Chapter 3
All disclaimers and summaries etc...found in chapter 1.
Laura Spencer stepped onto the tarmac gingerly, shielding her eyes against the harsh Caribbean sun that glared down at her, it was barely nine thirty in the morning and already temperatures were closing in on the high eighties. They were on the small twin island republic of Trinidad and Tobago; Trinidad the larger of the two was the last in the chain of islands, closest to South America, which was where their plane had taken off from, a small airport in Venezuela. They'd barely made the eight forty five a.m. flight but they had and now they were only hours away from rescuing her son. Hours away from holding her baby boy in her arms again. Laura glanced anxiously behind her for her other baby, her Nikolas, whose dark head was bent against the wind blowing from the plane engines, his arm wrapped supportively around Elizabeth Webber's weary frame. They crossed the asphalt and were soon on their way to collecting the car Luke had called ahead to rent.
From the airport they drove to West Moorings a place near the capital of the country, where Luke had a contact who would be lending them his house on one of the smaller islands off the coast of Trinidad which was barely five thousand square kilometers itself. It was on one of those islands that Helena had her son stashed and Laura would be damned if she didn't make the old hag pay for this when she had Lucky safely back home.
It was early afternoon by the time they arrived at the house where as promised, you could see clear across the water to the adjacent island, somewhere on which Lucky was being held captive. It was decided between them, that they would wait till it was dark to go over to Chacachacaree and scout out the location of where Lucky was being held and so now, all they could do was sit and wait for night to fall.
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Lucky Spencer stared mournfully out his window, like most houses in Trinidad, it sported 'burglar proofing' iron bars about 3 inches apart with alternating strips horizontal to those joining the bars together. Except his window had them on both the outside and the inside so if he happened to get through the first set he'd still have the second set to deal with. He had been surprised when the guards pushed him into the room to find there was a window. The surprise had been explained when he'd seen, exactly how far away his nearest neighbors were, a good three miles at least, most of it covered by water, no way of sending anybody a message there, even SOS wouldn't have been picked up since only day trippers and pleasure cruisers seemed to populate the nearby island.
It wasn't like he had anything to signal with anyways! He thought with some annoyance as he turned to face his cell as he deemed it no matter what Helena insisted. It was a big room with hardwood floors and a king sized bed, gauzy white drapes and heavier velvet ones decorated the window so as to hide the bars, a desk sat in one corner complete with computer which was hooked up in no way whatsoever to any sort of modem. Opposite that wall led to a bathroom tub and shower, sink and toilet, all there for him but no mirrors of any kind or even razors. He was allowed to shave every morning with razor and mirror brought to him by one servant or another and he was never left alone in the room with either. Old bat was probably afraid he'd slit his wrists given anything sharp he'd thought when he first noticed this. He snorted to himself. Like hell! He would never give her the satisfaction. He'd slash hers first!
His eyes trailed up the walls, over the posters Helena had so thoughtfully hung for him, to the ventilation blocks. In addition to being old, the house also contained a primitive ventilation system, vertically placed wooden bars sat every inch or so with an inch of space in between them allowed air to circulate through the rooms in the house. It was through those vents that he'd discovered the occupant of the room next to his, a dark haired girl currently a few weeks short of twenty one. It was this girl who had come up with their plan for today. When he'd first met her he couldn't believe who she was, or her story, but eventually she'd convinced him and soon after that they'd become close friends. He couldn't have made it trough the last two years without her and he'd promised her, they'd both be the hell out of here for her birthday and he was determined today's enterprises were going to get them halfway there. He and Anastasia Juliette Nadia Cassidine, who preferred to be called Jewls, his half sister, Nikolas' twin, would be out of this hell hole by the end of the week.
More likely tonight, if everything went as planned. It was a Friday, the guards were always lazy on Fridays, talking about all the 'fetes', Trinidadian slang for parties, they were missing out on. They'd shoot him dirty looks when they came into the room to deliver his dinner, usually at the same time as Jewls', during this ten minute interval the security systems on their doors were disabled to allow the passage of the guards and as it turned out once one part of the system was turned off the entire thing turned off. Helena had been livid when she'd discovered this, but after the last storm that had hit the island and fried the old system the new one had been installed without her knowledge. Plans were underway to have a better one installed next week so their margin for error was very small. It was tonight or never.
All disclaimers and summaries etc...found in chapter 1.
Laura Spencer stepped onto the tarmac gingerly, shielding her eyes against the harsh Caribbean sun that glared down at her, it was barely nine thirty in the morning and already temperatures were closing in on the high eighties. They were on the small twin island republic of Trinidad and Tobago; Trinidad the larger of the two was the last in the chain of islands, closest to South America, which was where their plane had taken off from, a small airport in Venezuela. They'd barely made the eight forty five a.m. flight but they had and now they were only hours away from rescuing her son. Hours away from holding her baby boy in her arms again. Laura glanced anxiously behind her for her other baby, her Nikolas, whose dark head was bent against the wind blowing from the plane engines, his arm wrapped supportively around Elizabeth Webber's weary frame. They crossed the asphalt and were soon on their way to collecting the car Luke had called ahead to rent.
From the airport they drove to West Moorings a place near the capital of the country, where Luke had a contact who would be lending them his house on one of the smaller islands off the coast of Trinidad which was barely five thousand square kilometers itself. It was on one of those islands that Helena had her son stashed and Laura would be damned if she didn't make the old hag pay for this when she had Lucky safely back home.
It was early afternoon by the time they arrived at the house where as promised, you could see clear across the water to the adjacent island, somewhere on which Lucky was being held captive. It was decided between them, that they would wait till it was dark to go over to Chacachacaree and scout out the location of where Lucky was being held and so now, all they could do was sit and wait for night to fall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lucky Spencer stared mournfully out his window, like most houses in Trinidad, it sported 'burglar proofing' iron bars about 3 inches apart with alternating strips horizontal to those joining the bars together. Except his window had them on both the outside and the inside so if he happened to get through the first set he'd still have the second set to deal with. He had been surprised when the guards pushed him into the room to find there was a window. The surprise had been explained when he'd seen, exactly how far away his nearest neighbors were, a good three miles at least, most of it covered by water, no way of sending anybody a message there, even SOS wouldn't have been picked up since only day trippers and pleasure cruisers seemed to populate the nearby island.
It wasn't like he had anything to signal with anyways! He thought with some annoyance as he turned to face his cell as he deemed it no matter what Helena insisted. It was a big room with hardwood floors and a king sized bed, gauzy white drapes and heavier velvet ones decorated the window so as to hide the bars, a desk sat in one corner complete with computer which was hooked up in no way whatsoever to any sort of modem. Opposite that wall led to a bathroom tub and shower, sink and toilet, all there for him but no mirrors of any kind or even razors. He was allowed to shave every morning with razor and mirror brought to him by one servant or another and he was never left alone in the room with either. Old bat was probably afraid he'd slit his wrists given anything sharp he'd thought when he first noticed this. He snorted to himself. Like hell! He would never give her the satisfaction. He'd slash hers first!
His eyes trailed up the walls, over the posters Helena had so thoughtfully hung for him, to the ventilation blocks. In addition to being old, the house also contained a primitive ventilation system, vertically placed wooden bars sat every inch or so with an inch of space in between them allowed air to circulate through the rooms in the house. It was through those vents that he'd discovered the occupant of the room next to his, a dark haired girl currently a few weeks short of twenty one. It was this girl who had come up with their plan for today. When he'd first met her he couldn't believe who she was, or her story, but eventually she'd convinced him and soon after that they'd become close friends. He couldn't have made it trough the last two years without her and he'd promised her, they'd both be the hell out of here for her birthday and he was determined today's enterprises were going to get them halfway there. He and Anastasia Juliette Nadia Cassidine, who preferred to be called Jewls, his half sister, Nikolas' twin, would be out of this hell hole by the end of the week.
More likely tonight, if everything went as planned. It was a Friday, the guards were always lazy on Fridays, talking about all the 'fetes', Trinidadian slang for parties, they were missing out on. They'd shoot him dirty looks when they came into the room to deliver his dinner, usually at the same time as Jewls', during this ten minute interval the security systems on their doors were disabled to allow the passage of the guards and as it turned out once one part of the system was turned off the entire thing turned off. Helena had been livid when she'd discovered this, but after the last storm that had hit the island and fried the old system the new one had been installed without her knowledge. Plans were underway to have a better one installed next week so their margin for error was very small. It was tonight or never.