— Steve, will you shut up someday ?! - the third, previously silent man could not resist. - Maybe you will draw another map for her? What are you staring at? They told you - pack up and go!
She didn't even try to resist: why? How far can you run away from strong, full of strength men when you have only enough strength to move your legs with difficulty? She obediently got into the car, stared straight ahead, ignoring the road they were driving. Just two weeks ago, life was simple and clear. Just think, but she considered divorce the most difficult test and was afraid of Dominic! Now the image of the ex-husband caused a desire to laugh hysterically, choking on tears. Two weeks ago, she dreamed of how she would become free, and even this damn freedom did not have time to fully enjoy! And now everything is over: dreams, hopes and plans. Even fear stepped aside in front of an insult to life - why did this all happen to her?
Squeezed in the backseat between Mike and Steve, Laura stared blankly ahead, not even listening to the conversation between the men. What's the use of knowing what they'll do next when they get rid of them and Chris? What's the use of everything if her life is about to end? I wonder if they'll shoot in the head or in the heart? Better in the head, only in the temple - Laura had to see bullets stuck in her head, and the consequences of their extraction when the person remained alive, but completely lost himself. She will definitely ask them to shoot them in the head. Just to see Chris one last time.
Only once to see him and ask for forgiveness for everything that happened to them.
At eleven in the morning, Washington was like a disturbed anthill: they were in a hurry on business small politicians and clerks, swept tuples of black armored vehicles, and the ubiquitous tourists admired the Capitol. Columbia Heights, by contrast, seemed deserted quarter of other planets: hard workers living here, long ago dispersed to the factories, and those who filled the streets at night were now sleeping off. Chris asked a taxi driver stay per two quarter and Now examined seen in front of them are identical rectangular boxes of gray concrete and red brick. The sun was sinking in dull glass, fast food bags rustling underfoot and beer cans rattling. A group of teenagers gathered at the pharmacy, laughing loudly, passing the joint to each other. Ordinary squalid slums, which you will not find on the bright tourist avenues and about which almost not guess those, Who arrives to the capital to admire the statue of Lincoln.
From the doorway, next to which Chris was standing, he was drawing rot and vomit. And somewhere in this disgusting cesspool was now Laura - at the very thought of her, frightened, weak, lonely, the insides began to burn with acute pain, as if someone had thrust a knife into the stomach and now turned it around with sadistic slowness. Looking around, Chris stepped into the driveway and pulled out a pistol, mechanically checked the magazine, returned it to its place. I wanted to occupy my hands with something, distract myself, calm down, because fear still seeped through the feigned calm, which with every thought of Laura was increasingly covered with cracks. Fear rolled in waves, now releasing, then again forcing me to freeze, squeezing wet palms. It seemed that he could grab the throat of anyone who dared to hurt her, and tear her with his teeth.
It was hoped that David would still be in time. He insisted - we must wait. It is necessary to get a warrant from the judge and only then leave with the capture group. But how long will you have to wait for this piece of paper? How much influence will David have to speed up the process? And Chris just had to sit and wait for help to come, while they can do whatever they want with Laura? He took another deep breath, replaying the morning conversation with his former friend in his head.
The taxi stopped right in front of the house, Chris recognized him immediately - it used to belong to David's parents, but then they moved, leaving his son and his family a family home. A solid two-story cottage, two wings, pointed roofs, austere red brick cladding and green ivy - a picture of the American dream in action. As Chris walked to the door, hundreds of words were spinning in his head, but as soon as he heard the deep and low sound of the bell, it became empty. Only my heart beat deafeningly in the silence. What if David moved out? What if he's just not at home? What should I say to him? The door flew open so abruptly that Chris flinched in thought. A pretty brunette looked at him, looked friendly and slightly wary.
— Can I see David? Chris asked after greeting. A couple of seconds elapsed before her answer seemed like an eternity, during which thousands of hopes had time to be born and died. But suddenly she smiled and nodded.
— Come on in. Are you at work?
— You can say so. - Chris found himself in a spacious hall decorated in white and beige colors.
— Wait in the office, I'll call him. We were just about to have breakfast. How to introduce you?
— Chris, - a spasm clenched his throat sharply, and his own name was hardly pushed out of his throat. - Christopher Labert.
The lips of the brunette folded into a perfectly even letter "o", fear and recognition flashed in her eyes for a moment, but she immediately smiled tightly and nodded, opening the door to the office. What exactly did David tell her, did he enlighten that they were once best friends? Chris didn’t even have time to look around, he just threw a quick glance at the bookcases left over from Sullivan Sr., when David froze on the threshold. For several long moments they silently looked at each other, as if wondering if someone would start shooting, but David exhaled, shrugged awkwardly and nodded to the sofa.
— I didn't think I would see you, - admitted honestly, waiting for Chris to sit down. David himself went to the table and leaned against it, not taking his attentive gaze.
— I suppose you understand - I would not have come if there were other options. I need your help.
— Hide the corpse? - David joked crookedly, but his look reflected tense expectation. Did he really think that Chris had kidnapped and maybe already killed Laura?
— Maybe it will come to that. But for now, Laura and I have to deal with this. - He deliberately emphasized "me and Laura", making it clear that they are at the same time, and pulled out the flash drive, lifting it into the air. - This information can cost your life. You including, if you dispose of the wrong. But you never complained about your lack of intelligence.
— Thanks a lot, ”David muttered. Reaching out, he took the flash drive with two fingers and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “Maybe now you’ll start telling me while I’m looking at this deadly information?”
Chris nodded as he watched David walk around the table and open his laptop. He started from the very beginning - with the death of the senator and everything that followed. And when I finished, there was a heavy, almost palpable silence.
— Do you understand that this sounds too incredible to be true? David finally asked quietly. - And if not for this, - he nodded at the screen, seeing that Chris was going to start to object, - would you already be lying on the floor in handcuffs, and the outfit would rush to the house?
— I wouldn't come to you without proof, ”Chris replied dryly. “Laura is hurt, she needs help, and the sooner the better. We both need protection that only you can provide.
— Do you want to wait with me? - David clarified, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Decisionhe had already accepted, but for some reason he wanted to be voiced by Chris. At the thought that he could give his former friend a long-standing debt of conscience that had hung like a stone on his soul for years, it became easier.
— No, I don't want to put your family in danger. - Chris looked seriously, almost without blinking. - I can spend time in the cell before the trial, but Laura needs to be provided with medical care.
— I'm not going to put you in a cell! - David was indignant. Right before my eyes
the past flashed: a glass partition, the smell of despair and hopelessness, and Chris in an orange jumpsuit. “I’ll give you the key to one apartment, you’ll move Laura there, I’ll send a doctor from the trusted and silent ones. In order to unwind such a colossus, ”he nodded again at the screen,“ it will take time.
— This is even more than what I expected. For the first time during the conversation, Chris smiled faintly, feeling his anxiety gradually release. Everything will be fine, they could, they got there and did everything that depends on them. Now let those who initially intended information. AND they from Laura finally will be in safety. Leaving David's house with the keys to the apartment in his pocket, Chris almost ran - so he wanted to tell Laura about everything as soon as possible. See that everything is in order with her, take her to a safe place and hand her over to the doctor. The bell was caught when the taxi had left David's house far behind, and the ringing void deafened, forcing helplessly gritting teeth. The plan changed rapidly, the taxi, squealing tires, turned sharply and rushed back.
— Forgot to kiss goodbye? - David asked ironically, but immediately stopped, looking into Chris's frozen face. - What happened?
— We are late. They kidnapped her.
Carefully contained despair broke out for a short moment, contorted his face with pain. But Chris quickly pulled himself together and looked seriously at David, who frowned tensely, scrolling through the options in his head.
— So so, - he began in a calm, confident tone. - Now I'm going to the judge - to take a search warrant for that house. You, - his finger buried in Chris's chest, - are waiting for us. You don't stick out. Without a flash drive, they will not touch it, let them wait. I'll try to do it in a couple of hours. As we arrive, I'll call you. Got it?
Chris nodded curtly. He could have risked and tried to pull her out on his own, but it was not only about his own safety, but he could not risk Laura and substitute her for bullets. She's already had enough. And now all that remained was to wait in the gateway, glancing at the clock every minute. The arrow, as luck would have it, froze and refused to move, or just the beat of the heart overtook it so much that time around slowed down? How is Laura, what is she thinking, how much does she hope for him? On the phone, her voice sounded terribly calm, his blood froze in his veins from his sound. Hug, protect from the whole world, close himself - he failed. Lost on all fronts. The adrenaline that made the blood boil dissolved, leaving a bitter residue on his lips. Deprived of the opportunity to act, Chris time after time recalled the details of the morning, then, how tired and sick Laura looked, how she looked at him - with the hope that soon everything would be fine. That he can fix it. And it turned out that it was she who had to take the brunt of the blow, while he remained in the shadows, and this made my soul so disgusting that a distinct lingering pain ached behind the ribs. Chris involuntarily put his hand to his chest, squeezing his T-shirt, rubbed it with force, trying to deceive his mind: to replace the mental pain with a physical one. But the brain refused to listen, the emptiness inside grew, absorbing, deafening knocking in the temples. He left her alone - why? I could have taken it with me, and now both would be safe. He could not have dragged him to damn Vegas at all, but immediately put him on a plane and deliver David to the doorstep. Who instilled this false sense of self-confidence, who made him consider himself omnipotent? He's to blame for everything what happened to her, and was to blame from the start. How do you look into her eyes now? how
help to forget everything that happened?
A short moment of peace, when the future seemed simple and clear, passed, leaving a pungent bitterness behind. Money, position, connections - it didn't matter anymore, right. But an overwhelming sense of guilt built a wall between them that Chris could not break. I didn't want to. He turned out to be a lousy bodyguard. But an even worse man, unable to protect his woman. A weakling hiding behind other people's backs. Behind the dense veil of reflection, Chris did not immediately realize that the phone in his pocket was ringing again. A quick glance at the clock - forty minutes had passed from the allotted time, he still had time.
— You're not in a hurry, Labert. Do you think we'll wait? Not. Let's start cutting off a piece from your woman. Guys are bored, maybe for a start I'll even let them have fun with her.
— I'm on my way, ”Chris croaked, coughed, clearing his throat.- I'll be on time.
— Hurry up. We're not playing with toys here. The clock is ticking.
— Let me talk to her.
— Not. This time, no pharmacies, no drugs, or all that bullshit you tell each other. Although you can listen to her sonorous voice.
There was a rustle, a short groan, followed by Laura's shrill cry. My heart was already pounding at my throat, breaking against my chest. It went dark before his eyes, and Chris, turning off the phone, slowly put it back in his pocket, staring blankly in front of him. David did not leave his number - he said he would contact him himself. But there was no more time. Not a single minute.
The location of the house, which was listed as a warehouse on the maps, and the approximate layout easily emerged in the mind's eye - before driving, Chris and David found the address in Google maps. The photo was taken not so long ago, but this did not mean that the neighboring house was still nearby, or that a dump or a couple of abandoned cars did not appear in front of the warehouse. Orienting and having estimated as can get there before warehouse unnoticed, Chris looked out of the doorway, found through the eyes of teenagers who continued to crowd at the pharmacy, and, pulling on a black baseball cap over his eyes, quickly crossed the road, hiding in the alley.
Fire escapes from both sides went up from the garbage containers that stood at rear doors, black and blue bags stuck out, one of them was swarming with a shabby, dirty white dog. When he reached the end of the alley, Chris looked around again - a few passers-by, a couple of cars parked outside the store, and no one else. The kidnappers chose the perfect place to end them. A new lane, walk to the end, turn right, an intersection, from it again to the right, and now a gray three-storey building with a parking lot in a circle appeared ahead. Do not approach unnoticed, no matter how hard you try.
Stopping in the shadow of the last apartment building in this block, Chris narrowed his eyes - a few stunted maples grew against the far wall, but to get to them, you have to go around the block, which means losing precious time. At the end stood a parked jeep, too foreign for the surrounding area: black, fresh from the car wash, it stood out bright thorn, immediately chaining to myself sight. Door black entrance was slightly open, the fire escape started literally at the ground, as if someone had lowered it quite recently. On the other side, they are clearly waiting for him. Smiling coldly, Chris decided -
circled the house and headed straight for the jeep, trying not to look at the approaching warehouse windows. And only when he was in the shadow of the building, he exhaled - he could not help but think that they would simply kill him, not allowing him to approach. Either he was lucky, or the really back door was guarded, and no one thought he was so fearless or stupid that he would head right through the main one.
The street was still empty, no sound came from the building - which, in general, was not surprising. The Glock slid into his hand, quietly clicked the shutter, Chris stretched out his leg and carefully, with the toe of his boot, pried the door. A cold breath came from within. Squeezing through the crack, Chris quickly closed the door and leaned back against it, listening. His heart was pounding, his shirt stuck to his back, but he hardly paid any attention to it. The huge room was lost in the darkness, wide iron stairs led up to the right and left, leading to platforms that girdled the entire perimeter and diverged in a labyrinth of passages twenty feet overhead. In the twilight, loaders and broken lines of cranes were visible, the floor was covered with wooden pallets, the entire far corner would have been littered with them almost to the ceiling. From the second level, stairs led higher and disappeared in the dark.
Chris listened - not a sound came from above. The beat of his own heart and the flow of blood in his ears deafened. The rustle of small concrete crumbs underfoot, dust dancing in the columns of light breaking through the dirty windows, the booming echo of one's own footsteps that seemed like thunder in the surrounding silence - it seemed that the building was completely aba
ndoned. And if it wasn't for the jeep on the street, Chris might have thought he was wrong. Maybe they've already left, and the car is a trap. Maybe they were watching him from a nearby building and are now dealing with Laura. Without releasing the pistol, Chris took out the phone with his other hand and turned off the sound - if he now decides to call David, write it. But at the same time, the kidnappers won't get through either. Never mind. Now it does not matter.
Chris completed the first flight of stairs in a few seconds, silently climbing the iron steps. The silence pressed on his ears, playing on tense nerves, forcing him to grip the pistol tighter. The muscles in the neck and shoulders turned stone from the tension. From the landing on the second floor one could see the entire warehouse, really abandoned, not counting the dark spot at the entrance - a thick layer of dust here disturbed numerous traces: those who came earlier, and Chris himself. A new flight of stairs led higher, to the door, behind which the third floor was hidden. The leg above the bottom step was already hanging in the air, when a voice from above clearly sounded:
— … nothing to do! Let him go and check.
Chris barely had time to snuggle up against the wall, hoping he wouldn't catch his eye right away. Rough army boots showed up, followed by dark gray camouflage pants, and finally shoulders and a shaved nape. Beretta's trunk flashed right in front of his eyes, the man's leg just dropped to the floor, when Chris slid behind his back in an inaudible shadow and grabbed his throat with his elbow, holding his body tightly to him. Heels scraped against the concrete, the pistol's hand shot up, but Chris grabbed his wrist, pressing the point between his thumb and forefinger. The pistol fell to the floor with a thud. Feverishly clinging to the arm, shoulder, the kidnapper tried to escape, but only tore the sleeve of the T-shirt and scratched the skin on the elbow. Feeling that the enemy was weakening, Chris increased his grip, and after a few seconds he carefully lowered the body to the floor, immediately throwing his head to the door from which he had left.
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