POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK
by Sharon R.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"You know what we're looking for, don't you Dr. DelAmico." He was smug, collected and too comfortable in his role for Anna not to be rattled, but she was committed to not letting him see it. Ellington moved around her at the sink as she tried to prepare some sort of afternoon meal for him and Max. She hadn't been shopping and prayed to find enough edible food to at least manage something that passed for a meal.

"I know I'm busy trying to get something for you to eat," she managed to answer.

"See, that's where you ladies belong," he seethed, "in the kitchen, barefoot and…Your little weak kneed boyfriend hasn't gone and knocked you up already, has he? I mean, it would complete the picture, but," the back of his hand trailed from her waist down her hip and rested on her bare thigh, "it would be a shame to ruin such a delectable figure."

Anna froze up and took a breath as she closed her eyes then walked away from him to the kitchen island where took some fruits and vegetables from the basket trying as hard as she could to appear unaffected by his games. He couldn't do anything for her, but Carter gave as much compassion to her as he could with his eyes. He knew her strengths - she could get through this.

"Hmm." Ellington leaned back against the counter top as Anna washed a tomato. "Now, how about we get back to the matter at hand."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do. You see, I believe you all have something that rightfully belongs to me."

"If we did, don't you think we would have given it to you by now?"

"If you didn't, what have they been running away from, and you, pretty lady, why would you be hiding them? And that brings me to the reclusive Bob suddenly appearing in a tourist spot."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's with his daughter - vacationing."

"Mmm hmm. You seem to have all the answers. I know Bob, and Bob's life is all about hiding. He doesn't take a shit without hiding his balls."

As Anna mindlessly took a knife from a drawer and prepared to slice the tomato on a cutting board to her side, Ellington reached around from in back of her and put his hand over hers gripped on the knife perched above the shiny red skin of the fruit. It was only then that Anna realized she had the sharp implement so close…

"Here," he whispered in her ear, his breath moving whisps of hair, "let me help you with that."

She could feel his body as he sandwiched her against the counter and not so innocently ground his pelvis into her backside.

"Sranje!" Luka fiddled with the focus and looked again just to be sure. There was that guy Bob told him about, Ellington, at the kitchen window, his body tight up against Anna's. It was clear that Anna had a knife. It was even more clear that Ellington had his hand on Anna's and was bringing that knife up to her face as though she were doing it. And in the background was Carter, bound tightly to a chair, witnessing it all and helpless to do anything. "I can't just stand here."

"Yes, you can," Mrs. Bernard quite assuredly told him, "and you will, at least until I can ascertain conditions, number of suspects and weapons."

"It's just that guy, Anna and Carter."

"That's who you see, Luka, but where's Bob? He'd never let this happen if he was able bodied. Look," tilting the telescope just slightly, she directed Luka to look through the eyepiece again, "we know there's one inside with Dr. Carter and Anna. But I've also seen one walking around the deck… Anna's ex husband is there too. And a car with two others has been in and out. "There has to be more and I have to believe that Bob has been incapacitated. We have to work on that assumption."

Luka paused again as he looked through the telescope, relieved that Anna was back to whatever she was doing without a knife to her face. "Just don't tell Amanda."

"No, dear, I wouldn't think of it."

The two stayed there focused on each other. Luka felt oddly at ease with the old lady and sensed that she knew enough of what she was doing for him to follow her lead. She nodded at Luka again as though conveying thoughts before placing her hand on his arm again, her wrinkled, aged skin delicate in the touch. "Come on," she whispered, "you are needed downstairs."

"Amanda…," he was unsure how to even start, "… she doesn't -"

"Yes, she does. She needs you, and you need her." Mrs. Bernard knew. Whether by age, occupation or womanly instinct, she knew.

"Hey, Mrs. B.," Alex shouted as he searched the strange house, "got any video games?"

"I think I do," she answered while still connected to Luka's hurting eyes. "If you go all the way down to the ground level in the game room next to the laundry, my niece and nephews have a stash of modern kids entertainment devices they keep here for visits."

"Kids entertainment…? You know all about spy stuff but not video games?"

"Can you spy with one of those contraptions?" she asked the boy.

"Of course not."

"Well, there you go."

Amanda and Alex dashed down the stairs leaving Sam and Luka alone in the kitchen with Mrs. Bernard. It was afternoon, and the thought that it was only a matter of hours before dark haunted them.

"Why can't we just call the police?" Sam asked.

"No, no, Samantha." Mrs. Bernard poured them all cups of strong coffee. "The men have connections all over, especially with the police. All it would take for them is to flash their CIA identification and the police would scamper."

"And we'd put ourselves at risk, I suppose," Luka surmised.

"That's right. Now, if you will excuse me," clearing her mug from the table, Mrs. Bernard opened a drawer and pulled out a granny apron and thick glasses, "I have some surveillance work to do. Stay put and leave those children be. There's nothing in this house that, frankly, wouldn't look better broken. And Luka," she said as she neared the door, "if you could just stand behind this door when I come back, that would be quite helpful."

A fool flatters himself, a wise man flatters the fool. -Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton 1803-1873, British Novelist, Poet

"Got the shakes?" Carter asked as Max paced the living room. "Where's it hurt? Gut? Back?"

"Shut up," he screamed, his hands over his ears.

"Didn't plan on spending so much time here, did you?" He was getting on Max's nerves and Carter knew it. "That's okay, you don't have to answer me. I know you, Max. I know you because I've been you." Carter's arms were sore, shoulder ligaments stretched and back aching, but being tied in a chair was nothing compared to what he'd endured in Africa. "I know what it's like -"

" -No… you don't," an irate and frustrated Max yelled, before kicking the chair with Carter in it on its side behind the sofa. "Just shut up."

"Kids, kids…," Ellington made his way over to the ruckus giving Anna a break from his presence in the kitchen. "Play nice now," he said squatting down and looking Carter in the face, "or I'll have to get out the old belt. I understand you have a high tolerance for lashings."

"Hey El," one of the other men said reaching the top of the stairs from the front door, "we got company."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Some old lady. Wants to borrow something from the chick."

Ellington looked at Max for answers who went to the staircase and looked down at the front door sidelights. "That's just old Mrs. Bernard. She lives across the way."

"What should I do, El?"

"Let her in. We don't want to create suspicion. Anna, dear, it's time to be an actress." Ellington threw a comforter over Carter who laid sideways on the floor still strapped to the chair hidden behind the sofa. "One sound from you, Carter, and the old lady will have to be taken care of."

"Anna dear," she called quite loudly as she ascended the staircase, "could I borrow your handy bag of garden tools? The black one…" She appeared quite frail and took the steps one at a time very careful not to lose her grip on the hand rail. "…That one you keep in the closet that's so cute… Oh, I'm sorry dear. I didn't realize you had company."

"That's okay, Mrs. Bernard," Anna answered prompted by Ellington's piercing look, "These are colleagues of mine on the Banks for a medical conference. And you know Max, of course."

"I'm sorry, I don't hear so well anymore. You say you work in a coal mine here on the Banks? We have coal mines? Nobody told me."

"No, Mrs. Bernard," Max reiterated, shouting, "we're doctors. All doctors." Turning his attention to Anna, he wrinkled his face with confusion. "When did she become hard of hearing?"

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" Anna said, covering for what she knew was a ruse.

Mrs. Bernard walked forward quite brazenly to Ellington with her hands in front of her as though sight impaired as well. "A room full of handsome, smart men," she tittered. "What kind of doctor are you, young man?" she asked as she patted his chest. "My, you're a tall one. I like them tall," she said, winking at him on the sly.

"I'm a pathologist actually. I specialize in dead people."

"Oh, dear. Well then, I guess it won't be long before you'll be seeing the likes of me," she chuckled. "I don't plan on hitting the triple digits. How about your friend here?" she asked going back to the man who let her in. "What is your specialty?"

"Specialty?"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"Oh, um… pod… pod…footologist. You know… feet, I guess."

"What?" she feigned. "Proctologist?"

"Podiatrist," Max quickly and quite irritatingly corrected him.

"Never mind, m'am," Ellington broke up the comedic moment, "what can we do for you?"

"Oh, the bag of gardening tools. Anna, do you still keep it in your closet or is it in here?" she said wandering towards Anna's bedroom.

"No," both Ellington and Max yelled, bringing her to a stop.

"In the hall closet." Anna stepped over to the corner of the room and opened the closet door. With a hunch, she grabbed her medical bag - a plain black backpack - and handed it to the woman. It was her hope that Max was stoned enough not to identify this as being her medical bag even though there were a few bags around the house that were similar to this one. Lucky for her his preoccupation with Carter drew his attention away.

"Oh, thank you. I promise I will get this back to you tonight."

"Take your time," Ellington squeezed out all syrupy, "I don't think Anna is going to be doing any gardening for a while."

"Oh, you're a love. Are you a friend of Anna's?"

"No, we're doctors," Ellington's cohort yelled, repeating the entire story. "I'm a podyolagism…"

Ellington not so subtly smacked the man in the head on his way to guide the old woman to the door.

"Is that one of those Dysons?" Mrs. Bernard asked excitedly as she peered further into the closet. "I love the man on TV who sells those. Such a smooth British accent." She cozied up to Ellington's side as though to share a secret. "He could put his slippers under my bed any day, if you know what I mean, Max."

"No, Mrs. Bernard," Max shouted from behind the sofa, "I'm Max. Over here."

With all the shouting and the confusion stirred up by the old lady, Ellington's façade began to fade. "Time to leave Mrs. Bernard. We have plans. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you do. I'll just take the bag… and this vacuum cleaner." She put the bag over her shoulder and dragged the cleaner from the closet putting on quite a show as she shuffled to the top of the stairs with the heavy machine, Ellington right by her side to make sure she left quickly. "You must be Anna's brother. Or was it a cousin she said came to visit?"

"We're doctors…" the other agent began again, oblivious to the fact that the woman's short term memory was shorting out.

"Oh. Is Anna ill?" She paused for a moment before starting down the stairs, the cleaner crashing on each step.

"Let me help you with that," Max offered, before Ellington threw his arm out in distrust.

"No, Max. You have that conference to get ready for. Remember?"

"I'll be fine," the old lady replied, defiant - or so it seemed. "My heart isn't racing like it was this morning. I wonder, will this make much racket when I push it over the boardwalk to my house?"

Ellington pointed his finger at the man who had been walking the second floor balcony outside, the 'podiatrist', and directed him to the door. "I insist that you let my friend here help you out. He's quite the gentleman."

"Oh, well, if you insist, I guess." Finally relenting, she handed the vacuum over to the thug and continued out the door. "Have a lovely time Anna."

"You," Ellington gave the man low enough to be confident that the old lady couldn't hear, "get her out of her and don't bother coming back unless you see something on the beach. You stay back there at the top of the stairs at the dunes. Got it?"
----------

"What are we supposed to do?" Sam asked finding Luka still against the wall behind the front door where Mrs. Bernard had put him earlier.

Luka shrugged. "Don't know. She's not much for detailed instructions, is she?"

"Maybe we should just take the kids and leave?"

"I left Carter once before on a whim and it nearly got us all killed. We wait," he said putting his arms out and pulling her into his chest, "and take things one step at a time."

Sam let him wrap his long arms around her as she felt the warmth of his chest against her cheek. "Luka?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's that coming up the boardwalk with Mrs. Bernard?"

Luka suddenly pushed Sam away and stood tall against the wall, hoping the bushy fake tree in the corner would hide him from the outside. "Get out, Sam. Upstairs."

"Oh my God, Luka. I can't leave you. Is that one of the guys? What the hell is he carrying."

"Carpet machine?" Luka asked.

"Vacuum cleaner. Why would he…?"

"Doesn't matter, Sam."

"Do I get a fry pan or something?"

Luka couldn't help laugh at Sam, even in the face of potential danger. "No, this isn't a movie. Now go. I'll be okay." She turned on her way up the stairs to look at him one more time. "Go," he whispered with a smile.

The closer they got, the louder their footsteps were, and once at the top of the stairs he could hear the man's voice.

"You can actually learn a lot about someone by looking at their feet. For instance, did you know that a hammer toe means that someone is retarded? Pardon me, mentally challenged?"

"I thought it had to do with those pointed shoes women wear," Mrs. Bernard answered as she opened the door. Her stockinged leg was the first thing Luka saw, before the man entered the house, his arms heavily occupied by the purple vacuum cleaner. "Imagine that."

Before the man could see him first, Luka tackled him and fell jointly to the hard tile floor. He figured he'd have a long hard fight with the brute but was pleasantly surprised as they tossed around on the floor to find Mrs. Bernard's leg firmly planted on the man's chest stopping the action. She raised the hem of her skirt and removed a gun from a well placed holster on her thigh and pointed it straight down into the flabbergasted man's face.

"Mrs. Bernard!" the guy shot out loudly as though still compensating for her 'hearing loss'.

"Make one move," she said in a very firm, unfeebled voice, "and I'll blow you away piece by piece. I'll start with your precious feet. I hear you can tell a lot about someone just from their feet. Now, which foot is your hammer toe on?"

Luka scooted out from under the man and gave the old woman a well earned pat on the back before pulling him to his feet. "I think my friend should get accommodations of his own. What do you think, Mrs. Bernard?"

"I'd be a poor host not to offer him my own room off the dining room upstairs," she said from behind the gun. "Let me show you the way. Here," she said handing Luka Anna's bag, "you might find this useful."

As they went up the stairs, the man being quite cooperative within Luka's grip, Luka did a double take and grinned widely as they passed Sam who was hugging her own bit of wall, knife in one hand, cast iron skillet in the other.
-----

"Do you think we should go upstairs and see what's going on?" Amanda asked as they stood in the hallway outside the lower level game room trying to figure out what the scuffling was about.

"Nah. Mrs. B. has everything under control." Alex went back into the room and resumed the Nintendo game. "This sucks. Mario Brothers is for babies." He threw the controller down and reclined back into the bean bag chair. "Why don't they tell us anything?"

Amanda had been standing against the door frame leaning against her own hands. "Grown ups have their reasons, I guess."

"They think we're stupid."

"Maybe they're just busy."

"I'm bored," Alex whined as he got to his feet and walked out the door into the hallway. "I'm gonna go back to Anna's house and get my Gameboy."

"No, they told us to stay here. They said those bad people are looking for us." She followed Alex right outside through the service door next to the laundry room. "If they see us out there, they'll get us."

"Then stay here, baby," Alex scolded. "You probably can't keep up with me anyway. Girls are so dumb."

Amanda stopped only long enough to realize she felt terribly alone, then broke into a run behind Alex passing him halfway up the boardwalk. Reaching out in front of him, Alex wasn't about to let a girl beat him and decided that maybe cheating was a viable option. He grabbed her by the oversized vest and pulled hard, but he hadn't stopped her and was rewarded only with the prize of the vest as it came off of Amanda. She knew he'd failed in his attempt and laughed, enjoying every bit of his budding male chauvinistic antics. But as she looked up at Anna's house in front of her, she stopped short, Alex obliviously running straight into her."