Charlie Ford Meets Secret Agent Man

by J.D. Tynan

  Was I sure of it? Not entirely: sixty-percent positive that we were going to survive and perhaps ninety-nine-percent positive that I would never ever board another plane for the rest of my life. Not with the way my luck had been going lately.

  "We'll be there shortly." The one with the bifocals had a voice after all. "You vant drink?"

  I recognized his dialect. He was most certainly speaking dumb-shit. The only other person I had ever heard speak dumb-shit was a very popular heavy-weight boxer who will remain unnamed.

  I shook my head back and forth. I knew better than to accept martinis from strange men who spoke dumb-shit. I'd seen every James Bond movie ever made. Twice.

  The flight to wherever wasn't that long. My new watch said 9:00 P.M. when we boarded and then it said 10:00 P.M when we touched down. I've got one of those classy, yet sporty, watches that tells the time in three different time zones; very handy when you're being kidnapped and dragged all over hell and back.

  I didn't feel the need to make trouble at that juncture because for all I knew we were in Russia, Turkey or the Czech Republic. What I did know was that I had maxed out my MasterCard on clothes, facials and mascara and I doubted that anyone would take a personal check from Greenwich, Connecticut, so we were at the mercy of our captors…for the time being at least. Besides, our passports were in my bag, stored safely in the overhead compartment and I didn't want to take the chance that we'd be stranded in a back-ass foreign country with no identification. That scared me more than Bifocal Man with a gun.

  I figured that if they wanted us dead, we would be road kill already.

  The rain set a dreary tone to the night. I was beyond confused as to what was going on. Two more nicely dressed men in suits and long overcoats met the three original men. With Bella by my side, I emerged from the plane, walked down the stairs and was drenched from head to toe before reaching the bottom. Each step I took, I stepped carefully as I looked around and got a feel for our surroundings. None of the road signs were in English; most of them were just jumbled letters in my mind and blurry due to the horizontal rainfall. The wind whipped around us and had us shivering in our sundresses. I think I preferred the heat in Africa to that torrential downpour: as did Bella, from the look on her face and the chattering of her teeth.

  I watched three of the men disappear; when they came back, a large, dark sports utility vehicle followed them. Each one of the men was on edge and keeping their eyes peeled with hands in pockets. I assumed they were holding guns in those same pockets.

  If this was Secret Agent Man's idea of a prelude to hot sex, I think I'll end up popping him on the chin again.

  Actually the more I thought about it, the more I talked myself out of my fun theory of seeing him again. This seemed all too real and all too scary. The worst part was that I didn't have a gun this time.

  I feel better when I'm holding a gun. I needed a gun.

  I glanced over at Bella and sent her a weak smile. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. She grabbed my arm when the man with bifocal glasses ushered us into the big tough-looking truck.

  I had ideas about a nice SUV like that someday, but then I was thinking I would rather have a tiny pink Miata convertible. Miatas look safe and fun. This monstrosity reeked of international espionage.

  I stared at the back of the men's heads and wondered if I had enough strength to snap their necks as I had seen Ryan do. I doubted it, so I kept my hands to myself and watched out the tinted windows into the dark, rainy night.

  What I remember about making it into a hotel room isn't much because at that time, pillowcases shrouded our heads and they led us with our hands tied. That was by far the scariest thing that had ever happened to me. I didn't like it. The shroud messed up my hair and made it hard for me to breathe. I'm the kind of person who needs cool, fresh air to keep me calm and panic free.

  When they finally pulled the cloth off my head, I nearly hyperventilated and began screaming at the man who was standing just feet in front of me.

  "Assholes," I shouted, and moved viciously toward the man until he knocked me on my ass. I landed with a thud on the hardwood floor, watched the door swing shut and Bella the Brave helped me to my feet.

  "Why are you so calm about this? I'm sorry, I could handle that shit in Africa, but this is just spooky. Are you okay? Are you breathing?"

  Bella nodded and slumped down onto the bed. "We're in Armenia."

  Thank God for Gammy. Bella spoke four languages thanks to Gammy. Suddenly, I felt so much better. The color came back to my face and my heart rate dropped back down to normal.

  "Where exactly in Armenia?"

  "I'm not sure about that. I tried to read the signs the best I could and I know we are far from Yerevan. I've been here before. I think this is where Gammy and Pappi took me to the ballet. I recognized the markings on the side of the hangar. Do you think Pappi's in trouble?"

  I nodded because I would never lie to Bella. Besides, she knew. She knew that this was no coincidence. Being nabbed in Athens had direct connections to Claude Munson's political Houdini act.

  I thought this would be a good time to say a prayer and ask for Secret Agent Man to appear in front of my face. This was definite spy stuff, not my cup of tea. I took inventory of my life, again, and decided at that moment that someone else was going to have to save the day, 'cause it wasn't going to be me.

  I sank down on the bed. At least there was a bed. There was a bathroom with running water, a couple of bottles of Evian on top of the television, and a phone.

  I picked it up just for the hell of it and a raspy voice spoke. "Vat you need?" I loved his accent, but I was kind of hoping for a direct line to the FBI.

  "The girl and I would like some food…please."

  Things could be worse. In fact, they could be much worse. I laid back on the bed; Bella grabbed the guest services book and flipped through it. She read it all to me.

  "Cool," I said with a grin. "I really need to work-out. You think they will actually let us use the work-out room?" I rolled my eyes and then rolled over. "You okay?"

  "Yeah." She smiled and lay down beside me. "We have food and water and a shower. Let's just pretend we're on holiday."

  "I guess that could work." I smiled, but I really wanted to go home. I wanted to be free. I enjoyed freedom and that was why I lived in America, damn it, damn it, damn it. I did have the worst luck in the world.

  Dinner arrived and consisted of a couple of steaks, mashed potatoes and a plate of fresh vegetables and dill dip. I felt stuffed to the brim, but I still wanted to go home.

  That night we watched "Friends." I couldn't understand a word that they said, but Bella laughed a lot. It was actually very funny to see Joey's voice dubbed by a man with a high squeaky voice speaking French. I knew it was French because I know the words 'oui' and 'non'. That's about it. Again, I would have liked to be in a country where I actually understood the language.

  "Where was your dad born?" I asked, because I was curious and I never liked "Frasier," so I turned off the television.

  "Brussels, Belgium."

  "Really?" That surprised me.

  "Pappi is from Armenia, Gammy is from Belgium and when he was with Interpol, he was stationed in Belgium. He met Gammy and she had Daddy a year later." Bella smiled wickedly. "They weren't even married. They never did get married. Gammy was supposed to marry some other rich dude, but she fell in love with Claude. Very romantic." Her eyes blinked as if she were thinking about Justin Timberlake again.

  "Who told you all that? Your dad?"

  "No," she scoffed. "Gammy told me last summer. Gammy tells me everything. She's actually my best friend," she said and then turned to me. "But now, I think you should be my best friend."

  "It would be my pleasure," I said and curled my arm under my pillow. It was nice to have one and I wasn't taking anything for granted, not even flat pillows with ugly chenille shams. "I don't have any girlfriends."

  "Really?" She looked confused. "Why not
?"

  I shrugged. "I guess I've just been too busy with my plan for the future. I spent the past few years hanging out with kids and before that, I was in the Army and moved around a lot. I made some pretty good guy friends, but they got married and had kids and we just don't talk that much anymore."

  "That's kind of sad." Bella's head eased into her pillow.

  "It kind of is, isn't it?"

  "Maybe you could be friends with Ryan?"

  I exhaled loudly. I hadn't thought about him for a whole two hours, but she managed to bring him right back to the center of my thoughts. "I don't think Ryan is even his real name. I don't think I'll ever see him again."

  "That's kind of sad," she said sweetly, with a smile.

  "Yes it is." I closed my eyes. "So, Claude worked for Interpol, huh?"

  "Yeah, Gammy says he was a really cool guy, handsome and sort of cocky…I think that's what she said." She blushed slightly. "Is that a bad word?"

  "No. It just means confident, arrogant, self assured."

  "Oh," she said. "So I could call you cocky."

  Laughter erupted from my lips. "I guess so."

  ***

  I slept incredibly well for being in a strange country surrounded by ugly flowered wallpaper. I think I woke up twice during the night, hoping to find Tums in the bathroom. I don't think my body was enjoying my huge meal as well as my taste buds had, but over all, it was a successful night's sleep. My dreams were erratic and cloaked with violence. I guess it was my subconscious letting me know that I was human and reminding me that I had killed people. I rolled over to see Bella still sleeping and then turned to hear a light knock on the door.

  "What?" I screamed, because I'm a bear and that's what bears do.

  "Café?"

  Okay. Captors who bring me coffee? Perhaps we were just on holiday. Perhaps that was Roald's idea of thanking me. He was forcing me to take a vacation.

  Maybe not.

  Bifocal Man opened the door, slid over a platter of coffee, cream, and sugar towards me as if I were a tiger at the zoo. He kept his eyes on me and then slid back out the door. Very strange man.

  They hadn't poisoned us the previous night with dinner, so I took a chance and poured myself some coffee, stirred in a couple drops of cream and brought it to my lips. "Umm. Good stuff." I smiled to myself, and then took an hour-long bath before Bella woke up. She padded into the bathroom half-asleep and made herself comfortable under the shower spray.

  I took the opportunity to look under the bed, rake my hands across the wall, dig around in the drawers, and closet to find anything that might help me, a nail, a screw, a machine gun.

  Bifocal Man had been very adamant about retrieving our utensils the previous night after dinner. He counted the forks, the knives and even demanded that I give him back the spoon that I wanted to keep as a souvenir. I didn't really want it as a souvenir, I wanted to dig a hole through the wall and escape just as Andy Dufresne did to escape from Shawshank.

  The morning went by quickly. We played 'go fish' with a deck of cards we found next to the Holy Bible. I should have been reading the Bible to repent for my sins, but 'go fish' was more fun and the Bible wasn't in English. I suppose that's no excuse, I could have had Bella read it to me, but again, cards were more entertaining. Bella beat me three- hands-to-one before Bifocal Man came back and asked us if we wanted to accompany him to the dining area for lunch, or if we preferred to eat in the room. Hello?

  We were marched down the hall by Bifocal Man and when we entered the dining area, there were three different men in trench coats sipping tea at a table. No one else was around. I was positive that the hotel was open just for us or perhaps it wasn't a hotel at all. It was probably a safe house, of sorts, not that I felt safe or anything.

  "Good afternoon." He was definitely French. The tallest of the men sat down at our table. "You look well." He nodded at Annabelle and I did not appreciate how he was looking at her.

  I slapped my hand around his wrist and, of course, that prompted the other men to draw their concealed weapons. I removed my hand and scowled. "Who are you and what do you want?"

  He stared at me and smiled. "Lunch?"

  There are certain things I hate more than others and being ignored is high up on my list. I'd felt ignored most of my life and I despised it. Right then I decided that, if or when I got my hands on a gun, I was going to shoot that scumbag first.

  He stood up and gestured to the wait staff. They brought club sandwiches, with big chunky-style French fries and tarter sauce.

  I looked up from my soda and noticed the color run completely from Bella's face.

  "What is it?" I half-expected to see an eyeball in her Pepsi.

  "This." She pushed her plate toward me. I saw nothing wrong with it, no hissing cockroach crawling around, and no long black hair hanging from her sandwich. She began quietly weeping into her hands.

  I moved closer and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong?" I asked. Stupid question, I know.

  "This is my favorite." She wiped her eyes and dipped a fry into the tarter sauce. "This is my favorite food. I always order this. Even the fries are the big ones that I like and this is Pepsi, not Coke. I hate Coke and this is Pepsi." She was becoming frantic, frenzied and disturbingly loud. "And the tarter sauce. How do they know?" she screamed loudly.

  I looked around at the men who were staring at us.

  "Shhh," I said quietly. "It's okay. Calm down."

  "I can't. I can't calm down. How do they know?"

  I shook my head back and forth with tight lips. This was stranger than I thought. It was very odd that whoever had orchestrated this little kidnapping had in fact done their homework and provided Bella with her favorite food. I looked around the table and saw not one shred of evidence that they knew my favorite food. There was no Diet Pepsi, no beef jerky and no peanut butter and jelly. Once again, I felt neglected. Sad, isn't it?

  I patted her hand and urged her just to fill up. She took a couple of bites and once the men relaxed and sat back down, she began eating slower and chewing very carefully. I could tell by the look on her face that she was concentrating on listening to their conversation.

  "What are they saying?" I asked through clenched teeth, just in case one of them read lips.

  "I could only make out part of it. Something to do with what they were going to do after this was over."

  Great. After what was over, our execution, our sale to Black Market female slave traders, what?

  "Bifocal Man wants to go to Italy with his wife." Bella took a couple more French fries and sipped more Pepsi. At least she was enjoying her lunch. "That new guy wants to go to the States to see a NASCAR race."

  Great. Our captors were planning their vacations. I needed a vacation. Hell, I hadn't had a vacation in four years. I vowed at that moment that if I survived and was not sold to slave traders that I was going to take a nice, long Hawaiian vacation, with new clothes and everything. That is what I was going to do.

  Bella brought me back to the present when she started choking. I slapped her back a couple of times. She took a sip of Pepsi and finished wheezing. "They just said that once they get here in two days, they won't need you anymore. You will be…"

  "What?" I practically shouted. "I am going to be… what?"

  "I don't know how to translate it... Done? Ended? Over?" she rattled off a couple of attempts at translating what she had heard.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Why did I feel that being ended was not a good thing?

  Bella listened more intently. Her breathing became ragged, her face paled again and she began weeping.

  "Remember the man from Greece, the guy you said smelled like pee?"

  How could I forget the French guy who smelled like pee? "What about him?"

  "What was his name?"

  I shook my head. I had never been very good with names, but when Bella said it aloud, I clearly matched it with his bad teeth.

  "DuLucere? Right?"

&n
bsp; "Right." That made me very nervous, very, very nervous. DuLucere had sold us out to the bad dudes. Hell, I didn't even know who this DuLucere guy was and he had sold out a child. "What about him?"

  "I didn't catch all of it, I just heard his name and something to do with what he said he wanted done with us."

  Ah, hell.

  Some people prefer to hire psychics and palm readers to tell them their futures, who they will fall in love with and when they are going to die. I don't happen to be one of those people. I don't want to know when and how I'm going to die. I prefer to keep that as a cosmic mystery, one that I personally don't look forward to.

  I clamped my hand down over Bella's and scowled.

  "Stop listening. I don't want to know how they are going to end me and you shouldn't hear it either. You're only a kid."

  "But…"

  "But nothing," I said sternly and waved my hand to interrupt the scumbags. "Can I have more fries please?" Suddenly, when I knew I was going to die shortly, I didn't care so much about transfats and cholesterol.

  After lunch, the tall lanky man brought out a package of double stuff Oreos and Bella started crying again. I myself never have a problem with cookies, so I picked them up and brought them with us for later. We were once again marched down the hall with high hopes of getting to do this again sometime. I actually had confidence that if we were lucky enough to eat in the dining room, I could make a plan. I could make a move to get a gun and then I would get us out of there. I had to get us out of there because in two days I was going to be ended…finito…finished…dead!

  ***

  "What are you thinking about?" I asked Bella over the sound of CNN. There still were no reports of us going missing. No more information about how Annabelle Squire had been alive and then disappeared again.

  "I was just thinking that maybe we could get out of here. I know how to speak Armenian. I'm not perfect, but I could find someone to help us on the streets."

  She was thinking like me. I guess she didn't enjoy the idea of me being ended either.

  I pushed up from my prone position and popped another Oreo into my mouth.

  "Okay." I got serious and tried to think. Thinking had become extremely difficult because I didn't have a gun. I needed a gun. "Dinner. What if they bring us back down for dinner, do you think that you could translate every sign that you see in the dining room? You know, like exit signs— restrooms—employees only—stuff like that?"