The Simpatico Series Box Set (3 books in 1)

by Dermot Davis

  "Just do as I say or you know what you'll get," the man said as he walked her out of the door and into the hall.

  Coming from the open door down the hall, the other man appeared. Looking like he was livid about something, he raised a gun and aimed it at the other man. "Put her back in the room," he demanded. "Now!"

  "What are you going to do? Shoot me?" the gruff man asked.

  "You know I will," the man replied, a steely look in his eyes.

  Clutching Fiona tightly against his body, he held her in front of him as if she was a human shield. "Go ahead, shoot," the man said contemptuously. "Shoot all you want. It's your funeral."

  "She's not going anywhere," the man with the gun cautioned. "We can stand here all day, if you want," he said as he checked the time on his watch. "They should be here any minute now, as a matter of fact."

  "This is not what I agreed to," the gruff man said, his strong grip hurting Fiona's arms, cutting off the circulation. "Pay me what you owe me and I walk."

  "You get paid when I get paid," the man with the gun answered, now sounding more confident. "Or, you can walk and I'll send you a check," he said with a smirk.

  The gruff man tightened his grip on Fiona's right arm just as he slid his left hand into his jacket pocket to reveal that he too had a loaded revolver. "Your marker’s no good with me. I only take cash," he sneered as he pointed the gun at his comrade. Fiona didn’t move.

  Looking scared, like he hadn't anticipated such a move, the other man immediately looked worried. "Don't do anything stupid," he warned. "You can't spend money if you're dead."

  "Yeah, but if you're dead… I get to spend both our monies," the gruff man snarled boastfully.

  Practically terrified to the point of being unable to breathe, Fiona had the thought that if she didn't escape from the man's grasp she would most probably get shot in a bloody shootout between them. She jumped with fear when shortly thereafter a loud knock was heard at the front door.

  "They're here," the man down the hall said. "You want to answer to them?"

  Again, someone knocked loudly on the door. Whoever it was didn't seem to have much patience. They began banging on the door hard.

  "Your move," the man continued. "How do you want to play this?"

  The banging continued and then stopped abruptly. Fiona could sense fear in her captor; he seemed confused now, like he couldn't decide on the best plan of action. "Okay," the gruff man said, as if he was conceding. "You lower your gun first."

  "Not a chance," the other man said, maintaining his position.

  A huge thump rattled the front door and there was the sound of glass shattering.

  "You want to get us both killed?" the man down the hall asked, a terrified look of concern now spread across his face.

  The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled voices were heard coming from downstairs. "Anybody here?" a voice shouted.

  "Shit! They're in. How are you going to explain this now?" the man asked as he tried to look down the stairs.

  Then a shot rang out which clearly alarmed both the men. Flinging Fiona violently to the floor, the man turned his body toward the stairs from where the gunshot came from and pointed his weapon. Instantly forming an allied front against the intruders, the men turned towards the stairs and took a defensive stance. As more shots rang out below, Fiona crawled quickly out of immediate danger. Scrambling to the safety of the room that she had been taken from, she looked for somewhere to hide out of sight: there wasn't any place to secret herself.

  Once safely inside of the room, she turned her body against the wall and, in a sitting position, clutched her knees to her chest and kept her head down. More shots were fired and the gunfight sounded closer. Were the downstairs people succeeding in climbing up the stairs as they pursued the two men?

  Wishing it was all over, Fiona's mind raced. Who were the people that had stormed the house and what would happen if they killed the pair of men that had taken her? What would they do with her when they found her? Did the current situation improve her condition or make it worse, much worse? Were the invading people even scarier than the ones that had initially taken her?

  Fiona's body shook with fear and she found it hard to think or plan rationally. Looking up towards the closet, she realized that she just might fit into it. She was pretty certain that she hadn't been seen by the people downstairs. If she could fit herself into the closet, there was a chance that she wouldn't be noticed. She could then maybe slip out when they left or as soon as it got dark. Although her chances of hiding successfully were slim, it was all she had.

  Quietly opening the door of the cheap and beat-up poorly made closet, Fiona managed to squat in a folded up yoga-like position in its flimsy base. Closing the door helped with the light but the sounds of every gunshot still sent massive reverberations up and through her slight frame. Just as she settled into the musty-smelling closet interior, and closed the door, the gunshots ceased. She perked up her ears as a ghostly silence ensued. For a brief few seconds she thought that she might be in the clear and be left in the room unnoticed.

  Then she heard footsteps outside the room in the hallway. She could hear voices, too; someone was shouting but she couldn't make out any specific words. She froze solid when footsteps thundered and someone entered the bedroom. Praying silently, that whoever it was would simply retreat back out the door, she squeezed her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped somewhere in the room, Fiona couldn't tell how close or far away the person might be.

  "Fiona?" a male voice called out. "Are you in here, Fiona?" a man asked in a gentle tone.

  Wondering who would know her name here, when she had never even been asked by either of the two men, she was pretty sure that she didn't recognize the voice.

  "Are you hiding in the closet?" the voice asked gently. "If you are, it's okay. It's all over now. We're here to take you home."

  The voice sounded caring and persuasive. Could these be the good guys?

  "I'm going to open the closet door now, alright?" the voice asked like he was talking to a terrified person. "We came here to save you and we need to leave right away. We work for your father's company. Abigail sent us. Every thing's okay now," the voice said as the door was slowly pulled open.

  Fiona looked up to see a man dressed in an expensive suit. He wasn't carrying a weapon.

  "I know that you must be scared but we need to get you out of here before the police arrive," he said, extending his hand.

  "My father sent you?" Fiona asked.

  "Your father is still in prison, Fiona. Abigail sent us. She'll be very happy to see you alive and safe. We all are."

  Fiona took the man's hand and allowed him to pull her up and out of the closet. Her body still shaking, she was wrapped in a clean, pleasant-smelling blanket and helped out of the room. On her way to the stairs she blanched at the sight of the bodies of the two men, lying prostrate on the floor. Blood was spattered all over their clothes and the walls.

  "This way," the man said as he led her down the stairs and turned her head, “Don’t look. Just keep walking, Fiona.” Another man, also dressed in a well-cut suit, stood looking watch-out at the front door. "Let's get you to safety," the same man said as he signaled to the watch-out man that they needed to leave.

  Taking a last look at the nondescript semi-detached suburban home, where she had been held captive, Fiona leaned her head back and sank into the rear plush seats of the new model town car. The door was quickly closed as the two men got into the front. They pulled out as approaching sirens blared in the distance. The car raced away and Fiona closed her eyes in relief.

  Chapter 10

  Suffering from the effects of shock, dirty and hungry, Fiona nevertheless felt tremendous relief as the two well-dressed gentlemen drove her towards downtown LA in the luxury car. Watching the familiar Los Angeles skyline loom closer, she appreciated its beauty as she never had before. Reacquainting herself with the familiar streetscapes, she slowly turned her head from side to side. She felt
a wave of gratitude and realized that she loved the beauty and the ugliness of it all.

  Fiona didn't know if the men were remaining quiet out of respect for her condition but she appreciated them for the silence and their lack of prying. She did not feel in the mood to be asked questions about her ordeal, nor to be asked to give an account of what happened when, and so on. She was especially thankful not to have to provide testimony and answer the same questions repeatedly to over-zealous law enforcement officers.

  She dearly wanted to eat, bath and sleep, or maybe bath and sleep and then eat upon awakening; she rested her head against the cool glass of the luxury car window and considered the best order of activity. She especially wanted to see Andrew again and, surprising herself, she didn't care that he was with someone else. She missed him terribly and only wanted what was best for him and to see him happy. She now felt bad for avoiding him all this time and for not returning his million and one phone calls.

  Life was short and every moment was precious, she now realized. Who knew what fate would bring or what life surprises were in store for each person? She so dearly loved Andrew. She felt a wave of unconditional soul love energy, sweet, golden, and soft, in the center of her being. She realized that she should not have put a condition on her love that in return he should love her back. She had acted childishly, by avoiding all contact with him, especially as he had been so keen to keep in contact with her. Andrew was a good man, with a good heart, and—irrespective of whether or not he had cheated on her—she felt she should prove her unconditional love and support him in his quest for personal happiness and joy.

  The car pulled into the underground parking of the hotel where she had first met Abigail. Wondering to herself about the possibility that they were going to temporarily house her in one of the hotel rooms gave her a burst of excitement. She could not have imagined a more pleasant environment than one of the plush hotel rooms within which she could de-stress and recuperate. As one of the kindly men held open the door for her to exit, she thanked him. She wished to thank them for saving her life but she knew that she would have more opportunity later and that the underground parking structure was probably not the best environment to express her heartfelt appreciation.

  Taking the elevator straight to the fourth floor, the men led her to a hotel room door and stopped. Knocking gently twice, before they inserted the passkey, Fiona wasn't sure what to expect as they opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Aware that the room smelled of rose petals, and other beautiful aromas, Fiona noticed that generous bouquets of fresh flowers in vases were positioned around the room. Leaning forward to sniff a bouquet of pink roses, she noticed that the card dangling from the vase was signed, 'With love, Augustus.'

  Entering the room from the bathroom, Abigail gave a huge smile as if she were genuinely happy to see Fiona. "You poor, dear girl," she said as she opened her arms wide, and walked towards the young woman.

  As if it were the exact therapy that she needed, Fiona didn't think twice about running into Abigail's embrace. She buried her face in the woman’s comforting bosom. Gesturing to the men that they could leave, Abigail hugged Fiona tightly. "There, there," she said softly. "It's over now. You're safe. You're safe here with me."

  Not knowing that she had been holding back tears all this time, Fiona's eyes poured out a torrent of pent-up teardrops. "That's it, Fiona," Abigail instructed warmly. "Let it all out, that's it. Let it all come out."

  "Thank you," Fiona said between sobs. "Thank you so very much."

  "You're welcome, child," Abigail said kindly. "You make yourself at home here," she said as she looked down at the young girl's face and smiled. "You'll be staying here with me, until you recover and feel strong enough again. I'm going to take very good care of you, my dear."

  "Thank you," Fiona said appreciatively. "It all seems like such a dream," she said, her head still reeling. "Really a nightmare."

  "You're most probably still in shock," Abigail said, leading her gently by her hands to the sofa where they both sat down. "Such an ordeal," she said, shaking her head to suggest disbelief. "But don't worry about a thing. We're going to get you looked at by top professionals and see what treatment they have to prescribe for you. You don't have to go anywhere; we'll have them come here to you."

  As Fiona watched, Abigail poured two cups of hot tea. She stared at the dark golden-brown English tea streaming into a teacup and realized that everything felt surreal. What was it that Abigail had just said? She’d said something about treatment?

  Abigail lifted a tea cup and handed it to the young woman. Fiona took the cup and looked at the kind woman.

  "I don't want to be taking any drugs or anything," Fiona objected with distaste.

  "Oh, I didn't mean anything like that," Abigail said, shrugging off the notion with a hand gesture. "Goodness, no. I meant relaxation therapies: getting massages, and aromatherapy with the most refined, high-quality organic essential oils, and a little bit of yoga perhaps. Watching movies and lying about and eating lots of pizza and popcorn," she said with a mischievous tone in her voice. "Lots of girlie stuff," she added with a playful expression.

  "Okay, that I can do," Fiona said and gave her first smile of the day.

  "I won't be around most of the time but when I am we'll do lots of fun things together; I can assure you of that."

  "You've been so kind already," Fiona said with gratitude. "I hope I can make it all up to you."

  "Oh, pish-tosh," Abigail said, her body shuddering with the notion. "With all of the man-power and can-do apparatus at my disposal, it's the least that I can do. You're Simon's girl, after all. If we don't look after our own, what good are we, you know?"

  "Well, I'm forever grateful to you, in any event."

  "Tell me," Abigail said as she switched into a more functional mode. "I need to get back to the office. What would you like to do first? Sleep? Eat? Take a nice warm bath, perhaps?" Abigail sipped her tea and smiled warmly at Fiona.

  "You read my mind," Fiona said with an impish grin. "Maybe I should start with a bath and take it from there." Fiona took a sip of hot tea and found it incredibly soothing.

  "Sounds like a plan," Abigail said as she rose from the sofa. Fiona stood and waited.

  "Oh, one final thing," Abigail said as she turned with a serious expression. "We didn't want to get the police involved, I'm sure you agree, so we may have acted somewhat outside the law, you understand?"

  "Oh, yes, totally."

  "If we were to wait for the police to move and do something," Abigail said with a wearied demeanor. "We could have been waiting days, weeks, even if they did so something, by which time it would have been too late. You would have ended up in Mexico or someplace even worse. So, not a word, alright?"

  "Oh, yes, absolutely," Fiona agreed, nodding her head in agreement.

  "I mean you can't talk about this to anyone, not a living soul. Loose lips sink ships, and all that, okay, dear?" Abigail finished her tea as Fiona nodded and then spoke.

  "Sure, no problem."

  "Good. You relax, chill out, as they say, and I'll check back in with you later. I've written down all of my contact details, and, should you need to get a hold of me right away, don't hesitate to use that information. We're going to get along swimmingly," Abigail said with girlish enthusiasm. "There's a personal guard posted outside of the room, just in case anyone tries to get in, so you're perfectly safe in here. I'd advise you not to go out. If you need anything, make a request and the nice man outside will be only too happy to oblige."

  "Thank you. Thank you so much, Abigail."

  "Cheerio, love," Abigail said as she gave Fiona a final embrace before departing. "Order up some food. Make yourself at home," she said as she left the room.

  Left alone in the large hotel suite of comfort and joy, Fiona smiled and became inordinately excited about running a hot bath for herself. The thought of luxuriating in the warm, soft, soapy bubbles that had the potential to not just clean her body but could qui
te possibly also cleanse her soul electrified her spirit and brought her inner fire back to life.

  Dressed for the office, Andrew skipped down the marble staircase, grabbed his mail and sorted through the letters as he made his way to the kitchen. Mostly junk, he realized, then he chose the sole envelope that demanded his attention: it was a letter from Simon. Before opening the envelope, he took a quick look into the well-stocked fridge and decided upon a bowl of cereal for breakfast. He poured a bowl of sugary chocolate puffs and cold milk and sat down to eat.

  He opened the letter and, as he casually spooned the cereal into his mouth, he smiled. The letter contained specific encoded details of the secret files on Simon's computer, those files that would provide the necessary evidence to back up the allegations of the crimes, missteps, and betrayals, of the core group of fifteen. Abigail was sure to hit the roof. He grinned to himself as he imagined her reaction. And so the grand edifice begins to crumble, he thought with glee as he folded up the letter and placed it in his inside jacket pocket.

  It was going to be a very interesting and productive day at work, he determined. He strolled outside to make his way to the Mercedes parked in the immense garage. Once inside the car, he cranked it and hit the remote to open the garage door. He drove out toward the gates which opened automatically. As he did so, his phone rang. Seeing that it was his mom, he put the call on speaker phone. "Hi, mom," he answered brightly. "A bit early in the morning for a chat, isn't it? Everything okay?"

  "Hi, Andrew," his mom said smartly, as if she hadn't heard what her son said or was purposefully ignoring his comments. "Thought you might like to hear some good news first thing in the morning."

  "Good news I can welcome at any time, day or night. You got a raise?"

  "No, sweetie, even better than that. I heard from Fiona."

  "Yes!" Andrew said as he thumped the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. "That is good news, no, that's friggin' amazing, fantastic, out-of-this-world news!"