’d always been good at Hangman. For some reason, she’d deduced this particular word after Emma had only guessed the letter “E”.

  Escape.

  She wouldn’t give the answer up, of course. How thoughtless would that be? Besides, Annabelle had her own riddle to puzzle out at the moment. For the gazillionth time that night, she looked down at the white piece of paper in her hand.

  Fourth SS plus T: _RA_G _RAN_ _ at CUMC

  A word puzzle. The underscores could only be missing letters. But what did the “fourth SS” part mean? And the plus T? Was “fourth SS” actually a number and you had to add the “T” to it?

  That wouldn’t be good. A puzzle with a mixture of numbers and letters had far too many possible outcomes. Game theory could be a bugger.

  What about the CUMC? Sounded like a University.

  Annabelle’s eyes widened.

  “A University!”

  Dylan turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

  “The CUMC. It could be the initials of a University. Do you know of one? Maybe… Colorado University or California University… No...”

  “Columbia.”

  Annabelle and Dylan looked up at Cassie, who’d spoken from her seat across from them. “Columbia University Medical Center.”

  Annabelle looked from her to the paper and back up again. “Jeez, Cass, I think you got it!”

  Of course she would get it. Duh.

  Cassie smiled gently, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was tired. And she was scared – and she didn’t know half as much about their situation as she would like to. But Annabelle had told her everything she’d known. So, they were in the same boat. It just wasn’t a comfortable boat. It was rocking and it had leaks in it.

  “Columbia University Medical Center… It makes sense,” Dylan said, leaning forward now to look at the paper again. “Mom worked for a pharmaceutical company. And before that, she was in medical school. She got an MD on a full scholarship but quit to go to design school because she decided, one day, that medical school had been wrong. She regretted what she’d done. All the dissections and things.” His voice got softer then, and his eyes glazed over a bit. “You’d have liked her, Miss Drake. She loved animals too.”

  Annabelle placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  “Let me see that, Ann.” Cassie had leaned forward as well and was eyeing the paper in Annabelle’s hand. Annabelle handed it over and Cassie turned it around to study it. “This other mess is a mystery to me. What are these underscores?”

  “I think they’re missing letters.”

  “What about the ‘fourth’ and the ‘ss’ nonsense?”

  “I don’t…” Annabelle’s voice trailed off. She straightened. “Cass, when you filled out those forms for the doctor you worked for, what was the abbreviation for a person’s social?”

  “SS.”

  “You think it refers to a social security number?” Dylan asked.

  “Could be.” Annabelle said.

  “A ‘fourth’ social security number?” Cassie asked.

  Annabelle shook her head. “I have no idea. If it is a social security number that Max referred to, then was it one of four numbers?”

  “Maybe it was four specific numbers inside the social,” Dylan suggested, getting excited again.

  “Which four?” Cassie asked. “And whose number?”

  “It would have to be my dad’s,” Dylan said. “This message was for you, Miss Drake, and he wouldn’t want you off searching for some un-known person’s social, right?” He paused then, and considered something. “But you don’t know his social, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then he knew that we’d be working together. Because I do.”

  Annabelle took a deep breath. “Well, we don’t know for sure that his social is what he was referring to, but if he was, Dylan, which four numbers? The last four? They’re easy enough to separate out. A social security number is three groups of numbers – three, three, and then four.”

  “Fourth SS. That has to be it.” Dylan was definitely excited now. “The last four numbers are three-nine-two-four.”

  “Mama, my crayon broke. Can you get me another one?”

  Trinity hadn’t yet moved from where she’d been sitting beside Cassie, listening in on the conversation. But now, she turned to her daughter and spoke at last. “Sure, baby. Why don’t you go ahead and get it. In my purse. You know where they are.” Her purse was on the floorboards, beside Cassie’s purse and bag, and Annabelle’s backpack.

  Emma dug around in the bag for a few seconds and then came out with a box of crayons. She dumped the whole box on the carpet and chose the purple.

  “No, I want yellow.”

  “It doesn’t show up on the pink paper, though.”

  “I know, but it’s my favorite color,” Emma insisted. “Can you highlight with it?”

  Highlight? Annabelle was impressed. How many four-year-olds would think of doing that?

  “So, so far we have four numbers and a clue that leads to Columbia University,” Dylan said, drawing Annabelle’s attention back to the matter at hand. “We still need to fill in the missing letters.”

  “And don’t forget the ‘plus T’ part.”

  Annabelle chewed on her lip for a moment, staring at the paper that Cassie now held between them all. And then she blinked. “If the ‘plus T’ is attached to the numbers, then either the ‘T’ represents a number, or the numbers represent letters.”

  “Well, heck, that’s easy enough to figure out. What are the third, ninth, second and fourth letters of the alphabet?” Cassie asked.

  “C, I, B and N.”

  They turned to Trinity, who had instantly supplied them
with the letters.

  “That’s impressive, Trin. How’d you do that so fast?”

  “I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Trinity smiled. It was the same smile that Cassie had given Annabelle earlier. Tired. Scared. But willing to help out, if she could.

  Annabelle placed the letters, in order, in the spaces. “Crap, I think we have it. Craig Brand.”

  “Plus T,” Dylan reminded her.

  “Okay, Craig Brandt. Columbia University Medical Center.”

  “Well, I guess I know where we’ll be headed next.” Cassie said as she leaned back in her seat once more and sighed heavily. “That is, after this business with Jack’s daughter.” She cut her gaze to Annabelle. “By the way, what’s going on with that, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she’s supposed to be here, though. Jack was really surprised. And not at all happy. He practically barked the order for her to wait for him at the airport. I’m guessing she stopped by to see dad without dad’s permission.”

  “Or her mother’s, I’m betting.” Cassie said. “Where does her mother live?”

  “In Essex, apparently,” Dylan supplied. He wasn’t one to forget what little information Jack Thane was prepared to give him. “With another of his kids. A twelve-year-old boy.”

  “His name is Ian,” Annabelle nodded. “And I’ve never met either of them. Or their mother.” What Annabelle was more interested in, at the moment, was how Jack had found out so quickly that Clara was at the airport. Did he have friends currently staking out the airport? Unless it was needed for some job he was currently working on, she sort of doubted it.

  What was far more likely, and what made Annabelle markedly uncomfortable, was the prospect that Jack was having his kids watched. She could see that. They would make easy targets if someone wanted to send him a message.

  And that’s what made her uncomfortable. She made an easy target too.

  “What’s his ex’s name?” Cassie asked then, breaking the silence that had stolen over the group.

  “Beatrice, I think,” Annabelle answered.

  “When did they get divorced?”

  “The year before we met. So… Ten years ago. He’s been re-married three times since then.”