POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK
by Sharon R.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alex crashed right into the stalled Amanda. "What the…?"
"Shhh," she gave him with a demanding look in her eye, then pointed up to the house from the tall bushes they were standing behind. "He doesn't belong here and he doesn't look very nice."
From their vantage point they could see right through the sliding doors to the side of the kitchen. The strange man paced back and forth stopping every now and then to say something to Anna who seemed to flinch.
"Nope," Alex concurred, "and Anna's not smiling. I don't think she likes him. What should we do?"
"We have to get back and tell Mrs. B."
"Can't," Alex said elbowing Amanda and nodding towards the entrance to the cul-de-sac. "Someone's coming." A black SUV rounded the corner and looked as though it was heading right for the driveway. The only place the kids could go and not be seen was Anna's house by way of the carport. "Hurry," Alex pleaded in a whisper, "they're coming right up here."
Ducking behind the cluttered fish cleaning table, the two kids nearly gave themselves away when a boogie board fell off with all the commotion. Alex wrinkled his nose at the smell and puffed out his cheeks, his eyes bugging out with the lack of breath. Amanda, on the other hand, clucked at him in disgust and rolled her eyes, totally unimpressed by either the smell or Alex's drama. The two men shuffled over the sand strewn cement pad and walked in the door only to be stopped by Ellington.
"Again - you come back alone," the kids heard the man say inside the screen door. "What's with you fuck-ups?"
"We found an SUV with Illinois plates parked at a rental shop at the north end just outside the road leading up to Corova - you have to have 4-wheel drive for access."
"Gee, gosh, golly. What could they possibly be doing there I wonder."
"Well, they got some real cool wild horses up there, and good fishing -"
" -I cannot believe how stupid you are." From under the table the kids could see Ellington slam the screen door against the inside wall in frustration. "So what are you going to do about this mess?"
"The guy there said a man, woman and two kids rented a couple 4-wheelers for three days. Paid in cash. Gave us the receipt, but it might not even be them."
"Dr. and Mrs. … Marcus Welby? Are you kidding me? Jesus… why aren't you after them?"
"Guy said they asked about ferries from up there. They could be on any one of several islands or even the mainland by now."
"No credit card? Impossible. Nobody rents without a credit card imprint. You've been had." The kids could smell cigarettes and see the grayish blue smoke as the man inside exhaled his disgust. "I'll tell you what, Starsky and Hutch - I have to chopper out of here tomorrow afternoon. You have twenty-two hours to come up with all four of them or the diamonds. So set the alarm on your digital Mickey Mouse watches for fourteen hundred hours… two o'clock pm, dimwits. That's when the sun is up, not down. If you're not back here by then with what I want, I'm coming after you personally."
The black vehicle left the driveway but soon stopped as the one man got out to light a cigar. Then leaning on the closed door - his back to the house -, he took out his cell phone and made a call. Amanda and Alex took advantage of the moment and squeaked out of their tiny hideaway dodging toys still littering the floor and slid between the house and the boardwalk finally hunching down between two dunes among the tall sea oats.
"I saw a gun," Alex whispered, "I think…"
"Nine millimeter automatic," Amanda clarified. "I saw it too."
"How do you know all that?"
"Patient form, impulsive ears. That's what my dad says."
"Huh?" Alex curled his lip, hardly impressed with another of Amanda's boasts.
"I pay attention, dummy. My dad? In the CIA? Duh." Her eyes nearly rolled all the way into her head with that one.
"Will you stop that?" Alex turned his attention away from the house and glared at Amanda. "I'm not dumb," he said, raising his voice.
"Then stop acting like it." She raised hers to match Alex's volume.
"You stop acting like you know everything."
"I do know more than you. My dad is a spy and my mom is a famous journalist..."
"Was… your mom was a journalist. And how good a spy is your father if he's stuck in there with those guys? Huh?"
"At least I have a father who cares about me."
"Cares enough that he dumps you on me and my mom. And your mother is what made this all happen in the first place. If it weren't for her doing stuff with that Jules guy and being mean and everything to Luka and Dr. Carter I'd be having a great vacation somewhere with my mom - without you."
"You're so immature," Amanda snapped back. "Why don't you just leave me alone."
"I should. I should just leave you here all by yourself so the sand fleas can chew on your skinny yucky bones and puke you back up."
"Better yet, why don't both of you come with me."
The two kids stopped the bickering when the intruding voice boomed from above them. Looking up into the bright sky above, they had to shade their eyes with a hand to see first the nine millimeter gun, then the ominous face behind it.
"Oh boy," Alex whispered.
"Welcome home," the man told the kids as he pushed them into the windowless laundry room. "My guess is that you two free range chickens got loose from the farm. Am I right?"
Neither kid was about to say a word and both folded their arms in front of them defiantly.
"Stubborn urchins, aren't you? I don't mean to be rude," he said closing the shuttered doors on them, "but I must go greet my host."
The daylight from the front door window just up the stairs from the basement laundry room filtered in through the slats on the door casting lines of alternating light and shadow on their faces. They only waited a minute before pushing on the hinges, but figured out that the man must have done something to jam the doors shut.
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"Stop looking at him," Max cracked, his voice static with need.
"You can untie him, Max," Anna pleaded as calmly as she could muster, "he's not going to hurt anyone. He really is harmless."
"Max, really. I need to, you know… take a leak," Carter managed.
"I don't care if he's a head of cabbage. That guy, Ellington, is no prize. I wouldn't turn on him. He was supposed to let me leave hours ago."
"In return for what, Max?" Carter spoke up from his seemingly permanent station in the middle of the room. "Pills? Crack? Dust?"
"What - are you going to try to play therapist with me?" he laughed. "The I know how you feel bullshit because you read it in a book? What would you know, huh? What would you know?" he finally screamed. Max's face turned beet red, the veins bulged from his neck and the tiniest bit of spittle carelessly fell from his lips as he finally composed himself enough to rest the gun barrel under Carter's chin. "You are the last… the last person I need to hear from right now. Got it?"
"Sure." Carter wasn't about to argue with an unstable drug addict in the midst of withdrawal holding a gun to his neck.
"I just need to think straight right now, that's all."
"I might be able to help you out with that," Carter quietly mentioned once the gun was a few feet away. He was tempting fate, but it was a risk he was willing to take. "I told you before that I know what it's like to be you. I wasn't trying to be glib, Max." At least he didn't get kicked or shot. Instead, Max sat at the dining room table and slumped his back, exasperated by his life, Carter supposed. "I told you that because…," Carter looked over at Anna who stood against the kitchen counter watching the exchange between her lover and her soon to be ex-husband, knowing exactly what Max was doing to his body, but almost completely clueless about this part of Carter's past, "…because a few years ago after I was nearly killed by a psychotic patient I became addicted to pain meds just like you had years ago." Max scratched his head, shook his head to manage his jitters and chewed at his fingernails. "My cocktail of choice was anything I could mainline. I was ugly and rationalized it all because I was a doctor and knew what I was doing. It was prescribed, in the beginning at least. One pill became two, became four, became a combination. Some to control pain, some to wake me up and energize me, some to get me some sleep. Then the pills weren't enough. I thought I was in control - but I wasn't. Paranoid, manic, delusional at times, sleep deprived, malnourished and unable to see that what I was doing was harmful to me and those around me."
"You're making it up."
"Look at my back. The two long scars on my left flank aren't from my time in Africa. They came from a 6-inch knife. On my wrist, ankle, groin - track marks. I learned from the best working in the ER. All that Narcan I dosed out for OD's paid off because with each one of those I found new and ingenious ways to shoot up without leaving noticeable tracks. Demerol for breakfast, Fentanyl in the afternoon, a little Morphine after dinner… it all worked out. The problem was that it was never enough. Am I right?"
"I don't shoot up."
"Not yet you don't. But you will eventually. Because the pills won't be enough and it's so much easier in the vein - and instantaneous. Remember in med school how you wished you had a third hand to do a simple blood draw? Pretty soon you'll surprise yourself at how easy practicing medicine on yourself can be. Look Ma," Carter mocked, "one hand."
"Quit playing with my head." Max rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking.
Anna finally marched over to Carter and worked on the ropes behind the chair.
"Anna, get away from him. I said…"
"Oh, shut up Max." Finally wrestling the last of the knots loose, she held up Carter's arms one at a time until she found the faint track marks barely visible under his watch band on his left arm. Before revealing them, she took a moment to let her finger lightly touch them as if to verify their existence. "Look Max. See?"
"That could be from anything," he lamely excused.
Carter lifted his own left leg into the air, a hint of shame involuntarily tainting his mission. Max finally got up from his seat and went over to Carter looking very carefully at similar scars on his ankle. "Want me to pull my pants down too?" Carter asked hoping he wouldn't take the bait. Instead, Max sat on the arm of the sofa next to Carter and Anna, gun unmistakably still in hand. "Now, can I use the bathroom?"
Max paused, took a deep breath and let it out before finally nodding. "But you go in this one off the kitchen and the door stays open."
"Fine. Thank you," he gave him with a snarl before heading off to relieve his very full bladder. Once in the small powder room, his zipper undone and business underway, Anna leaned against the doorframe, her back to Carter.
"Did you really shoot up in your… groin?"
"Did you see any track marks?" he asked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and half smile.
"Wasn't exactly looking." She hoped Max couldn't see her blush, though she knew it showed in her voice. "Well…?"
"Uh… no. Guess I wasn't that desperate." A swift zip and wash of the hands gave Carter just enough time to send a curious Max back to the sofa. On his way out of the washroom, Carter put his hand lovingly on the small of Anna's back and gave her a warm, quick kiss. Catching himself as Max turned his attention back to the couple, Carter feigned stiffness and stretched his arms away from Anna. He didn't want to give the unstable, withdrawing drug addict any reason to pull the trigger.
All three looked towards the staircase as footsteps could be heard coming from the lowest level. Carter and Anna hoped it would be Bob. They hadn't seen him since morning.
His gun no longer visible, but noticeable under his yellow polo shirt, the man nodded towards Max. "Everything okay here?"
Max nodded, unsure of this new player but knowing the reputation and hierarchy of the event planners.
"Ellington?"
"Next level down."
Carter stared at the man from across the room much like he had at past high society social functions and various charitable board meetings. Only this time the man's stare wasn't snobbish and elite - it was cold, evil and eerily complacent. "Arkwright…"
The man didn't give him the time of day before turning around with a smirk on his face then headed back to the second level.
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The kids could hear everything from their little prison at the base of the staircase on the ground level. The man's feet went all the way up, and then back down but only one flight stopping at the top of the stairs. The home's décor of marble, granite, and hardwoods lent itself beautifully to the echo chamber effect. As long as doors were left open, the kids had gone to bed at night and heard most of the adults' conversations, TV and music. Now they heard the words spoken between that man and Ellington at the top of the stairs.
"I come bearing gifts," the new guy said. "But seeing as you have presents for me all tied up here, I may just have to wait to give you mine."
"He looks good cuffed to the plumbing, doesn't he? I bet our little tart Colleen tied him to all kinds of things." Their laughter wasn't contagious to the kids.
"Shut up," Bob finally managed.
"Ooh - he talks!"
"Colleen could get anyone to talk," one of them laughed. "She had some mouth on her, in more ways than one."
"The question I have, is the little girl a conniving whore like her mother?"
"She's nothing like her mother," once more from Bob. "She's a sweet, innocent child. The Colleen you knew, Arkwright, had become a manipulative, hurtful, bitch interested only in fame and money. Which one did you give her?"
"It's not what I gave her," Arkwright sneered in self appeasement, "more like what she gave me."
Alex could see the hurt on Amanda's face as she wrapped her arms around her knees. "I should have thrown sand in his face when I had the chance," he offered, "that's what they do in the movies."
To hear her own father say that about her mother hurt to the core. She squeezed here eyes shut and buried her head in her knees hoping not to hear any more talk from the men upstairs.
"What did that bitch do with my diamonds?"
"I don't have them."
"Then you'll tell me who does."
"Or what, Arkwright? You'll give my credit report a black mark? Or maybe prevent me from buying stocks when I retire?"
The footsteps on the stairs resumed in quick fashion this time and in a matter of seconds the laundry room door was yanked open and both kids pulled out roughly by the upper arm and dragged right back up the stairs. There sitting on the floor handcuffed to the plumbing underneath the wet bar was Bob, shocked, to say the least, to see his daughter and Alex held tightly on each side of the now seething Arkwright.
"Let's try this again, Bob. Where - are - my - diamonds?"
"Even if I had them, or the children did, we know too much. Isn't that right, El?" Bob stared at Amanda's sunken, hard eyes. She was too strong willed to let her fear show. Bob knew she must have heard the previous conversation about Colleen. She stared right through her father.
"It doesn't matter how much you know." Ellington sat down in a chair opposite Bob and looked down at his face. "If you don't tell me where the diamonds are I may have to relieve you of your burdensome parenting responsibilities."
"You wouldn't," Bob interrupted.
"Who's she to me, after all?"
Bob opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.
"But with an easy hand-over of the diamonds I can safely say you're free to go."
"I'll burn you," Bob scoffed.
Ellington laughed hard at that one. "With what? Far fetched stories? The fact of the matter is you'll stay quiet because with one word, one innocent press release - let's say… oh… an errant leaked memo-, our buddy Arkwright here can blow your cover."
Bob squirmed just slightly, but enough to give Ellington a woody. "Revealing the identity of an undercover intelligence officer is a felony. It threatens national security."
"Which the first amendment protects - freedom of the press and all. Kind of incongruous isn't it Bob? The United States Constitution would protect Arkwright," his CIA colleague snickered. "Now, let's say somehow word gets out about your true identity and occupation. All those people you've pissed off around the world could simply Google your name and pay you back personally. Ding-dong, Avon calling."
"Seems that Middle East terror network I uncovered isn't as irritated with me as you led me to believe. So who does that leave? A bunch of alcoholic former Soviet generals trying to sell rotten nukes? They don't even know the iron curtain fell, I doubt they know what Google is."
Arkwright let the two kids go but stood behind them blocking any sort of exit. "Your two-bit whore of a wife stole from me, from Jules and a whole lot of other people that aren't too pleased with us right now. It's too bad those two doctors got nosey and interrupted a good thing. Between the drug running and her excellent acting prowess, Colleen was just getting warmed up. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before one of her imbecile victims capped the bitch. I'm just surprised it didn't happen between the blowjob and the…"
Without hesitation, Alex turned around, hauled his foot back and plowed it straight into Arkwright's shin.
"Mother fu…..." he screamed, bending over and grabbing the now very painful leg.
"That's right," Alex let out, "mother fucker. I've been wanting to say that for a long time. You," he said pulling his leg back again and letting it fly on Arkwright's other shin, "are a mother fucker."
"Shit…" This time the man fell to the floor, though his gun stayed secure in his hand. "Get rid of that kid, Ellington."
"No," Amanda screamed putting her arms around Alex's waist. "If he goes, I go, and nobody will get anything."
"I like her." Ellington said to Bob completely indifferent to Arkwright's painful dilemma. "Now that's the Colleen I knew."
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Sam nuzzled into Luka's side on the sofa as they caught a quick nap. She could hear his heart beat - a slow, deep-sleep pattern - and used it to quell her into her own snooze. It felt like it had only been moments when she felt a tug at her shoulder from above.
"Ah, young love," Mrs. Bernard reminisced with a wink, "it's a wonderful thing."
"I'm not that young," Luka said stretching his arms above his head.
"I am." Sam raised her eyebrows at him waiting for a good come back.
Luka remained on the sofa bringing his arms back down and cradling Sam once again. "You're young and pure. I'm distinguished and cultured."
"Pure?" she laughed. "Hardly. And I think we can argue about cultured."
"I brought some dinner home from the deli." Mrs. Bernard emptied a couple bags onto the counter and dipped her finger into one of the dishes savoring a taste. "I just don't enjoy cooking any more. My personal expiration date is too near to be wasting time in the kitchen."
"Have you been gone long?" Sam asked.
"About an hour. I had my people move your car from the northern end at Corova to the other side of the causeway on the mainland. That ought to keep those salauds thinking," she said with just a lilt of her hidden French accent
"I suppose." Luka had become confident in the woman's experience. "What are we going to do? What's next?"
"I know it's hard to sit still, but right now we have to assume that Bob is toying with them. From what you've told me, these men know Bob. They've worked together which means that it will take days to break him down, although personally I doubt that Bob would ever crack." Mrs. Bernard cleared the table and made room for the dinner plates. All this going on and she still set a table as though it was a normal day. "I bet that he will let them think what they are doing is progress just to drag this out. Then he may eventually turn the tables. There's going to be a battle of wills and experience. A war, if you will. There is no evolution without revolution, so they say, and knowing Bob he will play his cards like an experienced gambler."
"How long have you known Bob?" Sam asked.
"Oh… I guess… about ten days, give or take."
"Ten…?" Luka choked on his own saliva as he suddenly sat up nearly dumping Sam on the floor. "You talk like you've known him his whole life."
"Pish - we're cut from the same cloth. He came asking to rent a room. It took me all of a half day to figure out who and what he was. Once our backgrounds were established it was like a family reunion. Coffee or Lemonade?"
"Coffee," the two answered in unison craving the caffeine.
"How about the children? What have they been up to?"
"Playing downstairs, still." Sam looked at her watch. "Time to check Alex's blood sugar."
"Let them have some time," Luka tried to suggest. "I think they're finally getting along."
"Still, I better check on them."
"Sam…" Luka put his arm around her from behind and hooked it around her chest slowly drawing her into him, "…ten year old boys don't like their mothers checking up on them especially in the presence of girls." He kissed the side of her neck once, twice, then moved slowly upwards until he got to her soft, fleshy ear lobe giving it first a nip then a simultaneous warm breath and sensual tongue to the backside.
"Okay," she said pulling away, "right there tells me you're wrong."
Luka sighed and resigned himself yet again to the separation of warmth and wanton lust. "Let me. I'll see what they're up to."
"And tell Alex to check his glucose," she reminded him.
Luka walked backwards for the first few steps smiling at Sam and hoping that she shared the same sparkle that he knew was beaming from his eyes. Some things just can't be hidden.
With Mrs. Bernard in the kitchen, Sam wandered up to the telescope and looked into the eyepiece for the first time. It was more complicated than she thought - hard to get her bearings. As she slowly moved it from one side to the other, the image raced by. Sam pointed it to the ground to focus it on something she could recognize - first the edge of the cul-de-sac, then the boardwalk, then she traced the boardwalk over to Anna's carport…
"LUKA!"
"What is it dear?" Mrs. Bernard asked as she ran to see what Sam had become startled over.
"SAM!" Luka took the stairs two at a time and nearly fell over his own feet as he reached the living room. "The kids."
"I know."