by C. C. Piper
Maybe it’d been the stress of all the hopeless legal proceedings that had thrust me into such desperation. It seemed pointless. And now that it was a Saturday morning a week later, I felt like an idiot. Nothing had happened. No money had been drained from my account, which could be considered a bonus or even a blessing, depending on how you looked at it. No contact of any kind had been made with me since.
Thank God.
It felt like those few hours last weekend had been a dream.
I took a long hot shower, letting the water sluice off me as the spray massaged the tight muscles of my back. I considered myself a pretty regular guy, generally speaking. More ambitious than most, that was true, but I’d never felt as out of control as I had lately. Maybe it was because I was so used to taking the bull by the horns and making my own destiny. I’d worked hard just like I’d always worked hard. Up until recently, that hard work had paid off in monetary gains and respect within my industry. In gaming and development circles, my name had become well-known and linked with high quality experiences that no one else could provide.
Knowing all that was going by the wayside and there was nothing I could do about it still rankled me.
I went through the motions once out of the shower, throwing on my customary attire of an Armani suit jacket and slacks with a superhero t-shirt underneath, and finishing it off with black Chuck Taylors. I’d caught a lot of crap from the powers that be for wearing something I guess they thought was beneath them, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let my new wealth affect how I expressed who I was.
Making myself a coffee strong enough to stand on its own, I chewed on a granola bar and headed downstairs to my car. I glanced up at the man holding my door open, realizing I didn’t know him. “Where’s Henry?”
“Have a seat, sir,” the man ordered, and I was about to balk when someone spoke from the backseat.
“Do as the nice man says, Mr. Green.”
I dropped my coffee, splattering it all over the sidewalk. Those words had come from the Wish Maker. She sat in my backseat, bold as brass. Trepidation filling my gut, I slid in to join her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, shaken to my core. I hadn’t anticipated ever laying eyes on her again.
“I’m merely informing you of the next step of our plan.”
I gawked at her, my pulse sprinting so fast I wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. Then, I listened as she detailed everything she’d already done, jerking back as the driver jutted into the morning rush hour traffic.
“Everything has been set up within the parameters you stated. Rachel Brisbane is being kept in a secure facility on a small island just off the coast of California. The driver is navigating you to a private helipad downtown where you will meet her, if you so desire. Once you arrive, any transportation needs you have going forward will be your responsibility. Here are the instructions my men were given, and the invoice for services rendered. Payment will be drafted from your account before the end of business hours this Monday.”
She handed over the invoice, which listed in detail every action taken and the amount charged for each service. Her instructions about transportation barely registered. Since I owned two helicopters and a pair of private planes, my traveling itinerary was the last thing I considered important given the circumstances.
“I have one rule for our transaction: now that all the wheels have been swung into motion, there will be no backing out or cancellations. Do you understand?”
Head reeling and stomach churning, I gave her a slight nod.
“The rest of what I’m about to say is a suggestion, although I advise you to follow it as this isn’t my first rodeo. Come up with an alternate identity before you meet with Ms. Brisbane, especially if your plan is to release her at some point in the future. I’m certain you don’t intend to go through all this only to have her be able to tell her father precisely who her kidnapper was.”
Kidnapper. The word stuck in my throat. I’d agreed to have the Wish Maker do this for me, and now I was a kidnapper. A criminal. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“Here is a draft of the ransom letter. If you approve of the wording, we will send it by untraceable courier to arrive tomorrow.”
I looked the missive over.
Jack Brisbane,
Your daughter has been taken under the auspices of our care. Do not bother searching for her as she is well hidden. Should you wish to see her again, you will halt any hostile takeovers in progress, rescind any claims to patents for hardware or software not originated by your company, and publicly acknowledge the theft of any information that might be considered as trade secrets from other organizations or individuals. If you do so to our satisfaction, Rachel will remain unharmed.
You have exactly six weeks from the receipt of this letter to fully comply with our requests. We will be watching to confirm any and all actions you take. At that time, if you’ve done everything we’ve asked to the standards we have specified, we will return your child to you unscathed.
“His company hasn’t attempted a hostile takeover of mine,” I mentioned as I dug my fingers into my scalp. I was grasping at straws, seeking some way to right myself after being thrown so hard for a loop.
“No, but over the years, Brisbane Industries has been involved in many. We wish to cast a wide net of possibilities for those who might have taken Rachel. This way the spotlight will not shine too brightly on you.”
“Of course.” It made sense. A horrible kind of sense.
“Do you have any other questions?”
I had a million questions, but my brain didn’t seem to be firing on all the appropriate cylinders.
“If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out. My number is in your cell under Grandmother. We’ll also provide you with additional means of communication as needed.” I didn’t ask how she’d managed to program her number into the phone that had never once left my pocket. I honestly didn’t think I wanted to know.
She gestured at the driver who came to a stop at a random location away from any homes or storefronts. “We’ll speak again soon, Mr. Green.”
I watched as she took her time leaving the car and steadying herself with her cane. Then the driver roared off down the street, accelerating rapidly until I told him to reduce his speed. I looked back to see if I could still detect the Wish Maker’s presence along the roadway, but she was gone. It was as if she’d never even been there.
As I boarded the jet bound for this enigmatic island, the pilot greeted me.
“Your suitcase, sir,” he said in a lilting accent I couldn’t identify.
“That’s not my suitcase.”
“It is now, sir.”
I opened it to discover clothing all in my size. I guess I should stop being shocked at the Wish Maker’s ingenuity. Trying to wrap my head around all of this was like clasping at vapor.
We taxied along the rain-slicked tarmac, then ascended into the cloudy atmosphere. For a moment, everything became a film of gray outside the window, and then as if we’d traveled to another planet, we popped up above the clouds and into the incandescent light.
The sun glimmered almost painfully there in the deep blue stratosphere, the clouds below us glowing like translucent puffs of golden cotton, a jarring contrast. I’d seen the sight before since I often traveled for business, but today it struck me that I wasn’t the same man I’d been before all this. I was being reborn, rechristened into someone darker and more menacing.
I was afraid of the man I was becoming. Of what my seething anger at Hannah and Jack Brisbane was turning me into.
How many times had Hannah been in my arms? How many times had she called out my name as we made love? How many times had she said the words “I love you” to my face? How many times had I believed her?
All of them.
What if I’d married her? She would’ve undoubtedly continued to wreak havoc on my business. Imagining how much more damage she could’ve
done to me on his orders made my stomach clench. Instead of facing a breakup and being pissed at how she’d double-crossed me, I could’ve had to go through a divorce which would’ve cost me so much more.
That was the crux of the issue, the part that was more unforgivable than any other aspect of her deception. She’d done it all for Brisbane. What did that mean? What did he mean to her? Was she just some super-devoted lackey or was there more to the picture? I yearned to believe that they were nothing but business associates, but how could that possibly be the case? What kind of person offers up her time, her body, and her life all for a set up?
The most likely explanation was that she was far more to him than that. Had he held her in his arms? Made love to her? Told her he loved her? Had she gone directly from my bed to his or vice versa? Had she been saying those three words to both of us at the same time?
The idea of that made my blood boil.
Deep down, I knew this Rachel girl wasn’t Hannah. She couldn’t and shouldn’t pay for Hannah’s treachery or for the nefarious dealings of her father. I wouldn’t hurt her. That’s not what this was about. But I would find out whatever I could from her. I would see if there was anything she knew that would help me.
And if she wound up knowing nothing or being unwilling to share it, then at least I would receive the satisfaction of knowing that I took something precious from Jack Brisbane, just as he’d taken something precious from me. He’d know the turmoil I’d been going through. The doubt. The fear. The disbelief. The horror.
If anyone deserved to suffer such things, it was him.
The two hours the journey required went past much quicker than I would’ve thought, and soon, the waves of the Pacific came into view. The jet circled a miniscule patch of green, the island gleaming like an emerald from my high vantage point.
When we touched down, I picked up my suitcase and debarked. A man in a pristine black suit awaited me at the bottom of the steps. “Shall I take this for you, sir?” he asked in what sounded like a British accent. I nodded. “This way to your accommodations.”
He led me up a sandy path toward a wide rocky peak before descending out of sight. As I reached that peak, I paused, taking in my surroundings. There in the flat valley sat a low doorway camouflaged by mounds of earth and scrub grasses growing along the entirety of its roof. I hadn’t noticed any structures while up in the air, and now I saw why. This place was hidden, tucked away from prying eyes.
The Wish Maker had bestowed on me everything I wished for, despite me not having specifically named it. No one making a quick pass overhead would know that any man-made structures existed here at all. The island had the appearance of an untouched wilderness, nothing visible but the natural flora, fauna, and wildlife someone might anticipate at such a locale.
I gazed out at the seagulls wheeling above me, listened to the sounds of the waves crashing against the nearby cliffs, and closed my eyes. For a second, I wasn’t Christoff Green, billionaire mogul of the gaming industry. I wasn’t a man descending into the depths of a questionable path. I was just a human being enveloped by nature, and nothing else mattered but the wind in my hair and light, salty aroma of the sea.
“Sir, are you all right?”
Startled, I jerked my eyes open to see the man who’d escorted me from the jet. Internally, I shook my head to clear it.
“I’m fine. Is this where I’ll be staying?” I asked, to fill the awkwardness of my temporary lapse.
“Yes, sir.”
“And Brisbane’s daughter. She’s here, as well?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll show you to her chambers.”
Chambers? For whatever reason, that term brought to mind dragons, knights, castles, and royalty. Might make for an interesting background for a side-scrolling platformer…
Head in the game, Green.
I followed him, entering through a wooden door curved at the top and covered in lichen and moss. The bits of wood visible beneath these growths had been bleached to a pale gray from the constant sun and windy conditions. I nudged it with one palm, surprised at how sturdy it felt against my hand. Whatever this place was, it’d been built like Fort Knox.
Once inside, I noticed the lower temperature. My guide explained that the enclosure had originally been a cave, and was therefore shaped like a javelin, one long line. Looking around, however, it didn’t feel like a cave at all.
The walls had been covered over with plaster and embedded with shells, presumably from the island itself. It was decorated in a soft, light blue nautical theme and filled with comfortable, overstuffed furniture that reminded me of a higher-end hotel with an ocean view. Everything smelled fresh, not dank. If I hadn’t been told it was a cave and I hadn’t seen it from the outside, I never would’ve guessed the truth.
At the end closest to the entrance lay a bedroom intended for me, complete with a king-sized bed, seating area, and walk-in closet. There was an off-the-grid kitchen, powered ingeniously by a unique series of recessed windows that technically worked as solar panels, collecting the bright rays of the west coast sun.
There was a dining area next, a living area that would function as a cozy den, a full bathroom with an antique clawfoot tub, and another bedroom—the one containing Rachel Brisbane. Along the stretch of hallway and inside each room were apertures in the ceiling that looked like lighting fixtures, but were actually meticulously crafted reflectors designed to capture and magnify the sun. They were brighter than skylights and almost invisible at the surface level.
Potable water came from a sophisticated desalination system, allowing the building to have plumbing that acted similarly to those in any civilized town or city in the world. Every luxury had been shipped in—items like gourmet foods, spring water for drinking, alcoholic beverages, and many other necessary supplies. The bathroom had been stocked not only with toilet paper, soaps, shampoos, lotions, and the like, but also with feminine hygiene products and condoms.
The Wish Maker seemed to have thought of everything.
My guide explained that fresh hot meals would be delivered at five o’clock every evening via drone, and I’d need to go collect it from a small landing pad outside.
“This building is essentially self-sustaining. The island has cliff faces instead of beaches, making attempts at escape foolhardy and doomed to failure. I shall go now, sir, in order to afford you whatever alone time you might require with your guest. Unless you need anything further.” He made his last statement into an inquiry.
Something about the way the man had described “alone time with my guest” gave me the creeps. What did he think I would do to her, anyway? The main impetus behind all this was to manipulate her father into doing the right thing, not to do anything to her.
“No, I can’t think of anything else I’ll need.”
“You may contact the Wish Maker with any concerns or requests for additional supplies,” my guide said, handing over what appeared to be a satellite phone. And with that, he vanished.
I heard the jet engines rev up as the plane increased its speed, then blast off into the wild blue yonder. I turned, feeling…nervous. I’d inadvertently set all of this into motion, but now that I was faced with it, I wasn’t certain how to handle things.
My original plan had been to gather information about Jack Brisbane from his daughter, but how? I couldn’t just storm in there and demand she tell me everything. Maybe I could speak to her, get to know her. Maybe I could build up some sort of rapport with her. Convince her to tell me what I wanted to know.
Jesus, that sounded sleazy.
How far was I willing to go to make Jack Brisbane pay? And if I did go much further, wouldn’t that make me into something horrible and unrecognizable? I was already responsible for this girl’s kidnapping. She was my captive, and I was her captor, as much as I hated to think of it that way.
Had I let the owner of Brisbane Industries turn me into a monster?
I scrubbed my hand down my face, unable to escape the answer.
&n
bsp; Yes.
Should I take it all back? Call the Wish Maker and rescind everything? Have whoever had taken this young woman return her to wherever they’d found her, as if her abduction was nothing but a scary dream?
Would that work?
But I knew that answer, too.
No.
The Wish Maker herself had stated that I couldn’t cancel this “transaction.” Apparently, she only held an “in for a penny, in for a pound” philosophy. I needed to do what I could with what I now had, even though the thought of that transformed my insides into a cold, hard pit.
I didn’t even know if this Rachel girl was awake. Had they drugged her? I hadn’t heard a single sound from the direction of that back bedroom. What if she wasn’t here after all? What if I’d be ripped off by the Wish Maker as badly as my business had been ripped off by Jack Brisbane? Was I really that much of a moron?
With that thought foremost in my brain, I hurried toward her room, not sure if I wanted to find her there or not. Maybe it’d be better if all this fell through. Then, I wouldn’t be guilty of anything.
But it was too late for that. As I approached the door, I saw a window showing me everything inside. And on the large queen-sized, four-poster bed lay the same girl I’d seen in the paper, asleep. Or maybe unconscious. I scrutinized her. She appeared different than I’d expected, less like a socialite and more like a college student in her jeans, slip-on shoes, and plain t-shirt. If I hadn’t already known who she was, I never would’ve pegged her as one of the Brisbane heirs.
Right now, she looked innocent rather than spoiled. Sweet, instead of an obnoxious party girl.
But then, that was likely an illusion. She stirred, stretching her arms over her head. Then she blinked as she glanced around her, rubbing her eyes like a child. I stood there, framed in her window staring at her, then froze as she twisted, her gaze linking unerringly with mine.
7
Rachel
I woke feeling as if my head had expanded to twice its normal circumference and was stuffed with cotton to boot. A nasty taste filled my mouth, something caustic and medicinal, making me look for the water thermos I’d always kept by the side of my bed. It wasn’t there, though. Then I realized, it wasn’t that it wasn’t there, it was that I wasn’t there. I wasn’t at home. Not at the condo or at the huge estate I’d been raised in. I didn’t know where I was.