Thank you SO SO SO SO much for the reviews. Ugh, akdhfhhgnzkjpaoe! That's what they make me do. And then I go and write a chapter, talk to my therapist on the phone about how I got the idea to make such a strange story, before finally repeating the cycle. I will say there are German to English translations at the very bottom of the page for a few instances of dialogue. Also, I'm very excited that everything is coming to a conclusion...and many of you have speculated as to how I am going to end this. Well, I will say again that I've been set on the ending from the moment I first wrote the summary of the story and since I adore it, there's very little chance of me changing it. It may not exactly be what you expect, but I find that those are the best stories. I do want to mention that Abby wants to go home...badly. I may not write that in often, but she's exhausted from her ordeal and wants nothing more than the comfort of her own home. The ONLY reason she's stayed so long is for her dad's sake. Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 21 - Vulnerable Virtue
"He's turning off the highway."
Abby's eyes scanned for his vehicle.
"Is there some sort of town this way?" she asked, confused.
"No, but a few miles ago indicated a gas station."
Biting at her lip, Abby held on to the seat as they veered off the highway and continued their stealthy pursuit.
"We've got to make up some sort of plan," she finally voiced. "This might be the only stop he'll make before entering Poland."
"What do you suggest?"
"You approach him. Act like you're lost or looking for directions. He won't recognize you. Try to get him to a deserted area."
"And then?"
"Then-."
The thought of Heiter physically over powering Ivan without the use of some sort of drug, was laughable. In fact, she nearly informed him of this. But midway through, realized it was only the sort of humor she'd find funny.
So, she thought of a Plan B.
"You approach him," she began again. "I'll watch the direction you guys go and follow."
"What good will that do?"
"A whole lot since I've got a gun."
At his puzzled look, she pulled out the loaded glock.
"Klaus's," she mentioned. "I took it off his body before we entered the hospital. It'd be a bit suspicious if he was found carrying it."
"You will threaten him?"
"I might even shoot him right away," Abby admitted.
Although not formally agreed upon, the plan was at least some sort of step toward apprehending Ivan.
So, their car continued another three miles of turning off more and more frequently deserted roads.
"It would appear we must catch him now," Heiter mentioned. "We are the only car behind him and if he recognizes us on the way back to the highway, he will become suspicious if he has not already done so."
Abby inhaled, trying not to let her anxiety mingle in with her task.
Finally, Ivan pulled off the road into a grungy looking gas station. Four pumps sat outside while a separate garage stood for oil changes.
"Down," he ordered.
She did as told, but not before seeing Heiter pull past the Impala. He took another sharp turn, wheels bouncing over the bumpy ground.
Eventually, he must have parked next to a pump because his keys were soon thrusted out and eventually, into his hand.
"We are lucky to be the only ones here," the man commented.
Abby's ear picked up the grumbling of the highway six miles off. Even the distance couldn't completely mute the sound.
That way, if I pull the trigger, it'll be less of an ordeal to explain the noise.
"I would hate to use my gun before you do," Heiter expressed, still staring ahead. "Make sure to come right away. And Abby...it would be ideal not to kill him here. We have been fortunate to have our messes cleaned up. This one will be on our hands if it does not go well."
That's got to me the most sensible thing he's said since I've met him.
"I know. Go do your magic, Johnson."
She could practically visualize the confusion overrunning his features.
"It's an American thing," she whispered.
His reply was to swing open the car door and step out.
After that, Abby was forced to keep taking careful glances through the windshield. Ivan was parked directly ahead, and for the moment, stood facing the pump. He made no move to look around or observe his surroundings.
Heiter stood on the opposite side of the vehicle, making a note of glancing down at his car and then at the pump. As if he was unsure whether he would make the journey he'd embarked on.
Finally, the surgeon glanced over and began his approach.
Abby would have paid a fair amount of money to witness Heiter interacting with a complete stranger in a polite manner. Unfortunately, her duty was to observe as little as possible.
Their words were muffled from inside the car. But Abby wouldn't have been able to hear them anyway. With the source of heat gone, her form began shivering quickly. It must have been in the mid 30's outside.
God, what I would do for a shower.
Ducking down as both men did a casual scan her way, the blonde gripped on to the leather seat. One hand reached for the gun imprisoned within the waste-band of her pants.
Why not from here? Clean, straight shot.
But she knew this thought to be ridiculous. Ivan may have murdered her dad, but even he would be disappointed with the lack of invention taken to bring the murderer down. It wasn't like her dad simply mowed over his victims without planning. He took careful steps and intricate detailing before luring the men to their deaths.
So focused on her plans, Abby nearly missed altogether the two men's sudden shuffling away from the gas pumps.
Snapping herself into focus, the blonde lifted her head up a bit to peek over the dashboard from the backseat.
Where are they going?
Carefully, she grasped on to the car door and as easily as she could, inched it open. One by one, her body crawled out of the vehicle and upon a final crouch, she pressed the door back. The snap made her slowly move upward until she was able to see over the roof of the car.
Already, Ivan and Heiter were halfway to the separate garage. Whatever Heiter had said, Ivan was convinced enough to follow him.
Abby gripped the gun through her jeans as she reached the first gas pump. The garage was about forty feet away from the main station.
Fucking brilliant.
Heiter wasn't just heading that way for fun. He was casually leading Ivan into the garage rather than behind it. That way, the confrontation would be far more private.
Just before he took the man inside, he inclined his head over the station pump area.
I'm guessing that's the signal.
With an agility far too graceful for the discomfort she was feeling in her lower body, Abby broke into a sprint. No cars passed by the entire time from her take off nor did the station manager think it odd that some woman was running across a stretch of land like the Jehovah's Witness were personally trying to convert her.
Already, she could hear the voices resonating from inside the garage and with one last thought, Abby pulled out Klaus's gun and aimed it directly ahead of her.
By the time she entered the spacious area with dim lighting, Heiter had his gun trained on Ivan as well.
The man in question looked neither surprised nor fearful. His hands weren't raised either, bugging the blonde far more than it should.
"Get down on your knees," she demanded through chattering teeth.
"Machen mir, hure," he spat.
Whatever his garbeled German was made Heiter step closer and force the tip of his gun into the side of the man's skull.
"Nach unten oder ich mache dich," Heiter threatened, pushing the gun in more insistently.
Ivan's eyes traveled quickly to the gun at his head before exhaling. When Abby's murderous expression ceased to make an exit, the man finally began kneeling on the cold concrete.
"Check him for a weapon," Abby suggested, inching further into the garage.
Heiter did so with his gun pointed directly at Ivan's forehead.
He pulled out the man's own loaded weapon seconds later, then slid it toward her across the floor. She stopped it with the front of one shoe.
"Keep the gun on him," Heiter ordered. "Shoot if he attempts to move."
"I was planning on it," she replied.
Heiter briefly lowered his weapon, only to pull out a pair of handcuffs.
He went to stand behind Ivan and tugged his arms up. This forced the man into a bending position before him as Heiter worked on throwing one wrist within a cuff, and then another.
Finally, he withdrew and went to stand beside him again.
Both were caught offguard when the man started cackling, softly at first, then louder until the echoes could be heard around the entire garage.
Through his graying, caramel hair, Ivan's nearly black eyes locked on to Abby's. They seemed to be conveying a silent message.
When his mad laughter finally ceased, he twisted his lips into a triumphant grin.
"Your father," he began, voice gravely and low, "begged like a little girl. I promised to kill his own after I get done with him."
And when he smirked, Abby couldn't control her next instinct.
Her feet stomped the distance toward the man. Heiter seemed not to care what went on from there since he had successfully handcuffed the man. But he retreated from his position cautiously, gun still pointed at the man's head.
Just before she reached Ivan's kneeling position, Abby swung out a foot and threw it forward. The bottom of her sole solidly connected with Ivan's face and sent him sprawling backwards with a short cry as his bound hands were forced to carry his weight. A muffled clunk! was heard as skull met concrete and before he had a chance to complain, Abby swiftly moved to kneel over his stomach.
With a firm grasp, she grabbed his chin and forced it up toward her. Then, with careful precision, she turned off the safety on the gun and slowly moved it closer and closer to Ivan's mouth. When it was barely a centimeter away, she stopped.
"You seem to think," she whispered, her voice light and completely devoid of any sympathy, "that I have a problem killing you in a public place. I assure you I do not."
Ivan stretched opened his mouth to reply, but Abby was hoping for this. Before he could close it, she stuck the barrel of the gun straight into his mouth, knocking at his marble teeth, and paused just over the hole leading down to his throat.
"Now...what was this about my dad screaming?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
The man still showed no fear, but the signs of trepidation did become apparent. As if he wasn't quite believing the rage barely contained inside her.
"I will go get his car," Heiter mentioned. "He has already pre paid for gas with his credit card."
Abby hardly heard him, but she did acknowledge his sudden grip on her shoulder.
"For a minute, refrain from doing it."
She nodded, eyes glued to the man on the floor.
When Heiter was out of hearing distance, she leaned down a little further.
"You better hope my finger doesn't accidentally slip."
APHAPHAPHAPH
As Heiter exited Ivan's vehicle, he glanced down at the unconscious man with bewilderment. Blood was seeping from his nose while a puffiness began forming across the crown of his forehead.
"I had to knock him out," Abby reasoned, standing a good few feet away. "We can't have him alerting people to what's happening. All of this would have been a waste then."
"Reasonable," he slowly answered. "Two vehicles have just pulled in as well. We will keep his body in his car."
After concealing their weapons, the pair stood on opposite sides of the unconscious man.
"Lift on three," she motioned.
After a silent count down, they grabbed on to the man and carried him over to the backseat of the Impala. Heiter had already opened the door and they made a hasty movement of throwing his body inside. Especially when Abby caught a glimpse of all the people scattered by the pumps.
Heiter retrieved Ivan's weapon soon after and threw it in the passenger seat.
"I'll follow you," she indicated, eyes straying toward the driver's seat.
"No."
Glancing back, Abby let out a sigh.
"I'm not going to-."
"You might," he ascertained. "With the emotions driving you at this moment, you very well might. Take my car and follow. I want you calm upon interrogation."
She fought internally against his command, but ultimately knew he was right. If Ivan woke up while she was driving and continued to bait her, there was no telling what sort of position they'd be in.
"Fine," she agreed.
With a final shared look, Abby retreated from the parking garage with Heiter's keys wrapped tightly in her palm.
God forbid I do kill him quickly. Maybe I'll carry it out like he did to my dad.
For a moment, she stopped in her footsteps.
It's been so easy to fuel my actions based on the raw emotions. But if I do kill him and get pleasure out of it...will that make me just as bad as him?
Minutes later, she was pulling out of the gas station, trailing the Impala.
At least I've got a good hour and a half to think this over.
More lovely German to English translations :
Machen mir, hure : make me, whore
Nach unten oder ich mache dich : down or I will make you
Whew! They FINALLY got the bastard. And of course after 5 months of searching, Abby isn't going to take any bull hockey from him! Personally, I love passive-aggressive Abby. Let me know your thoughts in a review!