The Battle Of Who Could Care Less – 28

Robert followed the directions that Jean-Paul had slipped him and before long, he and Elizabeth found themselves at a massive safehouse on the perimeter of a forest preserve. Only a large sign with small white lettering that declared it the Guard Residence stood before the compound, and the two companions exchanged nervous glances before darting toward the side entrance that they were told to use.

The estate was empty for the evening, unfortunately for the unguarded forest preserve. Robert stepped inside first, his weapon drawn and engaged, and Elizabeth followed on his heels in the same position. He made sure the location was secure as she obtained a better feel of their surroundings, and when all was clear they finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was told that the pantry would be stocked with various non-perishables," the agent murmured, following Elizabeth as she carefully prowled the dark hallway in search of the kitchen. "Good thing, too – those muffins weren't nearly enough."

The brunette murmured her agreement as she absently rubbed her stomach. Their meals had been so few and far between that her body didn't rumble its plea for food anymore; instead, it made do quietly until she was able to squirrel something away and consume it when they had a moment to breathe.

"Here we go," she exclaimed quietly, looking around as they stepped into the kitchen. She glanced at Robert, her hand on the light switch, but the detective shook his head so she did without.

"First things first," he directed, opening what he correctly assumed to be the pantry. "Let's find some brekkie."

The brunette frowned until she figured out that he meant breakfast. "You've really got to stop mumbling, Robbie," she reminded him sweetly as he withdrew some canned goods.

The detective rolled his eyes and set the cans on the counter. Pulling out his army knife, he made quick work opening them and dug around in a drawer for some forks and napkins. Finally, he and Elizabeth settled down in the breakfast nook and began to quickly wolf down what they soon found to be cold canned pasta with some odd variety of meat sauce.

She gagged it down the best she could, reminding herself that she hadn't eaten in quite a while and that beggars couldn't be choosers. Finishing up, they quickly and discreetly disposed of the evidence and retreated to more withdrawn quarters.

Robert poked around until he found a staircase leading to the upper level of the house. It was difficult to navigate their way around the sizable compound in the dark, but he felt that it was in their best interest to remain inconspicuous. They had only been in Paris for a few hours, but there was no safety in that – Helena could have very well discovered their whereabouts shortly after their hotel room turned up empty.

Together, they found their way to a massive bedroom with large windows. Sure enough, there was an empty walk-in closet that functioned easily as a tiny room. After snagging a few pillows and blankets, they quickly crept into the closet and shut the door.

Elizabeth arranged her pillow and blanket and lay down almost immediately. But even though she was tired, she knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep. Instead, she propped her head on her arm and watched as Robert pulled out a slim flashlight and spread the contents of Levitte's file out on the floor between them.

A long moment passed as he read and reread the neat typeface, his flashlight moving at a constant speed over the text. Elizabeth's lids drooped as he read, his lips moving to form the words, and occasionally mumbling something about exotic foreign locales.

"What are you thinking, Robbie?"

"I'm coming up with a broad list of the tricks Helena's already pulled," he replied quietly, his gray brows furrowed as he continued to read. "Remember what I told you about her game?"

"She never plays the same trick twice?"

"That's right," he nodded absently. "She's been very busy for the past two decades, I'll tell you that…it makes me wonder what she actually has left in that hat of hers."


A few hours had passed, but the sun had not yet risen over the Guard Residence twenty-three miles away from the Parisian hospital.

Robert and Elizabeth were still in the closet, but only the brunette was asleep. The agent sat with his back propped up against the wall, his flashlight resting languidly in his limp fingers. He watched Elizabeth sleep, curled up in a small ball, and let out a sigh as he closed his eyes. He was tired, to be sure, but sleep was not forthcoming and he found himself rather envious of the girl snoring lightly next to him.

But the hours had proved fruitful in their own way. Now, he at least had a few suspicions as to what Helena might be up to; all that remained was to high-tail it back to the hospital at daybreak and speak to Jean-Paul once more. But knowing his luck, the ideas he had tossed around in his head were nothing compared to what Helena really had planned. He had to give it to the old girl – she knew her craft. Not everyone could be successful as a royal psychotic homicidal billionaire with a goddess complex.

Robert tapped his fingers against the wall, restlessness prompting him to reach for the papers once more. He had just finished organizing them in chronological order of Helena's attacks when his cell phone vibrated from its place on the floor. The echoing buzz woke up Elizabeth, who looked around in confusion as Robert quickly snatched up the silver device.

She was more alert now and exchanged quizzical glances with him. He was reluctant to receive calls on his cell for the express reason that it could be traced or tapped or otherwise alert their pursuers to their location. But after looking for the incoming number, Robert hesitantly flipped it open and held it to his ear.

"I'm afraid I can't meet you for brunch," came a hurried voice on the other end. "I have to attend the funeral of a friend. He was ill, you see – in fact, he rather exploded. I apologize and hope to take a rain check. Good day."

Elizabeth was frowning, clearly perplexed, and turned to Robert as he quickly snapped the phone shut. "What the heck was that ab-"

But Robert wasn't paying attention to her. Instead, he quickly shoved the papers inside the file and grabbed his jacket, pushing himself off the floor with his heels and abruptly flinging the door open. "Up – on your feet. Move!"

She got up without question, kicking their blankets and pillows into the corner and grabbing her weapon as she followed him out. Robert made a beeline for the massive windows, his knees on the thin cushions of the window seat and his hands braced on the sill as he peered out into the early morning.

It was still dark out there, and the cloudless sky was an inky navy blue in color. Elizabeth materialized at his side, unsure as to what was going on but remaining close to him regardless. Robert's wide topaz eyes quickly scanned the surrounding brush and empty two-lane highway until he saw what Bunbury had just alerted him to.

His fingertips found the dirty glass, tapping once. Elizabeth's sapphire orbs quickly followed the movement until she saw it, too. Three dark sports utility vehicles, all without their headlights on. The cars turned on to the dusty gravel lane that led to the estate, and Robert quickly ducked away from the windows.

His hard but worried eyes sought hers as he grabbed her arm, giving it a firm squeeze meant to be reassuring but at the same time, an imperative. "We need to go."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and pulled her along despite the fact that the petite brunette matched him step for step. They were already down the stairs and running toward the massive doors leading out to the verandah by the time the front door was kicked in, and the two companions soon disappeared into the night.


"…Mommy?" Young Michael Corinthos sat cuddled up in his mother's arms, his arm absently resting on her slightly swollen stomach.

She ran her fingers through his silky red hair, coughing into her free hand. "Yeah?"

"…Are we gonna die?"

His small voice resonated through the silent room, and both Sonny and Jason swung around immediately at the hesitant question. Their turbulent eyes met Carly's helpless hazel ones, and the blonde wrapped her arms tightly around her son.

"No, Mr. Man," she whispered fiercely in his ear, turning her face away only for a split second to let out another cough. "No way, baby. Everything's going to be fine, okay? Your dad and Uncle Jason are going to fix everything like they always do. You believe me, right? They'd never let anything bad happen to us. They've already got a plan – did you know that?"

Her strained attempts at reassurance didn't appear to register with the five-year-old, and Jason scrubbed a hand over his jaw as the child fisted a hand in his mother's green full-sleeved pajama top. Despite their best attempts, Michael had discovered their current situation. Unbeknownst to anyone, he had come downstairs for a glass of water when his coughing got the best of him and had sat hidden in the stairwell while Alcazar was standing in the living room.

The boy had disappeared into his room for hours after that, completely withdrawn from his family as they paced and worried downstairs. But he had surfaced a few hours later, his sober blue button eyes telling them instantly that he knew a great deal more than he was supposed to. And though it should have surprised them…it didn't. Michael had a way of discovering these things, albeit inadvertently. Only this time, it wasn't simply about a random trip below the border.

He scrunched his nose, curling closer to his mother's body. "…I'm glad Lizabeth isn't here…that she's safe. Uncle Luke and Lucky, too."

Carly closed her eyes, her hand resting on her son's head, and Jason turned away. It had been days, and he had yet to receive any word on Robert or Elizabeth – not to mention the Spencer men. Hopefully the first pair was still in Oxford…but knowing Robert, that wasn't likely. He just hoped that Michael was right, and that Elizabeth was safe no matter where she was.

The child sniffled just then, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, and Sonny quickly stooped down to wipe his nose with a tissue. Jason sank wearily into one of the elaborately carved chairs that sat around the dining table, tugging absently on the collar of his t-shirt. Being locked in the penthouse was slowly driving him crazy.

He had been allowed to move back and forth between his own penthouse and Sonny's; he could even leave Harborview Towers altogether and descend into the town. But he hadn't done that yet, seeing as how the first time he attempted to do so, three armed guards in suits matched him step for step. Unwilling to traipse about aimlessly with three conspicuous and hostile guards in tow, he had changed his plans.

He spent most of his time in Sonny's penthouse, only returning to his when he needed to shower and change. Johnny and Max were long gone, as were the other guards that held shifts on their floor. Gone, also, was any contact that the two men had with the town; locked away in the Towers, they had no way of knowing the extent of the damage and its repercussions through Port Charles. It was no secret that the PCPD was quite inept when it came to anything other than half-baked accusations, but they were still holding out hope that Mac and Taggert realized that something was amiss.

There was nothing for them to do but sit and wait for Alcazar's next move or attempt to communicate with them. And now that Michael had discovered their situation, being contained in the penthouse with his soulful eyes and innocent questions was even more unbearable.

Thinking that he was teetering dangerously close to putting his fist through the wall, Jason's attention was thankfully averted when the front door was kicked open and Johnny and Max were tossed in, the momentum and force with which the guards pushed them causing the two young men to go sprawling to the floor.

"Johnny!" Michael yelped, happy and relieved to see his favorite bodyguard. "You're here!"

The twenty-three-year old Irishman picked himself up off the floor as Max did the same, and he quirked a forced half-smile at the little boy before turning back to his smirking attackers. Alcazar's men glanced around the room, making sure everything was in order, before glancing in Sonny's direction.

A barrel-chested guard with curly black hair pointed in the direction of the two newcomers. "For your comfort, Corinthos," he snickered, pleased with his sardonic little joke. "We were about to get rid of them when it was suggested that you might find some use for them."

The other guards laughed, clearly appreciating the irony of a conquered mob boss who did not even hold any power over his own lowly bodyguards any more. Still chuckling, they closed the door with a resounding slam, leaving Sonny and Jason to turn toward their employees in bewilderment.

Sonny's obsidian eyes were confused but relieved as Michael wrapped himself around Johnny's leg. "Johnny, Max – we thought…"

"Where the hell were you?" Jason barked, cutting directly to the chase. "It's been almost three days-"

"We were out," Max interrupted, slicing a palm through the air in indication that the conversation was not to be continued. Jason's eyes bulged as that muscle in his jaw ticked dangerously, but to his credit, the enforcer kept quiet – more out of shock and anger over the impertinence of his employees than in response to Max's request.

"Hey, buddy," Johnny soothed, scooping the little boy into his arms. "How you doing?"

"I'm okay," the boy sniffled. "Did you know Mister Alcazar-"

"Yeah, yeah, buddy," the guard replied, patting the boy on the back. "I know. Hey, you sound like you're coming down with a cold."

Michael shrugged. "I dunno." He pouted slightly as his favorite bodyguard carried him across the room to deposit him into his mother's arms, but forgot his displeasure and soon cuddled up in the blonde's safe embrace.

Free now, Johnny shared a meaningful look with Sonny before he and Max fanned out across the room. The two mobsters looked on, a knowing glimmer growing in their confused eyes as the guards began to comb the mantle and upset the potted plants and framed pictures.

Jason cursed under his breath when he saw the Irishman successfully withdraw a small black device – a bug. The penthouse had been breached. Max quickly located another one and Sonny joined the search, finding another under the guardrail in the stairwell.

Michael opened his mouth to say something but Carly quickly held her fingers to his lips, warning her son silently not to say a word as the men searched. Max pointed upstairs, and he and Johnny quickly followed Sonny and Jason upstairs to resume their search.

Carly and Michael were still seated on the couch when the men finally returned, and the blonde's eyes widened at the number of bugs they had uncovered and ripped free. Johnny shook his head and tossed his findings onto Sonny's desk, glancing around the massive room that he knew was now finally secure.

"Okay," he started, turning back to his employers. "Now we can talk."

Jason had forgotten his anger, but not his first question. "Where the hell were you two?"

"We were at the safe house, trying to get it ready for Mrs. C and Mikey," Max explained, forgetting to call the child by his full first name and instead using the one the guards had adopted as a nickname. "But we got a call from Seth in the lobby and he was trying to say something about danger when there were gunshots and the line went dead."

Johnny nodded seriously. "We figured something major had gone down at Harborview Towers so we left the safe house as it was. We ditched the car a few blocks away-"

"-And pretty much scoped out the town," Max continued, folding his hands at his waist. "It didn't take long to find out what had happened."

Sonny closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his jaw and dropping his voice so that Michael and Carly couldn't hear. "How bad is it out there?"

The guards exchanged nervous glances, but now was not the time for the tact they so heavily employed in their boss' service. "Alcazar controls almost everything. The waterfront property, the shipping routes, the warehouses…everything."

"There were one or two secure routes," Max clarified. "We used them while we were hiding. But those were most likely taken by now, too."

"We tried to get as much information as we could," the Irishman continued hurriedly. "Like the fact that Alcazar had men on the inside bugging this penthouse before you even tried to fake your death. But we were found in the alley behind the docks near the Towers and brought upstairs. And now – we need to know something."

Sonny quirked a brow, his initial discomfort at speaking so familiarly with his guards having faded. "What?"

"Do you remember when you first moved in – when this was still Sean Donnelly's penthouse?" Johnny questioned, his brows furrowing when Sonny and Jason's lifted. "What? I know things."

"Yeah, I remember," the Cuban kingpin sighed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you remember the escape hatch that used to be an elevator shaft?" Johnny tried again, twisting his hands together in thinly veiled anticipation. "The one that started in the master bedroom and went all the way down to the basement?"

Jason looked at Sonny, who was trying to remember. "…Yeah. Yeah, I remember it. It was in the back of the master bath, right in the towel closet there – I had it blocked up."

"Well, I hope for our sake that the contractors used cheap drywall," Johnny replied, his emerald eyes glittering with purpose as he exchanged looks with Max. "See, we've got a plan. Or, more like, we know someone who will."