Thirteen to None

by Claude Bouchard

  “So, where are we going, ladies?” Rat asked, anxious to get things underway.

  “We’re staying with three girlfriends for the weekend down that way,” Sandy replied pointing back to where they had come from. “I’ll call to let them know we’re bringing a guest.”

  “Did you say three girlfriends?” asked Rat, his excitement growing. “Are they as good looking as you two?”

  Cathy laughed. “Yes, she did say three girlfriends and they’re even better looking. Two of them in particular are somewhat younger and drop-dead gorgeous. You’ll love them.”

  “Awesome,” said Rat, thinking he might make the ladies available for the crew once he’d had some fun on his own. “Go ahead and call your friends. I’m Rat, by the way.”

  “My name’s Louise but my friends call me Lou,” said Sandy, thinking fast, “And the cute blonde here is Becky.”

  Sandy made the call and was soon telling Rat that April and Daniela were looking forward to meeting him, particularly since he was a hunk in their age bracket. Jocelyne was out for a bit getting wine and steaks for dinner but he would have the pleasure of her company as well when she returned. Looking forward to some intimate moments with not two but five women, Rat had the throttle open wide for the duration of their ride and they were soon docking at the neighbour’s borrowed home.

  “So, do you ladies own this place?” asked Rat, concerned with the proximity to the home the crew had invaded.

  “Oh, no,” Sandy replied, taking his arm as they strolled toward the house. “We rented it for the week. We find a place by a lake for a week every summer, just us girls, for some R and R, partying and fun. What about you? Are you from around here?”

  “No, my buddies and I got a place nearby for a couple of days,” Rat replied. “If you girls want to party with us later, maybe you can head on over with me.”

  “Oh, that could be a blast,” said Cathy as they climbed the steps to the veranda outside the sunroom, “But I’d say we start by having a bit of fun with you here first.”

  “You’re not gonna get any arguments from me,” Rat replied as they entered the house.

  “Have a seat,” Sandy invited, gesturing toward a couch before calling out, “Hey ladies, we’re here with Rat.”

  “Be there in a minute,” a voice replied from somewhere in the house.

  “While we wait for them,” said Cathy, her voice husky, “Why don’t we make you a bit more comfortable? Let’s get those jeans of yours off of you.”

  Rat grinned as he stood and unbuckled his belt. “You sure don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “Not when we’re with a hunk like you,” said Sandy, gazing at his crotch as she lightly caressed his thigh, “And we do have a debt to repay.”

  “I’ll warn you ladies, I go commando,” he said before dropping his baggy jeans to the floor and exposing his already erect penis.

  “My, oh my, you don’t waste any time either, big boy,” Cathy teased as she pushed him back onto the couch while Sandy picked up his jeans and tossed them onto an armchair.

  “Sorry I took so long,” said Leslie as she entered the room carrying a Browning Maxus 12 gauge short barrel shotgun aimed at Rat’s groin. “It looks like my gun is bigger than yours.”

  “Wh-what the hell is this?” demanded Rat though he was smart enough to remain quite still.

  “What the hell do you think it is, you son of a bitch?” Sandy replied, going through his jeans pockets and finding a small .22 calibre pistol. “How about if I give you a hint. Do you know who lives in the house next door, asshole?”

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rat spluttered.

  “You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Sandy shrieked before swinging out her foot and kicking him in the shin. “I’m talking about the house you and your bastard friends have invaded. How about if I tell you the boat you were joyriding in, the boat you rescued us with, is MINE.”

  “Y-yours?” Rat repeated, dumbfounded. “H-how can it be yours? I took it next door.”

  “That’s my house, you asshole,” Sandy screamed, pointing his pistol at his face. “My husband is one of the men you have tied up in there. You animals have been beating on them. I should blow your brains out right now.”

  “Whoa, whoa! Y-you don’t want to do that,” Rat stammered, turning white. “I-I didn’t touch anyone, lady. I swear.”

  “What about the mustard and ketchup?” Sandy demanded, rapping him on the head with the gun butt.

  “Ouch, Jesus,” Rat muttered, wincing. “Look, that didn’t hurt them. I didn’t do anything else.”

  “And you’re not going to either,” said Leslie, gesturing Sandy back. “Get up.”

  “Why?” asked Rat in fear. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’ll blow your balls off if you don’t do what I say,” Leslie replied. “Get your ass off the couch.”

  Rat stood on shaky legs and asked, “C-can I put my pants back on?”

  “You don’t need your pants where you’re going,” said Leslie. “In fact, lose the t-shirt and the shoes.”

  He stared at her in disbelief then peeled off his top and kicked off his shoes before asking, “You happy now?”

  “I’ll be happy when we’ve looked after every one of you bastards,” Leslie replied. “Now, clasp your hands behind your back.”

  He complied and Sandy quickly bound his wrists with a zip tie.

  “We’re going to the basement,” Leslie informed him and pointed. “Through there and to your left down the hallway. Do anything I consider remotely stupid and you’re dead. Now, get going, nice and slow.”

  Rat started moving, taking extra care to avoid doing anything stupid, and made his way out of the sunroom and into the hallway as Leslie fell in behind him with the shotgun aimed at his back.

  “Through that open door to the left and down the stairs,” Leslie ordered.

  He headed downstairs, noting that the area below was lit and as he approached the bottom, he saw that Cathy was already waiting in the basement, standing off to one side of the large open-air space and pointing a large handgun at him.

  “Come stand by this door,” she said, “Feet together. You’re done walking.”

  “I’ve got him covered,” said Leslie as he moved to the indicated spot.

  Setting her gun aside, Cathy kneeled behind him and zip tied his ankles.

  “There we go,” she said, rising back to her feet. “Now, we’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Aw, jeez,” Rat whined. “What questions?”

  “How many of you are there?” asked Leslie from across the room.

  “How many what?” Rat replied “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sighing, Leslie approached him, turning the butt end of the shotgun toward him as she came.

  “What are you doing?” Rat cried, crouching down with difficulty in an attempt to protect himself.

  “Either answer our damned questions,” she said, “Or I’ll beat you to death, you dip-shit. How many are in your damned gang?”

  “Okay, okay,” replied Rat. “We’re, uh, ten.”

  “Wrong answer,” said Leslie before clubbing him on the side of the head with the shotgun and knocking him over. “Try again.”

  “Let me think,” Rat cried from where he curled on the floor.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Leslie muttered, shoving him over with her foot then pressing the business end of the shotgun against his testicles from behind. “Last chance. How many?”

  “Thirteen,” Rat whimpered. “We were thirteen but two are dead and three are missing.”

  “How did the two die?” asked Leslie.

  “One of the old guys killed Ape,” said Rat, “But it was Ape’s fault. He wanted to fight and the old man took him out fair and square.”

  “What about the other one?” Leslie demanded.

  “Olly,” Rat replied. “He got run down by someone who stole the guy’s truck next door. We think it was Tops.”


  “Tops is one of the three missing?” asked Leslie.

  “Yeah, we think Tops took the truck, a big Lexus,” said Rat, the information flowing freely now. “The other two are Nose and Willy. Nose just disappeared but Willy took off with a Sea-Doo. We think they all hooked up to sell the truck and the Sea-Doo.”

  “What were you doing out in the boat?” asked Cathy.

  “I was looking for Willy,” Rat replied. “Another guy, Lefty is on the other Sea-Doo looking for him too and two other guys are out in our trucks trying to track Tops and the Lexus down.”

  “Are you guys all armed?” Leslie asked.

  “Most of us have a gun,” said Rat. “A couple of guys probably just have blades cuz we’re not on the job.”

  “You’re doing good, Rat,” said Leslie, prodding a little with the shotgun which remained firmly planted between his legs. “Just one more question for now. Who’s in charge?”

  Rat hesitated then said, “That’s Butch. He’s the boss and we’re his crew. He’ll kill me if he finds out I talked to you like this.”

  “I’d kill you if you didn’t talk,” Leslie replied. “Which one is Butch? What does he look like?”

  “Tall dude, kinda lean but built,” said Rat. “Long hair, usually in a ponytail. He rides a Harley, or at least he did until Tops smashed it with that Lexus.”

  “Okay, that’s it for now,” said Leslie, pulling away from him and putting the shotgun aside. “Let’s get you up. Roll onto your back.”

  She grasped him by one arm while Cathy did likewise with the other and together, they raised him to his feet and leaned him against the wall.

  “Look,” Rat said, “If you let me talk to Butch, I think I can convince him that we just leave so you can go back to your guys over there.”

  “I didn’t know you did comedy too,” Leslie replied, opening the nearby door leading to a concrete cold room. “Sorry, Rat, but you’ll be staying here for a while. Hop on in.”

  With a sigh, Rat jumped forward, peered inside and gasped, “Jesus!” before falling to his knees and vomiting.

  Laid out on a tarpaulin were the battered and bloody bodies of Willy, Tops and Nose.

  “You see? It won’t be so bad after all,” said Leslie “You’ll have your friends to keep you company and, as an extra bonus, we haven’t killed you. Behave yourself and things may stay that way.”

  On that note, she planted her foot squarely on his butt and shoved him inside before pushing the heavy door shut and sliding the deadbolt in place.

  Chapter 15 – Saturday - 6:47 p.m.

  Dibs had been roaming the streets of the town of Knowlton for close to an hour in search of the Lexus though he was certain it was a waste of time. Whoever had stolen the SUV, likely Tops or perhaps Nose, had deliberately demolished Butch’s bike in the process. That being the case, neither could be so stupid as to hang around town, mere minutes from the house they had invaded. Surely, the thief, or thieves, especially if it was the missing crew members, had hightailed away from the area and were probably on Autoroute 10 approaching Montreal by now.

  He drove by the Knowlton Pub once again and slowed, gazing at the crowd relaxing, eating and drinking on the terrace while enjoying the live music offered by a lone guitarist at work on the small stage.

  ‘I could use a break,’ thought Dibs as he turned into the parking lot. ‘A quick beer or two, listen to some tunes for a while then go back and tell Butch that the Lexus is long gone.’

  He pulled the van into one of the few remaining slots and cut the engine then headed to the terrace to find a spot to sit down, knock back a few and relax.

  * * * *

  “What’s up?” Leslie asked after setting her phone on speaker.

  “Is Sandy there?” Josée asked from the plane.

  “We’re all here for now,” Sandy replied.

  “Okay,” said Josée, “The one in the red van was driving around town for a while but now he’s stopped at that pub we’ve been to. He just parked and went in a minute ago. I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do but I thought I’d let you know.”

  “I know exactly what to do,” Sandy replied, grabbing her recharging phone from the counter. “I have to make a call.”

  “Alright,” said Josée. “I’ll head toward the north end of the lake and see if I can spot their other truck. Stay safe, ladies.”

  * * * *

  Serge Morin, owner of the Knowlton Pub, was manning the host station on the terrace when his phone trilled.

  “Bonjour, Sandy!” he replied, having glanced at the call display. “I spoke to my brother at the marina earlier. Is everything okay?”

  “No, actually it isn’t,” Sandy replied, unsure of how much she should share. “It’s complicated and I don’t have much time but I need your help.”

  “Whatever I can do for you, ma chère,” Serge replied. “Just say the word. What’s going on?”

  “I can’t give you details for now,” Sandy continued, “And you must keep this quiet as the police are not involved and we want to keep it that way, at least for now.”

  “Mon Dieu, Sandy,” Serge exclaimed. “What is this about? Please tell me what is going on so I can help.”

  “You must promise to stay out of this,” said Sandy. “Some friends and I are dealing with this problem.”

  “I will only do what you ask of me,” Serge replied. “You have my word. Now, tell me what is going on.”

  “Chris and two of our friends are in danger,” said Sandy. “They are being held hostage by a gang.”

  “Are you serious?” Serge replied “That is terrible. When did this happen? Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes, Serge, but I don’t have much time right now,” Sandy reminded him. “I promise I’ll explain everything later but right now, I need your help.”

  “Oui, oui,” Serge agreed. “What do you need from me?”

  “There’s a young man wearing jeans and a t-shirt who arrived at your pub just minutes ago,” said Sandy. “He was driving a big, red van, like a minibus.”

  “I just seated him on the terrace,” Serge replied. “I’m looking at him right now. This man is involved?”

  “Yes he is,” Sandy confirmed. “My friends and I have already, uh, taken care of some of the others. I was hoping you could help me by making sure this one doesn’t go back to his friends.”

  “This is all that you need from me?” said Serge. “I promise he will be staying here as my guest for as long as you wish.”

  “Thank you, Serge,” Sandy replied, “And be careful. He’s most likely armed.”

  “If he is, it won’t be for long,” Serge reassured her, “But now, we must take care of the rest of these people, Sandy. I can call my brother and get some men together–”

  “Serge, please,” Sandy interrupted. “With the guy at your place, we’ll have dealt with more than half of their gang. We’ve been, uh, immobilising them one by one. We don’t want this to turn into a shooting spree with Chris and the others in the middle. That’s why we never contacted the police in the first place.”

  Serge sighed. “Very well, but you will not hesitate to call if you need the slightest bit of help?”

  “I called you now, didn’t I?” Sandy replied. “I’ll keep you posted, Serge. Be careful.”

  “Yes, ma chère,” said Serge. “But more importantly, you be careful too.”

  * * * *

  Knowing he couldn’t stay too long, Dibs had quickly downed his first beer and ordered a second which had disappeared almost as quickly. He wished he could stick around and just enjoy himself amidst the lively crowd, more than half of which was composed of young, attractive ladies in summer attire. However, he knew Butch would be getting antsy and was definitely not currently in a mood to condone insubordination, even with one of his top men. In fact, when Dibs considered how long it had been since he’d left the house, he was surprised the man had not called to blast him yet.

  Sighing, he emptied the remainder of his b
ottle and left the table, heading toward a door leading inside to find the washroom. A sign within directed him down a corridor toward the rear of the establishment and he was soon standing at a urinal, emptying his bladder. As the door to the men’s room opened, he glanced over his shoulder and recognized the stocky, grey-haired man who had seated him on the terrace upon his arrival. Obviously a pub employee, the man held a heavy pipe wrench and was likely coming to tend to some plumbing issue.

  “Bonjour,” the man said with a smile as he entered.

  “Hey,” Dibs mumbled, social skills never having been his forte, even less so while taking a leak in a public washroom.

  He turned back to face the wall and seconds later, he felt an incredible explosion of pain as the wrench smashed into the back of his head, but only for an instant before everything went black.

  Chapter 16 – Saturday - 7:10 p.m.

  Alexandre Morin paced angrily back and forth along the visitors dock at the Knowlton Marina as he spoke on the phone. “We can’t just sit around and do nothing, Serge. These bastards might hurt Chris and his friends, or even worse.”

  “We don’t even know where they are,” Serge argued. “We can’t start roaming the country like a Wild West posse.”

  “Don’t you think they might be at the Barrys’ home?” Alex shot back. “We could start by going there to see if everything is normal and we could bring a group of men just in case it isn’t.”

  “Alex, I gave my word to Sandy,” Serge replied. “I called to make you aware in case she asks for help. She and whoever she’s with seem to be handling the situation rather well as it is. Don’t do anything stupid. You could get yourself or the hostages killed. Just be ready to move if we have to.”

  “Okay, you are right,” Alexandre agreed, accelerating his pace as something caught his attention at the end of the visitors dock. “I don’t like it but I’ll stay put. I will tell a few guys we might need their help at some point, just to be ready to move quickly.”