POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK
by Sharon R.
Chapter Twenty-Six
(Conclusion, Part 1)
"They're not up here?" Luka asked. His eyes were wide with the fear of the unknown, though deep down he knew whose hands the kids could be in.
Sam shook her head and tried to say something, her mouth unable to connect with the jumbled thoughts masquerading in her head as missing children posters. Instead, she pointed at the telescope.
"Where?" Luka darted to the top of the widow's walk and squinted into the eyepiece. "I don't see them."
"On the boardwalk," she managed with a dry rasp of a voice.
A pause while Luka focused and figured out what he was looking at. "The… the vest."
Sam nodded, her shoulders hiking up with trepidation as she and Luka matched equally dreaded stares through each other.
"We don't know for sure," Mrs. Bernard gave with a need to control the situation, "if the children went over there."
"Alex would never just go there. He might test the limits," Sam tried to rationalize, "but I don't think he would leave here."
"But dear," the old woman said with remarkable calm, "they didn't know who was in that house other than John and Anna. Could they really have anticipated what we know as fact?"
Sam's hand reflexively went to her mouth as she stifled a scream, a cry or some outward emotion that would make Alex come back to her. Seeing her fingers quiver, Luka moved in and pulled her into his body - tightly, taking her hand away from her mouth and holding it against his own chest, wanting to help, needing her stability himself as emotions of his own - the fear and terror of the jungle and Jules, the helplesness - came flooding back into his being. To be subjected to that kind of horror as an adult is one thing, but for a child…
"We'll find them, I promise you that," Mrs. Bernard tried to encourage them. "Who knows? Maybe they went down to the shore."
Sam reached up and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "Those men, they're specifically looking for us and the kids, we know that. They would never have gotten past the house."
"Well, it doesn't appear that they are even missing their deck look-out. How is he Luka?"
"Enjoying his Demerol induced sleep in your bedroom."
"And having lurid dreams about those handcuffs he's wearing as well, I'm sure," Mrs. Bernard chuckled.
Luka took a deep breath and held it for what seemed like minutes until he had made up his mind. Giving the top of Sam's head a quick kiss, he pushed her away. "I'm going over there."
Sam upped the ante as she followed him down the short staircase to the living room area. "Me too."
"No, you are not." Mrs. Bernard had a sudden surge in assertiveness as she quite firmly grabbed Luka by the upper arm. "If those children are in that house, we can only assume that they have enabled Bob to out number his opponents. Even though they are children, they still throw a wrench in the works and that's a plus on our side. I know men like Arkwright and Ellington. I've worked with and against people just like them, from Nazi Germany to Cuba, Communist East Germany, Hong Kong, Russia and even here in the United States. Yes, they would kill even children to get what they want, but not if they held the answers. Barging in there now might just get all of them killed." She was stern and certainly didn't make light of the consequences they were up against. "We wait, okay?"
"For what?" Sam's voice cracked as she struggled keep from rushing to her child.
"Time, dear. Time." As the old lady nodded and gave Sam an oddly comforting smile, she moved to the kitchen where she picked up the phone. "I don't have access to agents any more, but I do have a lot of friends here. I think it's time to set up some distractions for our friends across the way."
Patience and the passage of time do more than strength and fury. -Jean De La Fontaine 1621-1695, French Poet
Carter didn't mind putting his arm around Anna as they sat next to each other on the sofa, even if Max was squarely perched on the chair directly across from them, gun in hand, not too sturdy of sobriety. In fact, the jittier Max became, the tighter Carter pulled Anna into himself, planting a soothing kiss on her head as a bonus. He figured if he couldn't break Max by reminding him how long it had been since his last fix, he'd flaunt his ex-wife in front of him instead, a happy ex in the arms of another man.
"Awful lot of talking downstairs," Carter matter-of-factly made note out loud. "Aren't you afraid that your buddies will take off on you, Max? Without payment?"
"Shut up." The drops of sweat on Max's face were beginning to congregate and slip off of his upper lip despite the house's air conditioning at full function.
"Just trying to be of some help here." Carter brushed at his pants with his hand as though smoothing out wrinkles, though it simply gave him something 'normal' to do while he chatted with Max. "Seems you're doing a whole bunch of nothing."
"What would you know?"
"Oh," Carter couldn't hold back a laugh, "a whole lot more than you."
Max's chair flew out from under him as he lunged at Carter and pinned him down. Anna barely made it out of the melee as the two men rumbled on the floor, furniture toppling as they flung around, Carter finally getting the better of the shaky Max and restraining him face down with his elbows connected at the back - something Carter learned in Africa, the hard way.
"I swear Max, if you make a sound I will blow your head off." Anna stood across the room holding the gun that Max had lost control of, though her trembling hand did not give Carter confidence in her aim as he sat atop the addict.
"Anna…"
"No, John, I'm not going to take this anymore -"
" -No, Anna…" Carter put his hand out trying to ward her back, giving Max a chance to loosen up on the floor.
"Uh-uh, no. We need to get out -"
" -Anna…"
"Yes, Anna," a voice loomed from behind, "why don't you give me the gun now. I think our little fun is over." His gun laid heavy and most steady on her temple as Ellington reached around and relieved Anna of her weapon, but he didn't stop there as he stroked her neck with the long gun barrel then let it play among the long stands of blond hair. "You disappoint me, Maxwell. I'd have to say that if I were not as strapped for assistance, we'd have to reconsider our arrangement." With his dirty eyes still glued to Anna, within inches of her neck, he tossed the gun back to Max.
"Don't let that son of a bitch press your buttons." From behind Ellington, the second man finally appeared. "John Carter comes from a long line of self indulgent, blue blooded entitlement mongers."
"Still trying to compensate for your short comings, Arkwright?" Carter asked as he righted himself against the sofa, not quite oxygenated enough yet to make it to his feet.
"That's laughable, John. You can sit in your mansion with your help and whine all you want about what your worth is, but it's people like me who are in control of how and when the news gets out there."
"Do what you want, I'm not the one who has cared what people think of me. I haven't lied, cheated or stolen myself into any particular social circle."
"Boo hoo," Arkwright snorted. "Believe me, there's no direction for you to go in but down, my friend. And me? It's uphill all the way. Everyone knows me, they trust me. Around the world, the media giants lick my feet to get what they want because they believe what I tell them. And they believe that I am a faultless God of sorts…"
"Been playing with the devil a bit too long for anyone to believe that."
"Ellington here?" Arkwright gave his cohort a pat on the back. "Why, he's revered among operatives in the agency. I've set him up to be the go-to man."
"Just like you set Emile Dia Wamba up to be the devil in the eyes of the world when you know he's only good news for his own people?" Carter finally managed to stand on his two feet and take Arkwright on in his war of words. "You don't want the fighting to end there, do you? Because that would mean an end to your profit."
Ellington and Arkwright looked at each other and paused for a couple seconds before erupting in a gut chuckle. "He's good," Ellington jabbed. "Damn good!"
"Maybe too good," Arkwright whispered in Ellington's ear before patting him on the shoulder and making his exit out the front door.
"What have you done with Bob?" Carter asked as though Ellington would ever tell him the truth.
"He's checking out the plumbing downstairs. Patching a leak for us."
"How about you let Anna go." More wishing.
"How about you give me what I want."
"We don't have anything, Ellington, you know that," Carter said with an absurd tone to his voice. "This is really ridiculous. You've got Max here sampling withdrawal -"
" -You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you," Ellington countered, knowledgably.
"Yeah, I would. And pretty soon he's not going to be much help to you. God knows what you've done to Bob, and…"
"And?" Ellington closed in on Carter and got within inches of his face.
"And… you've ruined a perfectly good vacation."
"You think you're smart, don't you? Do you really take me for a fool?" Ellington was beginning to lose his edge, as Carter nudged his comfort zone. "If Maxwell falters, then I hold you responsible, doctor, and I'll have to reduce our numbers here starting with little Anna." His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Ellington tilted his head even closer to Carter's face and, as if knowing exactly where Anna was, raised the gun to her face without moving his eyes, without even blinking. "I could erase you from the face of this earth and leave not a trace of your DNA, not even a hair follicle. So don't mess with me, you little spoiled turd."
Carter stared him back down, playing his game, though inside not quite so unaffected. "We don't have what you want. If we did, we wouldn't hesitate to give it to you so we could all get back to sunbathing." Carter managed to remain perfectly still, his breath so close to Ellington's face, that it moved a drop of sweat from the man's nose. "And if you really were that good, I suspect you wouldn't have carelessly lost what you're looking for to begin with."
Glancing at Max to see that his own gun was back in hand and ready to shoot, Ellington put his handgun into the back of his waistband and roughly grabbed Carter by the shoulders, throwing him into the tall glassed curio cabinet against the wall. The force of the collision broke all of the glass and toppled both the cabinet and Carter to the ground.
"Hey…" Bob's voice was heard for the first time from downstairs. "What the hell are you doing?"
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"Did you hear that?" Amanda asked as both kids scooted to the louvered doors hoping to see something between the narrow slats.
"Do you think somebody got hurt?"
Amanda shrugged her shoulders and retreated back to the corner of the laundry room where she and Alex had made semi-comfortable beds with the sheets and towels that had been washed and folded previously. "I just want to get out of here."
Alex ignored her as he played with the doors and figured out how to loosen the two lower hinges just enough to squeeze out. "I'm going to find out what's going on."
"Alex… no. You'll get caught."
"And what do you think they'll do to me? Lock me up? Come on…"
Amanda shook her head defiantly. "Nope. I'm staying put."
"Fine, baby. I'll scope out the perimeter."
Amanda rolled her eyes as she laid on her side and closed her eyes.
Alex stopped outside the laundry room and took his shoes off hoping it would give him added silence. Up the five steps to the landing at the front door and around the corner he saw Bob's feet at the top of the next five stairs. He was still in the same place. Before Alex could make the turn on the landing to get up to Bob, Ellington appeared from upstairs prompting the boy to stay on the first set of stairs around the corner, just below the men but out of sight.
"Who are you messing with up there?" Bob asked as he struggled to get comfortable in the position he was in on the floor shackled to the plumbing under the sink.
"Just a little harmless fun with Anna's boy toy."
"He's had enough. Lay off him."
"Maybe I should go down and get that little girl of yours?"
"You will leave her alone." Bob unconsciously tugged at the plumbing, the steel of the handcuffs not willing to budge.
"I think that maybe she has the answers I'm looking for."
"I think you'll leave those kids alone," Bob repeated.
"Bob, you disappoint me. You know that kids are weak. They'll do anything for Daddy - and Daddy will do anything for kiddo."
"That's why you'll leave her alone."
"You speak in riddles, Bob. Excuse me," he said as he wandered towards the staircase, "while I check on our smallest captives."
"Ellington, you will leave her alone."
Bob connected with him. Whether it was with body language, eye contact or secret agent stuff, the two seemed to transfer knowledge to each other through the air.
"What's your point, Bob?"
Bob's face actually twitched. "I trained you better than this. Background? You did none?" Bob's questions went unanswered. "Colleen's blood type is O-positive. Mine is O-positive."
"So?"
"Amanda's is A-positive."
Ellington paused - no, he faltered - then connected with the wall behind him and leaned on it as if intending to do so all along.
"Two O's don't make an A, do they? You are A-positive."
"Doesn't mean anything -"
" -Bullshit. I know exactly who Colleen was working with when we were seeing each other in Damascus, and how long we were apart when you sent me to Beirut. Gives a new meaning to embedded reporters."
"Too bad the Agency saw fit to promote me above you."
"You god damn… Are you telling me that you are so cold that you'd torture and kill your own daughter for diamonds?"
"I'm supposed to believe you?"
Alex breathed slowly using each intake of air with great care as he froze against the wall. Had he really heard…? Swallowing hard to keep the pool of saliva from running out of his gaping mouth, Alex finally plied his feet from their spot and tip-toed back to the laundry room where he found Amanda lying on the floor, nearly asleep.
"Quit looking at me," she said without even opening her eyes.
"I was just wondering," he stuttered.
"Wondering what?"
"My blood type is O-negative. What's yours?"
"What does it matter?"
"I don't know. Just wondering. You know, in case of emergency my mom says that someone should know your blood type because if…"
"Shut up." For once, Alex actually did stop talking and when Amanda opened her eyes to see what his problem was she laughed out loud.
"What's so funny?"
"Your hands are shaking. You a scaredy cat?"
Alex looked down at his trembling hands and quickly stuffed them into his pants pockets. "I just need to eat something, I guess."
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"It's been dark for hours," Luka mumbled as he sat on the window seat next to the telescope and mindlessly picked at his lip, "it's too quiet." The central air was off and windows open to take advantage of the salty ocean breeze of the night. A clock ticking above the bookcase, the occasional hum of the refrigerator both the only sounds beyond the cadence of the cicadas and crickets humming themselves to sleep under the warm moon lit seascape.
"Do you suppose Alex has eaten?" Sam was on the floor in front of him sitting cross legged against his dangling legs.
"He should be okay until morning. At least he's got his insulin pump. I can't imagine they'd keep kids from eating."
Sam leaned into her hands and tried to rub the frustration from her tired eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can take this, Luka."
"I know." His hand cupped the top of her head as he tried to reassure her, though he was just as discouraged as Sam.
"Bob knows," Mrs. Bernard said as she rounded the corner from the kitchen below, "that the longer he keeps them hanging, the more likely they are to start making mistakes and that's when he'll make his move."
"What if he isn't able to make his move, whatever that means," Sam asked from her somewhat defeated repose.
"Well, we will address that if that happens, okay dear?"
"Lights are on." Luka stood up and angled the telescope towards the house, alternating between looking into the eyepiece and checking out the security cameras. "There's movement. I think I see Amanda. That guy, Ellington, has her by the arm."
"Alex…?" Sam asked with trepidation.
Luka shook his head. "No."
"I suspect that our opponents are getting a little distracted," Mrs. Bernard summed up.
"I'm going over there," Luka said as he batted the telescope from his face and rushed down the stairs.
"Luka, you must wait," the old lady countered as she followed. "Please, let time take its course."
"I have, and I'm not waiting any longer. I'll just get close enough to check out the situation."
"Me too," Sam shouted as she bounced down the stairs and joined Luka.
Luka stroked his day's growth of beard as he tried to find the words to keep Sam from the danger. "No, Sam… we don't know what's going on over there -"
" -My son is in there," she said with such conviction that Luka knew that there was no way he was going to be able to keep Sam from her child any longer.
"Alright, but you do what I tell you."
Sam nodded, her long curls bouncing off her shoulders, maybe even with a bit of a shudder as she caught wind of Luka's fear for her own safety.
"Well," Mrs. Bernard sighed, "I can't keep you here against your will. Not at my age anyway. There used to be a time when I…" she drifted off in thought as she led Luka and Sam to a locked room. "Might as well take some protection with you." Once through the double locked door, she turned a light on to reveal an arsenal of weapons propped up on shelves, stacked on the floor and even some mounted on the wall. "You have experience with firearms?"
As Luka nodded he was taken aback at Sam's own answer. "Rifles all the way down to six-shooters."
"Good," Mrs. Bernard said as she reached up to a shelf and pulled down a large silver box locked by combination. Opening it exposed two guns, well taken care of and certainly not for normal sport. She pulled them from the protective foam padding and gave one each to Luka and Sam who looked them over carefully.
"This one has initials," Sam said as she turned it sideways and read the engraving on the butt of the gun. "Who is H-I-S?"
"Mine is engraved too," Luka noticed, cocking his head to read it.
"Oh, that," Mrs. Bernard said almost demurely. "They were an anniversary gift to me and my husband from… well… let's just say they were from someone high up."
"H-E-R-S," Luka read from the gun in his hand.
"His and hers," Mrs. Bernard corrected them with a cheesy grin. "Jack was a good man to work for. Too bad he died so young…"
Without a beat, Luka and Sam exchanged raised brows with each other, then guns.
A man does what he must -- in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers -- and this is the basis of all human morality. -John F. Kennedy 1917-1963, Thirty-fifth President of the USA